The Rose And Crown, Clapham

It was time to take a visit to the Roast Dinner Triangle Of Doom for the first time in this rather slightly doomed year – at The Rose And Crown, in Clapham, to give the area its more traditional if undeserved name, as it rarely deserves a clap.

Slow claps, perhaps – quite how the next place on the train line from where I live in Croydon takes an hour to get to is beyond me.

Speaking of doom, and I’ll try not to moan about Donald Trump and his clan of gargoyles too much, for there are other topics like FUCKING BURNT PORK BELLY to discuss, as you may have noted from the cover image.

So the most powerful nation in the world will have a defence secretary who believes woke is the biggest threat to the world. Not Putin, not Xi, not Netanyahu, not Khomeini…woke. Of course, he has sexual assault allegations to his name.

Then there’s a vaccine sceptic as health secretary, who believes wi-fi gives you cancer, that Bill Gates is trying to control the population of the world (because Microsoft wants less customers?) and seems to think covid-19 was targeted against white people.

The director of national intelligence seems to really be a director of Russian propaganda – quite why any country would share intelligence with the Trump administration going forwards is beyond me.

Oh and that prick who pretends to be a genius and somehow has ended up the world’s richest man. Alas the definite (alleged) peado isn’t going to be attorney general…as that really would have filled the criminal government bingo card.

The Planet Of Doom

Ah well, if you can’t beat them, maybe join them.

Apparently, if you are willing to work 80 hours a week for DOGE then you can be paid handsomely…in exposure. Aha, world’s richest man wants you to work for free.

And to think there was a time when I thought appointing Nadine Dorries as culture secretary was insane.

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Poundland going to have a lot of political books next year.

Anyway, Clapham. See, my liberal complaints didn’t take too long to read, did they? And I put some pretty images in. Almost as pretty as Clapham itself.

I remember first going to Clapham when I was living and working in Bracknell, back in the days when I was an international economist (well…credit controller) at a major telecommunications company, kind of similar to Rachel Reeves. I was quite amazed at how yummy mummy Clapham was, and how middle class – especially compared to Bracknell.

Doom Doom Doom.

Yet in my latter years, now I’ve climbed the greasy pole from only being able to afford to get wasted on Chekov vodka and Morrisons energy drinks, later upgrading to ketamine, and now kilograms of Peruvian cocaine – I’ve come to realise that actually Clapham is a bit wanky – Gail’s, Megan’s and various other over-priced dining establishments named after someone’s wife/lover, along with grocers selling single bananas nicely packaged for £11 each or something like that.

Oh. And most importantly, Clapham hosts the Roast Dinner Triangle Of Doom.

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By the way, you can ignore the 8 at the bottom in Balham, as this is now an “authentic Spanish restaurant” run by Jack and Danny who may or may not be authentically Spanish, and would like you to “come dine with us and have a bit of craic”, that famous Spanish phrase.

Don’t worry, I’m going to get onto the burnt pork belly shit in a bit.

This week I was dining with an actual legend from the London food blogging scene, London Popups, who, if you don’t know, has a weekly newsletter listing all the interesting pop-ups happening in London, and is a good source of happenings in the food world – and quite often people trying to make their way into it.

The cuisine tends to be more interesting when I’m on his territory, such as Whole Beast’s deep-fried butternut squash empanada, as I slowly realise that vegetarian food is actually rather good, and not a waste of a dining opportunity. And the last time we had a roast dinner together, it was also from the hands of Whole Beast. If you are reading this in winter 2024/25, then they are currently at Exale Brewery in Walthamstow – and very much worth a visit.

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Doom. Possibly The Only Video Game I Finished As A Child.

The Rose And Crown – yay onto the actual subject – was bloody hot inside when I arrived. Granted it was a mega 16’C outside, which felt boiling considering the Arctic plunge of the preceding week, shocking us all into the concept of winter once more – as if we weren’t already prepared for it by the 3 weeks of incessant gloom recently, which co-incidentally timed well with the US election. I’m sure it was sunny in Florida.

Not only was it too warm inside, but we had an awkward table in the corner, curiously right next to the serving till with a constant stream of waiting staff putting orders in tills – which did have an advantage in that I managed to procure some attention for a drink on arrival.

Alas, when my dining accomplice arrived, he had to wait and try much harder for some attention.

I think I’d been at The Rose And Crown for 30 minutes when someone came to take our food order. At which point I asked for a menu. Yeah, this wasn’t going smoothly.

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The lack of space on our tiny table, combined with minimal elbow room meant the sharing roasts were out of question – we might have considered the roasted turkey for two, priced at £52.00. The other sharer was a porterhouse steak – £85.00 to share.

You could also have a sirloin steak roast at £42.50…eyes slightly popped at that especially given that I struggle to find a good steak at a steak restaurant, let alone a pub in Clapham. So that left rump of beef at £26.00, chicken at £24.00, pork belly at £25.00 and the veggie thing for £22.00.

I was in two minds between chicken and pork – but I went as per my belly and ordered the pork belly.

Doom Doom Shake The Room Can I Get Some Service Please

I clocked that the people on the table very close to us, who were discussing their next trip to Sicily and various other matters, Jasper and Casper (possibly), waited rather a long time for their roasts to arrive. The total time from stepping my foot inside The Rose And Crown, to taking a photograph of my roast dinner was 91 minutes. I’m all for a leisurely lunch, but an hour between ordering and receiving a roast dinner is pushing it a tad.

Though perhaps it was all freshly cooked to order? LOL.

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Yep, you see darkness, but at least there was a carrot to help us see in the dark. Nothing special but perfectly serviceable – soft and roasted.

Next up was the red cabbage which was kind of cloyed together albeit in annoyingly small pieces that infected the rest of the roast to an extent – and for my tastes was pungent in the winter spice shiznit. My accomplice enjoyed it far more…horses for courses.

Then there was green cabbage, well, maybe more spring greens I guess you’d call it. Limp and lifeless – some edges almost yellowing, yet I didn’t mind the earthy taste.

Oh I’m In The Roast Dinner Triangle Of Doom

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The roast potatoes were actually freshly cooked. Alas, they weren’t the best cut of potato – edges were crumpled rather than crispy, insides soft rather than fluffy – one was on the way to being burnt on the outside too. Potatoes don’t have a cut, do they? Breed? You know what I mean – these weren’t Maris Pipers is what I’m suggesting.

Likewise the Yorkshire pudding had been freshly made (at least within recent hours) – and this I actually liked. It was soft, it was fluffy, and it had a kind of soft crispness to the top.

Then…this:

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Surprisingly, the middle part of the pork belly was actually quite soft and gooey – as you’d hope for. As you can see, the top was burnt to a crisp – the blunt knife certainly had no effect, and even when I do go back to Budapest to have my implants fitted, there is no way £11k of teeth are ever going to attempt to crunch such burnt shit. And the bottom layer was tough – as you’d expect for something that had spent far too long in an oven, or at least been in an oven at a temperature almost as wrong as recommending an alleged (sigh) paedo as attorney general.

Finally, the gravy was respectable – a red wine gravy, the kind that you might expect in Clapham – for you ain’t getting proper gravy around here. A tad yacky but I was happy to pour more on my plate – without feeling the need to finish what was in the jug.

The Rose And Crown

So, we’d finished our roasts, and our plates were taken away surprisingly quickly – the first time anything quick had happened at The Rose And Crown.

At which point the bill arrives, “I would ask if you wanted a dessert but we need the table back in 15 minutes”.

Excuse me? I pointed out that it took 91 of our 120 allotted minutes to receive our food, to which the rather nervous young chap apologised but was clearly under orders – doing something perhaps a manager should be doing. I didn’t push it further given his rather seemingly nervous disposition, but I had a pint in front of me and I damn well was going to finish it.

Speaking of which, the beer choice at The Rose And Crown was at least a little less ordinary than recent weeks – sure, they had a plethora of crap lager, but they had a Peckham Session IPA, which was decent. A glass of Malbec wasn’t so decent – kind of similar to the stuff you might buy at Tesco Express but a grade better, let’s say.

Another annoying aspect was the enforced £1.00 “donation” on the bill. Appreciate this is perhaps seemingly curmudgeonly, but corporates claiming to have donated “x amount” to charity when really all they’ve done is added something to your bill without asking, or suggested you round up your spend on a self-service check-out, and then claim the glory, is a bit cringe for me. Granted I wouldn’t have given £1.00 to charity today otherwise, but also I have no idea what charity it is, or even if it is a charity – for all I know the £1.00 “donation” could be funding the owner’s mansard loft extension. Chill…I paid it.

For almost every review, the score I give is simply for the roast dinner itself, but today there was too much pissing me off in terms of the experience – from it being too hot inside, the tiny table, 90 fucking minutes to get our food, then being told we only had 15 minutes left pretty much as soon as we’d eaten, the enforced “donation”, the shabby Malbec. The roast dinner itself, I’d probably score around a 6.30 – the yorkie was freshly cooked and soft…erm…yeah that’s all the compliments.

The pork belly was burnt, and the red cabbage pungent – everything else on the plate blended into Clapham averageness. Given everything else that pissed me off, I’m scoring it a 5.30 out of 10. My accomplice, who also endured the burnt pork belly, scored it a 6.00.

Next Sunday the plan involves…aaaaaarrrrrggghh…Christmas shopping – which still might be less painful than this. And a roast dinner, of course.

Oh, I then managed to get the tube the wrong way on the way home. I do actually have fun doing this blog.

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Summary:

The Rose And Crown, Clapham

Station: Clapham Common

Tube Lines: Northern

Fare Zone: Zone 2

Price: £25.00

Rating: 5.30

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https://www.roseandcrownclapham.com/

Instagrim

Loved & Loathed

Loved: The Yorkshire pudding was freshly cooked and soft. Erm...the non-burnt middle bit of the pork belly was juicy.

Loathed: The pork belly was burnt, and the red cabbage pungent, it was too hot inside, the tiny table, 90 fucking minutes to get our food, then being told we only had 15 minutes left pretty much as soon as we'd eaten, the enforced "donation", the shabby Malbec.

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