Boss little gaff.
(Can you tell I used to live Liverpool)
Anyway, back to the other end of the canal.
If you are Leeds born and bred you have to view this though the lens of somebody who was brought up with diff hue of rose completely, we are originally from Lancashire. So when we buzz off things that established Leeds people will be well acquainted with you can just humour us. First time for everything eh.
We LOVE the Roundhay Fox. This establishment is relevant to our interests due to a couple of key things:- fire, soup and overall atmosphere. I think my mum calls it ambience but I didn’t get past GCSE French so fuck that.
Disclaimer- we are not peasants. But we got fully involved with the £3.75 soup option on the menu. Courgette, cheese and chive was the soup of the day on our maiden voyage to the Roundhay Fox. Not sure if alliteration or flavour took precedence when choosing this flavour but we jumped on board with it and were pleasantly surprised. Soup is a far more reckless decision than you first think because the spectrum of viscosity is vast. Thankfully, the Fox provided us with the kinda soup that clings to bits of bread like a single person sleeping bag with two fat people in it. Gelled to the sides. None of this watery stuff where they stick a stock pot in a slow cooker and call it an artisan broth. Also the butter had these mad seeds lashed all over it which actually weren’t for decoration because they tasted dead satisfying and I know fuck all about food so for me to think a SEED is satisfying means it must be next fucking level.
That bread looks like chewing it would be pure admin but it was actually dead soft. Spreading butter with a spoon wasn’t ideal but it’s not hard to call a waitress over and let them know they’ve forgotten to give you one. We were just lazy. Not assed the service was lacking a tiny bit anyway because the food was next level. If the food is good I couldn’t give a shit about the service. Throw it at me on a frisbee I don’t care.