Worldwide Food Tour – England

A Culinary Symbol of Cornwall

Few dishes are as intrinsically linked to a place as the Cornish pasty is to Cornwall, England. This golden, crescent-shaped pastry has been a staple of Cornish life for centuries, woven into the cultural fabric of the region as both a practical meal and a symbol of local identity. While pasties exist in various forms around the world, the Cornish pasty is protected by Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) status, ensuring that only pasties made in Cornwall using traditional methods can bear the official name.

From the tin mines of the 18th and 19th centuries to modern-day bakeries and family kitchens, the Cornish pasty remains a beloved, hearty dish that represents the resourcefulness and culinary heritage of England’s rugged southwest.


The History: A Miner’s Best Friend

The Cornish pasty’s origins can be traced back to the 13th century, when similar pastry-wrapped dishes were eaten in England. However, it was during the 18th and 19th centuries that the pasty became synonymous with Cornwall, particularly among tin miners. These men worked long hours underground in dark, dangerous conditions, and they needed a meal that was both portable and sustaining.

The pasty was the perfect solution. Its thick, crimped edge served as a built-in handle, allowing miners to hold and eat the pasty without touching their food with dirty, arsenic-laden hands. Some pasties even had a savory filling on one side and a sweet filling on the other, providing both a main course and dessert in a single package.

Over time, the pasty became deeply embedded in Cornish culture, with generations passing down family recipes. Today, it remains an essential part of local food traditions, often celebrated at events like the World Pasty Championships held annually in Cornwall.


What is a Cornish Pasty?

A traditional Cornish pasty consists of a shortcrust or rough puff pastry encasing a filling of beef, potato, onion, and swede (rutabaga), all seasoned simply with salt and pepper. Unlike other meat pies, the filling is uncooked before baking, allowing the ingredients to steam inside the pastry, creating a distinctively rich and succulent flavor.

Key characteristics of an authentic Cornish pasty:

  • Shape: Always D-shaped with a crimped edge along one side
  • Filling: Beef, potato, onion, and swede—never pre-cooked
  • Seasoning: Only salt and pepper; no additional herbs or gravy
  • Pastry: A sturdy yet flaky crust designed to hold its shape

Once assembled, the pasty is baked until golden brown, developing a crispy, slightly blistered crust that locks in the filling’s juices.


Tasting Notes: A Hearty, Comforting Bite

A warm Cornish pasty delivers an immediate sense of comfort. The crust is crisp and slightly crumbly, giving way to a tender, buttery texture that contrasts beautifully with the steaming filling inside.

The beef is juicy and rich, enhanced by the natural sweetness of swede and onion. The potatoes add a soft, starchy element that binds the flavors together. Seasoned with just salt and pepper, the pasty allows the natural savoriness of the ingredients to shine without overpowering the dish.

A well-made Cornish pasty is deeply satisfying, offering a perfect balance of textures and flavors in every bite. It’s substantial but not heavy, making it an ideal meal on the go or a nostalgic taste of Cornwall’s working-class history.


Beyond Cornwall: A Global Favorite

Though firmly rooted in Cornwall, the pasty has traveled far beyond England’s borders. In the 19th century, Cornish miners emigrated to places like Michigan (USA), Australia, and Mexico, taking their beloved pasty with them. Today, pasties remain a staple in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, where they are often served with gravy or ketchup—a regional twist.

Despite these adaptations, the Cornish pasty remains one of England’s most iconic dishes, a timeless comfort food that continues to tell the story of Cornwall’s history, resilience, and culinary tradition.

New Haven Apizza

If you think you know pizza but haven’t tried New Haven apizza, prepare for a revelation. This Connecticut-born classic isn’t just a regional variation—it’s an institution. Locals (and pizza purists) will tell you it’s not just pizza; it’s apizza (pronounced ah-beetz, thanks to its Neapolitan dialect roots). And if you’re expecting something soft, foldable, and loaded with cheese, think again. New Haven-style apizza is a blistered, charred, chewy masterpiece that’s as much about texture as it is about flavor.

New Haven’s pizza legacy started with Italian immigrants in the early 20th century, particularly Frank Pepe, the man who put this style on the map. In 1925, Pepe opened Frank Pepe Pizzeria Napoletana, serving up coal-fired pies with his now-famous white clam pizza. Not long after, rival pizzerias like Sally’s Apizza and Modern Apizza emerged, each perfecting their own take on this iconic style. Unlike the more famous New York-style pizza, which leans on a balanced crust-to-topping ratio and a slight crispiness, New Haven apizza is all about the crust—thin, crisp on the bottom, airy inside, and charred to perfection in a coal-fired oven.

Let’s talk about that char. New Haven apizza is intentionally cooked at blistering hot temperatures (sometimes over 600°F), which gives it a signature blackened, crispy exterior. Don’t be alarmed by those dark spots—it’s not burnt; it’s perfectly charred, adding a smoky depth of flavor that’s completely unique. The dough itself is made with high-protein flour, fermented longer than usual to develop complex flavors, and stretched into an irregular, oblong shape—so don’t expect a perfectly round pie.

Then there’s the sauce-to-cheese ratio, which in New Haven is refreshingly sparse. A traditional “plain” apizza (tomato pie) features little more than a thin layer of tangy tomato sauce, oregano, garlic, and a drizzle of olive oil—no cheese unless you ask for it (mootz, short for mozzarella). That’s right, cheese is optional here. Order a plain pie without specifying “mootz,” and you’ll get a saucy, crispy, dairy-free experience that lets the ingredients shine in their purest form. If you do opt for mozzarella, it’s typically applied in moderation rather than covering the entire pizza.

Of course, we can’t talk about New Haven apizza without mentioning its most famous creation: the white clam pie. This local legend, first made at Frank Pepe’s, is an absolute must-try. Imagine a garlicky, olive oil-based pizza topped with freshly shucked littleneck clams, grated pecorino Romano, and a sprinkle of oregano—it’s briny, rich, and utterly addictive. No red sauce, no mozzarella, just pure seafood-meets-charred-dough magic. It might sound unusual, but one bite, and you’ll understand why people drive for hours just to get their hands on it.

Beyond clams, other classic New Haven toppings include hot cherry peppers, sausage, and fresh tomato (which is typically added post-bake for a bright, juicy contrast). But no matter what toppings you choose, the beauty of apizza lies in its balance—crispy, chewy crust, minimalist toppings, and that unmistakable coal-fired flavor.

Despite its deep roots in New Haven, apizza has started making waves beyond Connecticut. Devoted fans and former Yale students have helped spread the gospel of charred pies to other cities, with New Haven-style pizzerias popping up in places like New York, Boston, and even Los Angeles. But for the truest experience, nothing beats the original. Whether you’re biting into a classic tomato pie at Sally’s, indulging in a white clam pie at Pepe’s, or grabbing a crispy, cheesy slice at Modern, one thing is for sure—New Haven apizza is one of America’s greatest contributions to the pizza universe.

So, if you ever find yourself in the Elm City, do yourself a favor: order a large pie, embrace the char, and remember to call it apizza.

The Departed

The Departed: A Symphony of Swearing, Rats, and Deception

Few films manage to be both a masterclass in tension and a glorious showcase of creative profanity quite like Martin Scorsese’s The Departed (2006). This is the movie that finally netted Scorsese his long-overdue Oscar for Best Director, and boy, did he earn it. Packed to the brim with double-crosses, brutal executions, and enough Boston accents to make Ben Affleck cry tears of joy, The Departed is a pulse-pounding, white-knuckle thrill ride wrapped in a crime drama.

The Plot: Two Rats in a Maze (With Guns)

At its core, The Departed is a game of cat and mouse—except both the cat and the mouse are undercover, armed, and swearing so much that even Samuel L. Jackson might ask them to take it down a notch. Set in the crime-ridden underbelly of Boston, the film pits two men against each other: Billy Costigan (Leonardo DiCaprio), an undercover cop infiltrating the Irish mob, and Colin Sullivan (Matt Damon), a mole embedded within the Massachusetts State Police, feeding intel to the very criminals they’re trying to catch.

Both men are playing the long con, leading double lives so intensely stressful that you can practically hear their therapists drafting resignation letters. Their target (and, in Sullivan’s case, employer) is the delightfully unhinged mob boss Frank Costello, played by Jack Nicholson, who delivers one of the most gloriously unhinged performances of his career. Costello is a crude, ruthless, scenery-chewing villain who operates with a complete disregard for rules, human life, and good table manners.

As the film progresses, both Costigan and Sullivan are tasked with unmasking each other while simultaneously keeping their own covers intact. It’s like a chess game where all the pieces are armed and have serious anger management issues. The tension tightens like a noose as their respective worlds start to crumble, culminating in a series of shocking, rapid-fire deaths that leave audiences slack-jawed and questioning their faith in happy endings.

The Characters: Boston’s Most Stressed-Out Residents

Leonardo DiCaprio’s Billy Costigan is a man perpetually teetering on the edge of a full-blown breakdown. Posing as a thug to earn the trust of Costello’s crew, Billy is wracked with anxiety and desperation, which DiCaprio plays with a level of intensity that makes you want to hand him a stress ball and a warm cup of tea. His polar opposite is Matt Damon’s Colin Sullivan, the smug and self-assured golden boy whose ability to lie straight to everyone’s face would make him a great politician if he weren’t already a criminal.

And then there’s Mark Wahlberg as Sergeant Dignam, a walking, talking Boston stereotype who has exactly one mode: insult. Wahlberg steals every scene he’s in, hurling relentless barbs with the precision of a seasoned stand-up comedian. If sarcasm were an Olympic sport, Dignam would have more gold medals than Michael Phelps.

Jack Nicholson’s Costello, meanwhile, is a pure force of chaos. Whether he’s executing rivals, smearing blood on someone’s face, or casually tossing racial slurs like candy, he is absolutely unhinged in a way that only Nicholson can pull off. His over-the-top performance is perfectly counterbalanced by Martin Sheen’s weary, noble Captain Queenan, the one moral compass in a sea of corruption. And we can’t forget Vera Farmiga as Madolyn, the psychiatrist caught between the two men, whose romantic entanglements only add more fuel to this already blazing dumpster fire of deceit.

The Departed’s Greatest Strength: Relentless Tension (and Swearing)

What makes The Departed so damn good is its ability to maintain tension so tight it could snap at any moment. Scorsese expertly juggles multiple storylines, ensuring that every scene propels the plot forward, whether through heart-pounding action or razor-sharp dialogue. Every character is living on borrowed time, and the audience can feel it.

The cinematography captures Boston’s gritty underworld beautifully, and the soundtrack is pure gold, from The Rolling Stones’ “Gimme Shelter” (because it’s not a Scorsese film without it) to the ever-present, bagpipe-infused “I’m Shipping Up to Boston” by the Dropkick Murphys, which somehow makes even the simplest walking scene feel like an impending bar fight.

The Twist (Or: Everyone Dies, and Then Everyone Dies Again)

By the film’s third act, the tension reaches unbearable levels. After Queenan meets an unfortunate end via a multi-story drop, Costigan’s cover is hanging by a thread, and Sullivan’s secret is on the verge of exposure. What follows is one of the most jaw-dropping, kill-‘em-all sequences in recent cinematic history. In a matter of minutes, nearly every major character is executed in rapid succession. It’s brutal, it’s shocking, and it’s an audaciously bold move that leaves audiences gasping for air.

And just when you think the carnage is over, Wahlberg’s Dignam (having vanished for a suspiciously long stretch) waltzes back in for the final act of vengeance, executing Sullivan in his own apartment. It’s the cherry on top of this blood-soaked sundae, leaving the audience with a darkly satisfying sense of justice.

Final Thoughts: A Crime Epic for the Ages (and the Foul-Mouthed)

The Departed isn’t just a great crime film; it’s a masterclass in storytelling, tension, and, let’s be honest, creative swearing. It’s got all the hallmarks of a Scorsese classic—moral ambiguity, intense performances, stunning cinematography, and a whole lot of “f***s.”

It’s no wonder the Academy finally handed Scorsese that golden statue—he took a Hong Kong crime thriller (Infernal Affairs) and transformed it into an American classic that stands shoulder to shoulder with the greats. It’s a movie that doesn’t just keep you on the edge of your seat; it kicks the seat out from under you and leaves you lying on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened.

A masterpiece of deception, betrayal, and poetic justice, The Departed is the crime thriller that never lets up—and neither does its body count.

Goal Met: Make 50 Different Pizzas

This will be a cakewalk, I said to myself, I make pizza all the time how hard can it be to make 50 different pizzas? Let me tell you dear readers – it was very hard. The first few were easy as I busted out crowd favorites like Neapolitan, Pepperoni, and even a meat lovers. It was about 10 pizzas in when I started to wonder if just coming up with new toppings was a good way to accomplish this.

I did some research into topping combos and came up with a few that looked interesting but as part of my research I started seeing more regional pizzas pop up and it got me interested in how pizza can change as it travels across the world or even across the state. So I did a deep dive and became a pizzaologist. Tracking pizza as it went through all its different iterative changes.

These regional pizzas were still dough, sauce, and cheese but the way they went about it changed and I used my handy research assistant (ChatGPT) to do a deep dive into how Pizza was introduced to these regions and what the history of the style was (you can find these in the individual pizza posts) and it was some fascinating stuff.

Now there are some that argue for one style of pizza as being ‘real pizza’ and I get it. For me it’s a two way tie between a classic NY/NJ slice and true Neapolitan pizza. I get the appeal of Chicago deep dish and the buttery crust of a real good pan pizza and to be honest, I love them all. I’m not an elitist in that way (No, don’t take my NY Pizza card!) but I always come back to the classics when I’m in the mood for a good pizza that scratches that itch.

It was an educational journey and introduced a few new pies into my rotation (such as Apizza or pizza fritte) and there were a few that were just not great such as the steamed pizza. It’s like.. A bao bun with sauce and cheese. The texture was just not what I want from a pizza. The flavor was alright, but man I like steam buns and pizza but not this unholy fusion.

I’m glad I did this and I feel like I can talk about regional / international pizzas with a much more informed opinion having made and tried a lot of them.  The only drawback was I always felt like I needed to be making a new pizza even if I wanted a classic pie. Now that it’s over I expect classic margheritas are on tap for a few weeks to make things simple!