Food and English history. An ironically delightful combination. At least, in my eyes.
I’ve always found English food appealing, despite its historic reputation for…ignominy. But I mean, for a nation responsible for scones, Sunday roasts, and Harry Potter, the cuisine of England has always emanated an aura of warmth and whimsicalness to me. So to finally try my hand at a recipe that combines aforementioned whimsicality with a historical tale that allows me to pretend I live in Buckingham Palace was a joy.
(Perhaps, though, it’s actually my intense desire to somehow become English, but nuances.)
In any case, I’d seen this lovely dessert flutter rather surreptitiously around Tastespotting on occasion, and, having finally finished up with a fracking exhausting spring term, had been dying to try my hand at it. So I called Tommy up, presented him with the idea, and the two of us met in my tiny apartment earlier this afternoon to make it happen.