Just toast for me...

"I'll just have some coffee, that will do me," I murmured pitifully.
"I know what's going to happen. You're going to eat all my food!"
"No, I won't - I'm still feeling rather fragile."
"Serves you right."
How can we loathe those we love? Besides my headache, the price of the full English breakfast had also curbed my appetite. "Maybe toast - that'll be enough for me."
"Let's order some extra sausages," suggested Frances. "That way, you'll have something in case you change your mind."
"I said, a little toast will be fine," I insisted, stubbornly.
"Fine, have toast then. Look, Kate, look! Ponies!" said Frances. Much excitement.
A silvered canopy was whisked away with a flourish, revealing two large, juicy Cumberland sausages. Kate's eyes and smile widened accordingly. A vast platter showed up for Frances, with eggs, sausages, bacon, fried bread, baked beans, and hash browns. Then toast triangles were placed before me, imprisoned within a wire frame.
"Oh, splendid." I tried to sound nonchalant and not as hungry as I was beginning to feel.
"I told you-" said Frances, knowingly.
I grumbled and mumbled as I freed toast from its silver cage. Kate was madly happy with her sausages. Her English side was obviously asserting itself. Then we both started dipping buttered toast into Frances' baked beans. I was now feeling much better and bitterly regretting my cheap moment. Frances felt the same, as Kate and I picked continuously at her plate. But it all worked out. I consumed lashings of buttered toast and marmalade and drank endless cups of excellent coffee. By the time we finished we all felt revived enough for a long nap.
(Note: In the spirit of full disclosure, photo is from the English breakfast-brunch I cooked recently for a couple of close friends who braved the snow rather than cancel. We don't fry bread, sadly.)

Prodigal Toad: Nothing to croak about

This delicious dish, as you can imagine, has nothing to do with greenish amphibians. Toad in the Hole is a classic of English cookery, in which banger-like sausages are set and baked within a large Yorkshire pudding. Kate and I like our Toad with baked beans. If you’re feeling healthy have yours with a salad.
So let’s begin. First you need to make a Prodigal Pudding batter. Instead of pudding pans, though, use a large oval or oblong glass dish that can easily accommodate a half dozen sausages or more. One sausage per person probably suffices but I tend to bake five, so the Prodigal Family can have seconds. You’ll also need four tablespoonfuls of your favorite fat: duck, goose, beef, or canola. And, of course, you need bangers!
I suppose you could use an Italian sausage but I prefer not to. I do deviate from the traditional recipe by using wonderful apple sausages we buy from the Amish market and studing the dish with sautéed apple segments. It’s a bit like have the main course and dessert all rolled into one. Oooh, I am naughty––but you’ll like it!
Making the Toad
First heat the oven to 450F. Add the fat of your choice to the glass dish and pop it into the center of the oven .
Two granny smith type apples need to be cored, peeled, and quartered. Sounds a bit medieval but carry on regardless. Gently saute apples in a little butter. Watch them like a hawk. Once they start to color, sprinkle with a little sugar and cinnamon then take them off the fire, remove apples but keep handy. Now brown the sausages in the remaining butter. No need to cook through, just make sure they get lightly browned on all sides. Now place sausages, apples, and residual fat into the toad dish, spread the wealth and close the oven door. Remove your Yorkshire batter from the fridge, Re-whisk. After three minutes or so, your glass dish will be smoky hot and the sausages and apples will be ready to receive the enrobing batter.
Open the oven. Warning: don’t pour the batter into the dish tsunami-fashion. If you do, the hot fat will make your sausages and apples slip and slide until they clump together in one unappetizing mass. Not good. You want the batter to moat around all those lovely nibble bits. To accomplish this successfully, I anoint the dish using a ladle, carefully but quickly. The batter mixture will start to set up almost immediately, anchoring the contents throughout the dish. Close the oven door. Cook for 20 minutes at 450F. The sides of the Toad will have risen at this point quite beautifully but the center will not be cooked through. If the bangers are browning too quickly, cover them with a bit of foil. Lower the temperature to 400F and cook for another 15-20 minutes until set.
Here’s how I serve it
When Frances isn’t looking, I purloin the elongated spatula she uses for baking, then slide the Toad onto a nice platter, leaving any excess fat behind in the glass dish.
Do try this grand and surprisingly economical treat. It’s a Prodigal Family favorite and I’m sure if you try it once, it will be a hit with your crew, too.
Enjoy!

Bubble, bubble, but no trouble

We decided to use up the remaining vittles in the fridge. So dinner that night consisted of a happy mishmash of savory dishes. Eggs, tomatoes, salad, baked beans, and, of course, sausages. I also melted down some bacon and fried up some leftover spuds and greens in the rendered fat, and ended up with another cornerstone of English cuisine: Bubble and Squeak. It all went down very well with everyone except Kate, who would eat nothing but sausage! All in all, it was quite a feast, like having breakfast for supper, but instead of drinking tea and coffee, we polished off the remaining beers and the last bottle of wine. Then we made tea.
(Photo depicts my home version of Bubble & Squeak, with leftover cabbage and boiled spuds fried up in lots of bacon.)

Stocking up

We piled up on gourmet treats as well as English basics, including a few eccentric eats like pickled walnuts and gentleman’s relish, a kind of anchovy fish paste. Frances threw herself into this shopping spree as enthusiastically as I did, running off to the sweets counter to stock up on Cadbury Flakes, her favorite English treat, as well as Crunchy bars and Smarties, like M&Ms only better, or so it always seemed to Kate and me.
I got piccalilli pickle for Lew, who always slathered mashed potatoes with this dull, mustardy sauce with bits of pickled cauliflower and onions. I knew he’d like that. And sausages, good old Walls pork sausages, just marvelous with a thick, slightly sweet version of Worcestershire sauce called HP Sauce. Red, brown, black, green, yellow sauces, Britain has them all bottled. We also bought a small piece of crumbly Wendsleydale, marvelous with a slice of apple, a Cotswold cheese flecked with chives, and a creamy wedge of Stilton, gnarled and crusty on the outside.