Bodacious Bangers for your Bucks
Whispa and Aero bars, Fairy liquid, a bottle of purple Ribena, jars of Branston pickles, small cans of Heinz baked beans, packets of crisps in flavors like prawn or beef and onion. The woman in front of me at Myers of Keswick (MofK)had her basket full to the brim with British candies, foods and sundries. Indeed, in a paean to this three-decade old West Village institution Adam Platt called Myers of Keswick a “Haute-Horder Anglophile’s Paradise.” I was there buying the necessaries for the labour of love, ie. Christmas Pudding, I make for the Chef each Christmas—a packet of Bird’s Custard, a new can of Lyle’s Golden Syrup, and a small plastic tub of candied peel, extraordinarily hard to find anywhere else! But the wait for the busy cashier had me leaning against—and almost slavering over—a bank of meat and veg pies at the shop’s left.
Meat pies are the flavourful foundation upon which this one-of-a-kind business was built. In 1985 Peter Myers (of Keswick England, where he is now retired) was a homesick Brit who had just sold an interesting pub venture—the Bells of Hell—that drew patrons including Norman Mailer, the Ramones, the Clancy Brothers and Pulitzer winning author Frank McCourt (whose brother, raconteur Malachy McCourt bought the saloon from Myers). When Myers pulled out of The Bells, he was casting about for a new venture, and in doing so returned to his family’s old roots in the butcher trade. Butchers in England usually become known for concocting their own meat pies and sausages, even entering them in contests. Myers remembered how popular his sausage rolls and meat pies were at his bar, so he used his father’s recipes to turn out bangers (sausages), from the chipolatas—tiny sausages seasoned with sage, rosemary and nutmeg, that originated in France—to plump Cumberland sausage ($9.99/lb).
After the cashier rang up my purchases, I pulled the Chef back into MofK and convinced him we just had to try the sausage roll, so we sat in front of the shop eating our “fun sized” sausage rolls ($2.75/ea) in a comfy, cushioned wooden bench. At each bite we stopped to marvel. “This is soooo good.” Munch munch. “This is really soooo good.” Munch munch. Me to Chef: Did you EVER have a sausage roll this good??” The Chef asked me to go back in and purchase a pound of the Cumberland sausage. The fun-sized roll had aced the test, but not only for the quality of the sausage but of the roll, which we learned is layered with lard. No dry puff pastry, this!
Two nights later, I was treated to a bang-up bangers British dinner from the Chef, who is British, after all, and not the Italian he claims to be: a starter of Welsh rarebit or “rabbit”—a hot cheese-based sauce spooned over toast—and a main of those Cumberland sausages cooked in Jamie Oliver’s “sticky onion gravy,” which we ladled over the mashed potatoes (made simply with potatoes, milk, butter). A side of tiny tender Birds Eye peas, not mushy, thank you very much.
Aside from giving me a taste of bodacious bangers, Myers of Keswick made me feel that first fresh salutatory gust of Christmas spirit, before one becomes annoyed by and eventually depressed by the Muzak Christmas carols playing in every public space. For me that spirit is one of bounty and joy and light in the depth of winter. To stand in the tiny MofK space, under the pressed tin ceiling, surrounded by piles of only-in-England goodies, is as exhilarating as viewing the holiday windows of Macy’s or Sak’s or standing with a cup of hot cocoa at the Bryant Park rink. “God Save the Queen!” (and from what it seems, she’s doing poorly and could use our good wishes).
Myers of Keswick
634 Hudson Street (near Horatio)
212-691-4194