You really cannot purchase anything close to the quality of a Cornish pasty outside of Cornwell…read more It's a real treat to bite into that thick golden pastry, hit a steak deposit. Have your tonsils tickled by the black pepper and enjoy the silken smooth texture of the Potato and carrot. Best enjoyed from a paper bag whilst relaxing on a beach after a swim or surf, casually looking out over the Atlantic ocean, waves crashing. For the ultimate experience you should get up early and hit the Pasty shop as the golden bastards are transferred fresh from the oven to the counter. But equally looking in your bag for a pasty at the end of hard day hiking the coastal paths, which has had time to vintage much like a bottle of fine wine, find a rock and recharge on this special eat.
There's quite a history behind the humble pasty and I'd like to share with you a story that's stuck with me since I was a child. The pasty came about as with all wonderful inventions due to necessity, the Cornish tin industry would see men and boys sent underground to work tirelessly, and the family's of the miners came up with the Cornish Pasty. You see as with most mining the fella's under the earth would be covered in dirt, the metal deposit and general grime from a career, deep, deep down in the ground. That crunchy plait we know and love today, on the side of the pasty, never used to be the Shangri la of pastry (as you call it) with its delicious golden exterior and doughy pale core. It was functional, so the miners could hold the hallowed pasty without covering the main event in soot and crud.
It was then discarded, so legend tells to the Knockers, whom Cornish folklore describe as little creatures who lived in the tin mines and seemingly enjoyed eating pastry covered in crap. If the Knockers weren't given their sacrificial pastry crusts, strange noises would be heard in the mines, sometimes a knocking noise, and if ignored, the miners believed they were in danger of shaft collapse (a fear men carry to this very day).
The fair partners of these stoic Cornish miners would also pack into one end of their pasty's a sweet treat, stewed apples or a blob of jam. Desert if you will, wrapped up in the generous fold of pastry, brushed with butter and baked for their loved ones.
And here we find Cousin jacks, Bondi Junction paved Mall. You caught my eye as I passed you, I am a sceptic, (see opening lines) however Cousin Jacks I was not disappointed in your traditional Cornish pasty (although I would like to sweep your counters clear of all the other pretender pasties you offer, and I'll only look sideways at your vegetarian offering with a stress induced tick in the corner of my eye, what would the Knockers say!) you've achieved something where many have previously tried and failed.
You've made the best traditional Cornish Pasty, I've tasted outside the secret corners of old granite villages in deepest Cornwall, no mean feat. It even has that sweet desert at the end.
Grab a couple on your way to the beach, Cousin Jacks traditional Cornish pasties, I highly recommend.