So, let me set the scene: stunning, (if not a smidgen too warm) day out to York with the family, Looking forward to a day of history and marvel. Now as a larger chap, the penetrating warmth and the walking's got me all agitated. (I, like any respectable truck needs to stop for refueling every 100ft) So Just as the obligatory quarreling of a ravenous family of misfits had started, the barks for a maccy D's swatted by the submission of an Italian; we found ourselves stood in the shadow of a red, flower clad facade, Gourmet society approved eatery by the name of Russells.
Table for 5 - Ginger Beer and a large Carvery ordered. "So Chubs, Why the 1 star?" I hear boom from your guts? Well.....
The veg was very lack-luster; Peas wrinklier than my manhood after a bath, what I hope was a carrot puree and some very ill looking broad beans.
The assortment of meats, (gammon, Turkey and beef) each in their own rights resembled some sort of fat covered, regurgitated cyst. It was genuinely awful. "Ahh what the hell., I could eat a steamrolled dog if its lathered in gravy", I say to myself undefeated.
The lackey behind the counter wielded his ladle, a flicker of hope resonating in his eye.
The hope was false..
A light brown, gelatinous specimen was spooned onto my plate; Its similarity very much uncanny to what funnels out of me after an Indian takeaway, Chunks n' all. It's cold, meaty membrane sullying all it touched.
The only saving grace to this meal was the roast spuds, where they good. Nope. But unlike the rest where at least palatable, So Kudos on that Russells!
So a long story made longer, we paid the revoltingly steep prices for a carvery ( even if it had been the finest carvery we had eaten the price still would have been a knee to the groin) and left the premises hungrier than when we entered. read more