Sunday roast at Eagle N1

What a difference a mere week makes!  

The temperature felt like it had stepped back to the March’s and I ended up donning my oversized Uniqlo fleece jacket all last week. To make the matter worse, the work on my walk-in shower room ran on much longer and while the builders were working in there, they preferred to have the space well ventilated. Therefore, the French doors had to be kept wide-open despite plunging temperature and infrequent rain which left my flat very draughty. Time to time, there was a moment I just hated all the noise, the smell and the dust. Especially the dust, it went everywhere. I wouldn’t know how I could have dealt with them if I didn’t have well supplied Pledge’s Fluffy Dusters. 

Anyway, the end is in sight at last. Once a broken macerator is replaced tomorrow morning, my brand new shower room will be up and running. And the first person to enjoy it will be Mr.B. He might not welcome it but the matter is very urgent because his coat has lost its lustre for quite sometime.

It’s Sumday and the sun is shining…

Hubbie had been snowed under with designing e-book for a poet this weekend. ‘Sorry for being holed up’, he apologised. Oh well, how could I get annoyed with him since he was earning the dough. So I suggested Sunday roast at our pub. The idea cheered him up greatly and once the clock hit 2 o’clock, we headed to our local pub. 

The first pub, William IV, we tried didn’t have Sunday roast. ‘Sorry guys. Our chef left recently and we haven’t found a replacement yet’. What a shame. So we walked to another pub at the opposite end of the street. 

Please bring my roast chicken soon because I am STARVING…

There are a few pubs named “The Eagle” in London. However, this is the only pub whose name is included in a nursery rhyme: Up and down the City road, in and out The Eagle. That’s the way the money goes. Pop goes the weasel… The actual pub stands next to Shoreditch Police Station and therefore here must be a waterhole for local bobbies too?

Yippee, my Sunday feast!!

Behold my roast Shropshire half chicken, gingerbread stuffing and chicken gravy!  Hubbie had roast pork loin with red wine jus. Both dishes were accompanied by Yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes and cooked greens. The chicken was very moist and tender. The stuffing was tasty and the vegs were done perfectly. It was 10/10.
When we left the pub, we noticed the sun had definitely took the edge off from the chilly weather we had been experiencing since last Monday. Let’s hope the weather will continue to improve and we can ditch coats and bomber jackets for good…

Kaori by Kaori Okumura

Sunday Roast @ Foodhall, Barbican EC2

The recent weather in London has been rather temperamental. It swings between faultlessly glorious summer to a miserably soggy sorry early autumn. On a bad day, grey clouds puff up their plump cheeks and threaten to spit over our heads…

A couple of Sundays ago, Hubbie, Mr.B & I visited the Barbican for lunch…

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An overcast sky above Lauderdale Tower…

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The Foodhall was busy with Sunday lunch diners…

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A chef carving a juicy hunk of roast beef while we stare at his hands gleefully…

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Voilá, my roast beef & Yorkshire pudding! They were accompanied by roast potatoes, cauliflower cheese and sautéed carrots…

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The dish was very tasty.
It also received a big thumb-up (paw-up, to be precise) from our undercover food critic, Mr.B…

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‘Is there any more roast beef on its way?’

Once our stomachs were nicely lined, we moved on to the gallery on the 4th floor…

Kaori by Kaori Okumura

Tramshed @ Rivington Street, EC2

Don’t mention the “C” word, please!
I mean no “Chicken”, “Chips” or “Cider”. Hubbie & I dined at Tramshed on Rivington Street and were stuffed with roast chicken & chips up to our throats. On our way home, we kept on reminding each other, ‘Don’t mention the C-word!’

We arrived at the restaurant on foot at 13:00 sharp…

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I remember that there used to be a large steel shutter in front of the building. The original electric generating station was so discreet that I didn’t realise it was there at all.
Now, the shed offered an airy multi-story dining space and artworks by Damian Hirst…

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In the middle of the main dining  space, Damien Hirst’s cow & chicken in formaldehyde was hoisted up…

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How do the cow & chicken feel about us gorging ourselves with steak and roast chicken?

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I felt a pang of guilt while being seated underneath the sculpture.

The main course was deadly simple – roast chicken or steak. We opted for sharing their barn-reared Indian Rock chicken with wild garlic sauce and chips.

For starter, we nibbled on Yorkshire pudding with whipped chicken liver…

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Ahhhh, overly keen (& hungry) Hubbie snatched the Yorkshire pudding before I had a chance to take photos!

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The whipped chicken liver was delicious. It was bursting with flavour without being too rich.

For drink, we tried Temperley’s Mulled Cider…

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It was concocted from Burrow Hill cider, apple juice, Kingston Black aperitif, blackberries and spices.
I must say it was simply divine. We both agreed that we could drink it all afternoon!

Then, our plat de résistance, roast chicken with chips…

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I don’t know why but the way it was presented – the chicken’s feet tied up, reminded me a painting by Francis Bacon. While we beheld this unusual sight, a waitress produced a large kitchen knife, with which she sliced off the chicken’s feet and then carved off legs for us…

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A large spoon was stuck in the rear end of the chicken so we could dig out the stuffing from inside. The scene was how should I put it… rather brutal.

For side dish, we ordered sautéed Brussels sprout tops…

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My plate before I commenced the assault…

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By the end of the meal, I was utterly defeated by the volume of the serving. Hubbie struggled on a little longer but had to throw in the towel. The roast chicken with chips would certainly feed three adults, not two. For dessert, I am afraid to report that we didn’t sample any of it because we were too full. Therefore, we just settled the bill and left the restaurant.
I think the place will be a fun venue to dine before embarking on a night out in Shoreditch. Even though the restaurant is well-known for their carnivorous menu, they also offer a vegetarian & pescetarian menu too. So nobody will be disappointed or go hungry.

With our stomach stuffed more than full, we staggered out to Rivington Street…

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Mirror-balls as a Christmas decoration. What a brilliant idea! Can we have a street party?

Then, we walked to our favourite bookshop, Artwords Bookshop

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I just love standing there turning pages forever…

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They inspire me endlessly…

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The wind was blowing relentlessly and kept the temperature low. However, because of it, the sky was largely cloudless…

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I brought home a magazine “The Gourmand“…

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But I am still too full to read it. For tonight’s supper, we are eating another “C-word” food. Guess what? It’s gonna be toasted crumpets & jam!!

A few more days to go through and it’s Christmas. How time flies…

Kaori by Kaori Okumura

Lazy Sunday Nosh…

Hubbie came back from his China trip last Friday.
Together with a customary pile of dirty laundry, he also brought back a cold. Oh what a duty-free to pick up, I moaned. So far, I am still holding it off. Maybe the cold I have just shaken off, is also helping me to generate some antibody? I seriously hope so…

Anyway, last Sunday was decidedly a lazy affair. Apart from going out for a film in the afternoon, nothing was planned. While I was sipping a cup of tea, sporting an accidental Harry Style-like coif and browsing a blogosphere with my new iPad Air, Hubbie suggested, ‘Do you fancy Sunday roast at The Eagle?’ Oh yes, pleeeeeease! We hadn’t been there for a while, had we?

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What shall we drink? Then I saw an electric soup tureen marked as “Warm Spiced Cider”. Mmmm…, that sounds interesting. So we ordered two glasses of warm cider and for lunch, we opted for roast pork.
With our glasses in our hands, we settled into one of well-padded leather benches…

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The warm cider tasted interesting…

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It was not full-bodied as mulled wine but with a strong hint of wintery spice, it made the beverage very moreish.
Shortly afterward, steaming plates of roast were brought out to our table…

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Apart from a crackling which I found too tough to handle, the pork was very scrumptious. Underneath the Yorkshire pudding, there was a generous serving of roast pork bathing in the gravy. It was a joy to mop up this meaty juice with Yorkshire pudding and roast potatoes.

For pudding, we decided to have them at the Barbican Centre…

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At their ground floor cafe, we were spoiled by choice…

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Therefore, my index finger took quite a while until it pointed at a slice of cheese cake finally…

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With a mug of skinny latte, we took up the seatings by the window.
The scene outside looked distinctly autumn-like…

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‘Let’s hope there will be no more firework tonight for Mr.B’s sake’, Hubbie remarked. Sipping my latte slowly, I nodded in full agreement…

Kaori by Kaori Okumura

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