Saturday, 23 February 2008
Black Pudding Brunch
When the head is pounding, when the mouth is dry, when hazy memories of the previous night's excesses dribble back into semi-consciousness, there is nothing that sates an alcohol-induced appetite better than congealed pig's blood. Life comes back into focus after a couple of slices, crispy on the outside but moist in the middle, propped up by thick wedges of crusty white bread and caramelised apples. A rich yellow river of egg yolk slowly oozes down and over the jagged edges of the blood sausage like molten lava creeping over mountain rocks. Its path is anything but destructive.
Hello weekend, I'm so glad your here.