Black pudding is very, very black but not the least bit pudding.
It looks like a kielbasa made of dark chocolate. It tastes like a cross between sausage and fried potatoes. It's made of heavily-spiced, congealed blood, but you wouldn't know that if someone didn't tell you.
It's not bad at all. The flavor is actually kind of pleasant and smoky, with (unsurprising) metallic hints. But it's not nearly good enough to make me ignore what it actually is that I'm eating. So I think I'll probably pass on it from here on out.
Now, fried Irish potato farls, on the other hand...
3 comments:
Am stunned. Speechless, in fact. Likely this is due to growing up on stories about blood sausage, and how I should be glad I'm growing up under (apparently) one of the few Swiss who *doesn't* like it... (Though I have a vague memory of being told that the younger generation doesn't go for it as much as my grandparents' generation does.)
We did, however, have our own run in with the dish, but under the guise of being Yorkshire black pudding. Due to a lack of English-ness on both our parts, there was some confusion about the difference between Yorkshire pudding and Yorkshire black pudding. Poor Mum. It took her right back to those days as a child when she was forced to eat blood sausage...
I don't really know how much one blood sausage resembles another. This one may have been heavily cut with other things and had its bloody quality diluted; there were white chunks of something in there, which may explain the potatoish flavor.
I expect I would have found it quite horrifying as a child, but as an adult, one does need a bit of adventure.
Wimp. I sure hope you don't think to hard about what all that juicy stuff is when you order your steak medium rare.
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