SUNDAY ROAST

At Hawksmoor, Sunday is for a proper roast. Not just a meal, but a ritual. The sort of feast that calls everyone to the table and keeps them there. Think Thanksgiving, but weekly, and with Yorkshire puddings.

The tradition goes back centuries, to great joints of meat turning over open fires, families gathering, plates passed, stories shared. It is a cornerstone of British life and a proud part of ours. A long lunch that gently drifts into the afternoon. Breakfast and lunch, happily tangled together.

In the UK, we have twice been awarded Best Sunday Roast, so it is fair to say we take it seriously. Awfully seriously, from the quality of the beef to the last spoonful of gravy.  

And, should a Bloody Mary, or two, be consumed alongside it, who are we to judge?

“Sunday Roast is part ritual, part feast. It is about generosity and time spent together,” says Co-Founder Huw Gott. “We have brought that spirit to our Chicago home, roast beef cooked over open fire, crisp potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, proper gravy, the works. It is a very English tradition, built on something universal, gathering people around beef and letting the afternoon take care of itself.” 

Some like tradition. Some like excess. Some bring friends and let the table decide. However you approach it, our Sunday Roast is built around dry-aged beef, proper trimmings and gravy worth talking about.

The Classic
Dry-aged rump, carved thick and served with beef-dripping roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, roasted carrots, buttered seasonal greens, roasted garlic and lashings of bone marrow & onion gravy. No shortcuts. No stinginess.

The Ultimate Sharing Roast
Charcoal-roasted rib of beef, beef & bone marrow stuffing, beef dripping Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, charcoal-roasted cabbage, honey-roasted carrots & parsnips, slow-roasted garlic, bone marrow gravy. For two or more. For when Sunday deserves ceremony.

A roast without trimmings is just steak on a Sunday. Ours arrive in full voice. 

First, the beef dripping roast potatoes. Properly crisp, shattering at the edges, soft in the middle. They do not sit politely on the plate. They demand gravy, and we are happy to oblige. Ours is bone marrow and onion gravy, glossy, rich and poured without hesitation. 

Then the Yorkshire puddings. Tall, golden, built to catch every last drop. Roasted carrots, sweet and caramelised at the edges. Buttered greens with just enough bite to keep things honest. A whole clove of roasted garlic, soft and spreadable, for those who like to go all in. 

And if you would like to take things further, we actively encourage it. 

Our stuffing is unapologetically savoury and made to partner roast beef properly. Cauliflower cheese arrives bubbling, bronzed on top and dangerously good, the sort of side that threatens to upstage everything else on the table. 

Because Sunday is not about restraint. It is about abundance, gravy boats within easy reach, and the table falling quiet for all the right reasons. 

Hawksmoor began in London in 2006. We are Will Beckett and Huw Gott, childhood best friends who decided to have a go at opening the steak restaurant we wished existed. Proper food, sourced with care, cooked over real fire, served by people who actually seemed pleased to see you.

We opened in Chicago for the same reason we opened the first Hawksmoor in London. We wanted a restaurant we would be excited to visit on our night off.

That means proper food, done properly. Steak from good cattle, cooked over real fire by people who know when to leave it alone. We care deeply about sourcing, ageing, charcoal and seasoning. We just do not think any of it needs to feel solemn.

Just as important is how it feels to be here. A room with atmosphere and warmth. Buzz, not hush. Music you can tap your foot to. Staff who know their craft and treat you like a guest, not a problem to manage. You should be able to walk in wearing anything and feel at ease, whether it is your first visit or your fiftieth.

We have brought a few habits from home. Proper Sunday roasts with Yorkshire puddings that barely fit the plate. Martinis so cold they sting. A firm belief that a great steak and a good bottle of red can sort most things out.

Chicago has shaped us, too. There is a generosity of spirit here that we admire. Big hearted, straight talking and always up for a good time. So the place has a bit more noise, a bit more clink of glasses, a bit more encouragement toward another round.

The aim is simple. A restaurant that feels like yours. Somewhere for birthdays, midweek pick me ups and the table you book when friends are in town. Serious about the craft. Relaxed about everything else.