God help me, but I do so love hot sausage rolls. Especially Sayers or Waterfield's (here in the North West). Cold supermarket ones-Nyet! Asda used to quite nice ones en store, but not anymore. Morrison's can be quite nice also.
I am not a slim chap.

for best blog title ever. It had me intrigued and not a little fearful as to what the shame may have entailed.

A mate of mine with a similar weakness for the work of messrs Fray Bentos was swooped on by the authorities at Dubai airport when taking a supply into that country as the x-ray of his luggage led them to believe he was importing landmines.

My food GPs include but are not exclusive to M&S mini Scotch eggs, salt and vinegar chipsticks - and Munchies - of which I could eat my own bodyweight given the opportunity.

Whilst in Italy I discovered my passion for Cantuccini biscuits, which are absolutely delicious. Mi sono ingrassato molto. The best I had were from a shop opposite the Albergo Moderno round the back of Lucca railway station. If you're ever there, pop in and buy some - you won't regret it.

when the wife's away never hurt anyone. But cover your tracks and if she asks, deny it.

My favourite is the massive sensory overload of the Brunch Bar (a breadcrumbed turd of pig bits, egg and coleslaw with the aroma of a damp dog) followed by a burst of shame and self-loathing.

wasn't he in the midfield in the Argentinian cup winning team? Personally I love them but have a preference for the Steak and Kidney one. I love that the pastry is crispy on the top and soggy like a pudding underneath. The chips have to be home made not McCains or any other frozen rubbish. Other 'junk' food I like is Jaffa Cakes (easy to eat a box in one sitting), Tunnocks Snowballs, Fish fingers and definitely black pudding.

I love pies when I am feeling under the weather espcially steak & kidney. Even an s&k pudding.

But most of all I love scotch pies becuase they remind me of home. With beans in the top bit. I don't see them in supermarkets as much as I used to.

a couple of months back after watching the re-runs of 'Early Doors' series 2. The one when Duffy's wife leaves him and he comes into the pub with, I think, a Chicken & Mushroom. It perfectly summed up his lot at the time.

not allowed to eat if wife's home.

onions, potatoes, corned beef, chilli. hp sauce. a beer. lovely.

It is not shameful enough by itself that one subsists on food whose natural habitat is the small chilled cabinet of a provincial petrol station – one yet to ally its forecourt to a major supermarket chain.

To achieve full social pariahdom, one must approach items purchased from the stoners’ deli in such a way that will cause friends who have known you since childhood to suddenly see you in an unflattering new light.

Your method of consumption should be disgusting enough to be cited by your long-suffering spouse in divorce proceedings (“He used a bendy straw to suck the gravy out of his Fray Bentos pie”). It should be weird enough to stand as salacious, headline-friendly detail in newspaper articles, when your serial killing finally comes to the attention of the general public: - SOUTHEND STRANGLER ENGAGED IN MOCK GINSTERS AUTOPSIES!

It is my belief that Arctic Roll (recently returned from a state of suspended animation by the ocean-going purveyor of rectangular pieces of fish - Captain Birdseye) is demeaned by being served portioned into thin round slithers. Instead the entire roll should be grasped firmly in one hand like a hunk of spit-roasted meat, before rough, manly bites are taken out of the sides.

I happily admit to liking G&L especially the pre-Breakaway albums which were packed full of rather folky material. I happened to witness their first ever outing as a duo at the Albert Hall as support to Buffy Sainte-Marie in about 1972. I am not so keen on Fray Bentos however.

cold baked beans from the tin, when my wife's around - she'd kill me.
Left on my own I'd make sandwiches of pickled cucumbers (either in Dill or Polish ones in Brine) and tomatoes.
Followed by illegal under-the-counter liquorice (sticks or cuttings).

Beans on toast. Bloody marvelous food, served best with a lump of strong cheddar broken off the block by hand. None of this namby-pamby grated cheese nonsense. The FPO hates beans. Musical accompaniment, probably ELO or King Crim.

This is, by the way, the greatest ever topic on the Word.

Haven't had one in quite a while now , but your thread has got me thinking...

Fray bentos. They are mythical beasts worth more than gold here in south africa. They cannot be imported here so when anyone goes to blighty they are the no1 requested treat. Guilty pleasure. Twiglet and mature cheddar and tomato sandwiches made with doorstops. Nuke for 30 secs and wash down with mugs of builders tea! Getting hungry now!

It's odd because I like to cook and, when the family's home, I'm quite happy to work at producing a balanced and nutritional meal. But, on my own, there will be beans. Possibly a baked potato. Maybe sausages. Perhaps a fried egg or two.

It might be that I like cooking this form of fast food so that I can have more time watching the TV - something I don't do much with the FPO as she has an insatiable appetite for watching other people cooking, gardening, decorating or cleaning their houses or moving to new ones. Me, I'd rather settle down with an old British film (preferably involving Alastair Sim) and a nice glass of bitter ale.

I shared a house with a guy who ate one of these every night.

He drove a Skoda.

Not a guilty pleasure as I can indulge nowadays whenever I choose, but a real household-divider.

Ditto fresh-from-the-water fish that needs total preparation, something lightyears away from supermarket cotton-wool that's lost most vestiges of freshness in the logistics-and-preparation chain.

Not exactly items of shame, but I hope you see what I mean...

beef curry.
Had one circa 1970. Loved the first ever spice rush. I have had since then a love of curries in all their various forms which will never go away. I have even gone to night school to hone up my culinary skills in making them.All thanks to Mr Vesta and his wee packet of delights.
Ruby Ruby Ruby!

For twenty years I forwent pretty much every foodstuff that does not play a fundamental role in the Mediterranean diet. I thought about such things. Daily. And the muscle memory of my taste buds kicked in and I would start to salivate. When questioned by Mrs V. about the sliver of drool gurgling rather aesthetically from my mouth, like a tiny Zen bamboo fountain, I would mutter something about "Oops - just forgot to swallow, dear." Any excuse, however laughable, was better than telling her the truth: "I really, really, really want a Sainsbury's crumpet dribbling with melted Lurpak. More than anything in the world. Sorry, but you did ask."

Then we moved house. Six months ago, just down the road from me, I discovered an an English butcher's shop. Good bloke, from Bedford. Enviable golf handicap, by all accounts. And a brilliant butcher.

I felt like Tom Bell in the first episode of Out. Here's my parole officer's report:

The Cumberland sausage. After so long here, I know all about Ibérico chorizo, morcón and caña de lomo, and I can certainly tell my butifarras from my longaniza. But this is the one true artery-clogger - the Chosen One.

Piccalilli. Yes, it's a hideous yellow colour ("Ingredients: cauliflower, caesium 90..."), and once you've got the mature-cheddar angle covered, your options are not precisely staring you in the face, but it does what it does with a degree of aplomb that no mere Branston Pickle* can come close to matching.

HP Sauce. The Spanish are very big on fried eggs, and I'll admit that their way - fried in a big slosh of olive oil - gets the job done most efficiently, but for 20 years it had been missing something. Actually, my return to it was a bit like the first cigarette after a long stretch without smoking: nauseating. But I persisted, and the second time around the old addiction mechanisms kicked in.

So, for the last year, I've eaten more Full Englishes with Cumberland sausages, real back bacon (as opposed to Oscar Mayer Mock Bacon), fried tomatoes, fried bread, and, yes, beans, than I ever ate in my last ten years in London. Oh, and a Cheddar-and-piccalilli sandwich whenever I've been feeling peckish. Yum tum tum.

Genes will out, evidently, and as a result I'm a happy man. Unfortunately, I'm no longer Tom Bell; I'm Robert De Niro prepping for Raging Bull.

A stone and a half in six months. Christ.

_____

(* A crushing disappointment, actually - like sugary dog sick.)

I'm in London drinking Albarino and cooking paella with fresh(ish) Chorizo.

I have a weakness for pickled herring which must betray a Baltic heritage. And don't get me started on hotdogs...

Oh, I thought I was alone. I thought no-one would ever understand, but now, it is more clear than ever that I sit amongst friends.
The sheer magnificence of friend Fray Bentos and his/her steak & ale concoction cannot be overstated. Yes, there is the steak in its rather unique 'sauce'. Yes there is the puff pastry topping.

But the glory, the resplendence & the grandeur come with the splodgy, damp-ish, gloopy substance, that sits with such joyous pageantry, in the no-mans land between the aforementioned puff and steakliness. This stuff, this texture, this 'thing', is how I perceive biblical manna must have tasted to the Israelites as they roamed the deserts.
It is the very food of the gods. A strange, enchanting, addictive cloying piece of heaven in a tin.
What is it? I have no idea. Maybe 'tis better to remain a mystery. Perhaps, it would be like opening the curtain upon magic to know of its ingredients. Don't tell me. Let me live in the beauty of its allure and culinary charm.

white bread
butter
Seabrook's Ready Salted.
Valhalla I am coming.

Splendid Blog at http://londonreviewofbreakfasts.blogspot.com/ which has links to many excellent other breakfast blogs including one based in Melbourne

in a bowl with milk and a sprinkling of sugar. They have to be home made, none of this out of the freezer business. A rare treat.

Fish finger sandwiches have become something of a weakness lately too.

ensure that gastronomy takes second place to comfort. So, today - for the first time in years - I had a Bounty. It was perfect in its ghastly synthetic sugarlode.

And clearly no coconuts were harmed in its making

This thread recalls a piece i read years back about UK chaps scoffing pork pies in secret and the FPO never knowing anything about it.

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/food-and-drink/news/british-men-...

(Cripes this was 1999. Simpler times.)

In the west of Scotland, steak 'n' kidney is rhyming slang for Sydney.

Sydney Devine that is!

a Cheese 'n' Onion Nasty, as we used to call it or a toasted cheese and pickle sandwich.

For the latter, the bread has to be white, thick doorstep and preferably not perfectly carved.

The cheese should be Cheddar, mature as can be and the pickle has to be Branston.

Once toasted, the best bit about it is the way that the roof of your mouth gets burned by the oozing pickle.

And, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Fray Bentos a Uruguayan cattle town?

Agree with the other gourmets on the Vesta,
but not just the curry, there's the chow mein,
the paella and chicken supreme. Once the height
of exotic culinary and gastronomic experiences.
Now of course we know how far from the real
thing they were, but on occasions when
the FPO is out, I sneak a box of dehydrated
delights in and indulge myself as if it was 1975
all over again. Goes especially well with a
10cc album.

would include one or more of the following:
- whole packet of custard cream biscuits
- whole packet of malted milk biscuits
- 6 pack of cherry bakewells
- 6 pack of bramley apple pies
- a Sanish feast of chorizo, lomo, manchego, a goats cheese and possibly those little spanish pasty-like things - forget their name
- a bag of Madeleines

These days washed down by a pint or two of water to stave off the inevitable acid reflux and a night spent snoozing in the upright position.

The TV that accompanies such a night would be equally highbrow - snooker, footie, maybe an episode of 'Two Pints Of Lager...' all followed by a bout of self-loathing as I've wasted another 4 hours of my life...

Posted twice

My own speciality, invented nearly 40 years ago while searching for sustenance in a neighbour's house where I was babysitting, is constructed as follows:

One slice of bread coated with butter and crunchy peanut butter.

One slice of bread coated with butter and cheese spread.

At least three Tuc biscuits crumbled on to either slice.

Press together, slice in half, and consume as slowly as possible. Repeat if necessary.

I still indulge every now and then...

but my favourite food I shouldn't eat that often is probably a black pudding sandwich made with the best puddings in world from Barnsley in a butter Tea cake (some say bread cake)with brown sauce and think a large tea. I saw such a sarnie with the addition of bacon and mushrooms on the "lite Bite" menu in the covered market cafe one time.
Failing that it's either a birkinshaws (of Map) or Hinchliffes pork pie.

FPO????? Did I miss a memo ?

Given that the FPO..

*point of order - I don't know what FPO stands for - I have just learned that it somehow refers to one's significant other*

..is out of town, I will, of course, be in front of telly with a bowl of utterly unhealthy chilli-laden nosh balanced on knee and glass of something appropriate within easy range.

Blokes know that most decent bloke-food can be eaten just with a fork.

This means that the other hand can be down the front of the trousers gently cradling the family jewels.

That, my friends, is what constitutes comfort food.

question answered

Bombay Bad Boy Pot Noodle.

Not the noodles so much but the mixture of chemicals that make up the half a cup of curry sauce left at the end. Drunk straight from the pot obviously.

Or a fried egg sandwich on cheap white sliced bread with tomato ketchup.

Just drooled on keyboard...

Of course, absence of SO/GPO/GLW and the blokefoodfest that it precipitates must take place:

- in the front room in a semi-horizontal attitude
- with TV on and remote nearby
- Ipod in, laptop handy - Word blog open
- Word magazine close - available for consultation
- cartilage pie/lard sandwich etc placed precariously on chest - no plate required
- and crucially, wearing tracksuit bottoms.

The only time such clothing is permissible other than for genuinely sporting reasons.

One must have standards after all

The legendary answer given by David Brent to the pub quiz question "What is the name of the Cuban lead, in power since the revolution?"

Chris Finch's reaction is quite brilliant

But,hand on heart,I actually enjoy Doner Kebabs. Large Doner and Chips or Chicken Shish with some Doner meat on Top,Fantastic

The FPO's away today (Hampton Court flower show) so I'm thinking Grand Prix and the TV, cricket on the radio, couple of Kronies, king size Cornish Pasty with beans (cold) and chips (ovened), followed by chocolate sponge pudding out of a tin, which I'll pretend I'm only going to eat half of, and then do the lot.

Then a slumber on the sofa, to awake mid-afternoon in a pool of drool with the cushion's Fleur de Lys pattern perfectly imprinted in reverse on my cheek.

Either that or wake to the sound of a paramedic shouting "Clear!"

Sunday, bloody sunday, as Alan Partridge would say.

Be warned, Fray Bentos products can be the source of domestic disasters if not handled carefully.
Back in the days of bachelorhood I once chose one of their steak and kidney puddings for dinner, the type where you pierce the top of the lid then stand it in boiling water for twenty five minutes. I reckoned that was enough time for a quick bath, but on getting out of the water found smoke billowing from the kitchen, the water in the saucepan evaporated, and steak and kidney pud all over the ceiling.
Nearly twenty years later it still give me nightmares.

As the Word staff's gastronomer (apols if that's not a word) - I want to hear Fraser's response to this thread. Does it make his coulis curdle? What is his equivalent of the dirty blowout?

As prepared by the instructions on the packet for the bake mixture. Tuna and milk mixed with the mysterious powder, penne and the crowning glory - ready salted crisps spinkled over the top and coated in grated cheddar before a blast under the grill.

A once a year throwback to student days when this seemed pretty high end cuisine. The FPO says it smells like dogfood and is not amused when I emerge from a rummage in the cupboard with a packet in my hand and a look of debauched greed on my face.

It tastes nothing like curry. Nor chicken. It contains sultanas. The 'chicken' has an 'interesting' texture. You could buy a much more authentic chilled ping-ping curry (i.e. microwave) from the same shop. But yet, there are times when nothing hits the spot in quite the same way.

My brother and I shared a flat when we were in our 20s and the stand-alone, deep fat fryer was the one catch-all cuisine solution that suited our needs at roughly midnight.

Frozen sausages, chips, fish fingers. Luzz 'em in the fryer.

Butter some white bread.
Get entire tin of baked beans into a bowl and in the microwave.

Bread and other items on a plate
Make random sandwiches out items, dip in bowl
Watch whatever crap is on the telly
Wash down with frankly superfluous can of Red Stripe

Pass out.
Done.

And I used to wonder why we weren't terribly successful with the ladies.

Everyone in my house thinks eating animal skin cooked and treated to a bit of industrial Marmite is wrong. And yet they are incomparably tasty. Especially with cold beer or very cold, dry white wine.

...Oven chips (done in the same tray to get soaked in the garlic that always oozes uncontrollably from the Kiev) and frozen Peas (sometimes Baked Beans)

Instant coffee with Condensed Milk is a belter...does your milk and ten in one fell swoop. Actually condensed milk straight from the can is ....stop it.

That make life worthwhile. Reading through the comments, I see that so many of my lees savoury habits are shared by the Massive. I'm home!

Less Savoury Habits, but my fingers slipped in the pork grease on my keyboard.

Lee's savoury habits, or Lee's less savoury habits?

I don't think a thread has made me laugh as much since Patrick's infamous imaginary bands game.

Just to add, the girlfriend (I'm far too nice to even consider the phrase FPO) is going away very soon which means I have a whole week to myself. I think I can knock up a decent artery-hardening menu from the above, so thanks!

My last tea-time spent alone was something of an e-number fest.

As I recall the menu ran thus:

Starter
- Large bag of Cheese and Onion Hula Hoops
- A Chunky Kit Kat

Main
- Youngs Beer Battered Cod Fillets (2)
- Mc Cain thick cut oven chips (only 5% fat! Possibly negated by the fact that I cooked the whole bag)
- Baked Beans (just half the tin. Mustn't be silly)
- Several (ie a lot) of silverskin pickled onions

Dessert
- Haagen Dazs Cookie Dough Ice Cream
- A Satsuma
- Another Chunky Kit Kat

Drinks (all taken pre, during and post meal)

- Cream Soda
- Guinness
- Theakston's Old Peculier.

Might be best to wait until 2016 to enter the decathlon I think.

but I think I deep fried it

I've never had a sandwich, not matter how poncey it was, and not thought that it would be improved with a substantial layer of cheese and onion crisps.
(Tayto - the king of the cheese and onion oeuvre)
Northern Irish people don't agree on much, but the primacy of Tayto in all things crispular appears to be the most widespread.

(that can be traced back 4 generations) involves a tin of Heinz condensed tomato soup heated up and dished out to which is added a few boiled potatoes. Even the 5 year old daughter is hooked on it.

For a while in my late 20s I became addicted to those 'breakfast in a bag' concoctions that you just empty into a frying pan and heat up: potatoes, egg, bacon and 'stuff' all in one bag. I think it was a hang-over from camping holidays that never went away.

Eggy bread is also a firm favourite at breakfast time with tea that is proper mashed. And we sometimes opt for white as well as black pudding just to really show off our talent for larding it up when guests stay over.

and a box of matches

tried to introduce us to culinary sophistication in the 70's - a typical night out at one of their establishments was:-

Starter - Prawn Cocktail
Min course - Rump Steak - 50 percent fat, 25 percent gristle and a little bit of meat - all cooked to buggery
Dessert - Black Forest Gateaux
Washed down with Blue Nun and a 'floater' coffee that would burn the roof of your mouth.

A memorably more sophisticated culinary experience was in the early 80's - Boxing day - lunch time drink. Well before all day licensing laws. Landlord locks the doors. After drinking 5 or 6 pints of real ale and a couple of Whiskey chasers the landlady brings round complimentary faggott and mushy pea doorstep sandwiches. 2 0r 3 of these and I was set up for the rest of the day. Can still recall the farts to this day!!

from Mr. Whippy [other franchises are available] eaten by using cheese n' onion crisps as a scoop.

The FPO and I have just caught up with this one and it's taken us 10 minutes to recover. Brilliant stuff people and so many really good, sorry totally unacceptable, menu suggestions. I'm off to have a salad cream sandwich while I think about the possibilities!

and well deserved. Best thread for yonks.

Basically a tin of beans with curry powder added. With rice. Why the FPO didn't take to that recipe I can't imagine.

all on one tray. I live exactly one tray of C,CS & MP from home. I know this because after the pub I often eat it on the way home and run out exactly at the point I reach the front door. I have been known to turn around, walk back to the chippy and buy a second portion and repeat the operation. Gnarf gnarf.

Half chips, half rice, curry sauce

The (pregnant) GLW demanded granary toast, smoked salmon and lightly scrambled eggs, and as I put together my shopping basket I spotted a couple of Fray Bentos on the shelf but, forgetting that she was away on business for three days this week, didn't bother picking them up. So for tea last night I had to have potato smileys, two fried eggs and half a dozen of those small, bottom-of-the-range, grill-only skinless sausages that only corner shops seem to stock. Marvellous.

ps Fray Bentos pies aren't as good as they used to be.

of low fat sausages - Ghastly things. Aren't bangers supposed to have loads of fat?

Enter pub. Buy beer of choice. Buy Walkers Smoky Bacon crisps. Request the furnishing of Worcester Sauce from genial Mine Host. Dispense sauce over crisps liberally. Scrunch up top of crisp packet, shake vigourously. Eat tasty, tangy crisps in silent ecstacy, the perfect marriage of artery-clogging fat and long-rotted fish. Lick fingers. Place packet in ashtray (those were the days). Repeat till lake of Lea & Perrins renders Mine Host rather less genial. Find another pub another night. Repeat.

have to be Walkers.

Can't be doing with all this "posh chips" nonsense that's so
prevalent currently.

Kettle chips? Sea Salt and Balsamic Vinegar? Oh do fuck off.

Walkers are the ELO of snack foods - okay if there's nothing else available. Otherwise, eminently forgettable.

Oh for fucks sake!. This post has received more response than the vast majority of music related posts recently. Keep alive your fantasies of rimming young Jamie Oliver's repulsive sphincter ring or licking the garlicky bell end of Hugh Fearnley-Whitterer by all means but get the fuck back to what you're on this site for. Music, films, culture. Oh yeah, top 20 best food related songs ?!

Go create a toxic blog of your own if you must.

A chord has been struck here that is bringing out the best in the Massive. The link between food and music is as old as the hills. Why, even the bard himself (not Billy Bragg, the other one) drew the comparison, urging us to 'play on'. At least I now understand why the ska revival championed pork-pie hats.

BTW - I always get that dilemma in the petrol station - 2 x mini Melton Mowbrays versus the larger single one. Can't make up my mind if it's the pastry or the filling I like most. Time of year is often the deciding factor - it aggravates my chapped lips when trying to get my gob round the big one in winter.

must be a Tyne Brand kinda guy (ducks for cover).

Spam. Fritter,

Nectar of the gods, yet only to be tried in their natural habitat of Scunthorpe. They lose their currency when held in captivity - a bit like the haggis

the "special" beans on toast. It was the only thing my Dad knew how to cook when I were a lad.

Two slices of buttered toast
Slice of corned beef
Can of beans
Fried egg on top

Apply lots and lots of Lea & Perrin's and enjoy!

Disclaimer: To achieve maximum effect, the meal must be eaten in front of the TV with the plate on a tea towel over the knees.

Mars bar - but in this case deep-fried in batter. On the "specials" list of a few chippies I've patronised over the years.

From my South Wales days: Laverbread and bacon fry-up. Health warning - this dish contains vegetable matter that doesn't come out of a can, albeit of a marine variety, though it closely resembles crude oil before preparing for cooking. Damn - there's a bit of preparation involved here, so I guess that rules it out too.

I have a friend who's moving for work reasons and as such we needed very little excuse to put everything in his freezer into a sandwich as a carbohydrate lining upon which to put an evening's supping. Those contents in full:

1 x Birdseye 'super-size' beefburger
2 x Birdseye fishfinger
2 x Birdseye chicken burger
2 x Birdseye potato waffle
2 x Thickly sliced French Brie
1/2 tin of supermarket branded tinned beans and mini sausages

That's per man-wich. The reason it's called a manwich is rather simple. No woman would ever do that to their body.

double decker sarnie.

Bottom deck: quarter pounder beef burger (preferably cheap supermarket made from abattoir floor sweepings).

Upper deck: an omelette.

Best made with bog standard white bread, seem to remember sunblest of cheap supermarket white being the bestest of all.

Add tomato ketchup to omelette and mustard to burger to taste and eat while piping hot. Yum. I had one a couple of weeks back and it was still bloody delicious.

... and Jam, Spagetti with warm milk (and a touch of sugar in the milk) are a few that spring to mind.

Cheese & Ham toasties are just manna from heaven, with Corned Beef & Onion not far behind.

Now where's that Breville?

I was dreaming of the past
and my heart was beating fast
I began to lose control
I began to lose control
I didn't mean to hurt you
I didn't mean to make you cry
I didn't want to hurt you
I ate a Uraguayan Pie.....

I was feeling insecure
Fray might not make them anymore
I was shivering inside
I was shivering inside
I didn´t mean to hurt you
I´m sorry that I made you cry
I didn´t want to hurt you
I can't resist things canned or fried

I was trying to catch your eye
Show you the things I've tried to hide
I was swallowing my pain
I was swallowing my pain
I didn´t mean to hurt you
I´m sorry that I made you cry
I didn´t mean to hurt you
I´m just a Bentos guy
I'm just a Bentos guy

I'm just a pedant guy.

The culinary thing I most miss about Scotland:

The fresh morning rolls you can get at just about any corner shop. Just the thing with your copy of the Daily Record and Irn-Bru. None of yer hermetically sealed Warburtons or Kingsmill, but fresh, open textured, almost ciabatta-like!

Bit hazy about whether this is Proustian or Pavlovian, but I once read one of Ian Rankin's Rebus books in which our hero gets back to his flat early in the morning, worse for wear as usual, and buys six morning rolls which he then smears with butter and jam and demolishes with a milky coffee. I of course had to re-enact this scenario at the earliest opportunity, although it was probably eaten with the other thing I miss - square 'Lorne' sausage. The food of kings.

2 for £2.50 in ASDA.
I got me a pie and a pudding!
Get in!