I had never eaten a proper Sunday roast. Not once. For someone who has spent a considerable portion of his life eating things on purpose, this seemed like a fairly serious oversight.
So I decided to fix it.
A quick search led me to The Cheshire Cat in Carp, about a 30 minute drive from home. I enlisted a few friends because if I was going to finally eat a Sunday roast, I wanted witnesses. Or accomplices.
The pub is tucked away in Carp, just off the highway, in a setting that feels a world away from the city. It is not exactly where you expect to stumble upon a memorable meal, which made discovering one there all the more satisfying.
We started with drinks in the outdoor lounge before moving to the patio. September had begun making its presence known, so the overhead heaters and blankets were a nice touch. The place was bustling, but the staff never seemed rattled by it. The servers were funny, kind and attentive without hovering, a quality that should be easier to find than it is. They made us feel less like customers and more like people who had somehow been invited over for dinner and were now expected to eat everything.
Naturally, we needed starters. (more…)
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