The Hare, middlesex

Choo choo! All aboard the gastropub hype train!

So, off the back of my visit to The Drapers Arms, I’ve caught a bit of gastropub fever. From nose-to-tail eating to a nice garden to Sunday roasts, I’m hooked. But what is it that separates a gastropub from a restaurant and gives it the allure that a restaurant doesn’t always have? Maybe it’s the atmosphere, the relaxed pacing, and seemingly not as large a need to fit in as many covers as you can? Or could it be the occasions on which you go? A Sunday lunch represents all there is to a social meal, with plates and glasses full to the brim.

And a social occasion it was—a family outing and a Sunday lunch to follow. For us, the destination was The Hare, part of a chain of respected gastropubs. With a respectable a la carte menu and a good-looking Sunday Roast menu, it seemed like a solid choice. And with the car park very full, our minds were more at ease now that we saw its popularity. See, while often a safe choice, there is so much that can go well and wrong with a Sunday roast... The meat can be dry, the potatoes are not crispy, and the Yorkshire is like Styrofoam (looking at you, Guacho...). But when it goes right, it’s such a celebration of British cuisine! Match your meal with a good dessert and drink. It’ll be the highlight of your week (and Instagram story).

We opted for three courses, with a Sunday roast at the core. Being a gastropub, half of the restaurant was a large bar, and this was reflected in the drinks list. We opted for a variety of spritzes, the ones of note being the circus, elderflower, and apricot. Light, refreshing, and if it were sunnier out, definitely dangerous.

To start: burrata, lovage, and basil pesto, and an Isle of Wight heritage tomato salad. It’s hard to go wrong with burrata; it holds itself so strongly and seems to pair with rather than take over other flavours effortlessly. Furthermore, this dish had a wonderful ratio of burrata to salad (which was a lot of burrata). All being said, the lovage and basil pesto has a sweetness and earthiness that balances well with the burrata, and all six halves of the tomatoes in my tomato salad were fresh and well seasoned.

Now, to the main event. The roast. The choices were standard: beef, chicken, pork, and some form of cheese-beetroot thing. We all went for beef (because that’s the only correct choice). The beef was served medium-rare and was well seasoned. Too often, the meat is substandard, overcooked, or poorly seasoned, but here, none of that was an issue. The gravy was nice enough; it had a full meaty body of flavour but could have been richer overall and definitely served more plentifully.

The sides with the roast were, like the rest of the dishes, ‘good’. I certainly had better, but by no means did I leave an empty plate at the end. The Yorkshire pudding was crisp to tear but soft on the inside, and it absorbed the gravy well. The cabbage was soft and lightly seasoned, bringing a much-needed fresh taste to the plate. Perhaps the highlight of the plate were the roasted seasonal vegetables—the carrots and beetroot. Roasted beetroot was new to me, and it won’t be my last time having it. Sweet, nutty, and perfect for the British roast, I only wish I had more.

The last two sides on the plate are the two I often fear the most. I fear them because they can make or break the meal. We’ve all been there: the plate arrives, the beef is well cooked, the gravy is plentiful... but then your eyes meet the soppy, under seasoned potatoes and dry, plain cauliflower cheese. And whilst I was only marginally disappointed (the bar I had set was high!), it wasn’t a letdown! The potatoes were somewhat crisp, although they could have been better seasoned. They were, at least, soft and fluffy on the inside, cooked throughout. The cauliflower cheese definitely had met some cheese in its life (more than some I’ve had), but it was expecting that cheese-pull ooze and rich nutty flavour. Instead, there was a slight cheese flavour to the otherwise well-seasoned cauliflower florets.

So, a mixed bag. But, like I said, I finished the plate. Soon after finishing and our plates being taken away, our server asked us perhaps a rhetorical question: would we like to see the dessert menu?

Of course we would.

The choice here was tough. Pistachio soufflé or treacle marmalade sponge I was nostalgic for a treacle sponge I once made after a Sunday roast, so I went for that. And zero regrets were had. The sponge was soft, full of treacle flavour, and a perfect balance of sweet and tart. To contract the softness of the sponge was a nut crisp, sweet, and very fun, so it was split into pieces. Interestingly enough, I had no idea the Creme franchise was vegan until I looked again at the menu after. How far have we come, right? But it too added the tartness and flavour needed to cut through the richness of the sponge.

Truly an institution, the Sunday roast did its job. An afternoon spent with family was one I very much enjoyed. Would I return here for a normal meal? Absolutely. Sometimes, admittedly, the roast is a poor reflection on a restaurant—the repetition of the same meal, with less attention per dish, if I enjoyed the roast today, I may indeed enjoy a meal here even more.