Once the Chinese void in the tummy was filled, it was time for the English goodies. I have a great fondness for British foods- cheddar, Branston pickles, Ploughman sandwiches, baltis, onion bhajis, Marmite obviously, also malt bread, a good roast, Yorkshire Pudding, prawn cocktail sandwiches, pickled eggs, lemon curds, Maid of Honour tarts, Colman mustard, Heinz ketchup and baked beans, sticky puddings of either toffee, dates, treacle or golden syrup, institution fruit crumbles and requisite mystery custard, cucumber sandwiches, salt and vinegar crisps, Twix bars, Jaffa cakes etc etc. Foods that my husband would probably not really understand, him who spent nearly equal number of years as me but in this side of the channel where he was enticed by oh, I don't know, Diabolo Menthe, couscous and erm, more couscous.
That is not to say that I ate all of the things in the list above. I wish I did, but some are already extinct- like the sticky malt bread from a bakery in High Barnet, where can I get it now? also the Maid of Honour tarts which was my only reason to suffer the long tube journeys to Kew Gardens oh so long ago- and well, some we can buy over here or do without for a little longer.
Sometimes old favourites pop up unexpectedly, ok not so expectedly but certainly in an unplanned way. It sounds confusing but here it is, I went to Borough Market on a Friday afternoon, and found lots of nice things of course, like hippie chocolate brownies, truffled salamis, loads and loads of gorgeous jams and even Cheddar made from unpasteurised milk. All of which went into my BHV shopping bag and eventually back to Paris. But some foods I just had to eat almost immediately.
Like pork pies. Now friends and family know that I am not a big fan of pie, we come from a family who dive into the fillings of curry puffs and eschew the skins which makes more sense then to just eat curry itself. But pork pie hold a different kind of charm for me- the thick lardy pastry chews densely, the meat inside is cold, both of which sounds not terribly appetising- but somehow I like it. It is something I used to munch and nibble on slowly for long winter suppers in front of the telly, by myself, one of my guilty secrets, along with imbibing shots of neat vermouth from the bottle stashed in the cupboard above the oven. I'll say that the only thing better than a good pork pie is a pie filled with pork and game meats, but it is not game season yet.
Well, back to Borough Market. The first pie stall that I came across was Pieminister. They have many different pie varieties, the pork pie sounded especially interesting. Pork layered with apples, maybe some cider, ham and well I can't remember now but at the time it sounded like all things porky and nice went into the pie. The packaging was quirky too, naturally I had to buy one.
But it was a big disappointment. It was a pie that sounded and looked better than it tasted, the meats were not especially interesting tasting and the fruits, spices and herbs were especially muted. If we were blindfolded we would not know that we were eating anything special. Back in my sister's flat, we cut it up and tried it, but nobody wanted more than a bite.
Further inside the market there were more purveyors of pork pies. The Mrs King stand even proclaimed that they make the best. And they certainly look quite like the old fashioned ones that hails from pork pie country in Melton Mowbray.
Fortunately for us Mrs King told the truth. In a side by side test with PieMinister, it far overshadowed the latter with its skin that crumbles yet retains a satifying dense bite, and pure pork fillings that is seasoned just so. You see, my sister and husband hadn't tasted many, if any, pork pie in their lives- indeed, they were very surprised that I would eat such a thing that seems so "too much" what with the packed pink meats (nitrites! my husband says in big thought balloons above my head) and stark intimidating pastry. Both of them said it was rather good, and I quite agreed. I added the Colman's and it became very very good. I allowed myself another wedge and stopped, a meal at St John's was waiting so I had to pace myself. I kept the rest for the next evening, so that I could savour it slowly on the way home in the Eurostar.
Mrs King's also sold sausage roll, another old favourite. It used to be that sausage rolls had real pork meat wrapped in flaky pastries but nowadays we have to settle for plasticky hot dogs and rubbery pastries. Mrs King's version was sadly not terribly tasty- the meat was way too fatty and one got sick of eating it quickly, the pastry whilst flakey was also way too oily. Or maybe it didn't taste that great because I did not smother it in brown sauce as advised by a fellow customer.
The next day I was accompanying my sister on her marketing rounds in her neighbourhood along Angel. We passed by a bustling bakery-cafe but did not go in at first because we had a dim sum lunch to eat later. Then she popped into the neighbouring frame shop and I could wander back, and promptly bought myself a sausage roll (see above image). What a beauty eh? It lived up to its appearance too, freshly baked with lovely crispy pastry layers outside and perfectly seasoned sausage meat inside.
This is the name of the bakery. The frame-shop owner next door also agreed that their sausage rolls is one of the better ones around. See, even the locals approve.
Then it was off to Exmouth Market, if a collection of about 8 stalls selling prepared foods can be called a market. But Exmouth is lovely to shop at, the retail stores around it is chi-chi and posh, and the market stalls are themselves selling very high-quality products. We scored some inexpensive espresso cups, some panettone for my sister, Eccles cakes from St John's Bakery (they're the best!) and another favourite- shortbreads-, this time with cardamon and orange flavours.
Which leads me on to another list, that of lovely Scottish foods- porridge, whisky, kippers etc etc........Oatcakes anyone?
