The Rose & Crown, Enfield

Skip The Nonsense

And then it was time to almost escape the confines of the M25, with roast dinner 285 out of 2,064 – this time at The Rose & Crown (almost) in Enfield.

Countryside yo.

The random number generator picked The Rose And Crown last week and I was like, “are you fucking serious” when I looked at the mission to get there. 3 different routes – all ended with a train every 30 minutes. Time it wrong and that’s a long wait.

Technically I guess it is in Clay Hill, but nobody reading will have heard of Clay Hill, except the person that recommended here – so Enfield it is. Soz.

So why roast dinner 285 out of 2,064?

The Death Clock

Yep, I looked up when I was going to die on The Death Clock. The answer Wednesday 9th September 2071, which if correct, blows my theory about Terminator 2 being written by a director who has time-travelled to try to direct us away from our future doom on July 4th 2032, who figured out the only way that he could get people to take him seriously was to make a movie and employ Arnold Schwarzenegger to get under our psyche – and to stop AI being developed to control killer drones.

You think that’s crazy? Wait until you hear about about the NFL being rigged by the FBI, to ensure that Taylor Swift would turn up to the final to brainwash NFL fans into voting for Joe Biden just from her eyes through the TV set. Those spoons don’t bend themselves, you know.

Kate Middleton at it on Photoshop again, I see.

Anyway, assuming nobody develops AI drones that decide to kill all the enemy humans out there (if all other middle-aged white men on social media can be pleasant that would be a start) then it looks like I’m going to live for another 47.5 years.

Let’s assume the last 5 years or so, I’m just a dribbling old man, high on tramadol, shouting out of my 17th floor flat windows at passers-by about how things were better in the good old days of increasing child poverty, lockdowns and ULEZ – and all the robo-taxicopter companies have banned me because I screwed with their AI antennas.

Therefore let’s call it a round 42 years of roast dinner reviews left. I average around 45 reviews a year so that’s another 1,890 reviews. Take off a couple of pandemics, war with the USSR when Vladimir Vladimirovich Vladimorostov Vladiverygoodson Putin reaches 100 years old and I have to go sit in a trench in Kent directing our non-AI drones because, uh, people finally took notice of Terminator 2, and then take off the 6 months where I marry a hot Venezuelan woman I met off Tinder and move to Spain, until I realise that she isn’t actually in love with me. And I guess I’ll need a few weeks off from penis enlargement surgery that Valentina said would make me even more handsome than I already was. Which I reckon makes it 1,779 more reviews, if I have my math done correct.

But this is the only review there will ever be in Enfield.

The Journey Of Doom

2 hours and 14 minutes it took to get home. Was it worth it? Yeah, I quite like my new flat, thanks.

The Rose And Crown is so far out of town, that I even saw one of these:

Pretty sure it would be more effective over the camera, but I’m no professional vandal. Not any more, anyway.

Thankfully, the beer choice was bang ordinary – as I’ve reached the point of my detox where the cravings are real, so much so that when I wake up on Monday morning, when my detox period officially ends, I might crack open one. But the choice at The Rose And Crown was never going to tempt me – Neck Oil being the game in town…yawn. But I guess this kind of area probably isn’t crying out for craft beer.

Death To Putin

Options on the menu were plentiful:

And everything was under £25! In fact, the most expensive was the lamb shoulder at £18.50. Other options were topside of beef at £17.50, ham at £15.50, braised beef cheek at £18.00, chicken breast at £17.00 and two different vegan/veggie options at £15.50 each.

I was considering the ham because I never get the option, and the lamb shoulder because, well, I fancied it – the waitress had no hesitation in recommending the lamb. £18.50. Just £18.50. Depending on what I order, next Sunday’s roast could cost twice that. Less than half the time to travel there though.

Gosh is my photography skill improving? Or is this Google’s new AI camera stuff?

Let’s start with the braised red cabbage, which was actually nice – none of this winter spice crap that pubs used to seem to keen on (wonder if my regular moaning and the trend away is another small victory for RDLDN?), though there was a little bit of gravy pollution with some purple liquid invading.

Green cabbage was ever better, really nicely seasoned, notably peppery and neither soggy nor crunchy.

Finally for the vegetables, carrot and swede mash, which was light and airy, yet both carrot and swede flavours came through.

Crispy Roast Potatoes?

I had 5 small roast potatoes (my accomplice 6 larger ones…hmmm…sexism?), all crispy on the outside, fluffy in the middle – and tasting of potato. Really rather good. Maybe there is reason to go to Enfield. Tell me you’ve looked up the journey from where you live?

Alas, burnt Yorkshire pudding – mine was anyway. It was quite fluffy, and like the roast potatoes had clearly been made the same day (shocking that I have to even write this, but hey, London chefs). Alas it was overcooked and burnt on top, so a bit of joy from the bottom, but I gave up with the top half.

The lamb shoulder was proper melt in one’s mouth stuff. It fell apart upon upon light prodding almost as quickly as a Donald Trump libel defence, and was just silky, sexy, fatty, juicy lamb. Wish there had been more.

My accomplice enjoyed her chicken – not with quite the enthusiasm that I had for my lamb…but just look at how much roast potato there is compared to what I received?

Finally, the gravy, though somewhat on the thin side, was quite meaty too. Decent gravy, complimented the roast.

Alas, I was still hungry – the portion side was a little on the small side for my breakfast-less requirements after a very long journey. So I did something unusual. Dessert.

Rhubarb and custard cheesecake, which was huge – the sugar overload gave me jellied legs on the walk back into Enfield. Too large a portion, and it became a bit sickly towards the end – there is only so much tarty sugary stuff I can handle, but until I got bored this was a delight, thin biscuit case, loads of custardy-cream, with the tart topping of rhubarb. All the desserts are made on site, apparently.

The Rose And Crown, Maybe In Enfield, But Really In Clay Hill

I have to say that The Rose And Crown is a pretty damn good pub, at least in terms of food. The building itself is a pleasingly renovated old pub with the old timbers showing – plenty of light inside too, which helps with the photography, and, well, actually being able to see each other.

Reading through the website blurb, The Rose And Crown is an independent pub run by a husband and wife couple, the former having been a chef at some rather interesting places, including The Fat Duck in Berkshire. There is cheffing heritage here, you can see why the food is good…and why perhaps it is worth travelling for.

Beer choice was thankfully meh, at least for my inner city craft beer desires.

Crispy roast potatoes, silky lamb and generally good vegetables – the only thing that went wrong was the burnt top of the yorkie, but at least it was cooked freshly. I did wish my portion size was a little larger.

My accomplice scored hers at 8.20 out of 10, and my score was very similarly positive – an 8.19 out of 10, just so I’m not doing exactly the same as my sibling. It’s unlikely I’ll ever be back, but I’d happily recommend it – maybe those in north London with access to a car might want to add it to their list of places to go on a sunny day, with a little walk in the nearby countryside – seems a nice area to the north.

Next Sunday, I’m going to central London. Phew.