One Hand on my Pastry Pocket

Travel food is always fun. The engineering that goes behind every snack or meal that can be eaten on the go without the stable support of a table or the use of utensils is pure genius. Steak and stew that I can eat with one hand while walking or travelling on a bumpy train ride? Yes, please. Yes, please very much big time. Welcome to the wonderful world of the pasty. It has many cousins across the globe: curry puffs, empanadas, calzones, turnovers and more. But this is the classic British incarnation of working man grub. Now catering to more commuters than coalminers, thanks to the widespread prevalence of franchises like the West Cornwall Pasty Company, it still provides tasty, filling and transportable treats for the busy traveller. 

At a train station, I couldn’t help but stop and get one of my favourites, a good old fashioned steak and ale – or Steak and Tribute, as the Company calls them. I also wanted to introduce my all-American husband to the flaky delights of these warm savoury pastries. I think he chose a Chicken and Mushroom. I must confess that despite spending many years as a customer, I have yet to pick anything but my beloved steak and ale. I am such a sucker for steak and ale. Typical hypocrite. I usually do make an effort to try new and different things, but I suppose everyone has those things to which they keep going back. The sultry malted tones of the ale just work wonders on the rich meaty bite of the melting steak. All the vegetables are stewed in the velvety juices and have sucked up all the goodness from both of the star players. And the flaky pastry is crisp and golden on the outside but soft and saturated in scrumptious sauce on the inside. It is such a warm and cosy treat that can be so comforting on a tedious journey. I am salivating just remembering its savoury silky scent. 

Floudering around a Rocking Plaice to Perch your Soles

When someone is asked to name a signature British dish, what do they usually say? Bangers and mash, toad in the hole, bubble and squeak? More often than not, one answer will trump all others: fish and chips. First time tourist, born and bred local or pub crawler, you are bound to have bite of this British classic when you are in merry England. Some are good, some are bad, some are cheap, some attempt to go gourmet. Salt or ketchup or vinegar, whatever your condiment of choice is, most people are open to munching down on this meal, even those that tend not to like seafood. Hurrah for chippies and their perpetual peddling of plumping provisions! 

We walked down to a well-known chippy near Covent Garden that advertises itself as being the oldest existing chippy in London. The quaintly named Rock and Sole Plaice (get it?) is a standard small and simple shop with a few tables that sprawl out on to the sidewalk. They have freshly fried fillets of cod, haddock, plaice and a few others that have faded from my feeble memory and of course, plenty of chips. Chips meaning real chips. Chunky cuts of deep fried potato. None of that anorexic shoestring nonsense.

I ordered haddock and chips. Service is quick there, as it should be in any plaice (get it?) whose primary means of cooking is a deep fryer (ever thought about the irony of that? I'm more likely to be fat and slow if i frequent fried food franchises but cheap chippies and chippy-like chains have to provide my food fast... and often skinny...shoestrings and such). 

The fillet was generous and encased in a golden brown batter that had a real crunch in its bite. Battering through the barrier of batter revealed a thick slab of succulent white fish flesh. The batter was crisp, and although pack a hefty crunch, was still light and did not weigh down and dull the delicate flavour of the fish meat. The chips were similar in terms of internal structure: crisp coating protecting a moist and fluffy core. The house made tartare sauce was scrumptious but they provide a decent array of condiments for diners to choose from including staples like salt and malt vinegar.

In addition to various fish fillets, the shop also has other humble traditional offerings like spotted dick and steak and kidney pie, which we couldn't help but order. The pie was surprisingly satisfying and well made. Of course, the massive platter of fish and chips was more than filling alone, we wanted to sample the savoury pocket size pastries we spotted in the display case. 

The sturdy little bugger was bigger than I expected. Still a single serve portion, it seemed ever so slightly bigger than other little pies. It held its shape beautifully, round and upright like a mighty colosseum, but still cute and relatively petite. The filling was well seasoned and had just the right viscosity and ratios of ingredients to accompany the flaky pastry crust. Kidney and steak... wee-bull... mmm pie... 

Peter Pan and the Potato Pasta Pie

I love carbs. Did I tell you I love carbs? I love carbs. Always have. I can eat carbs with carbs and have carbs on the side with carbs for dessert. Admittedly, it's probably the primary contributor to my corporeal chub but it has made me happy. I remember reading a children's book that involved a messy little girl who had spaghetti sandwiches for lunch. I was inspired. Since then, almost every time we have spag-bol at home I have to make a spaghetti sammich. Sometimes just a sloppy joe (bread and meat sauce) but a spag-bol-buttie is much more fun. The noodly excitement and saucy goodness with the double whammy comfort punch of starch and starch? Eureka! Tis like magic to my (slightly warped) taste buds! 

Getting more to the point, I was at Hong Kong Disneyland some time ago and just after the parade we went into a bakery on Main Street to sample some of their old time wares. I love nice display cases and Disneyland has yet to disappoint. Cakes, pies, puddings and sandwiches lined the shelves that were bathed in a cosy golden glow. One thing immediately caught my greedy eye. The traditional treat with a quirky twist. The Pasta Bolognese Pie. I had to get it.

After purchasing the potato topped pie we adjourned to an alfresco table to bask in the fairy tale fanfare of the bustling fantasy boulevard. On the surface, the pastry appeared to be nothing more than a petite personal cottage pie. Cute and comforting, I dove into the creamy mash crust. Suddenly there was a burst of texture! Soft, but noodly, the al dente strands sent tempting vibrations up through my plastic spork. The spark of red meaty sauce glistened through the sea of smushed spuds. A golden crust encased all the carb rich calories from beneath. I wanted to eat it. Seasoned mildly, the contrast of silky smooth mash, slippery saucy spaghetti and flaky pastry crust melded together into a celestial carb concoction I still crave for today. It's probably not for everyone, especially since it's the antichrist for Atkins, but for those who dwell in the devilish delights of carbohydrates, indulge in the hot carb-on-carb action!