tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41021458517273923242024-02-07T20:51:24.503-08:00The Scotch Egg ReviewBoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-29015977711191677542012-06-20T05:54:00.001-07:002012-06-20T05:54:29.586-07:00It's been a long time coming...I felt defeated. Finding out there was another Scotch Egg blogger cut me to the core, but now it's time to rise up once more.<br />
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More Scotch Eggs.<br />
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More drama.<br />
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More Scotch Eggs.<br />
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Thank you for your patience, long like the meaty egg.<br />
<br />DavidBoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-12936609165519939252011-08-15T13:17:00.001-07:002011-08-15T14:18:29.131-07:007) The Three Kings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LH-Nz78ZRLp4Vge0qW1ze0GO-3d3rj4LYRVP0YU1eR-n2EslLCgzYeI6hxClswRihY-pilpqP-Hfse_mmdii0wJXhGx_VoWJxzC-UgVtsXpmbxW9stDz7_q3VbCeoWWb1WdKmHYyl5A/s1600/IMG_1038.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LH-Nz78ZRLp4Vge0qW1ze0GO-3d3rj4LYRVP0YU1eR-n2EslLCgzYeI6hxClswRihY-pilpqP-Hfse_mmdii0wJXhGx_VoWJxzC-UgVtsXpmbxW9stDz7_q3VbCeoWWb1WdKmHYyl5A/s400/IMG_1038.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641179661760539026" border="0" /></a>
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<br />If you're a regular reader of this blog, you will probably think "finally, he has been to <a href="http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/17/1792/Three_Kings/Clerkenwell">The Three Kings</a>, he must be chuffed." Well you're wrong, I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">deflated</span>. For I am not famous. The last post means nothing to me. There is someone else, and his name is David. There is another blog about the excellence of the Scotch Egg, and you can find it <a href="http://forevereggsploring.com/">here</a>.
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<br />I genuinely thought I was the only one.
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<br />I was close to throwing in the towel when I found out the news, I mean the guy is a <span style="font-weight:bold;">professional</span>. He has an unquestionable knowledge of food. He can actually string a correctly punctuated and grammatically correct sentence together. It is a fantastic blog, but it takes two to tango. I simply <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> Scotch Eggs, and what good is it, going out looking for the perfect one and not documenting it? I MUST continue. I owe it to the fans. I owe it to <span style="font-style: italic;">myself</span>...
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<br />The amount of times I have drunk in The Three Kings couldn't be counted on all my fingers and all my toes. It's a great pub, and arguably one of my favourites in the whole of London. I had never sampled their Scotch Eggs, though I knew a lot about them. They aren't made in-house, but by the very respectable <a href="http://www.handmadescotcheggs.co.uk/">Handmade Scotch Egg Company</a>. On the day The Three Kings had four of their varieties. I had them all.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEiaOoYBP2cUNZ9cLJ7mC5tWFo_ztJmJm6YFw7RE_zBnKhYfRJ2GikOD04bJTbzPigpjDmEu1vopM4G7LsBJKcgarEQLPhkSD2CBN1FFO6HJ6AuP9Z3c0zqVddXfCwhdyUuq95s8NeUQw/s1600/IMG_1033.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEiaOoYBP2cUNZ9cLJ7mC5tWFo_ztJmJm6YFw7RE_zBnKhYfRJ2GikOD04bJTbzPigpjDmEu1vopM4G7LsBJKcgarEQLPhkSD2CBN1FFO6HJ6AuP9Z3c0zqVddXfCwhdyUuq95s8NeUQw/s400/IMG_1033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641184767986832850" border="0" /></a>
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<br />The first I went for was "<a href="http://www.handmadescotcheggs.co.uk/hmse-menus/handmade-scotch-eggs/Black-%20watch-pudding-%20scotch-egg">Black Watch</a>." Basically a black pudding encrusted (with a bit of pork) egg. I'm a cheap thrills kind of guy. I love a good fry-up and thought this would be a dream come true for me. I wasn't dreaming. Neither was I in heaven. I was simply enjoying it. As expected it had a smooth and crumbly texture and was bulging with all the goodness you would expect from black pudding (barley, suet etc). Very tasty, and different to anything I'd tried before. Unique.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijS3ARV2_MCsQpie2N5xx56fzuTIh7GAtVcB-IElss-LfWrSupbF3N1a-UN-kXGkA1PV4xVjriTGflnC-ybvNc2RB71UPFmSonNpKutmz8ZC-TjBzGoZy5xOML3nfORAM4k8z4NpyhGow/s1600/sainsburystthed.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijS3ARV2_MCsQpie2N5xx56fzuTIh7GAtVcB-IElss-LfWrSupbF3N1a-UN-kXGkA1PV4xVjriTGflnC-ybvNc2RB71UPFmSonNpKutmz8ZC-TjBzGoZy5xOML3nfORAM4k8z4NpyhGow/s400/sainsburystthed.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641185027100973458" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKnbP96WDCXmo_speQUQ1SFhnvIurdcO7j3lvPqbmKs87F7pI5ORMyj00jNqPWKg37AsKm83OJ8cXnlRTU23TSUDp22GB1x7N7DovjFXTvOgmGNXudSZDK_nG3aRC9FSH9cMQ7f1e6Iw/s1600/IMG_1034.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihKnbP96WDCXmo_speQUQ1SFhnvIurdcO7j3lvPqbmKs87F7pI5ORMyj00jNqPWKg37AsKm83OJ8cXnlRTU23TSUDp22GB1x7N7DovjFXTvOgmGNXudSZDK_nG3aRC9FSH9cMQ7f1e6Iw/s400/IMG_1034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641187201115626562" border="0" /></a>
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<br />Number two was a vibrant red colour. It could only be "<a href="http://www.handmadescotcheggs.co.uk/hmse-menus/handmade-scotch-eggs/Casablanca-scotch-egg">The Casablanca</a>." Pork loaded with chili and pepper. It certainly packed a punch, and started the first real salivation of the evening. Rich and sharp, though also letting the pork do enough talking. Again a very original take on the SE, but not overpowering and overly hot. Even better than the first.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ9SzxY3ORi7INXCSycu7U1cy5p7CV3NcV7Uv9BN2JnYCFer6H8AGkA9UEZx9IuGfCUUysuJ3fRhltASfQ7Fs9E1ATcxWZo939l0JESU-QPGS45U61t22doOqp2WEB-g8FydAfS7JXm_A/s1600/wineham.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ9SzxY3ORi7INXCSycu7U1cy5p7CV3NcV7Uv9BN2JnYCFer6H8AGkA9UEZx9IuGfCUUysuJ3fRhltASfQ7Fs9E1ATcxWZo939l0JESU-QPGS45U61t22doOqp2WEB-g8FydAfS7JXm_A/s400/wineham.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641186949019465426" border="0" /></a>
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<br />It was time for the 2nd round of drinks and with it came the 2nd round of Scotch Eggs. A fine summers evening, with some fine friends, and some <a href="http://www.hopback.co.uk/beer-shop/summer-lightning.html">Summer Lightning</a>, a really fresh and hoppy pale bad boy, that was washing gods honest, delicious work down a treat.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfte2dB6s5Nbj3-JTMHIjQAlMvu_0NtqZ4AAERNXBFiIcDoWZ6wmZjl8PfH5UxvYiQ8NHW6oHHsKnB11xtQJcn8hcVuooqeApddZaQmCGwQfO3Mq28m2jpsvYxHS45u5d4NHuXbS5-6Mc/s1600/IMG_1037.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfte2dB6s5Nbj3-JTMHIjQAlMvu_0NtqZ4AAERNXBFiIcDoWZ6wmZjl8PfH5UxvYiQ8NHW6oHHsKnB11xtQJcn8hcVuooqeApddZaQmCGwQfO3Mq28m2jpsvYxHS45u5d4NHuXbS5-6Mc/s400/IMG_1037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641188382006386802" border="0" /></a>
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<br />Optimistic as ever, I tore into the Vegetarian one. Again, it was average. Quite dry. Bland. It looked like it could be a winner. It had more of a green tinge to it, making me think it could be packed with flavour. I was wrong. I'm still yet to find a decent vegi SE. Another reason to justify this quest.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWlsvxiWNoLpfcexxsz2ke5zYALvS5W49e3nuUggYDl_OvBOfm8OcjVPBHyMFX7PLK5m4qlYByJm5eIlT_lFM2prlmVt_mhCcKmCX88YRxepQNNzEPAVeM7CZ1KuC0rm6hDddeoCmT4o/s1600/southamptonarms.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaWlsvxiWNoLpfcexxsz2ke5zYALvS5W49e3nuUggYDl_OvBOfm8OcjVPBHyMFX7PLK5m4qlYByJm5eIlT_lFM2prlmVt_mhCcKmCX88YRxepQNNzEPAVeM7CZ1KuC0rm6hDddeoCmT4o/s400/southamptonarms.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641189195878619458" border="0" /></a>
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgG07LSp7bB5sDfP88Qx4bLiHId7tH1c9b7H9TA9NPXV0nKPfAtgz-Nukp1KTIpiOeeyXpST7KtwDCT4FkQaUqfbkxN1YAawGEx4sKMbHxIomyl3YwW4YTpyK1g75r3U5-Pke5RWQ_VE/s1600/IMG_1036.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgG07LSp7bB5sDfP88Qx4bLiHId7tH1c9b7H9TA9NPXV0nKPfAtgz-Nukp1KTIpiOeeyXpST7KtwDCT4FkQaUqfbkxN1YAawGEx4sKMbHxIomyl3YwW4YTpyK1g75r3U5-Pke5RWQ_VE/s400/IMG_1036.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641190439061869730" /></a>
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<br />Last but not least, the original and best. Delicate. Perfectly seasoned. Densely coated with meat. The same breadcrumb as the rest of them; crisp on the lips. This is proof (at the moment) that original can't be beaten. Though marked on par with The Casablanca, this was far superior. I still think I marked that one from The Royal Oak too high, this one pisses all over it. Must of been my deluded, starving nature.
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<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiol6iblUrb5qWMFK0yB3NVM1wiyDp-Mqj4tItfcamEW_i2KJR8U5OOqcZZB0EGxhvxHlhsi45Pv9Gax6NCglehsLSpuvAWfCdwMTrN29nI4SU-lYELun80QXUnNzqTog2ZPmuR5OS9C6w/s1600/wineham.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiol6iblUrb5qWMFK0yB3NVM1wiyDp-Mqj4tItfcamEW_i2KJR8U5OOqcZZB0EGxhvxHlhsi45Pv9Gax6NCglehsLSpuvAWfCdwMTrN29nI4SU-lYELun80QXUnNzqTog2ZPmuR5OS9C6w/s400/wineham.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641192042261555650" /></a>
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<br />P.S. I'll explain my friend Ryan's ground breaking scaling brainwave next time. I'm a bit egged out.BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-59926207994412019582011-08-01T13:17:00.000-07:002011-08-01T14:09:20.283-07:006) The Hampstead Butcher & Providore<span style="font-style:italic;">"In the future, everyone will be world-famous for 15 minutes."</span><br />- Andy Warhol<br /><br />My moment had come, and I didn't even know it yet...<br /><br />It was a Saturday afternoon. The Saturday after my work Summer Party. You can imagine how I felt. I had to go back to bed around 12:30pm for an hour after not being able to eat beans on toast. I was so hungover. I was in a bad way. How on earth was I going to celebrate with my fantastic chum Mandy at her birthday BBQ?<br /><br />She mentioned that morning that she had brought me a present, and bearing in mind it was her birthday that made me feel quite special. I meandered into their quaint Hampstead abode, still nursing an enormous hangover. I gave her the standard girl birthday present, a bottle of wine. She passed me a brown paper bag which was almost half see through due to the amount of grease on its underside. "You can probably guess what it is by now" she said, and she wasn't wrong. I <span style="font-style:italic;">knew</span> it was a Scotch Egg.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jZrsmXjlLMpO6MYX5gFDUK12Er1kDh_7GgnbvoNOjznU3UCgaosC-L40mJjcUEWrhxyXEQ3UP1NoddsImTofs_lH86YnhN8EhKyNl5JPXibuNTSErGMT-Lvq5Tgh4tQfySBbDsLnlkM/s1600/IMG_1022.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6jZrsmXjlLMpO6MYX5gFDUK12Er1kDh_7GgnbvoNOjznU3UCgaosC-L40mJjcUEWrhxyXEQ3UP1NoddsImTofs_lH86YnhN8EhKyNl5JPXibuNTSErGMT-Lvq5Tgh4tQfySBbDsLnlkM/s400/IMG_1022.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635986993300144994" /></a><br /><br />A plate came out, and so did a little bit of wholegrain mustard. This was a big boy. Hard to tell from this picture (I'll explain how I may, or almost definitely wont, be overcoming this problem in my next review), but it was large. Maybe even as big as the <a href="http://thescotcheggreview.blogspot.com/2011/06/1-southampton-arms.html">Southampton Arms</a>, but not quite. Before I made the vital incision I was halted. Mandy then went on to tell me how she got hold of this beauty...<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />To cut a long story short she went into <a href="http://www.hampsteadbutcher.com/hampstead/butcher/index.asp">The Hampsted Butcher</a> to get some supplies for the BBQ when she saw what she couldn't believe was a Scotch Egg and went on to ask the owner "Is that a Scotch Egg" to which he replied "Yes it is" to which she replied "I'll have to get this for my friend, he writes a blog."</span><br /><br />I edged forward on my chair, as did the rest of the people in the garden. You could cut the tension with a knife. I could of also cut my Scotch Egg open with the very same knife, but I was engrossed...<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"What is your friends name" asked the butcher to which Mandy replied "David. His blog is called The Scotch Egg Review" the butcher replied "I think I've heard of it, this one's on the house."</span><br /><br />Holy shit. A mere six reviews down and I'm big in Hampstead. The magic had spread down the route of the number 24 bus. How much further could this little humble message spread? It would only be a matter of time before I'm getting papped coming out of trendy West End eateries that had made Michelin Starred Scotch Eggs especially for me I thought. Maybe Heston reads this. If he does, big up yourself. As my friends looked up at me like I was some kind of modern day Jesus with a pork ringed halo, I delicately cut into what I <span style="font-style:italic;">knew</span> was going to be a special one.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHOeeydWzSYH1hHyBZDRlnalSnhqIC5onzT0JPMeqy2M0d4yVmdwtdBDFpVL4DmE_cnvrwyKBcHBKz_nrejjuibZ_TRG6HbuHi5CC-mGukY2z1anZ7ZqIox1QiqFiulu9NWaAFFMnKpQ/s1600/IMG_1024.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHOeeydWzSYH1hHyBZDRlnalSnhqIC5onzT0JPMeqy2M0d4yVmdwtdBDFpVL4DmE_cnvrwyKBcHBKz_nrejjuibZ_TRG6HbuHi5CC-mGukY2z1anZ7ZqIox1QiqFiulu9NWaAFFMnKpQ/s400/IMG_1024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635991329156762546" /></a><br /><br />You can get more of a feel of the scale now. A not overly heavy crunchy breadcrumb coating, yet golden and bright. I went in. This really WAS special. Densely packed and moist. Literally melt in your mouth moist. I hadn't tasted anything like this yet. This was really special. Though it was when I looked closer I got really pumped.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzM4udFAfR1ItRqRsm6lbJv17W3RFO3HRU9uvS_cQpZAiuzEHLMOSnUhWkgGqVxc6uE-P74j7Fh0_reY92oKVzK-ZUBoqNnp5JSpKxDbZptoDtv0FDjtt5NcEEK9lqy-KScwxUeIzXJa8/s1600/IMG_1025.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzM4udFAfR1ItRqRsm6lbJv17W3RFO3HRU9uvS_cQpZAiuzEHLMOSnUhWkgGqVxc6uE-P74j7Fh0_reY92oKVzK-ZUBoqNnp5JSpKxDbZptoDtv0FDjtt5NcEEK9lqy-KScwxUeIzXJa8/s400/IMG_1025.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635992564550583794" /></a><br /><br />A colour explosion! Some kind of stuffing maybe? Chorizo? Different types of pork? God only knows (I'm Jesus remember) what was inside this little BEAUTY, but all I knew was that this was a serious piece of food. I had a score in my head at the time, but writing this review and looking back this wasn't just a really tasty snack, this was a really tasty snack with magical medicinal powers. My hangover had disappeared. I had opened a bottle of beer and I was drinking it. I had be reborn.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipMXG5SElJtDKUGF-FYs5XV2m3Oz2xA7FS91SNw7TAtqrb-qu2OPQuVrb8eT82j8Go2z1lhQnx0cT20Geys3_-Ym_fu0n5t5xSv6KcE7kM91faoG5ZgIyNDDB1GLLosJx6oyw5znOYHU8/s1600/hampstead.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipMXG5SElJtDKUGF-FYs5XV2m3Oz2xA7FS91SNw7TAtqrb-qu2OPQuVrb8eT82j8Go2z1lhQnx0cT20Geys3_-Ym_fu0n5t5xSv6KcE7kM91faoG5ZgIyNDDB1GLLosJx6oyw5znOYHU8/s400/hampstead.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635994562257122626" /></a>BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-15305062172292800832011-07-26T14:22:00.000-07:002011-07-26T15:01:56.651-07:005) The Royal Oak, Wineham<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzh9aAxGXMoqNj2VYYDY2IpJadUVi5Gg2FbBpsISOltYm5FfL1WwiXpB2a_RPmgDE4OBnwJaDcVQDNxBMSJiyXjnksORkYugXPulpSJFbXs2lGhYpbGE18qNr0788ejfTcgBlg8coB53A/s1600/IMG_0988.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzh9aAxGXMoqNj2VYYDY2IpJadUVi5Gg2FbBpsISOltYm5FfL1WwiXpB2a_RPmgDE4OBnwJaDcVQDNxBMSJiyXjnksORkYugXPulpSJFbXs2lGhYpbGE18qNr0788ejfTcgBlg8coB53A/s400/IMG_0988.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633775030387466498" /></a><br /><br />It was the day after The Elgin, and my spirits were high. To be honest, they needed to be as I was cycling to Brighton... on a fixed gear bike. You know, one of those bikes that you can't stop pedaling on, more at home in the velodrome getting ridden by people with thighs bigger than my waist. This is the bike I choose to ride to work on everyday. It's become my soul mate over the past year and a half, and it's awesome.<br /><br />So, on Friday night I stayed at my friends' (Lyndon and Chris) house down in Tooting. I got the train from Kings Cross to save my legs and we got on the road about 8:50am on Saturday morning. It was a lovely day, warm for the first time in a while, a light breeze and most importantly, it was sunny and the ride was fantastic. Granted it made me want gears and lycra, but it was still the most fun I've had in ages, and it was about to get <span style="font-style:italic;">alot</span> better...<br /><br />After my shoddy map reading skills took us off track and down a hill for about 5 miles, which we had to climb back up again and then some, it was nearly lunch time. The country roads were winding, and genuinely beautiful, but not as picturesque as what I was about to experience... The Scotch Egg Ploughmans.<br /><br />You couldn't miss <a href="http://www.horshampub.co.uk/royal-oak-wineham.php">The Royal Oak</a>. It was a proper pub in the middle of nowhere, but still busy, always a good sign in my book. As soon as I saw someone getting a big old Pork Pie brought out to their table I just <span style="font-style:italic;">knew</span> they would have what I wanted, and I wasn't wrong.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5BwgNib-VKH3zkA8rNCpPmSQtbWVoieC5URQxJ9FGGzCsPBb3NRkrZWjXdSL7oqWdv83uoEK-mCQnRZXZtXFxEQuLF6j3-zaVyjWd3BBc9QCz0ODynGawlvIY07cwCV7eW-hr18lChc/s1600/IMG_0982.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM5BwgNib-VKH3zkA8rNCpPmSQtbWVoieC5URQxJ9FGGzCsPBb3NRkrZWjXdSL7oqWdv83uoEK-mCQnRZXZtXFxEQuLF6j3-zaVyjWd3BBc9QCz0ODynGawlvIY07cwCV7eW-hr18lChc/s400/IMG_0982.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633778209891233826" /></a><br /><br />It was a work of art. Damien Hirst, step aside, your diamond encrusted skull ain't got shit on this. This was a breadcrumb encrusted MONSTER. It weighed a ton, and was packed tighter than a cats arse, full of meaty goodness (that sounds so wrong in so many ways, but I'm going to leave it in). A piece of crusty bread more hench than Schwarzenegger, a delightful salad, and some radical chutney that accompanied the Scotch Egg an absolute treat. It barely touched the sides. I also ate a gherkin.<br /><br />This was a meal from the gods, but lets get down to the nitty gritty... As tightly packed as it was, as ideal as lunchtime meals after 50 miles of cycling go, there was something wrong about this Scotch Egg. It was from <a href="http://www.gourmetbritain.com/shops_entry.php?item=6469">Hutchings Butchers</a> according to the menu, which after a quick google search tells me nothing. It was by no means bad in any way, but it had the softest breadcrumb yet, that of a cheap Scotch Egg. This was it's downfall (below).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVg4iQxDR_FFZbYenJjdx4kzzJjdvzRMR6beSBZnjcM3gC4E5lummXwRE1CpXRdFRWHmEeC7tLsI3DlQjkgqX0fB_xNxVt3i_qAQjCOcLf7ds6dEV9ZHSI1zXyKty2kvKVjdP31F4KUNM/s1600/IMG_0984.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVg4iQxDR_FFZbYenJjdx4kzzJjdvzRMR6beSBZnjcM3gC4E5lummXwRE1CpXRdFRWHmEeC7tLsI3DlQjkgqX0fB_xNxVt3i_qAQjCOcLf7ds6dEV9ZHSI1zXyKty2kvKVjdP31F4KUNM/s400/IMG_0984.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633781478255470386" /></a><br /><br />Not crispy made me slightly unhappy. Also, though tightly packed in, the meat wasn't seasoned as powerfully as I would of liked. The drama of the ride. The excitement of seeing it on the menu. The mouth watering presentation. The average Scotch Egg. <br /><br />I'm sounding overly harsh here as it was an incredible lunch, buttttt, not an incredible Scotch Egg. But not a bad one. But not as good as The Elgin.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4m4LfDABZ8g5iA29f_GPRn7Rxvl_ZxMjrrQCNx1IP3iVxvs2G3KpB3PbIygMhPlWS6Q-3u-poxOdYSQjVcGZ4RB-12c0RluYpOxxV1LbxEO8R2S8da6BO4_c-l8IOkB8UnMDwPQEVz6A/s1600/wineham.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4m4LfDABZ8g5iA29f_GPRn7Rxvl_ZxMjrrQCNx1IP3iVxvs2G3KpB3PbIygMhPlWS6Q-3u-poxOdYSQjVcGZ4RB-12c0RluYpOxxV1LbxEO8R2S8da6BO4_c-l8IOkB8UnMDwPQEVz6A/s400/wineham.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5633783273877427554" /></a>BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-44924990701616981202011-07-10T06:40:00.001-07:002011-07-10T07:20:33.074-07:004) The Elgin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I_EKXUSPq6bVtPbmeamP97aA7J75N-Za4_E5SlqaHlW3p4Ztnup5dCrOOpmN5oKmgyjGeJGjcI8yHTDZA9_YSVWrtIB-6TPE0yHQ4IJG_c1LFQg5O1l1he038s2zAQGFC8ZWfhIbfug/s1600/IMG_0952.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3I_EKXUSPq6bVtPbmeamP97aA7J75N-Za4_E5SlqaHlW3p4Ztnup5dCrOOpmN5oKmgyjGeJGjcI8yHTDZA9_YSVWrtIB-6TPE0yHQ4IJG_c1LFQg5O1l1he038s2zAQGFC8ZWfhIbfug/s400/IMG_0952.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627718468938617650" /></a><br /><br />I'M BACK IN THE GAME. After ANOTHER unsuccessful Scotch Egg trip (<a href="http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/place?oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=the+3+kings+clerkenwell&fb=1&gl=uk&hq=the+3+kings&hnear=0x48761b45f3ec1539:0xce861c415c7ea81e,Clerkenwell,+Greater+London&cid=15357994100721287289">The 3 Kings</a> had a wedding reception in there the other weekend. I should of played the "don't you know who I am?" card and had the reception put on hold. I didn't want to make a scene) I thought my luck was up. But at about 4:15pm on Friday I was dragged out of this egg-less depression and saved... I was with Andrew and Matt in "Meeting Room 7" (the pub) discussing the next issue of the magazine I design and as soon as I stepped foot in <a href="http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/36/3643/Elgin/Ladbroke_Grove">The Elgin</a>, just off Ladbroke Grove, I knew what I wanted, and I could <span style="font-style:italic;">SEE</span> them. Sitting under one of those food nets behind the bar, there they were, hanging out with their meat based brethren, the Sausage Roll.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0xUFLpWpCluZbSbMtEbTEJ6Azl3DIsBFM00jZZg2da4WK6cu_vJnQZzVH-k8EA1YEci_SJ2YdsxasVDDPrEogQMkBXrUoB9U0AVB1zgMfXRdH5b_WJZUJ-JyjFq8Q-oNTxuHA_9sJW0/s1600/IMG_0949.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB0xUFLpWpCluZbSbMtEbTEJ6Azl3DIsBFM00jZZg2da4WK6cu_vJnQZzVH-k8EA1YEci_SJ2YdsxasVDDPrEogQMkBXrUoB9U0AVB1zgMfXRdH5b_WJZUJ-JyjFq8Q-oNTxuHA_9sJW0/s400/IMG_0949.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627722978485023042" /></a><br /><br />As soon as the barmaid dumped it onto a plate, I knew it was a winner. The breadcrumbs were crispy, and it felt firm, not hollow in any way. This was packed deep. I brandished the knife and took upon it, which is when the real magic happened...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_AkwQUSW4s8lrJjlHMqQLlJACALLEUVUle4K6ARFXLn4SCc1gKqXR1V1loQ4osbMAEPouyr4UBODCPGzpz6I6c1YBTUXPyokY8-npg6HazmbV_IEt2uavBGoD90sxBfWNXgmrD3FCgM/s1600/IMG_0950.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu_AkwQUSW4s8lrJjlHMqQLlJACALLEUVUle4K6ARFXLn4SCc1gKqXR1V1loQ4osbMAEPouyr4UBODCPGzpz6I6c1YBTUXPyokY8-npg6HazmbV_IEt2uavBGoD90sxBfWNXgmrD3FCgM/s400/IMG_0950.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627723804007077682" /></a><br /><br />Fuck-a-doodle-do. The egg was soft boiled. If only I could of got my hands on this bad boy when it was fresh out of the fryer. What a truly magical snack the Scotch Egg is. The meaty outskirts looked succulent, and heavily seasoned. Then we (yes, it was shared. The joy really does have to be shared) tucked into it and collectively came to the conclusion that it was a winner. So much in fact, we went in for number two. We were greeted with yet more surprises...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89VgbEWwhurGqyNaW31wDcGcnOdRnk0YHmzza4h_v7FlkED5kd0SZOaGL6DT4t8r8wSy455vBZkhmQgBgoBGRKTD_8RCx5ktz0f_zXKi8jNUzmhuy16H6zU8U3rE6_iKJ8CC2Ijt9Wzo/s1600/IMG_0951.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89VgbEWwhurGqyNaW31wDcGcnOdRnk0YHmzza4h_v7FlkED5kd0SZOaGL6DT4t8r8wSy455vBZkhmQgBgoBGRKTD_8RCx5ktz0f_zXKi8jNUzmhuy16H6zU8U3rE6_iKJ8CC2Ijt9Wzo/s400/IMG_0951.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627725264388892034" /></a><br /><br />A pot of mustard! And this time served on a black napkin, which gave it a kind of mysterious vibe, and made it seem a much more desirable snack. Delicious is the only word for it, if you ever find yourself near there please get one, and prepare to have your taste buds tantalized. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWdJgZnwvPosFUvNzuwqVVimKyMT1VfHNXLG_k7wOj1EMVROC9tiPYYdA9X9yRSG4pOfkhRJf4CoiIVH8BDxGzd8vdj8OPLEk6_6hGIivUvQk7XfcAv8dhhjhwGsK9ZIIE-0mgvaDIe8/s1600/elgin.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOWdJgZnwvPosFUvNzuwqVVimKyMT1VfHNXLG_k7wOj1EMVROC9tiPYYdA9X9yRSG4pOfkhRJf4CoiIVH8BDxGzd8vdj8OPLEk6_6hGIivUvQk7XfcAv8dhhjhwGsK9ZIIE-0mgvaDIe8/s400/elgin.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627727709863548290" /></a>BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-35727348176633434672011-06-30T13:36:00.000-07:002011-06-30T14:29:05.113-07:003) MorrisonsIt's started. Word has spread of my journey. My mecca towards anything egg centered (apart from Pork and Egg pies. Scum) has taken a new turn. Pub and Deli owners are perspiring at the thought of my judgement. Eggians, I have received my first complimentary Scotch Egg. Admittedly it was from my housemate Scott, but that's beside the point. Word will spread of the power this blog holds...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAY0-Q0PyXaKAWzTcl9w6UTRgZZ3_kQH_DLyILukHLKcwQtCmmSiyiO-XGrHhOEALHmlZ447NwblrtJbAeAhWm5aDlk9m4ogTdkjjTFqOcqi_-4SlWoUxml4ELcvvrwE_OW7faP1R5XE/s1600/IMG_0932.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAY0-Q0PyXaKAWzTcl9w6UTRgZZ3_kQH_DLyILukHLKcwQtCmmSiyiO-XGrHhOEALHmlZ447NwblrtJbAeAhWm5aDlk9m4ogTdkjjTFqOcqi_-4SlWoUxml4ELcvvrwE_OW7faP1R5XE/s400/IMG_0932.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624116926641394322" /></a><br /><br />By FAR the best presentation of anything I've eaten yet, but past the glitz and glamour, it's basically a plastic box containing 4 Scotch Eggs. You may think to yourself why there is only one left in the box? Well they were given to me the week before Glastonbury (where, as I tentatively expected there were NO Scotch Eggs, hence why I delayed this review to avoid unhappy fans) and I came home DRUNK from a colleagues leaving doo and ate two as soon as they were presented to me (that's worded like there was a ceremony for them or something, there wasn't).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFW4R04D2wIwLRqJK76Z0ws7N8ynyZR3JEHszfgHNlRQK2aY_SiG7u3QD09sqzX4_IX8atVZYXtSYvda1zsc2l7fG5kJfEj7YrcBN3ew8QTD8u3sPiZpb9KZ9h-GrC5CcXyC_udxnRCzA/s1600/IMG_0930.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFW4R04D2wIwLRqJK76Z0ws7N8ynyZR3JEHszfgHNlRQK2aY_SiG7u3QD09sqzX4_IX8atVZYXtSYvda1zsc2l7fG5kJfEj7YrcBN3ew8QTD8u3sPiZpb9KZ9h-GrC5CcXyC_udxnRCzA/s400/IMG_0930.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624121012584588002" /></a><br /><br />Anyway, onto the review. It looked like your normal Scotch Egg. The breadcrumbs were nice, not soft and cheap, but crisp and had a feeling of quality about them...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibW8EhyphenhyphenxplV2c4k5PIivgIxU-sWAtON48Qoi0uTmqs2xn2paA-W83qBlxrTzuuFpIixefvDWU83OSkiVKHhdu3appQYdeMhylGxIc5mZmkr35X5sSBH8ep02V2_000Yx9JZHkgIPGUyz8/s1600/IMG_0931.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibW8EhyphenhyphenxplV2c4k5PIivgIxU-sWAtON48Qoi0uTmqs2xn2paA-W83qBlxrTzuuFpIixefvDWU83OSkiVKHhdu3appQYdeMhylGxIc5mZmkr35X5sSBH8ep02V2_000Yx9JZHkgIPGUyz8/s400/IMG_0931.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624121894216081714" /></a><br /><br />Whoop, there is is. The egg had a bit of a free range vibe about it, but I'm guessing at £1.69 for 4, the chickens that produced these were more battery than Duracell. The taste was good, even better when I scoffed at the two pissed, but sober as a judge it was a satisfying snack. Though if I'm honest, when I looked at the porky outskirts I couldn't help but think of the Sainsburys standard offering. They tasted quite similar too. I'm guessing they were made in the same place. I don't know what to think anymore.<br /><br />Fair is fair, it's even Stevens (even with the bow, sorry Scott). Though maybe I could start touring Scotch Egg factories or something?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qFVLf9Y_QdVPxfA8niCtWSLTTj7ufwfi_Lq4d4md-PsOc0xC_T3HSKdP2ZOS5EGU8dH8MkA99svIzNVBlDFulVNHQNgArSGJZVyqQOnW-wzNmjCmdEJTJIPfJSJhN9VOtN66rafOAYw/s1600/sainsburys.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qFVLf9Y_QdVPxfA8niCtWSLTTj7ufwfi_Lq4d4md-PsOc0xC_T3HSKdP2ZOS5EGU8dH8MkA99svIzNVBlDFulVNHQNgArSGJZVyqQOnW-wzNmjCmdEJTJIPfJSJhN9VOtN66rafOAYw/s400/sainsburys.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624126363840960866" /></a>BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-55696770059979043662011-06-15T04:37:00.000-07:002011-06-15T06:13:47.760-07:00The List...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGewJdkpWTEYkjo3NVvrb-VCHx4BkH9SAG8Uxyh_fhhxDR_F3-6FED7I25yydS5iCX6SqOvOFQBn1lFhVLeA8P8ZoUveyzqwLPSYf_H6ilfHNUYlyBsvAaWXI9cNyqJ9HSm4lqaaGQ9rM/s1600/PETER1982.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGewJdkpWTEYkjo3NVvrb-VCHx4BkH9SAG8Uxyh_fhhxDR_F3-6FED7I25yydS5iCX6SqOvOFQBn1lFhVLeA8P8ZoUveyzqwLPSYf_H6ilfHNUYlyBsvAaWXI9cNyqJ9HSm4lqaaGQ9rM/s400/PETER1982.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5618410293721156466" /></a><br /><br />Fear not Egg fans. I'm not one of these bloggers that has a honeymoon period of a week being a keeno and then does nothing ever again. If you have observed the words scrawled in the last two entries closely, you will see how much I really do <span style="font-style:italic;">care</span> about Scotch Eggs.<br /><br />I had my second failed journey yesterday. The word must be spreading about the joy this snack can bring. My first failed attempt was at <a href="http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/36/3643/Elgin/Ladbroke_Grove">The Elgin</a> on Friday. It's the "work local" so it's not too much of a chore to get there and do the deed, so Friday came, along with it after work drinks but nothing. Only Sausage Rolls...<br /><br />Then yesterday, I made the journey to <a href="http://www.thebullandlast.co.uk/">The Bull and Last</a> with high hopes. After all, when you google "scotch" "egg" "london" you are driven <a href="http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/restaurants/article-23663775-best-pub-snacks-in-london.do">here</a>, the first hit bigging it up. The 2 mile walk from my house there with my mate Lyndon was out of the way to say the least, but I NEEDED a Scotch Egg. Two pints and a Scotch Egg was my order. There was one Sausage Roll left... I nearly bought it to throw it at the bar staff in frustration. Unappropriate I thought.<br /><br />Anyway, above is my list <span style="font-weight:bold;">(please feel free to comment and suggest more)</span>. I will work my way down it soon. Glastonbury is next week, though I'm hoping for some kind of Farmers Market stall there to keep up my addiction. More moreish than crack, not that I've ever had crack, but you know what I mean.BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-19804481279656993842011-06-07T11:17:00.000-07:002011-06-07T12:46:43.264-07:002) The Sainsburys Selection<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUfMCEwMX3GdXTwyy0blga8xszcFOzy7CCDNfHjaJ1Bt3U0-udMXw1t5fUIfKepaIlnWi5SvyprO7U1XAFjdo4bzYu0J2YrJt5x2BvFz7Y_w6dDunuixHjjHzrVjsQe0BcOjL07A8w8Pk/s1600/IMG_0911.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUfMCEwMX3GdXTwyy0blga8xszcFOzy7CCDNfHjaJ1Bt3U0-udMXw1t5fUIfKepaIlnWi5SvyprO7U1XAFjdo4bzYu0J2YrJt5x2BvFz7Y_w6dDunuixHjjHzrVjsQe0BcOjL07A8w8Pk/s400/IMG_0911.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615560166144957986" /></a><br /><br />Earlier this evening I ate two Scotch Eggs back to back with the intention of scoring them out of 5. What has my life come to? I had been planning this for the majority of the afternoon, after a massively intense game of lunchtime 5-a-side football at work. After cycling the 5.5 miles home from Notting Hill with legs stiff as beansprouts (hopefully no ecoli) I thought I had earned this treat, and at a mere £1.74 for THREE of the bad boys, I wasn't complaining.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3591K88UFT_SzWiMD1qjx-rJcjrOJPAno_Qraf33NZX3G_iCpeJzcS95iInnIBj0cv5BqavcCrK6OF6xdrHSYflYYNofYQWnnYBys_yXamxDbnx1xMeOzvbPUn0GTFz440Rxqemedvg/s1600/IMG_0908.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-3591K88UFT_SzWiMD1qjx-rJcjrOJPAno_Qraf33NZX3G_iCpeJzcS95iInnIBj0cv5BqavcCrK6OF6xdrHSYflYYNofYQWnnYBys_yXamxDbnx1xMeOzvbPUn0GTFz440Rxqemedvg/s400/IMG_0908.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615546192934048226" /></a><br /><br />First up we have the Sainsburys Scotch Egg, which you can get two of for 75p. As you can see, the packaging doesn't scream out "EAT ME" or "I'M AN ESSENTIAL PURCHASE FOR YOUR WEEKLY SHOP" but that's just the way I like my snacks, underground and edgy. You can also see the condensation that has formed on the roof of the packet, and I think this is a factor that puts people off this mighty snack. The moisture. <br />Or is it the trapped air between the layer of pork and the egg?<br /><br /><iframe width="400" height="300" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dTF_RJx8g2w" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br />I'm guessing when most people think of a Scotch Egg eater they think of Keith from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0290978/">The Office</a>, and to be honest, I'm even repulsed by the sound such a beautiful piece of food craftsmanship makes in the above video. Fear not readers, this evening I used a knife.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOimIH912neTxFJ2S0u_I7QOv-6rERRhxOBVJpjC3TK_GyHg9ToSyFgEGsuUJTqy-VVgJh7i9EmpPaPYBl4Lx8MNSj9wbiNkJ16Pc-gQKOWZreJkl48LwZtCfwcovwEk2ew4ZLiYZjn4/s1600/IMG_0910.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOimIH912neTxFJ2S0u_I7QOv-6rERRhxOBVJpjC3TK_GyHg9ToSyFgEGsuUJTqy-VVgJh7i9EmpPaPYBl4Lx8MNSj9wbiNkJ16Pc-gQKOWZreJkl48LwZtCfwcovwEk2ew4ZLiYZjn4/s400/IMG_0910.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615549522511101282" /></a><br /><br />Secondly we have the Sainsburys Taste the Difference Scotch Egg made with outdoor bred pork. Individually packaged, and placed in a simply delightful cardboard tray. They have gone to town here, and you can clearly see where my hard earned 99p has gone. Let me quote the synopsis from the packaging, "Our deluxe scotch egg has a British free range egg surrounded by traditionally seasoned outdoor-bred British pork, hand finished in a seeded multigrain breadcrumb." If you're not salivating after reading that alone, then you are a tasteless buffoon.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvclyt5jZiQaO38td5ZDm1KNG_F9dzkCKqOW38t58957WVwb4fk_HKg8esqmJtyg5shoKAFsbwNQ8UZ4vpTNxy4UMdi2EF1Lqzktc0zupzCalPiU7Ad0Y8GCvx_4Rrl2XIlaAJchEoweY/s1600/IMG_0913.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvclyt5jZiQaO38td5ZDm1KNG_F9dzkCKqOW38t58957WVwb4fk_HKg8esqmJtyg5shoKAFsbwNQ8UZ4vpTNxy4UMdi2EF1Lqzktc0zupzCalPiU7Ad0Y8GCvx_4Rrl2XIlaAJchEoweY/s400/IMG_0913.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615551734670071858" /></a><br /><br />Not a massive difference in size, and by no means the scale of The Southamptons' colossal beast. The big standout for me was the "seeded multigrain breadcrumb" and the simple feel of the Taste the Difference Scotch Egg. Not the actual <span style="font-style:italic;">feel</span> of it, but just the aura it gave off, the feeling I got from it, you know what I mean (it's a personal experience this comparing and contrasting malarkey)...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wx3Gb95yrfzkqNQALXh1QHkt7ayiLTX347T93sdip1qg5A4kwIrGoTxhzEBOLiQzLrsSgV2bvZIuwVjLiTxJu5s72lIQPfkC4xxTpvCnK5oJGAwYJ1wdR3Y6hFz7VkqGhAF1lJieW-c/s1600/IMG_0914.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9wx3Gb95yrfzkqNQALXh1QHkt7ayiLTX347T93sdip1qg5A4kwIrGoTxhzEBOLiQzLrsSgV2bvZIuwVjLiTxJu5s72lIQPfkC4xxTpvCnK5oJGAwYJ1wdR3Y6hFz7VkqGhAF1lJieW-c/s400/IMG_0914.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615554154076661506" /></a><br /><br />I'm tense even writing this, but then I just look at that picture and it calms me, what a spread! From this shot you can <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> see where the money has gone here. I'm not one to complain about the price of anything (unless it's a pint over £5), but I think it's justified in these supermarket purchases as to be honest, not a lot of time and effort has gone into making these. The subdued yellow yolk of the free range egg didn't look as appealing as the standard Sainsburys Scotch Eggs rich and golden orange, but have a butchers (no pun intended, honestly) at that Porky goodness inside the T the D vessel. The black pepper, the pork, the golden breadcrumb... <br /><br />When I tucked in I certainly did <span style="font-style:italic;">Taste the Difference</span>. It was delicious. The flavour of the seasoned pork lasted in your mouth longer, but wasn't overpowering. The texture was good. The egg was smooth and soothing. This was a SERIOUS Scotch Egg. The standard variety wasn't bad at all, it was simply overshadowed by something far superior. It could only be compared to the shadow the alien spacecraft cast over New York in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0116629/">Independence Day</a>. <br /><br />This gets a recommendation from me, but give the normal one a try too, it's not that bad. I just hope that Will Smith and Jeff Goldblum don't fire a Nuclear missile into the mainframe of the Taste the Difference factory though...<br /><br />Sainsburys Scotch Egg<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAuHmj67SY3OwJTE3j3HJlWXExVUrxOJV41iB_-uyLQanDUbF9fE9WtBqA8YeFmunOEF9UkwIeqA3hzmpcdc0hXx1Q8gTiOUi6a1x5RJds5rlVnQUyyK5WfQgzkIGvKKnNuRLf7FLqH8/s1600/sainsburys.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqAuHmj67SY3OwJTE3j3HJlWXExVUrxOJV41iB_-uyLQanDUbF9fE9WtBqA8YeFmunOEF9UkwIeqA3hzmpcdc0hXx1Q8gTiOUi6a1x5RJds5rlVnQUyyK5WfQgzkIGvKKnNuRLf7FLqH8/s400/sainsburys.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615560453940828098" /></a><br /><br />Sainsburys Taste the Difference Scotch Egg made with outdoor bred pork<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_A04Khg1rfLCs8JjLMlzxv9HGx3Mj91H0c99Ps9wycOWuCRMOdXqnw7IU5z6PbO8hXLsYbGwOb_oqSHDp4jPaIX2InLVHDJhK5nKL1DijqYQh_BUMkLJgCJ-QFDdnzH2Pa2Fqe0BiaHE/s1600/sainsburystthed.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_A04Khg1rfLCs8JjLMlzxv9HGx3Mj91H0c99Ps9wycOWuCRMOdXqnw7IU5z6PbO8hXLsYbGwOb_oqSHDp4jPaIX2InLVHDJhK5nKL1DijqYQh_BUMkLJgCJ-QFDdnzH2Pa2Fqe0BiaHE/s400/sainsburystthed.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615560579058610850" /></a>BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-42900493369903694832011-06-05T12:07:00.000-07:002011-06-05T13:09:22.240-07:001) The Southampton Arms<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkytGvuY8rurrvSqIFpph7Oqafray6xFALQRYD097Kz7EJwbuPv2kJXUva177AFbRWS6xwUjulEDadrftvU26ApEphPL64OVQgKcICbn_rOEdL8TgjlPCPcnP_2Y0PQC7XlLUEAhs-Q0c/s1600/IMG_0766.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkytGvuY8rurrvSqIFpph7Oqafray6xFALQRYD097Kz7EJwbuPv2kJXUva177AFbRWS6xwUjulEDadrftvU26ApEphPL64OVQgKcICbn_rOEdL8TgjlPCPcnP_2Y0PQC7XlLUEAhs-Q0c/s400/IMG_0766.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614830283866527122" /></a><br /><br />It was a Saturday afternoon, and I hadn't had a lot of sleep. My batteries were low, and I had been thinking about making this blog for some time, and in my hungover state I decided to take the first step.<br /><br />It was a beautiful afternoon, and totally wasted on me being hungover. I was with Natalie having a bit of a stroll around the sights of our area, Camden Town. When most people think of Camden they think of greebos, the market and getting their photo taken with punks for a £1 or something. Oh, and those blokes that just sit on the street with bird whistles in their mouths tweeting away trying to flog them to gullible tourists.<br /><br />Anyway, we had a stroll round Primrose Hill and arrived at <a href="http://www.beerintheevening.com/pubs/s/14/14313/Albert/Primrose_Hill">The Albert</a>. I like it in there and got all excited about the thought of having a Scotch Egg, then realised I'd had one of their home made Pork Pies before, not a Scotch Egg. We left. I was now hell bent on having one, when Natalie saved the day... <br /><br />She mentioned <a href="http://www.thesouthamptonarms.co.uk/">The Southampton Arms</a> in Kentish Town which she heard made them, and she wasn't wrong. It was the first time we had been there, and it's a fantastic pub. Loads of independent Lagers and Ales, a lovely little sun trap of a garden and a homely, comfortable interior. I arrived at the bar to put my order in and was hit with an absolute bombshell...<br /><br />The Scotch Eggs were Vegetarian.<br /><br />What a way to start a blog about Scotch Eggs, with an inferior one. Though to quote the great man himself (me) "every Scotch Egg is equal", so I continued.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAc6hf7uwhoL63w7em5wJ7WZziQObshu8W9eA5W8s0q7hihVjzr5ylCnJPBV_6_uaf0SupaA5XntNKuPKaEfsxqK05dM5fkYUUa-9RQjs34lBMIS9GmQO_pApLJoWvkBNVCpIE1wj3tA/s1600/IMG_0708.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAc6hf7uwhoL63w7em5wJ7WZziQObshu8W9eA5W8s0q7hihVjzr5ylCnJPBV_6_uaf0SupaA5XntNKuPKaEfsxqK05dM5fkYUUa-9RQjs34lBMIS9GmQO_pApLJoWvkBNVCpIE1wj3tA/s400/IMG_0708.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614819356357402642" /></a><br /><br />It was big, nearly the size of a clenched fist, served on a metal plate with a small pot of mustard. I cut directly through the middle to reveal the beast in all its glory. A thin layer of breadcrumbs and a collection of barley, lentils, rice and seeds as a meat substitute.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjErqiOC6jg0GZR-Jp0ll_KlGuOWgNj_Fp3INRM4LhYG2REaDPB7od-xa22Po2OTA3dYgTUvs0grh86yF8_sWWRqXw_ozNtk_8gRU3AzjV_BcMLj239fDhNNNU1xZsPN7A4ibUpjEbvg/s1600/IMG_0713.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjErqiOC6jg0GZR-Jp0ll_KlGuOWgNj_Fp3INRM4LhYG2REaDPB7od-xa22Po2OTA3dYgTUvs0grh86yF8_sWWRqXw_ozNtk_8gRU3AzjV_BcMLj239fDhNNNU1xZsPN7A4ibUpjEbvg/s400/IMG_0713.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614820413278164402" /></a><br /><br />It was tasty and I enjoyed it, but in all fairness, it was dry. Maybe it wasn't massively dry, but due to the size of it, it started to become a bit of a challenge to eat. The mustard was a nice touch, and in my opinion saved the day. I ate it all though (naturally), finished my CocaCola and left. I then thought to myself, how harshly am I going to mark such works of art? I'm usually quite generous with scoring stuff, but this has to change. This is a hub for debate and opinion, and I need to be honest. As my man Roy Walker said "It's good, but it's not right." <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLE5Bjp8NIVA7untHsWuA3lJdv3oK_oy-ciq-mNseZFMa4gKeUOE_BIKlcuvCIjPJlkww6e-pMIwPvCgbh_ekvTnapa2aOmwnKll3pvMJL6oMg8lE_fkAKEDy43fcWivn4hwQQQb_Ah3c/s1600/southamptonarms.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 86px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLE5Bjp8NIVA7untHsWuA3lJdv3oK_oy-ciq-mNseZFMa4gKeUOE_BIKlcuvCIjPJlkww6e-pMIwPvCgbh_ekvTnapa2aOmwnKll3pvMJL6oMg8lE_fkAKEDy43fcWivn4hwQQQb_Ah3c/s400/southamptonarms.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614823111665466738" /></a>BoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4102145851727392324.post-50544628593055773632011-06-05T09:55:00.000-07:002011-06-05T10:44:52.029-07:00I'll start with the big question... Why?And I will answer you simply... <span style="font-style:italic;">Why not?</span> <br /><br />I've been arguing my case for sometime now. The Scotch Egg is the mightiest snack of them all, <span style="font-weight:bold;">no question</span>. I don't know a lot about them (although I'm sure that on this pork and egg filled roller coaster I will become an expert), but all I do know is that they are unbelievable, and an absolute taste sensation. <br /><br />People frown upon them, and maybe on this quest I will discover why. <br /><br />You may choose something less nutritional maybe, such as a Double Decker or a Mars to snack on? Or maybe you like to get your health kicks and nibble on a banana or an apple? Maybe I don't have any standards? I casually walk down the street on the journey home from my local Sainsburys, tucking into a Scotch Egg like it's a piece of fruit.<br /><br />The aim of the blog is simple... To hunt down and eat the best Scotch Eggs I can get my hands on. I'm open to suggestions of locations, supermarkets, delis, markets, service stations, literally ANYWHERE that sells the little beauties. To me, every Scotch Egg is equal, weather it be purchased in Tescos, or finely crafted in a restaurant. They all deserve their place in the Scotch Egg world of fame, this here blog.<br /><br />So this is it, my journey has begun. I will enjoy documenting it for you all, and so will my tummy.<br /><br />Thanks for reading,<br /><br />DavidBoaBoahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08715296860123692364noreply@blogger.com6