In consideration of the Cornish pasty. That's PAH-stee.

Mrs. Confidential prepares pasties. 

Pictured above is a homemade pasty, fresh from the oven. To be more accurate, it was a homemade pasty, because it no longer exists.

While it is true that pasties are a staple in places like Michigan's Upper Peninsula, I'm compelled to remind the reader that my wife's mother was born in English port of Plymouth, which lies in the English county of Devon, just across the Tamar River from Cornwall -- and Cornwall is as much the heartland of pasties as Kentucky is bourbon.

Hence, the Cornish pasty.

In contrast to its earlier place amongst the wealthy, during the 17th and 18th centuries, the pasty became popular with working people in Cornwall, where tin miners and others adopted it due to its unique shape, forming a complete meal that could be carried easily and eaten without cutlery. In a mine, the pasty's dense, folded pastry could stay warm for several hours, and if it did get cold, it could easily be warmed on a shovel over a candle.

I've often wondered why a street food purveyor hasn't embraced the idea here in metro Louisville. To be sure, the classic Cornish pasty is blue collar sustenance, not intended for gentrification, though naturally pasties can and are being converted into hipster conveyances. In 2013, I ate a pasty with something curried inside. That's not a Cornwall thang at all.

The real problem probably results from uncertainties in pronunciation. A pasty (plural pasties) as a foodstuff is PAH-stee, while a pasty that covers a woman's nipples (thus enabling her to evade obscenity ordinances) is a PAY-stee. For obvious reasons, there are usually two of the latter, and thus PAY-steez (plural).

I cannot mention pasties without recommending the nine Devon locations (all on the seaward side of the Dartmoor) of Ivor Dewdney, a regional pasty producer since 1939, owned and operated by Ivor's grandchildren.

Hold the lamb and serve that whining moneybags Barzun some fish pie and bitter.

Roast beef with gravy, cabbage, vegetables and Yorkshire pudding at the Dartmoor Inn in Merrivale, Devon. Kindly note ale - not whine.

Louisvillian Matthew Barzun's thoughts on English food are so crucially important that even Terry Boyd has found time to temporarily refrain from fluffing local gods of bizness to comment on the situation: Honey, it's the diplomatic gaffe!

Seems the ambassador let slip that he's tired of being served lamb. In photos, he appears rather well-fed, and so the undiplomatic bits of this newest non-scandal have less to do with limey grub than (a) all the folks in the world lacking daily sustenance with whom Barzun does not come into contact, and (b) the unmitigated cheek of any person hailing from the home city of Yum Brands to criticize any meal, ever.

My last visit to the UK came in July of 2013, and I was quite happy with the results of foraging in Devon and Cornwall.

Queue the Elgar, and consider this partial list of foodstuffs joyfully consumed during my holiday, including both local “English” fare and widely available culinary options borrowed from elsewhere.

Anchovies fillets (fresh)
Bacon
Baked beans
Bangers and mash
Black pudding (i.e., blood sausage)
Cornish pasties
Crab sandwiches
Egg rolls
Falafel
Fish pie (not Stargazy pie, alas)
Gajrati (regional vegetarian Indian)
Haddock and chips
Pie, mash, eel and liquor (the latter is gravy)
Pizza (loaded)
Smoked salmon
Spanish tapas
Steak & kidney pie
Thai red curry
Yorkshire pudding

Maybe Barzun needs to visit a pub. Cask ale helps with the digestion, after all.

How dare anyone criticise British food? Indigestible dinners made this country great, by Stuart Heritage (The Guardian)

... Oh, sure, the foodies will tell you that the restaurant scene in this country has never been so vibrant; that the UK now plays host to some of the world’s most exciting chefs; that television cookery has changed how we all feed ourselves. And they might have a case, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a good thing. On the contrary, I’d be willing to argue that horrible food is precisely what made this country great.

Today in London.

Pie and mash, at Wikipedia:

The main dish sold is pie and mash — a minced beef and cold water pastry pie served with mashed potato. It is common for the mashed potato to be spread around one side of the plate and for a type of parsley sauce to be present. This is commonly called eel liquor sauce or simply liquor (although it is non-alcoholic), traditionally made using the water kept from the preparation of the stewed eels. The sauce traditionally has a green colour, from the parsley.[1] Sometimes a gravy is served instead (normally oxtail or Bisto).