By: Blonde Two
I quite often take a pasty on expedition. Not because I particularly like the pasties that you buy in the supermarket (they really don’t stand up next to one that has been home-baked by a Cornish woman), but often because by the time I get to the supermarket it is the end of a long day, at the end of a long week at school; and to be quite honest, I can’t make my head think of anything more interesting.
On our recent Silver(ish) expedition I had a Ginsters pasty stowed away for lunch (other stodgy, meaty-substance filled snacks are available). It was very windy up on North Dartmoor but we both needed to eat so we crouched behind an army box (almost too small to call a hut) at Quintin’s Man. I wasn’t feeling the love for my pasty but I dutifully got it out of my bag and considered it. I can’t remember what Blonde One had to eat, but as it turned out, her lunch was far better behaved than mine.
I now know that if you hold a pasty (maybe not a proper Cornish one) at the correct angle to the wind, piece by piece all of the pastry will flake away. As I wasn’t feeling hungry (a fact that was worrying B1 as I am almost always hungry), the flaking didn’t bother me too much. It did, however, bother Blonde One because she was sitting downwind of me and ended up wearing a lot of pastry.
It is just as well we are good friends because shaking your pastry dandruff all over someone else really isn’t polite! I have had sandwiches ever since!
(Pasty image – Flickr Fluffymuppet)