Toby Carvery bills itself as the ‘home of the roast’ – where Sunday roasts are done ‘properly’.

But just how ‘properly’ is that? And how does the chain’s low-cost offering compare to a fine-dining version of the classic Brit favourite?

I endeavoured to find out, heading to a Toby Carvery in Worthing, West Sussex, for a three-meat roast costing the princely sum of £13.99, then trying the Sunday roast at London’s only Michelin-starred pub, Fulham’s renowned Harwood Arms, where a set three courses sets you back £70 plus tip.

What happens when the humble Sunday roast gets the Michelin-star treatment? Can it possibly be worth paying high-end prices for when you can get essentially the same dish with change back from £20? Read on to find out…

TOBY CARVERY – THE ‘HOME OF THE ROAST’ – WORTHING

Katrina Conaglen tried out the Sunday Roast at Worthing’s Toby Carvery, which charges £13.99 for a three-meat carvery. Wondering how elevated a roast could possible get, she then spent five times as much to try the feted Sunday roast at Fulham’s Harwood Arms, the only Michelin-starred pub in London

Inside Toby Carvery. Katrina noted the ambience was lacking – ‘it’s dining without flair’ 

The carvery ‘deck’, where guests are invited to choose three meats, as well as all the trimmings – although the roast potatoes ‘had the damp kiss of the microwave,’ Katrina lamented

Katrina says: ‘I associate canteen-style buffets with the slop they served in the Mess Tent on M*A*S*H, so I fretted a little’ 

It was a filthy February day when I headed to the Home of the Roast in Worthing. The very bones of me were cold – ideal circumstances for a bolstering feast.

It was my first-ever Toby Carvery visit, but many friends I respect were, if not evangelical, certainly warmly affectionate about Toby’s Sunday roasts. 

It was time to put this British institution through its paces.

In the interest of journalistic rigour, I had intended to order a ‘starter’ of pigs in blankets. But as soon as I mentioned I planned on the carvery, my waiter informed me that the ‘carvery deck’ was around the corner and to queue there for my serving. As a carvery naïf, I did as I was told.

My dining companion ordered mac ‘n’ cheese, which was delivered and demolished by the time I returned with my laden plate. (They had schlepped out in a tempest to the restaurant with me, so I didn’t admonish them. Also, they were 10 years old.)

When I made it through the winding queue to the ‘deck’ I was told to choose three meats. Wanting to make it to pudding, I limited myself to slow-cooked beef and pork loin. I associate canteen-style buffets with the slop they served in the mess tent on M*A*S*H, so I fretted a little.

Katrina opted for slow-cooked beef and pork loin for her choice of meats. She was impressed with the beef, wondering ‘how they’d managed to keep a soft, yielding texture for meat now sunbathing under a heat lamp’ 

According to Katrina, the Yorkies ‘were the size of a sombrero’ and an admirable effort 

I needn’t have: The beef was tender. I slathered it in English mustard and wondered how they’d managed to keep a soft, yielding texture for meat sunbathing under a heat lamp. A form of wizardry.

The pork loin, alas, erred towards what the Scots evocatively call ‘chugh’ – leathery meat. I had forgotten the apple sauce in the tumult of the ‘carvery deck’ – a fatal error. An undignified end for the poor pig.

The roasties had the damp kiss of the microwave, but their interior had the critical ‘smoosh’ factor one needs from a Sabbath spud. Yorkies were the size of a sombrero. Though greasier than ideal, I was impressed – crispy exterior, pancake-y interior, substantive but not stodgy. Admirable.

For her pudding, Katrina opted for apple and blackberry crumble, served with soft serve ice cream. She wanted ‘to warm [her] insides as ballast against the squall outdoors’

The state of the glassware left much to be desired, Katrina found: ‘I’m not Lady Muck, but I do prefer a clean tumbler’

Katrina, with dessert – warm stewed fruit crowned with hot golden rubble

Dessert was apple and blackberry crumble. I wanted warm stewed fruit crowned with hot golden rubble, to warm my insides as ballast against the squall outside. And so it proved – a school dinner favourite, done perfectly well.

Now, a moan. There’s a Monty Python sketch in which a waiter, distraught his customer has been given a dirty fork, goes into increasing paroxysms of horror at letting the diner down. Reader, that waiter would spontaneously combust if he saw the glassware at Toby Carvery. I’m not Lady Muck, but I do prefer a clean tumbler.

Verdict: Crucially, Toby’s Carvery is not attempting a swizz – £13.99 for a mountain of well-prepared meat, endless veg, and as many roasties as you can pile on your plate. The ambience may be lacking – it’s dining without flair – but if you’re after a good feed, you’re quids in. 

PROS: Flavoursome meat, comforting food, mountainous puddings, value for money.

CONS: All the atmosphere of an airport lounge, queueing for food, dirty glassware.

Rating out of five: ***

Cost: £13.99 for three-meat carvery, with all the trimmings, £6.49 for a kid’s meal / £9.98 for two desserts / £5 gratuity.

Total cost for food: £35.46.

Visit: www.tobycarvery.co.uk.

THE HARWOOD ARMS, FULHAM

The Harwood Arms in Fulham is the only Michelin-starred pub in London. Its famed Sunday Roasts come in at £70 a head for three courses – and you have to share the roast between two

Of the pub’s relaxed feel, Katrina says ‘if you’ve swerved Michelin-star establishments in your time for fear of tedious poncery, The Harwood Arms will not frighten you’  

Katrina describes The Harwood Arms as a gastropub with ‘thoughtful touches [that] suggest a studied casualness’. She says: ‘There is a hint of a hunting lodge theme that stops short of going full, fusty Balmoral’

Red deer tongue with beetroot and quince. Katrina said: ‘Smokey, whisper-soft meat was cut through with the sweetness of the quince and beetroot’ 

If you’ve swerved Michelin-star establishments in your time for fear of tedious poncery, The Harwood Arms will not frighten you. 

Definitely ‘gastropub’ in feel, thoughtful touches suggest a studied casualness – scuffed, leather-bound chairs, antique pine tables. There is a hint of a hunting lodge theme that stops short of going full, fusty Balmoral.

That’s reflected in the menu, which is heavily game-orientated, and offers gently remixed versions of time-honoured British standbys. We’re not talking arty ‘deconstructions’ or weird-for-the-sake-of-weird innovation, just slightly more creative takes on dishes that – well, you can order at Toby Carvery.

Ok, not my first course, in fairness. A starter of grilled red deer tongue, strafed with drops of quince paste and beetroot doesn’t scream ‘British comfort food.’

But oh, let me tell you what a time I had eating it. Meat perfectly seared on the outside, with a superlatively yielding texture inside. Smokey, whisper-soft meat was cut through with the sweetness of the quince and beetroot. At the risk of sounding salacious, of all the tongue I’ve had in my time, I didn’t expect a deer’s to enter the top ten.

Then, to the main event – Iberian Pork with Jowl, with apple sauce, Yorkie, roasties, broccoli and carrot. Toby Carvery doesn’t tell you what farm its meat comes from, but The Harwood Arms does – and I have every reason to suspect my pig had a gorgeous life back at Whitley Manor, judging by how succulent yet lean it tasted. Ribbons of whisper-pink pork dissolved in my mouth.

The Harwood Arms main: Iberian Pork with Jowl, with apple sauce, Yorkie, roasties, broccoli and carrot. The pork is sourced from Whitley Manor farm. Katrina said: ‘I have every reason to suspect my pig had a gorgeous life back on Whitley Manor, judging by how succulent yet lean it tasted’

As to the Yorkie? It was pretty good. Nothing rapturous. Yorkies are never the most flavoursome part of the roast, but it was just what you needed from a side dish that is essentially a carrier for other flavours, designed to complement one another.

This is where the dish triumphed. Every component existed in symphonic accord with the other – the apple sauce made the pork sing, and the roasties acted as a carbohydrate conductor that brought the whole mouthful together.

This was the platonic ideal of roasts. Can a roast dinner be elevated? You betcha.

I did not particularly need nor want dessert, but, one-woman Woodward and Bernstein that I am, I ate it to bring you the culinary scoop. Apple parfait with hazelnut and shortbread. 

Cherub-fat orbs of fresh apple cream, cut through with delicate hazelnut ice cream and biscuit that snapped so crisply it could moonlight as a twig. ‘This is what angels eat for breakfast,’ I moaned. I had found a pudding so delectable it would be worth suffering the fate the kids in Willy Wonka endure for stealing sweets.

Dessert was apple parfait with hazelnut and shortbread, which Katrina declared was ‘what angels eat for breakfast’ 

‘Pudding so delectable it would be worth suffering the fate the kids in Willy Wonka endure for stealing sweets,’ Katrina enthused

Reader – the meal was plentiful. I am truthful when I say I had to let my belt out two notches.

Which is my only major complaint about Harwood. You have to have three courses on a Sunday, and you have to share the roast between two. Both caveats seem unreasonable – a roast is a hefty meal, and I loathe being overfull. Also, why should you have to have a companion with you to enjoy a handsome meal just because it’s the Lord’s Day?

It’s a silly prejudice, in my eyes. I’m sure there’s a justification related to covers and overheads, but it sits poorly with me.

Verdict: When you pay over the odds for a meal, the hope is, as much as anything, you’re paying for an experience. Toby Carvery is food as background noise – an old sitcom episode you put on for comfort but also to talk over.

At The Harwood Arms, food is the main event. The pub satiates hunger, yes, but more than that, they create gorgeous memories. I couldn’t afford to eat like this with any regularity, but if your pound stretches to it, it’s worth the splurge.

PROS: Spectacularly delicious food, laidback atmosphere, pudding of celestial quality

CONS: Seems churlish to insist on three courses, and having to dine with a guest, at these prices

Rating out of five: ****

Cost: £140 for three-course set menu for two / £20 gratuity.

Total cost for food: £160. 

Visit: harwoodarms.com.