#now i'm hungry...

Caption : "Khubilai Khan sounds delicious." XD

As usual I aim to provide vital information for those going to/writing about Britain, and as a well-loved British delicacy, I wish to enlighten others about the bacon sandwich.

The sandwich is very simple. Take some bread/a roll, butter it if you wish, add some bacon (smoked if you want) and if you'd like (highly recommended) add either some ketchup or brown sauce.

Here are the different names we have for it:

Bacon sandwich

Bacon roll

Bacon bap

Bacon butty

Bacon sarnie

Bacon barm

Bacon cob

Bacon muffin (muffin here refers to an English muffin, not the sweet kind)

These names are mostly interchangeable (though I personally only use sandwich and sarnie if it's on sliced bread and the rest for rolls) and somewhat regional. Everyone tends to have a preferred way of refering to them.

A variation of the bacon sandwich is the BLT (bacon, lettuce and tomato) which, unlike the bacon sandwich, is often eaten cold.

Anyway, the bacon sandwich is a classic breakfast, brunch or lunch and I highly recommend trying one if you're visiting.

Absolutely!

(So I answered this and thought I hit post, but I guess I didn’t and I just left the inbox tab open forever? Whoooops.)

Oh, we're starting out with a tough one! I quite literally enjoy everything, so here's a little moodboard of some of the things that end up on my plate more than others — mostly consisting of stuff you can find at your local diner as well as good 'ol takeout (and homemade things Elijah made)... while my diet is anything but healthy, in my defense I have to add that I often just don't have the time to do better and even when I do, I keep cooking in the van to an absolute minimum... for reasons.

Most mornings after Black Gate fell victim to beef jerky and the all too strong taste of a red bull. Sometimes she’d really shake it up and get it in teriyaki. Lots to do and so little time and money to really eat.

Not this time, though. 

“Nothing says freedom more than a few empanadas”, she gestured at the food truck with her snack. Said truck was stationed near the cathedral now surrounded by the yellow tape and oh so familiar sound of police sirens.

“What was it? Ten thousand? It breaks my wallet’s heart getting my usual lunch, y’know?”, she bites, savoring the taste of the chicken and bell peppers, along with, of course, the crispiness of the fried tortilla.