The Cock Inn, St. Albans, England

Posted on
Jan 20, 2015
6

St. Albans is incredibly charming, and it’s a very short train ride from London, and there are plenty of other reasons to visit. All of them, however, are being crowded out of my memory because during our visit we ate at a place called The Cock Inn, and I find that to be utterly hilarious.

I wish to make many jokes. Though they are, essentially, all the same joke.

 

I am fairly sure that half of all the establishments in the country are named by a bunch of American middle schoolers who can’t stop laughing at how silly those words sound when someone has a posh English accent.

And let us not forget British cuisine itself: Spotted Dick. Bangers and Mash. Bubbles and Squeak!

Incidentally, that last dish was something that our friend Eric ordered at The Cock Inn (also, I just checked their website, and they refer to their establishment as simply “The Cock.” Cannot. Deal.) While I remember that detail, I am sad to say I remember very little else about the food. I think it was good. I know that Rand ordered the Ploughman’s lunch, and I might have had chicken, and everyone seemed to enjoy their meal.

In the middle of Rand’s plate you’ll see a scotch egg, which is a hard-boiled egg, wrapped in ground meat, rolled in breading, and fried. #thebodyisatemple

 

Also, at some point, our friends’ son ended up on Rand’s lap and my heart may have exploded. I’ve neglected to ask said friend if I can post photos of his second born, so I’m limiting myself to using this one, which is fairly anonymous, but still cute as hell.

“AUGGGGHHH! STOP IT!” – my uterus

 

Later it rained and rained and rained, lest all that sunshine cause us to forget where we were. And that’s how that day went.

Photo is blurry because there was skipping happening.

Leave a Comment

  • My friend’s husband is English and he is from a town called Cockermouth… Yeah, that’s all I have to say about that.

  • Aliceinwonderland

    During my teens I lived in Italy while my Dad was stationed with NATO. One of the English officer’s sons was a good friend. One day we were making plans to go somewhere together and he said he would come around to my house and “knock me up”. We all got a chuckle out of that. Of course, he was referring to knocking on the door!

  • Having just finished the autobiography of Jane Wilde after falling in love with Eddie Redmayne’s version of Stephen Hawking, I was unbelievably excited to see that you visited St. Alban’s. I hope you will post more pictures of the town!

  • Wow, can’t believe you made it to my home town! Looks like you walked through Verulamium Park – did you check out the amazing Roman Museum, amphitheatre, hypocaust, or the Abbey? All are well worth exploring – though I’d skip the amphitheatre on a day this rainy 🙂

  • Ha ha. I read this and chuckled, and thought ‘that’s a bit like us Brits laughing when American’s refer, brazenly and publicly, to their “fannies”‘ – which means something quite different in England. Then I realised it wasn’t really like that at all…because I doubt there are American bars and restaurants named after it. Hey ho. Love your blog, love you, love Rand…I could go on but I should really be at work 🙂

  • Oooh rogue apostrophe in ‘Americans’!!!! Eeek, I feel poorly.

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