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Review: Roast beef is the pick at The Star and Anchor
Poppy Bradbury eats at The Star and Anchor, 94 Uxbridge Road, West Ealing, W13 8RA.
The best weekend consists of dancing till your dripping with sweat, a long, long sleep, and something meaty for brunch. And that's what we got.
After a night of sensational dancing for Michael's 30th last Saturday, and feeling a little wobbly in the knees and achy in the head, we woke up and headed straight to the pub for a well-earned Sunday roast.
My mum was never much of a cook but they say nothing can beat a full homemade joint with all the trimmings, and although I concede, the prospect of no washing up and my lack of voice was enough to send us walking merrily to the Tube.
The Baroque changed hands last year and The Star and Anchor was reborn in March with a revamped look and menu, but when we entered I was surprised how quiet it was.
I must point out here they really indulged in the maritime theme without going overboard (so to speak); heavy mahogany tables, small cushioned booths and Imperial navigation maps on the wall, it all seemed very quaint and inviting.
We ordered straight away, beef for the boy, garlic chicken for myself and pints of juice to quench our sodden tongues. (A leg of lamb came at £12.50 and the veggie option of aubergine stuffed with ratatouille at £10.95 echoed the rest of the fancy gastro-pub mains).
At £11.95 each, the presentation was immaculate. A large, crispy Yorkshire pud (which got the seal of approval from the Northerner in front of me) balanced on top a little tower of meat, veg and roasties.
Will's vehement munching of his thinly sliced beef left an empty plate and pleasing smile within minutes.
I, on the other hand, was beaten. The chicken came on the bone and took far more effort than I could muster to get to the good bits, although the fatty skin was an excellent consolation. The gravy was good, and roasties sizzled to perfection in lashings of lard, although a little dry on the inside.
Overall, I would have preferred a more succulent cut of chicken breast but a roast was certainly what the doctor ordered.
After lazing around for a good while, part letting our paunches subside and part waiting for our barman/waiter to remember us, we finished with a large individual sticky toffee pudding each with a dollop of ice cream (£5.95). Weekend bliss.
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