Article

Published: 05/07/2026

Every restaurant with a Sunday roast faces the same choice: turn the tables twice and take twice the money, or sit everybody down at once and stop. We tried both in our first year and the second one won, for a reason that had nothing to do with money.

A turned table has a clock on it. Somebody has to say the sentence about needing it back by half past two, and from that moment the family at the table is eating to a deadline, which is precisely what a Sunday lunch is meant not to be. The staff know it, the guests know it, and the last twenty minutes are uncomfortable for everybody.

So there is one sitting, from midday, and the room is yours until four. We take fewer covers and we make less on a Sunday than we could. In return nobody has ever been asked to leave, and about a third of the room every week is people who first came for somebody's birthday and now simply come.

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