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Te parsnips were lovely, the potatoes excellent and the Yorkshire pudding like a big, doughy cumulonimbus cloud. I like broccoli and cabbage but they didn’t really add anything to the meal. Overall, a nice Sunday lunch.


Te vegetarian option was much more exciting. No more nut loaf, the York serves a rather excellent little mushroom, chestnut and cranberry pie. Chunky shortcrust pastry (puff pastry can sod right off) the waitress told us many meat eaters prefer this and I can see why. Te wild mushrooms and chestnuts had a lovely savoury, woody flavour which contrasted nicely with the tart, juicy cranberries. Served with a choice of vegetarian gravy or a cream sauce, the latter went beautifully with the dish.

PUD After the excellent stodge of a Sunday lunch you need something a bit different to round off your meal. For me it was the sharp citrus of a lemon posset. Tick and creamy with lemon zest it was a great end to a great meal. We also had the neatest Eton mess I’ve ever seen. Blended and perfectly formed it tasted great but I would have liked more chunks of strawberry and meringue.

THE GEN I’m not lost, I know where I am. I’ve been past the same discarded can of Lilt enough times to know exactly where I am. Te problem is, I don’t know where the pub is. A subtle distinction but ultimately an important one. Bloody stupid of a pub, to get lost like this. In the warren of roads that make up the Golden Triangle, great jutting edifices stand out on street corners. Proud, majestic buildings with painted frontages and long bars gleaming welcome through half frosted glass. I must pass half a dozen before I stumble across my destination, Te York Tavern.

ATMOSPHERE Greys and whites dominate the colour scheme, clean and simple allied with the traditional woods of the floor, the bar and the furniture. Te same high ceilings and large rooms of all the Golden Triangle’s watering holes. Walls of vintage advertisements framed and hung at jaunty angles. Te result of a quirky eye for design or a handyman with one leg shorter than the other?

Our visit on a Sunday sees the room gradually fill with families and the babble of happy diners grow. If it hadn’t just snowed I may have been tempted to enjoy the large beer garden at the back, but that’s maybe one to save for the summer. Instead I was here to try the Sunday roast.

THE MAIN EVENT Tere’s fierce competition in Norwich for a decent roast dinner and I’ve been to a number of the best. It’s a simple one to do but tricky to master and everybody has their own idea of what makes for a good Sunday rxzoast. Beef, pork or supreme of chicken for the meat eaters; I went with the pork. I found it wonderfully difficult to eat as with each prod of the fork the tender meat fell apart with no resistance. Cooked perfectly, if I’d kept going I’d have been left with nothing but a wistful feeling of regret. Te star of this show was the great piece of crackling that came with it, after 20 mins and blunting three hacksaws I was able to enjoy this golden shining morsel of flavour.


OVERALL So, that was a nice meal wasn’t it? I’m on the cusp of being uncomfortably full and have no regrets, that’s a good sign. In Norwich’s pantheon of God-level roast dinners this isn’t the greatest, but it was damn good.



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