Adventures in British Food Chapter 1. The Cornish Pasty
Welcome to the first of my forays into the delights of British cuisine. British cuisine? Isn't that an oxymoron, I hear you ask? Well, no, not really, because the British are responsible for all sorts of culinary atrocities, which, I'm humbled to admit, I do find rather tasty from time to time.
Its a well known fact that I am rather fond of my food...well eating really. It brings to mind an image of my first ever pet, a labrador named George, who was totally capable of eating his own body weight in just about anything; dog food, lamb chops, dirt, krill, dad's socks. Now my repertoire certainly isn't as distinguished as said pooch. But I'm not particularly squeamish when it comes to eating.
Hence, dear reader, I bring to you my first essay on the delights of old blighty that one may fine in culinary houses accross this green and pleasant land. (you will note this isn't the first entry regarding things that go in my mouth, and I promise it wont be the last).
So, the Cornish Pasty. What i was expecting was slimy pastry resembling something that only can be found lurking in a bain marie of some fast food wagon at a country carnival after all the carnies have gone home. You know, when they scrape down the insides of the wagons once a year, before giving them a good hosing out. Yep those scrapings.
The reality is its lovely and light and tasty and golden and hot. Delicious. And there is just so much of it. Its all lumpy and fatty around the thickened edge.
A good friend of mine who visited recently and who knows the answers to EVERYTHING told me that it was originally made this way because it was miners fare, and it was the bit they held onto so that they would contaminate the meaty bit. like, you know, a um handle. Then they would throw that bit away. Clearly I'm not dirty (well not in that sense), nor am I a miner (though not according to some people). So Im hanging on to my pastry handle thanks.
The fillings within provide a veritable smorgasboard of choice. The other day I had one with minted lamb. Then today I had one with a lovely steak filling. The quality of the meat was good, the flavours not synthetic at all, there wasn't too much gravy and I didn't have an MSG hangover afterwards. It was delicious, truly.
So Mr Cornish Pasty, I'm giving you an 8 out of 10. And you will be a regular in my lunchbox. Although, my flatmate said to me later on when we were comparing the health benefits of our lunch, and I claimed mine was probably a 6 out of 10 for health, she said "well what would you classify as 0 out of 10? Intravenous Lard??"
Hmm. maybe she has a point.
Its a well known fact that I am rather fond of my food...well eating really. It brings to mind an image of my first ever pet, a labrador named George, who was totally capable of eating his own body weight in just about anything; dog food, lamb chops, dirt, krill, dad's socks. Now my repertoire certainly isn't as distinguished as said pooch. But I'm not particularly squeamish when it comes to eating.
Hence, dear reader, I bring to you my first essay on the delights of old blighty that one may fine in culinary houses accross this green and pleasant land. (you will note this isn't the first entry regarding things that go in my mouth, and I promise it wont be the last).
So, the Cornish Pasty. What i was expecting was slimy pastry resembling something that only can be found lurking in a bain marie of some fast food wagon at a country carnival after all the carnies have gone home. You know, when they scrape down the insides of the wagons once a year, before giving them a good hosing out. Yep those scrapings.
The reality is its lovely and light and tasty and golden and hot. Delicious. And there is just so much of it. Its all lumpy and fatty around the thickened edge.
A good friend of mine who visited recently and who knows the answers to EVERYTHING told me that it was originally made this way because it was miners fare, and it was the bit they held onto so that they would contaminate the meaty bit. like, you know, a um handle. Then they would throw that bit away. Clearly I'm not dirty (well not in that sense), nor am I a miner (though not according to some people). So Im hanging on to my pastry handle thanks.
The fillings within provide a veritable smorgasboard of choice. The other day I had one with minted lamb. Then today I had one with a lovely steak filling. The quality of the meat was good, the flavours not synthetic at all, there wasn't too much gravy and I didn't have an MSG hangover afterwards. It was delicious, truly.
So Mr Cornish Pasty, I'm giving you an 8 out of 10. And you will be a regular in my lunchbox. Although, my flatmate said to me later on when we were comparing the health benefits of our lunch, and I claimed mine was probably a 6 out of 10 for health, she said "well what would you classify as 0 out of 10? Intravenous Lard??"
Hmm. maybe she has a point.
Labels: food
posted by Eddie Knittster at 8:35 pm
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