Cornish fasties

Ahhh...Cornwall. Just returned after five glorious days visiting my nanna in Falmouth and I couldn't be happier, more sunburnt, or any fatter... Honestly, I have eaten so much food in the last week that I don't think I need to have another meal for months. Seriously though, we couldn't have asked for better weather; the sun was out, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the wind was just enough to be a comfort without making my hair look like a hedge with a bird's nest in it.

I've spent lots of holidays in Cornwall, visiting family and gorging myself on pasties and the like, and quite often we've had great weather for most of the week, or a few days rain followed by one reasonable day, but this time, I was gobsmacked as each morning as I dragged myself out of bed, I was greeted by bright blue sky and glorious sunshine. Pretty perfect as one of the reasons for the trip was to prove to the Kiwi other half that there are indeed sunny days and sandy beaches to be enjoyed in the U of K.

So, enough of the Michael Fish impersonation, and on to the Rick Stein (from weather to food if you need further explanation). Cornwall and food, for those of you not familiar with the county, go hand in hand. The Cornish are fiercely protective of their own creations, and have now moved from cheerfully moaning that none of their wares (hog's pudding, saffron cake, Rhodda's clotted cream) could be purchased outside of Cornwall, to cheerfully moaning that 'you can get it anywhere now.' However, even though I'm delighted that I can get 'proper' food in London, there's nothing quite like eating the delights of the most south west county in the place itself. What would be bread rolls, cream and golden syrup anywhere else becomes the deliciously mysterious sounding 'thunder and lightning', and thick white sausage takes on the brilliantly country bumpkin persona of hog's pudding. Yum. I'll still be eating them in my dreams a week from now.

So on to the tricky subject of pasties. Mr Kiwi had tasted some pasties before but had not yet enjoyed a proper Nanna version, and other than that he'd only been exposed to the horrors of the supermarket and train shop versions (Mince?? in a pasty?? whatever...) Come Thursday night, we were sat down at the table and there, placed ceremoniously in front of us were the most beautifully rustic, crispy parcels of pasty perfection. I would go into detail about how juicy the steak was, how smooth the kidney was , and howthe potato, swede and delicious pastry melted into each other, but I think I'd start salivating onto the keyboard. Oops..too late. Needless to say, on account of both the weather and the food, Mr Kiwi and I are already planning our next trip to Kernow, but before then, I seriously need to start dieting. Hence the title.