Pasty Time!

It happens often at the London Bridge Train Station. You look on the giant board to see when your train will be leaving, then look at the giant clock to see how long you have, then look back at the big board to see what platform you have to go to, then realize there is no way in hell you will be able to get all the way across the station in thirty seconds. On ambitious days, it's worth a sprint, especially if you are in a hurry, but when it's late at night and you know that sooner or later another train will come for you- well, it's not worth the extra cardio. In the fish-n-chips post a while back I mentioned something about eating a pasty soon, and the other night when I was in the predicament mentioned above, well I thought no better time than the present, right?

I felt as though I was entering a whole new world of London. I never, may I repeat never purchase things from the London Bridge vendors. Oh, there are plenty of temptations: delicious smelling cookie stands, gorgeous shiny olive bars, rows and rows of yogurt covered nuts and jelly sugary goodies, and on rough days- rows and rows of booze. It's just a little rule I set up for myself the first time I entered that station. I instantly saw all my hard earned money (aka- financial aid) being thrown away on snack food. I do enough damage in the snack food aisle at Sainsbury's (the grocery store), and I don't need to pay for overpriced junk food mid travel. Right? Right? But I thought, hey, this is part of my cultural experience of London. How can I possibly adjust to this place if I haven't eaten a pasty? And off I marched to the West Cornwall Pasty Company stand. Um, by the way, that website is really awesome.

I ordered a cheese, tomato and basil pasty and marched right back to the big board to see what time the next train left. There was a grueling fifteen minute wait and I told myself I could not eat my pasty until I got home and could take proper pictures of it. (I really need to stop with this personal rules, don't I?) I stood on the platform and cursed the entire time while skin piercing cold air pushed against my face. What made it worse was that I could smell the pasty and feel its warmth though my bag. While standing and contemplating why this was the longest fifteen minutes of my life, I started to reconsider my pasty choice, and by the time my train arrived I was really upset with myself for not getting the cheese and onion pasty, which at that point I wanted much more.

Finally I arrived home and tore into my pasty like a starving college student who has been traveling around busy London all day. Oh, right.... Which was when I realized the guy at the shop picked up the wrong pasty and in fact, gave me a cheese and onion one by accident! Ah- all was right in the world. And it was everything I imagined it would be. Flaky, cheesy, warm and extremely satisfying. It's a treat I don't see myself getting often, but I know that when a fattening food attack strikes, London Bridge is only two stops away from my train station. And of course, these West Cornwall places are absolutely everywhere.

I'm excited that they have plenty of vegetarian options- but the bacon and cheese pasty sounds amazing. Ah bacon, such a slippery slope for vegetarians....or people who pretend to be 'vegetarian' but cheat when necessary.