Kate Spicer: The Food I’ll Never Forget
The Evening Standard food critic takes us round the world and tells us why sights come second to taste.
Food snobs don’t get the Cornish pasty. It’s a folded peppery potato, swede and steak pie, and I will never touch one unless I am in Cornwall. It’s a four hour drive west from London to England’s most southern and westerly county, and once we’ve crossed the River Tamar I start salivating for pasties. The gas stations sell them in hot cabinets by their tills, so I’ll hold out watching the needle get dangerously low until we hit the A36, and going in to pay for my tank I am hit with a wall of Kernow (the word for the county in Cornish dialect).
There is a photograph of me, aged about six, sitting next to my younger brother on a large rock and eating a large Cornish pasty. Rudimentary fare they may be – designed to be dropped down shafts to hungry tin miners – but I have no objective perspective on them. Pasties are engrained deep in my memories of Cornish holidays in childhood.