Chacun a son Gout

Once upon a long time ago Wilf and I were in a pub in London. We were looking at the bar snacks, and on offer were packets of potato chips - crisps - in the flavour 'roast beef'. I decided that was too weird to eat and passed. And I've always kind of regretted that - after all - a bag of chips? Don't like 'em, don't eat 'em. Since then we've been to Japan twice and Turkey and India and have sort of adopted 'Sure, I'll try that' as a motto to live by.

And then I was in our local Fairways market. And there, in the 'ethnic' section was a display of potato chips from Scotland:

Steak flavoured crisps! I'm in. And, after tasting them I'd have to say - apparently texture contributes a lot to the taste of something. Do they taste like steak or beef? No. What do they taste like? I don't know. But you know what they aren't? Salty!!! Half the salt of a similar sized package of North American chips.

Of course, if I'm going to continue on my path of 'brave eating' I guess I'll have to go back and get the package that was beside the aberdeen angus steak flavour.

What do you suppose 'Haggis and cracked black pepper' is going to taste like?

Pie, again!

In the thirty years since I last paid attention to the world of pies one thing seems to have happened. Or maybe it is a geographical thing. I went looking for raisin pie filling. Not to be found in Sidney. Do people not like raisin pie any more?

 So, I made the filling myself (thank you all recipes.com)