Best of British No. 1: The Cornish Pasty

Firstly, please understand that the title of this series of posts- "Best of British"- is not meant to be taken seriously. This is not a Murdoch-owned newspaper, nor is it an outlet for any kind of jingoistic patriotism. The idea of a British-themed series of posts comes partly from the fact that most of the people who read this site aren't, well, British, and partly from my own attempts to come to terms with major bouts of culture shock every time I come back. As for the title...well...I kind of like alliteration (looks ashamed and shuffles towards cupboard).

Titles and disclaimers aside, the idea for this series of posts is to look at British oddities, otherwise known as "stuff you can't get in France". As ever, there will be food, and there will be gnomes. There will be very little factual information and, in all likelihood, an Awful Lot of Silliness.

The Cornish Pasty was my first candidate for inclusion, not because of any personal preference, but because I had an idea, and, being completely unable to resist the oportunity for a parody...well... you'll see.

So, without much further ado (about nothing... now there's a clue...)

To a Cornish Pasty

(with apologies to William Shakespeare)

Shall I compare thee to a chicken pie?

Thou art more juicy and more succulent.

Rough winds may shake the flaky crumbs of crust

And pastry's life hath all too short a lease.

Some time too hot the fire of oven shines

And then is pastry's gold complexion dimmed

And every pie from pie some time declines

By chance, or waiting, willing teeth untrimm'd

But thy eternal flavour shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that sauce thou ow'st

Nor shall bin bag brag thou lurkest in his shade

When in his bulging gut wise man pie stow'st

So long as man can taste, and smell, and see

So long live pasties- Cornish, just like thee.

I'm sorry, Mr. Shakespeare. Really I am.

I'll go back to my cupboard now.