In the past, I never understood the appeal of the quintessentially English roast dinner. It seemed to me that people spent a disproportionate amount of their designated Day of Rest slaving over a hot stove, considering how bland and limp the resulting "meat and three veg" often tasted. My favourite part of a roast dinner was previously the Yorkshire pudding, so given the option I would generally have preferred to just eat the batter alongside a couple of decent meaty sausages as Toad in the Hole.
In my eyes it was particularly incomprehensible why anyone would want to spend
every Sunday cooking a roast. There’s such a plethora of delicious dishes available from such a vast array of different cuisines - spicy Mexican stews, tender Moroccan tagines, fresh Italian pastas with silky sauces - why would you choose to restrict your weekend dining to a lump of dry meat and a plate of soggy vegetables?
