“Have nothing in your mouth that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” ― I’m misquoting William Morris because I had a sandwich t’other day in Lloyd Park, currently home to the William Morris Gallery and once home to the man himself.
There’s a caff there too, run by Deeney’s which appears to bea two-establishment chain, with a Scottish vibe, famous for their haggis toasties such as the Macbeth - haggis, cheddar cheese, rocket, caramelized onion and mustard; the Hamish Macbeth which has all the above for plus bacon; and the Lady Macbeth with veggie haggis and vegan mayonnaise, you know for the ladies, though I never imagined Lady Macbeth to be a picky eater.
I had the Macbeth (above), and I’m pretty sure I’d never had a haggis sandwich before, and it was very fine. Whether it was better as a sandwich than it would have been with neeps and tatties is debatable, but I had no complaints.
How very different from breakfast next day at L’Hirondelle, also in Walthamstow. The sandwich menu looked like this:
and I concluded, perhaps hastily, that if they can’t spell sandwich they probably can’t make a good one, and is a wrap really a sandwich, anyway?. So I went for the Eggs Benedict with smoked salmon which I know some people call a Royale. It looked ok:
and it tasted like arse because the eggs were barely half-cooked, with globs of raw albumen. Made me wish I’d had a sandwhich.
But then, OMG, a day later in Richmond, I encountred a kind of perfection, at the Cricketers pub: swings and roundabouts innit? There was whitebait. I can’t remember when I last had better:
and then there were Pork Belly Bites – deep fried I assume – melting fat and great crispy skin, with apple sauce. Made me feel all Arts and Crafts.
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