The Sunday Lunch.

It’s something many of us in Britain have grown up accustomed to. Every Sunday, usually around 3pm in our house, we’d sit down at the dining table and munch our way through some sort of meat, and all the veg and stuffing you could dream of.

Since my brother and I moved away from home this doesn’t really happen anymore. I am ashamed to say that I have yet to cook myself a Sunday roast despite loving hosting friends for dinner. I would much rather cook a Musaka or any other big one pot meal.  To me, having watched my parents (ok, let’s be honest, my mum) cook Sunday Lunch for years, it all seems like a lot of pots and pans and gravy spillages and after all that you’re left with a kitchen full of washing up – which is the last thing you want to be doing with a belly full of potatoes.

Although, please don’t take this as me dissing the Sunday lunch. I am certainly a fan. It’s just, well, it’s just a little bit intimidating isn’t it.

On the two occasions that I’ve bought a chicken to roast myself I have been so scared that I haven’t cooked the bird thoroughly that it stays in the fridge before migrating to the bin without coming near a plate or a set of knives and forks (I hate food waste – this very rarely happens in my house). So, on the sound advice of my mother, I tend to stick to the already-cooked rotisserie chicken from Morrisons these days.

I like to think that I’m a pretty decent time keeper. I wake up early, like to be early for work, meetings, social occasions and I tend to go to bed at the same time every night. However, the thought of keeping tabs on the timings of a hob full of saucepans each with different veg cooking away at varying speeds stresses me out.

One of these days I will pluck up the courage and, maybe even more essential, the patience to cook my very own Sunday roast but until then whenever I get the urge for a comforting plate of Sunday lunch you’ll find me at Bully’s restaurant in Canton, Cardiff.

Before I tell you about the most delicious roasts I have ever eaten I want to talk about the décor of this restaurant. 

Over the last year or so I have become obsessed with maximalist interiors and often spend an evening pinning images of colourful rooms to my ever expanding Pinterest boards. So, to my delight, Bully’s is a maximalist’s dream. Blue walls are covered with mirrors, photos, prints and all types of lovely nick nacks. Tables are accompanied by mix and match chairs of different textures and colours.

Anyway – back to the food.

I can’t tell you how many disappointing roasts I’ve had out over the years. I think because the Sunday roast is something many of us make at home, when it comes to paying a premium at a restaurant we want it to me something outstanding, something that would be very difficult to replicate at home.

The Bully’s Beef dinner with Yorkshire pudding, greens, roast potatoes and red wine gravy is certainly a meal that I don’t think in a million years I could replicate in my little kitchen. The meat was cooked beautifully – pink but not too pink. The potatoes were just right and the Yorkshire was a fluffy batter ball of dreams. The piece de resistance however was the red wine gravy - a deep red river of flavour. 

Oh, gosh it was tasty. 

Love, 

Lisa