Okay, maybe the Cornish pasty is not the best food ever, but it certainly tops my list as one of the few things I could eat every day for the rest of my life. Move over, tacos, this is love. Here's the problem, though...I can't get myself to call this food by its name. It's not the Cornish part, although that does have a certain 8th grade bawdiness to it, but the pasty. To Americans of a certain age, a "pasty" (rhymes with "tasty") is somthing worn by an exotic dancer to cover her nipples, as in "I didn't see her naked, darling, she had pasties on!" Yuck. Although the genteel Brits pronounce the word to rhyme with "nasty", I still can't get over the somewhat off-putting connotations. Name nothwithstanding, I did manage to point and grunt my way through innumerable sidewalk stands in London to eat these delicious flaky turnovers filled with extra sharp British and Irish cheddar and sweet onions. Although the traditional Cornish pasty is made from chopped beef and potatoes as a convenient lunch for miners, I prefer the cheese and onion variety. It's not just the dripping hot, tangy cheese that makes the Cornish pasty so perfect, but the flakiness of the dough that melts in your mouth and crumbles on your tongue at the same time. And the price! In a city known for is hyper-expensive dining, the Cornish pasty is a steal at a mere £ 2.
