The word’s British and cuisine don’t exactly go together, which is why I was wary of going to a British gastropub for brunch over the weekend, the best gastropub in the city. That is, until I saw that they had pancakes on the menu.
The pancakes came with a scoop of peanut butter ice cream on top and they were drenched, just soaked with maple syrup. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way. They were greasy and soggy and absolutely delicious, despite their poor appearance. The peanut butter ice cream was surprisingly good, given it was peanut butter ice cream, which sounds gross. It melted and soaked into the pancakes, only adding to the tastiness.
They still somehow managed to be light and fluffy, despite the sopping mess. Leave it to the Brits to take something as simple as pancakes and turn it into a greasy gross-looking mess, and yet it tasted delicious.
Speaking of something looking gross but tasting delicious, I had a bite of Brent’s scotch egg. That is a deep-fried egg wrapped in chorizo. It is the first time I have ingested egg yolk in it’s normal form (as in not disguised as a cookie or french toast) and enjoyed it. Who knew? All you had to do was wrap it in chorizo and deep fry it.