The Prince, Stoke Newington

Skip The Nonsense

Howdy, it’s your favourite northern rock, Lord Gravy, back with another Sunday roast review – this time of The Prince in Stoke Newington.

Nothing seems to have happened this week, everything seems to be totally fine in the world, so I’ll just crack on with the review, shall I? Your money is totally safe.

Lol, as if. As if I’m going to just crack on with the review, that is. Definitely don’t worry about the banks – everything is fine.

This week I did do something a little out there. I eschewed the random number generator. OMG. And just went to the place that was first in my to-do list – I think the kids calls it The OG, the Original Gravy. When they are not doing laughing gas on the overground on a Sunday afternoon, anyway. Yeah, I was jealous.

The banks are well capitalised. Everything is fine. Damn fine play, by the way, The Lehman Trilogy. Go see it if you can be bothered to spend 3.5 hours sat down in a theatre. Maybe take a sandwich with you. And some cocaine.

Anyway, The Prince. I realise that I am eschewing the opportunity to make this roast all about all the dodgy princes of the world in favour of all the dodgy banks in the world, but you know, there are other pubs named after princes. Also, in Hull, we have a shopping centre called Princes Quay. Guess how people pronounce it? Princess Quay.

I Wanna Be Your Gravy Lover

Anyway, The Prince. I don’t really like going to Stoke Newington because it’s easier to get to some of the more far out places in south London than it is to get to Stoke Newington – it feels like the most awkward place in north London to get to. Which may be part of the reason why it has been on the to-do list since the very beginning.

1.5 hours from Harrow on the Met line and then Overground, with the smell of football player feet from the guy opposite who I’d had the temerity to encroach upon his 4-seater Met line bed. And the huff when some Arsenal fans later wanted his footstool. Ahhhh, teenagers.

The Prince smelt absolutely gorgeous upon arrival – one of those meaty roast smells that get your hopes up.

It was a smart-looking pub, quite possibly smarter than my investment in US Regional Banks last week but you probably own Buttcoin because fiat is so 20th century, man, so stop judging. Like much of Stoke Newington, The Prince had a middle class feel to it – some very middle class pooches adorning their owners anyway.

Not only that, but it had an interesting beer selection. Yes – beer is back in my life! Given that I’d had a stinking cold all week, some pointless 2am and 5am wake-up calls thanks to the on call rota at work, and I’d lost £3k on the stock market which is supposed to be for my flat deposit (yes Croydon is easier to get to than Stoke Newington), I was ready for a beer. I’m no longer obese. Yay. Well, I probably will be again in a few weeks.

And despite the fact that they had an interesting beer selection, I panicked and chose what I knew – a Soundwave. Though it was only £6.90 a pint – I say only, as I was fearing what the price of a pint would be after nearly 3 months of not drinking.

Let’s Go Gravy

Given my wealth-haemorrhaging week on the stock market (don’t be too jealous – I’m as wealthy as Boris Johnson is honest), I was relieved to be back to paying under £20.00 for a roast dinner – though our waitress (cute waitress…unless that was my one pint of beer talking…I admired her fringe anyway) described the beef brisket as something like “out of this world”, which nearly tempted me away from pork belly.

Though she then advised that pork belly was her favourite. So I was back on plan – pork belly at £19.50, though you could have had chicken at £18.50 or beef brisket at £20.00.

Our roasts took around 15 minutes to arrive – and they looked as good as the pub itself smelt.

Starting with the carrot and swede mash – at least I didn’t detect other orange-looking vegetables inside (please tell me that Donald Trump is really being arrested), this had a naturally creamy feel, the carrots were more crushed, the swede more mashed, and it simply worked really well.

Next up we had what seemed to be spring greens, which had a silkiness to them, soaked up the gravy nicely and had slight earthy tones.

Yep, we’ve already had more vegetables than last week’s roast:

I Would Die 4 Gravy

There was no option to buy added sides, like cauliflower cheese – it was just on the plate in the first place. What a refreshing attitude. Maybe it needed a bit more cream and a bit more cheese, the latter was there as a hint, but the cauliflower was soft, and it was totally fine. Everything is fine. Your money is safe.

I was offered 4 small roast potatoes! Though my accomplice had 5. Hmmm. I should probably remind you what I’m reviewing, so you no longer see that nasty thing on your screen…and last week’s bad roast dinner.

All 4 roast potatoes were relatively freshly cooked, a couple had crispy sides, all were soft in the middle – much better than the average standard in London, without challenging perfection.

The Yorkshire pudding was a little overdone, but it was relatively freshly slightly overdone, hence still edible – still some evidence of softness, especially when softened by gravy.

There were imperfections with the pork belly – the bottom was a bit too tough, yet it had loads of flavour inside, the middle was a tad dry, yet the top was just succulence par excellence. The crackling was gooey with a hint of crunch – though much more crunchy as you got to the bottom part. Our table neighbour had asked for a steak knife with hers – wisely.

My accomplice had the beef brisket, photographed above – which was full of smokey Stokey flavour – and also seems that she had better roast potatoes than me. Not only better, but one more. Pah. “Melt in your mouth” came out of her mouth, in description.

Finally, the gravy. It was a really good gravy – proper thick, northern rock gravy that you know I love. Maybe, just maybe by the end it got a little tiring from the slight tomato flavour – though I more enjoyed the peppered nature, and the seasoning overall. One of the better gravies.

If I Was Your Gravy

Everything is fine. Your money is safe. You can trust the banking system.

And everything was fine. It was better than fine – it was one of the better roast dinners of 2023. Had I really waited this long to go to The Prince in Stoke Newington?

Sure, there were imperfections – roast potatoes could have been crispier, yorkie was a bit overdone, the pork belly was a bit too tough/dry in parts, the cauliflower cheese could do with a little more cream and cheese – and the gravy flavour did tire a tad.

Yet, I really, really enjoyed it. Not only did I like the feel of The Prince so much that I started looking up bow ties for my future Poodle, I appreciated the beer list (even though my order wasn’t exactly imaginative), I thought the service was good and I really, really enjoyed the roast dinner.

Good roast potatoes, a well-balanced and enjoyable selection of vegetables, succulent pork belly, thick gravy – there’s a lot to like here.

I’d go so far to say that it is my best roast dinner of 2023 so far – with a whopping score of 8.29 out of 10. My accomplice, who had the beef was similarly impressed, and scored it “between an 8.20 and 8.30”.

Next Sunday I shall be in sunny Malta for the weekend, assuming my bank cards still work – and I will leave it to World Emperor Gravy at Roast Dinners Around The World to enlighten you.

Let me know if you have any restaurant tips for Malta – nothing too expensive, but ideally slightly more appealing than Fat Harry’s – though I have just seen that they do a roast dinner every day.

Roast Dinners In London will be back the week after – and I’m going wherever my favourite vegan wants me to go to.