The first morning of a trip to London in September found me walking a lot. Through Hoxton and Haggerston, across Shoreditch High Street to Spitalfields, all the way down to London Bridge, where I took my own damn self on a romantic walk along the River Thames. I crossed the bridge, which for some reason was full of sheep, and headed to Borough Market, gawking at how much the place has grown and developed since I was last there in 2015. I continued south to Mercato Metropolitano, where I stopped for some kimchi pancakes at RiceON.LDN. Before hitting up Tate Modern, I had a lazy Sunday lunch at a place called The Anchor & Hope in The Cut. By 2pm, I had cleared around 18,000 steps and I was hungry for something hearty and rich.

The Anchor & Hope is one of those classic British pubs, cozy as hell, with smooth wood panelling and a long wooden bar that makes me homesick for Boston. The older gentleman who waited on me was kind, recognizing that I was eating alone and giving me extra attention (but not in a creepy way). The menu is original gastro-pub style with elevated British classics, hints of French and Mediterranean influences here and there, some quirky details, lots of diversity, all at fair prices. It’s that kind of menu where everything looks good and I could choose by just pointing somewhere on the page, blindfolded.

But I went for their Faggot, a Western British culinary specialty with an unfortunate name, which is difficult for me to type but which originally referred to this dish: a meatball traditionally made from offal and minced off-cuts of pork with herbs and breadcrumbs. Originally a cheap dish consumed by country folk, the faggot also became popular as an easy meal for miners and factory workers in the mid-19th century. Its popularity peaked during WWII rationing but then it disappeared until it was resurrected by the nose-to-tail trend in the late 20th century. Now they are available at traditional butcher’s shops and a mass-produced frozn version is stocked at several UK supermarkets.

My faggot at The Anchor & Hope was made with pork, venison, duck liver and hazelnuts and was served over creamy mashed potatoes, green lentils cooked with bacon, and a generous ladleful of gravy. Freshly chopped parsley was sprinkled over the top for color. And damn if it wasn’t delicious. It was robust yet extremely delicate and texture, crumbly but held together by an invisible web of smooth fat. The consistency kind of reminded me of my Swedish aunt’s favorite wallenbergare at Himlen in Stockholm, another one of the best meatballs I’ve ever tasted. The flavor was incredibly rich, with the mix of proteins coming together in perfect harmony to form something gamey but not too gamey, sweet but not too sweet, with just a hint of iron-y, livery goodness, balanced by a smoky, nutty quality. The gravy was also packed with flavor, transporting the essence of the meatball throughout the plate, soaking into the creamy mashed potatoes to create moist, delicious mouthfuls of food. So comforting with a little beer on a chilly autumn afternoon.