A Proper Sunday Roast

Uh oh, another foodie blog post! I promise this one is worth a read. On my recent trip to London, my aunt put together an itinerary for our entire trip. On Sunday before me and Gianna caught our flight back to Ireland, I noticed she had written in "Sunday Roast." I assumed it was something food related, yet I still was curious about the contents of a Sunday roast.

She spared details until Sunday approached and we dined at this beautiful joint hidden in the countryside of Essex. I ordered the mixed roast and received lamb, beef, and turkey. However, you do not just get meat, you also get potatoes, an array of veggies, cheesy cauliflower, and dessert. When all these dishes were brought out to us me and Gianna's eyes got super big. The waitress immediately asked us where we were from, seemingly knowing we were foreign (wonder how!) 

I would 10/10 recommend getting a Sunday roast to anyone who is journeying to London AND having a glass of wine. Yeats wrote a short poem about wine that makes readers think. Is Yeats referring to an over consumption of alcohol? Is he tired of the one that he is supposed to love? Is Yeats tired of life itself? Ending the poem with the word sigh holds power, making readers glance over it twice, eager to make sense of his words. I think this poem is open to much interpretation, as it is so short, and I enjoyed discussing different points of view in my Literary Ireland class. No matter what he means, Yeats is a genius, and I will drink to that!

Wine comes in at the mouth

And love comes in at the eye;

That’s all we shall know for truth

Before we grow old and die.

I lift the glass to my mouth,

I look at you, and I sigh.