“There are thin lines of creamy fat running through the maroon flesh like a road map; a thicker layer wrapped around the outside and here and there oval islands of it, the colour of creme fraiche, set among the meat. This fat is crisp to the touch and plentiful; it is what will baste the meat as it cooks, infusing Sunday lunch with savour and succulence. Fat is what makes meat sexy.” Nigel Slater

On Sunday we had a date with beer writer Melissa Cole. Last time I was in Britain we avoided the pubs on Sundays as I was told they are very busy due to the Sunday Roast tradition. This time we were heading into the heart of the beast. I plotted a course across London , two tube lines and then driverless surface tramway the DLR. We then walked a couple of East London blocks to the Angel of Bow.

The pub was of the young and sexy variety. Melissa was running late so we sat in some particularly regal chairs and had a drink while we waited. I started with the one cask offering which tasted strongly of NZ hops. Then I went on to a bottle of the English Trappist Tynt Meadow. Melissa was held up by transport delays so we ordered scotch eggs as a entrée. The smell of the roast from the servery was getting to us.

Melissa arrived and we moved to a dining table and chatted away. Melissa is a particular sort of London character.  Ebullient, charismatic, will full and above all entertaining. Mum was taken with the experience.

I opted for traditional beef while mum and Melissa went pork. The various self-service sides were all delicious even if the roast spuds were not up to Melissa’s standard. We ate and drank and chatted the afternoon away.

Then it was time to go and we retraced our steps home to Tottenham where I had a De Dolle Oerbier before retiring to bed but Mum stayed up late watching a series on cathedrals hoping to see something about Salisbury Cathedral.