The Perfect Roast.Prepare yourselves. Apparently England is about to encounter its longest winter in history. Do not fear .. (well, fear a little bit) .. because one thing that London will offer like no other place can, is an abundance of cosy taverns to shield you from the biting cold. On this crisp Tuesday morning, the first thing you should do is book a table at The Pig and Butcher in Islington for your next lazy weekend. Go on, roast yourself!
Having walked past The Pig and Butcher many a time on my Islington jaunts and hearing such glowing reports, I was grinning at the prospect of actually entering the door.
Arriving early, I soaked in the wonderful gastopubby atmosphere and had a good old chat with Jack the director about the inspired idea of having their butchering site just above the pub. No danger of running out of meat in this joint! After secretly admiring the brilliantly flowery shirt he was sporting, I saw my companions enter and engaged in all the conventional hugging and cheek pecking before taking my seat.
No fuss here. Great meaty menu, salt, pepper, water, knife, fork, go.
Peering through into the neighbouring room, I noticed a rather extensive selection of beer and cider that I'm sure would have engaged any ale enthusiast. Hunter the Bull stood with his head firmly rammed through the wall, amazingly crafted out of branches and twine. Apparently he is soon to be joined by an accompanying pig.
The shelf behind me was adorned with bottles, jars, boxes and other rustic artefacts. Oh I do love a place with artefacts!
Sufficiently stuffed, the only thing to do was order all the dessert.
My winter fruit crumble arrived in the cutest miniature frying pan with a scoop of vanilla pod ice cream. The tangy fruit to sweet, crunchy crumble ratio was perfect and before long the pan was scraped clean.
The sticky toffee and banana pudding was also inhaled with gusto by another member of my party. Banana and me are not friends so there was no food envy here but I have it on very good authority that it was a delight.
Our bill arrived inside a polka dot jam jar and we bid goodbye to this victorious Sunday roastery. Now it's your turn!