It is a scary thing, being a Yorkshire lass in London. We face challenges and difficulties, alien currents to navigate, very different, very strange cultural quirks to negotiate. Simply put; people are odd. Meet someone in a bar or nightclub in Yorkshire – boom you’ve got a new friend. Nobody assumes you are hitting on them, you don’t assume it back. Of course, sometimes they are but it isn’t a given. Speak to someone in a London bar – practically rape! You transport yourself immediately to the realm of prey, predator or weirdo. Making friends? Forget it. You are a fish, no a speck of plankton, in the Atlantic Ocean. And most of the time I’m neither. God help you too if you find yourself on public transport during commuting hours. People will skin you alive. I was practically beaten to the ground the other day by some 20 something slick-Jim-banker when I dared to walk on the right in St Pancras. Girls don’t pay for bars or clubs either – what’s that about?! And being a little bit northern – because really, I’m not all that northern at all….St Andrews drummed that out of me (another story) – well, that poses its own challenges. I was once put in a bin – yes, a BIN – by some southern people because I was northern.
Of course I love London. How could I not? Everything and almost everyone I love is here – food, most of the country’s best chefs (yes, that is love). But there are some strange ways to these southern folk that are taking some serious assimilation. 6 weeks and counting in this strange place….I was needing some home, northern comforts. Coal. Ahhh coal. A nice, sooty chunk of it to bake in a pie to share my pet ferret after an evening at Ladbrokes. #NorthernBliss.
JUST KIDDING. No – I’m talking about a real Sunday Roast. Real gravy – made with MEAT not granules you peasant – Yorkshire puddings, puffy and light, roast potatoes made with the fat of an animal (preferably one that quacks or squawks if that is how you describe the noise a goose makes…. obviously I didn’t mean a parrot), vegetables (optional for men’s men) and a big, dripping, steaming hunk of meat. A real meal. Now, I know that Southerners eat Sunday Roasts too, but really – you don’t know the meaning. I am adamant that only the chiller parts of our proud nation really do this staple justice and I dare you to come to my mother’s house and prove me wrong. Again though, to be fair, us being Northern you probably WOULDN’T dare.
Anyway, I was feeling a little under the weather, translation NOT for once ‘hungover’, and decided to step out and discover the best local Sunday roast in my area. After research; a contender. The Halfway House in Earlsfield, opposite the train station. I’d been there for drinks before and found it compelling. Comfy sofas, eclectic mismatched furniture, warm and a nice clientele of young professionals and young families. Cool and British being the buzzwords. Its Sunday lunch menu immediately tempted me and so I made up my mind to seek it out.
Of course I love London. How could I not? Everything and almost everyone I love is here – food, most of the country’s best chefs (yes, that is love). But there are some strange ways to these southern folk that are taking some serious assimilation. 6 weeks and counting in this strange place….I was needing some home, northern comforts. Coal. Ahhh coal. A nice, sooty chunk of it to bake in a pie to share my pet ferret after an evening at Ladbrokes. #NorthernBliss.
JUST KIDDING. No – I’m talking about a real Sunday Roast. Real gravy – made with MEAT not granules you peasant – Yorkshire puddings, puffy and light, roast potatoes made with the fat of an animal (preferably one that quacks or squawks if that is how you describe the noise a goose makes…. obviously I didn’t mean a parrot), vegetables (optional for men’s men) and a big, dripping, steaming hunk of meat. A real meal. Now, I know that Southerners eat Sunday Roasts too, but really – you don’t know the meaning. I am adamant that only the chiller parts of our proud nation really do this staple justice and I dare you to come to my mother’s house and prove me wrong. Again though, to be fair, us being Northern you probably WOULDN’T dare.
Anyway, I was feeling a little under the weather, translation NOT for once ‘hungover’, and decided to step out and discover the best local Sunday roast in my area. After research; a contender. The Halfway House in Earlsfield, opposite the train station. I’d been there for drinks before and found it compelling. Comfy sofas, eclectic mismatched furniture, warm and a nice clientele of young professionals and young families. Cool and British being the buzzwords. Its Sunday lunch menu immediately tempted me and so I made up my mind to seek it out.
Arrival: chaos! The place was full to the rafters – don’t dare go without a booking! Being manly (in a hot female way – ho ho ho) and northern we braved sitting outside in the October chill. I dealt with it, no big deal. I ordered the Pork Loin Rib roast which came with braised red cabbage, savoy cabbage, carrots, parsnips, goose fat roasties (approve), ‘proper gravy’ and a Yorkshire pud.
Verdicts. The meat itself was superb. It came actually served on the rib bones which was rather cool in a carnivorous sort of way. The meat was tender and still moist and flavoursome. The pork comes from Dingley Dell Pork, as advertised in their menu. I love it when a place gives a shout out to its suppliers and producers. Kudos to you Halfway House for that. The crackling needed a bit of work. It was crisp and snapped yep, but it needed a bit more air too it. For me crackling needs to have that crunch, but it also needs to almost have a honeycomb texture to it – something which is achieved by the fat being put under high heat and almost bubbling up, rising and then setting. That produces a crunch that is also chewable. Snap and chew, teeth sinking softly through soft but DRY fat, rather than snap-oh-shit-I-just-broke-a-tooth. But it was good, really good, great flavour.
Verdicts. The meat itself was superb. It came actually served on the rib bones which was rather cool in a carnivorous sort of way. The meat was tender and still moist and flavoursome. The pork comes from Dingley Dell Pork, as advertised in their menu. I love it when a place gives a shout out to its suppliers and producers. Kudos to you Halfway House for that. The crackling needed a bit of work. It was crisp and snapped yep, but it needed a bit more air too it. For me crackling needs to have that crunch, but it also needs to almost have a honeycomb texture to it – something which is achieved by the fat being put under high heat and almost bubbling up, rising and then setting. That produces a crunch that is also chewable. Snap and chew, teeth sinking softly through soft but DRY fat, rather than snap-oh-shit-I-just-broke-a-tooth. But it was good, really good, great flavour.
The red cabbage was almost the star for me. Actually it wasn’t but it really was just FABULOUS. Very sweet, spiced, complex and with the perfect amount of acidity juxtaposing that aforementioned sweetness. MM – bring me Christmas. The savoy was good too. Needed bacon in it. And some whole grain mustard and white wine. The potatoes – great. Yorkshire pud – A REAL ONE. Not one of those ghastly ones peasants buy in a bag and bang in the freezer. No this was real, unkempt edges, frilled batter and all. Great. But the actual star was the gravy. Utterly superb. Glutinous. Very rich – you could taste all the souls of the animals that died to make it trotting around in it. Excellent. Really good.
Next time I come I will try the Rare Roast Sirloin of Beef too – that sounded and looked, when I peeked at a neighbours portion, fabulous. The vegetarian option of ‘Higgidy Pie’, goats cheese, sweet potato and spinach, I can vouch for too. Very tasty. Okay pastry and a strong, punchy, moreish filling. Go for it.
All this at a steal of £12.95. You can’t really argue with that, it’s a great price. I can argue with the drinks prices which saw me pay a fiver for a pear cider but hey – welcome to London, I guess. I also had to wait 45 minutes for my lunch which was odd for a roast – presumably they had prepped it almost to completion?! If the food hadn’t have been as good as it was this would have been a very different sort of review, given the wait time. But it was good. I would wait for it that long again.
To conclude: so far so good in my search for a decent roast. I would recommend and I do now. Give them a visit.
521 Garratt Lane, Wandsworth, sw18 4sr
020 8946 2788
www.thehalfway.com/
Rating
Overall: 3.9/5
Food: 4/5
Wine List: 3/5
Venue: 3.5/5
Atmosphere: 4/5
Cost: 20 GBP a head, including wine/beer
Next time I come I will try the Rare Roast Sirloin of Beef too – that sounded and looked, when I peeked at a neighbours portion, fabulous. The vegetarian option of ‘Higgidy Pie’, goats cheese, sweet potato and spinach, I can vouch for too. Very tasty. Okay pastry and a strong, punchy, moreish filling. Go for it.
All this at a steal of £12.95. You can’t really argue with that, it’s a great price. I can argue with the drinks prices which saw me pay a fiver for a pear cider but hey – welcome to London, I guess. I also had to wait 45 minutes for my lunch which was odd for a roast – presumably they had prepped it almost to completion?! If the food hadn’t have been as good as it was this would have been a very different sort of review, given the wait time. But it was good. I would wait for it that long again.
To conclude: so far so good in my search for a decent roast. I would recommend and I do now. Give them a visit.
521 Garratt Lane, Wandsworth, sw18 4sr
020 8946 2788
www.thehalfway.com/
Rating
Overall: 3.9/5
Food: 4/5
Wine List: 3/5
Venue: 3.5/5
Atmosphere: 4/5
Cost: 20 GBP a head, including wine/beer
