Meat...

Dear animals. Sorry. But hey, if you will be so damn edible...

So yet more shitty weather - is there anything more miserable than slush? - and for me that means comfort eating. Yes, I know sunshine, rain, good moods, bad moods, birthdays, Tuesdays etc., generally also mean comfort eating but I needed a lead in and some vindication for the sheer quantity of animal bits consumed in the last couple of days.

Yesterday afternoon was spent in relaxed style with the laptop, some film notes and a couple of pints of Timothy Taylor's while waiting for the lovely Petra from the WEST brewery. It looks like St Mungo's is ready to explode into the UK and that is a VERY GOOD THING. It is an astonishingly good beer: crisp, clean, refreshing and with an amazing lingering malty finish. I'm looking forward to a Friday next month when I shall be firmly ensconced in the brewery and supping the rest of the range.

As anticipated, Petra, her other half and the convivial Giles of Coach & Horses fame got on like the proverbial flaming residence and, as anticipated, the Scotch eggs, chips, herring roes on toast, deep-fried pigs cheeks and, particular, the black pudding hash warmed the cockles and filled collective bellies.

The hash was brought to mind again this morning with a similarly constructed haggis breakfast at Roast. The Ramsay of Carluke haggis is a thing of sheepy beauty, and the bubble and squeak and fried egg accompaniment make this probably my favourite breakfast at the moment. Well, until the next one. I had intended to take a photo of this succulent stack but it's impossible to resist. Next time...

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