I woke up this morning all demanding and entitled (hush!), insisting that David take me out for a greasy egg roll. My American readers are probably now wondering why I wanted Chinese food for breakfast. Let me enlighten thee.
In Scotland, an egg roll is not a deep fried wanton, but rather a fried egg sandwich served on a Scottish roll. These rolls are unlike anything you've ever had -- even better than those Thanksgiving yeast rolls from the frozen section at Kroger's. They are hamburger bun-esque, but larger and delicately soft. The natives here seem to like them with bacon (a bacon roll), but I adore egg rolls with cheese. (Oddly, sliced cheese seems to evade the egg roll purveyors, as they sprinkle shredded cheddar on the griddle. Ah, anthropology.)
I actually wanted one yesterday, but I assumed everything would be closed then. Everyone knows January 1 is Hangover Day, right? David and I just stayed in our pajamas all day, like proper Americans. By this morning I was craving an egg roll with greasy intensity, only to discover that all of Edinburgh is still on holiday. Apparently, January 2 is Hangover Day over here. I mean, it's nice that these holidays are for everyone. Back home most restaurants don't close on days when the masses are looking to celebrate. But I must respect a city that makes room for everyone to have a day off.
I guess I'll have to go to the store for some Scottish rolls and make my own sandwich now.
Now for some photos of fireworks exploding over our heads:
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