Gordon Ramsay’s Roast Beef Was the One Thing That Went Right That Week

Gordon Ramsay’s Roast Beef Was the One Thing That Went Right That Week

I didn’t think I had it in me that day. I had laundry to fold, texts I hadn’t answered, a to-do list that looked more like a personal attack… and yet, I still decided to make roast beef.

Not just any roast beef—Gordon Ramsay’s Slow Cooker Roast Beef.
Because sometimes the best way to say I’m doing okay is to sear a piece of beef like your life depends on it and let it simmer into something beautiful while the world keeps spinning.

And you know what?
I nailed it.
Like, really nailed it.
And I’ll never forget how good that felt.

What Gordon Ramsay Would Do

He’d call for a proper sear, first thing. Like a ritual. Get the beef golden and crusted, hit it with wine and stock, and let the slow cooker take over. He wouldn’t babysit it—he’d trust it.

He’d probably curse lovingly at how good it smells by hour four. He’d swirl the gravy like it was silk, then serve thick slices of beef with confidence.

And he’d tell you to rest it—because rest matters. For meat and for people.

Why I Cooked This (And Why It Meant More)

I’d been feeling like I was falling short of everything. Behind on work, behind on self-care, behind on being enough.

So I made this dish like a declaration:
“I can still do something well.”

I took my time with every step.
I chopped the carrots like they were therapy.
I rubbed that beef down with olive oil and told it, “You’re gonna be incredible.”
And when I poured the wine into the pot, I swear it felt like I was filling my own cup too.

Gordon Ramsay’s Roast Beef Was the One Thing That Went Right That Week
Gordon Ramsay’s Roast Beef Was the One Thing That Went Right That Week

How It Turned Out

Five hours later, the kitchen smelled like a whole other season.
Warm. Rich. Deep.

The beef was tender enough to fall apart if I even looked at it too hard. The gravy? Velvety, savory, just enough sweetness from the carrots and that sneaky bit of sugar.

I plated it up like I was on MasterChef—carved slices, a ladle of gravy, and a quiet little grin on my face.

I ate it slowly, proudly. Like someone who just did a damn good job.

So, Was It Worth It?

A thousand times, yes.

Not just because it tasted amazing (it really did), but because it gave me one clear win in a sea of chaos.

Some days, the laundry still doesn’t get done.
But the beef?
The beef was perfect.

Smart Tips (aka: How I Pulled This Off)

  • Sear it like you mean it.
    That crust is everything. Don’t rush this part. Your future self will thank you.
  • Layer flavor, not stress.
    Carrots and onions + wine + stock = the kind of gravy you’ll want to drink from the spoon.
  • Resting isn’t optional.
    Wrap that roast in foil and walk away. Let it breathe. Let the juices settle. Let you settle, too.
  • Gravy is love.
    Use the cooking liquid. Add a little cornflour slurry. Stir till it’s glossy and rich enough to write poetry about.
  • Taste everything.
    Salt and pepper aren’t seasoning—they’re therapy.

FAQs (Because You’re Gonna Ask)

Can I skip the wine?
Yes. But don’t. The flavor’s unreal.

What cut works best?
Topside or top-round is great. Brisket if you want it even more fall-apart.

What veggies can I add?
Potatoes, parsnips, leeks—anything cozy and hearty.

Will it freeze?
Yes, beautifully. Save that gravy too, trust me.

Gordon Ramsay’s Slow Cooker Roast Beef

Recipe by AvaCourse: DinnerCuisine: BritishDifficulty: Easy
Servings

6

servings
Prep time

15

minutes
Cooking time

5

hours 
Calories

177

kcal

For when you need to feel like you still know what you’re doing.

Ingredients

  • 1 kg topside or top-round beef

  • 500 ml beef stock

  • 187.5 ml red wine (don’t use the cheap stuff—you’re worth it)

  • 2 carrots, roughly chopped

  • 1 onion, sliced

  • 6 tbsp cornflour (divided in half)

  • 3 tbsp tomato purée

  • 2 tsp sugar

  • 1 tsp salt

  • 1 tsp black pepper

  • 1 tbsp olive oil

Directions

  • Veg goes in first
    I chopped two carrots and an onion—not perfectly, just enough to say, “yeah, these are chunks.” Tossed them into the slow cooker like I was tossing the day behind me. Sprinkled over some cornflour—maybe 3 tablespoons? I didn’t measure. Stirred it in with a “good enough” shrug.
  • Show the beef some love
    Grabbed that gorgeous slab of topside, gave it a little olive oil massage, seasoned it like I meant it (salt, pepper, no fear). Then I seared it in a hot pan until it looked like it belonged on a magazine cover. Browned it on all sides—even the awkward edges. The smell? Unreal.
  • Layer the cozy
    Placed the beef on top of the veggies, then poured in the beef stock, red wine, tomato purée, and sugar. It looked like a hot mess, but I trusted the process. Gave it a little stir around the sides like I was tucking it in for a nap.
  • Forget it (but not really)
    Put the lid on and set the slow cooker to low and loving for 5 hours. Walked away. Did laundry. Spiraled a little. Checked on it once just to inhale the joy.
  • The rest is sacred
    When the time was up, I pulled the beef out like it was a gift from the food gods. Wrapped it in foil and let it sit there—no poking, no slicing. Let it rest. It earned that break.