The Anatomy of the Perfect Sunday Roast: What Actually Goes Into Ours
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A Sunday roast is one of those dishes that everyone thinks they understand. Meat, potatoes, vegetables, gravy. How complicated can it be?
The answer, if you've ever sat in front of a disappointing one, is: very. The difference between a roast that's merely fine and one that makes you want to come back the following Sunday is the difference between going through the motions and genuinely caring about every component on the plate. We care about every component on the plate. Here's why that matters, and what it actually looks like in practice.
It Starts Long Before Sunday Morning
The most common mistake in a pub roast is treating it as a Sunday problem. The sourcing decisions, the prep work, the stock that will eventually become your gravy — none of that starts on the day. By the time our kitchen opens on a Sunday morning, the foundations have already been laid.
Our meat is sourced from trusted local suppliers who share our commitment to quality and responsible farming. The beef is grass-fed and properly aged, which gives it the depth of flavour that supermarket meat simply cannot replicate. The pork comes with crackling that's been scored and seasoned to actually crackle rather than chew. The chicken is free-range, herb-basted, and cooked to stay tender rather than just to reach temperature.
We change our roast selection seasonally, which means what's on the plate reflects what's genuinely good right now. Slow-roasted lamb in spring. Beef in its various forms year-round. Seasonal specials that follow the calendar rather than ignore it.
If you ever want to know where something on your plate came from, ask. We're proud of the answer.
The Roast Potatoes
There is no diplomatic way to say this: most roast potatoes are not good enough.
They are either underdone, so the inside is dense and starchy, or overdone, so the outside has crossed from crisp into hollow. The timing window for a genuinely great roastie is narrow, and hitting it consistently for a full dining room on a Sunday requires discipline that a lot of kitchens don't bother with.
Ours are cooked in beef dripping. This is not a negotiable detail. Beef dripping is what gives a roast potato its particular flavour and its ability to go properly golden rather than just pale and oily. The potatoes are par-boiled first, roughed up at the edges to maximise surface area, then roasted at high heat until the outside is crisp enough to tap with a fork and the inside is soft and fluffy.
They come out in batches timed to the service rather than sitting under a lamp waiting. That timing matters more than most people realise.
The Vegetables
Vegetables at a Sunday roast have a reputation problem. Decades of overcooked carrots and sad Brussels sprouts have trained people to expect the worst and be grateful for anything better than limp.
We treat the vegetables as a genuine part of the dish rather than an obligation. Seasonal greens, properly cooked. Honey-glazed carrots with some bite left in them. Cauliflower cheese when it's on, made properly with a sauce that actually has flavour. Braised red cabbage that's been cooking long enough to go sweet and deep.
The vegetable selection rotates with the season, which means in winter you're getting roots and brassicas at their best, and in summer the plate looks and tastes completely different. This is how it should be.
The Gravy
Gravy is where Sunday roasts are won and lost, and it's the thing that's hardest to fake.
Good gravy is not a powder or a cube. It's not something you make in five minutes at the end of service. It's built from proper roasting juices, good stock, and time. Ours starts with the bones and trimmings, develops through the week, and arrives at Sunday as something rich, dark, and complex enough to taste like it actually came from the animal on your plate.
The texture matters too. Gravy should coat the back of a spoon without being gluey. It should pour rather than plop. It should be hot enough to keep everything else on the plate warm rather than cooling it down on contact.
We serve it generously because there is no sadder sight on a Sunday roast than a small jug of gravy that runs out before the plate is half finished.
The Yorkshire Puddings
We should be honest: the Yorkshires have become something of a talking point.
First-timers often ask if they've been given someone else's order when they arrive. They haven't. We make them large because a Yorkshire pudding that fits in your palm is a Yorkshire pudding that has given up on itself.
The batter is rested overnight, which develops the flavour and gives the puddings their structure. The tins go into a hot oven with hot fat, which is what creates the rise: a cold tin will give you a flat, dense disc rather than a tall, airy bowl with crisp edges and a soft, yielding centre. The timing and temperature are not guessed. They are followed with the kind of attention that produces consistent results week after week.
A proper Yorkshire pudding should be tall enough to fill with gravy and still have room for a piece of beef. Ours qualifies.
The Family-Style Sharing Option
For groups and families who want the full experience, we offer our Sunday roast in a family-style sharing format: platters of meat in the middle of the table, bowls of roasties and vegetables passed around, gravy within reach of everyone.
There is something about this format that makes a Sunday roast feel like what it's supposed to be. Not a restaurant transaction, but a meal shared between people who are in no particular hurry to go anywhere else.
It also means the vegetables actually get eaten, because people serve themselves what they want rather than receiving a portion that was decided for them.
When to Come
Sunday lunch service runs from 12pm, and we strongly recommend booking in advance. The roast is a Kew institution at this point, and tables on a Sunday go quickly, particularly for larger groups and families.
If you're visiting Kew Gardens, we're a five-minute walk from the Elizabeth Gate. If you're coming specifically for the roast, the District line stops at Kew Gardens station, which is a short walk across the Green.
Either way, come hungry.
📍 The Greyhound, 82 Kew Green, Richmond, TW9 3AP
Sunday starts at 12. The Yorkshires are ready when you are.