Justin T.
Yelp
Here, I had my first authentic Full English in this cozy old(e) Tutor a bunny hop away from Kew Garden!
Anyone who knows me knows how much breakfast means to me. It's everything. The world.
My Full English consisted of the following:
2 rashers of bacon
Blood puddin'
2 eggs
Baked beans
Grilled tomato
Sausages
Toast
My fellow Americans, blood pudding is not as scary as it sounds...and it does sound bloody awful, doesn't it? When I first heard of it, I pictured the English daintily spooning up liquefied blood from engraved porcelain bowls. When I was told it was "clotted" I became even more queasy. But nay and nay again, my star spangled friends. It is fried and you eat it with a fork, not a spoon. You can think of it as simply another kind of sausage with the same size, shape, and texture, with the exception that it's black and has a rich but delicate flavor (U.K. "flavour") that is hard to describe but very delish. Unlike most kinds of sausage or cured meats, it is not overly salty.
The eggs I had were so fresh they glowed neon orange like tiny, protein-filled nuclear reactors. While I normally am grossed out by baked beans, these worked well with the rest of the breakfast ensemble. I never knew one could successfully grill a tomato without turning it to mush. My tomato was fresh and perfectly made.
A "rasher" of bacon, by the way is a slice. And bacon, by the by, is cut differently in the U.K. It doesn't come in neat, thin, perfectly linear strips as it does here in the states. It's thick, chunky, asymmetrical, has more in common with slices of ham than the bacon we are accustomed to. With extra cooking it can be made as crispy as our Yank bacon, but often it is served lightly fried with a good deal of give and flex in the denatured protein molecules.
Although I am the greatest connoisseur and expert on the Great American Breakfast who ever lived--and its most staunch defender--I firmly believe in the cultural diversity of the breakfast experience. From huevos rancheros of Mexico, to the desayunos of Honduras with sides of Gallo Pinto to the Full English, I believe that every breakfast tradition is made stronger through appreciation of all others, and by the cross-cultural fusion of all available breakfast elements.
My friends, let us all be united by fat, protein, and sheaves of chlorophyll-based autotrophic carbohydrates, our stalks projecting upwards in pagan worship of the sun.
I am very grateful to my lovely tour guide and to the able chefs of Maids of Honour for helping me overcome my prejudice towards blood pudding, and for facilitating my enjoyment of the Great Full English in all its glory.