The disappointing bacon sandwich…

Producing a bacon sandwich, in my opinion, is an artform, everybody has their perfect butty, and it is most certainly personal. Friendships have teetered on tenterhooks over the age old ketchup or brown sauce debate [Disclaimer: I actually like both – although clearly NOT at the same time – which one depends on my mood]. My Dad even tried to convince me once that marmite was the condiment of the bacon sarnies future, I hasten to add that he is wrong. Once you can move past that saucy debate we get to the decisions of smoked or unsmoked; grilled or fried; butter or none (margarine is just not an option by the way); back, streaky or even old school middle; bloomer, white sliced, bap, barm, crusty roll… I could dough on *apologies*.

The main thing is, done well, a proper bacon sandwich is a belter of a breakfast, brunch or potentially hazardous (please note, I don’t condone drunken operation of kitchen equipment, always follow the rules of #fridgebuffet for a safer home) post night-out snack. It softens the blow of a hangover, it sets you up for the day. No meat eater has ever been disappointed to start their day with fluffy white bread stuffed full of cured pork, dripping in their fat and sauce of choice. Unless of course they have flown British Airways…

Delivered with a side of condensation and despair, this little puck of a breakfast only got worse after opening the sweaty plastic bag. Clearly BA have suffered, or their food offer has, trying to compete on price with the budget airlines, rations are strict and quality is far from the halycon ‘Hilton of the skies’ days. After a series of wholly unfullfilling meals on transatlantic BA flights I was told I had no grounds to complain, the food was given free and was not part of the ticket! Until today I hadn’t flown BA since…

Anywho, back to bacon… somebody clearly decided that one rasher of bacon wasn’t enough, so a ‘generous’ portion of one and a half rashers of motorway service station style mouth-dryingly overcooked back were unceremoniously slapped in the middle of a white roll with a polenta problem. Moving oast it’s soggy sweaty exterior, the roll itself had the consistency of a stale doughnut, with pockets of rock hard ‘dough’, presumably from an overzealous microwave, to add to the list of crimes against butty’s. There was no bounce after each bite, just extra doughy bite pinched marks good enough for dental record identification should the consumption of this breakfast actually finish you off. The excessive dusting of polenta instantly dispersing into every nook and cranny, just like sand in your swimmers…

Of course I didnt realise how soul destroying the consumption of this airborn abomination would be, neither was I excited by its unfortunate presentation, so sadly I have no photo evidence of the heinous crime for you to enjoy endure. I did however get a nice snap of the ‘coffee’ which was served. Hats off to BA, they’re taking sustainability seriously by using almost no actual coffee in the brown breakfast water. That should hopefully help offset those pesky CO2 emissions from all of that cheap pork…

Lucky me, I get to do it all again tomorrow on the return!

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