Flashback to 20 or so years ago, and most Sundays we would go to my grandpa’s house and have the most legendary roast dinners – roast beef with Yorkshire puddings, the crispiest, yet fluffiest roast potatoes you could imagine – delicious flavoursome vegetables and gravy…. Don’t get me started on how good the gravy was; I used to watch my grandpa make the gravy and the concoction of things which used to go into it has led me on a lifelong mission to replicate something similar.
Once we had gorged ourselves, my sister and I would excuse ourselves from the table and maybe watch a film, and after that we would all often go for a family walk – normally to try and feel less guilty about the amount of food we had eaten.
Come evening time, when we could start considering the possibility of ever eating something again, that something was always crumpets. I had mine slathered with marmite, so much so that it would mix in with the butter and drip through the holes of the crumpet onto the plate. They are a quintessentially British food, of which I am very proud.
