The Brunswick, Leeds: Review

I could be exiled for this.

As a son of the shire, to confess my ambivalence towards the Yorkshire pudding on any day does my regional credentials no good. To do it today – on Yorkshire Day, no less – is particularly risky, but here we are.

Nah, not arsed with them. At home they’re not worth the gamble. Save your pink-faced stress, your angry panic and your craned oven-oggling and just hand over some extra roast potatoes, ta. And, eating out, it’s rare to find one that – stale, dry, bland – wasn’t knocked out several hours ago. But still, as long as they’re MASSIVE, who cares, eh?

(As a kid we had them as pudding; thick, dense and doused in raspberry vinegar. French. Much better.)

I mention the YP because I had one with a top-drawer Sunday lunch at The Brunswick, up there at the top of Leeds – remember when folk used to go out for Sunday lunch? – and, for once, I scarfed the whole thing without it being siphoned off to other more interested parties. Yep, The Brunswick’s Sunday offering is a good ‘un.

It starts with a punchy shot of Bloody Mary, and I can’t imagine not having kind words to say about anywhere that chucks in some steadying booze with the scran, early doors.

The menu – a handful of mains, a few sides, one dessert – doesn’t faff about, and after a lively night before, faff-free is good. The beef welly’s tempting but needs to be ordered a couple of days in advance, at which time I was probably making empty promises to myself – again – about having a virtuous weekend and maybe knocking out a beef wellington.

No loss, because the topside of beef we have instead provides quite the bovine hit; sheets of the stuff falling apart with mercifully minimal effort. I can’t think of anywhere I’ve had better beef of the Sunday variety, actually. (£13)

Some more crispy rattle on the roast potatoes would be nice, but they’re still golden and good, and underneath the lot lays a generous scattering of vividly fresh vegetables, with vibrant green beans and a couple of roasted carrots both cooked to bite-retaining done-ness. Amen to this simplicity, especially as we nearly eat somewhere that, on a second look, appears to serve baby sweetcorn with Sunday lunch. The animals.

I prefer The Brunswick’s lighter, natural gravy to those seriously dense, heavy versions that animal carcasses have been roasted and reduced overnight to produce.  A slice of shit bread to dredge through the pooled remnants here would make, for me, an excellent dessert.

Underestimating the offering significantly, we’ve ordered sides too. There’s a bubbling pot of molten cheesy leeks for allium hum, meaty mini-sausages wrapped in bacon to be downed in a salty one-er, and – a tad leftfield but hey, for the vitamins – garlic-laden broccoli.

They know what they’re doing at The Brunswick and I leave restored, refreshed and re-pissed. And yes, the Yorkshire pudding was massive, but it wasn’t stale or dry or bland.

eatingthenorth on Twitter

The Brunswick website

Say summat here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.