Welcome back to Roast Dinners In America, and this week I headed to The Westbourne in West Wing Park (the best park, tremendous, people are saying it’s fantastic), which can be found on the Trump Tower Line.

So, where else can we rename?
There’s a lot of towns in England that really do need renaming. Like, who named somewhere Grimsby? Of course, perhaps the word “grim” is named after the town.
Scunthorpe probably might improve without the “cunt” – Lower Shorpe, perhaps?
Goole, Tamworth, Walsall, Rotherham, Slough – all could sound more aesthetically pleasing with a name change. Slough-On-Thames? Hmmm, that doesn’t really help, does it? Lower Windsor?
Personally, I’m looking forward to the day that Moscow is part of East Ukraine, Xinjiang is East Turkestan, north-east Iraq becomes Kurdistan and China becomes Greater Taiwan.
Oops that’s me banned from Russia, China and Turkey.

And that’s me banned from America North Mexico.
Bourne In The North Mexico
I could be tempted to rename roast dinners, given the lack of quality in recent weeks. Granted, the sample size is low with three roasts so far, but the average score for 2025 is just 6.17.
This week I headed to The Westbourne in Westbourne Park – it had been on my to-do list for ages, but doesn’t have an online booking thing which means…scary shit incoming…a telephone call.
It was surprisingly easy. I put the numbers in my telephone, pressed “dial”, someone answered, and I asked to book a table. In fact, I was so excited by telephoning someone, that I then telephoned the Royal Mail head office to ask why I hadn’t received any mail for two weeks. Guess who was less interested in my call?

Miraculously, it was a nice sunny day, despite definitely still having that distinct February chill. We were a little surprised to see the garden at the front of The Westbourne really busy, but inside quiet.
Note to self – The Westbourne has a good area out front for beers in the summer. Whether you’d get a table in summer is another question, if they are all full in February.
Beer choice was respectable – quite a few known beers from independent breweries, like Kernel, for example. But it’s Dry February, so who cares?
Bourne This Way
The Westbourne definitely has a personality (and was in the Time Out Eating & Drinking guide 2002), though it does need a bit of love in places – the toilets were notably Grimsby-ish. It did feel a bit spit and sawdust, but in a Notting Hill kind of way…if that comparison can make sense. But who cares if it makes sense…not much makes sense now anyway…especially now wind turbines are killing our whales, our beautiful whales, in the French Chanel.

Grotty toilets downstairs, but bluefin tuna tartare on the menu. The menu seemed almost too classy, but then there were loads of people sat outside on a cold day, and then again 70m people voted for cheaper eggs and are now arguing that it is their patriotic duty to spend more on food when tariffs come in.
When is WordPress going to allow emojis?
Anyway, the menu – just two choices, that of pork belly at £25.50 or that of half a chicken at £24.50. I went for chicken because I had pork belly last week, and of course the chicken was miles better than the burnt pork belly at The George, and you know full well the pork belly will be banging at The Westbourne.
Our meal arrived really quickly – maybe after 10 minutes?

Starting with the, erm, orange things as orange seems to be the theme right now (a lot of people are saying…) and the carrots were good. Soft, roasted – there seemed to be some buttery glaze to them, though I’m not sure about it actually being butter. Plus there was a fair flavour of rosemary. I shit you not, flavour.
Bourne Slippy
I liked the green beans too – perfectly cooked (for my preferences), a little on the soft side, no squeak.
That was it for vegetables. Let’s look at these:

I’ve had to rename roast potatoes, to roasted potatoes on many occasions. Or fried potatoes. Or grey shit tubers. Yet these were actual roast potatoes, cooked by a real chef who clearly knows what he/she is doing.
Crispy outsides – properly crispy, soft inside – and a fair size too. Rare it is that I leave some roast potato for the final bite of the meal. Oh…and they were hot…like actually cooked recently hot. Tremendous.
Bourne To Be Wild
The small Yorkshire pudding looked the part, however, you know how I complain about eating the same thing every week, and wishing for some inventiveness? Well…the Yorkshire pudding tasted of fish.
Aha. Fish. Perhaps mackerel. I should state that only part of it tasted like fish, and my accomplice’s tasted of Yorkshire pudding (though hers was burnt a bit on the bottom – mine was…squidgy). Other than that I quite liked it, but couldn’t quite get past the fish flavour.

Back to compliments for the chicken, which was plump and juicy – especially the thigh which was a delight. I was particularly keen on the skin, which was divinely crispy, quite salty too – and the chicken tasted of lemon.
Damn good chicken. Yes, the pork belly that my accomplice ordered was even better.
I said that The Westbourne was a bit spit and sawdust in vibe, and as soon as I posted that on Threads, a bottle of Heinz ketchup turned up for our roasts. One assumes that this was because they were not going to put much jus on the plate, and the extra jus was a thimble to share between us.
Yes, it was a proper drought situation, assumedly caused by musicians in Iran. What jus was granted to us, was a red wine jus, a bit sticky – I didn’t hate it. But you know I want a proper gravy, and lots of it.
The Westbourne
There is actually a town called Pity Me, in Durham, and quite often I think you do.
But you don’t need to this week, I actually had a mostly very good roast dinner.
All good on the vegetable front, the best crispy roast potatoes for months and some seriously tasty chicken – with crispy skin par excellence.
Just two infractions – the fish flavour of part of the Yorkshire pudding, which quite frankly I think is hilarious. And then the jus, of which there was nothing wrong per se (apart from the drought conditions) – but I want gravy.

My accomplice, who had the pork belly (which was better than the excellent chicken), scored hers an 8.00.
And my score, is a 7.86 out of 10 – the best roast dinner of 2025 so far. This was the roast dinner I should have had for my birthday last weekend. Such is life.
No plan for next week, but there will be a roast dinner, and there will be more baffling bullshit in North Mexico by the orange man and his definitely not a Nazi sidekick to illuminate my roast dinner wisdom.

Too soon?
Summary:
The Westbourne, Westbourne Park
Station: Westbourne Park
Tube Lines: Circle, Hammersmith & City
Fare Zone: Zone 2
Price: £24.50
Rating: 7.86
Loved & Loathed
Loved: The best crispy roast potatoes for months and some seriously tasted chicken - with crispy skin par excellence
Loathed: Part of my Yorkshire pudding tasted of fish. And then the jus, of which there was nothing wrong per se (apart from the drought conditions) - but I want gravy.
Where now, sailor?
Random roast review: Popup Emporium @ W7 Emporium, Ealing (Takeaway)

Nearby Roasts:
Sorry the roasts have been total shit this year. As someone living in North Mexico I look forward to your reviews every week for their great comments on our new Fürhrer-I mean president. Hopefully I don’t go to jail for typing this. Please keep eating!
Thanks Jojo…only 4 more years to go until you have a completely fair election and maybe a different Trump in power.
Confirm I have no intention of going on hunger strike, even if we end up with Farage. Though I might move country.
I’m not familiar with European food traditions as such but I feel like there isn’t another country that does Sunday roasts so you might have to stay where you are. Unless you form your own roast based colony in the Africas somewhere that worships Our Lady of The Holy Yorkie? You could start it out as a strictly altruistic endover-get government funding-and eventually skim funds to bankroll your new yacht the S.S. Gravy. Just a suggestion…
Pity Me where my father grew up!
Whoa…pity you!