Bottled at sauce

Once more I can get behind the wheel of the BureBoi charabanc, courtesy of  a rather brusque sawbones diagnosing Colles fracture healage by dint of her cold, efficient 3D imaging abilities. X-ray? the timid attendant mumbled forlornly and fruitlessly. 

However, we are being lashed by intense winds  (50mph+) having had torrential rain yesterday and await a forecast white out that had the local mouth breathing populace queuing like so many slaughter bound cattle round several blocks to panic buy, all Pac-a-Mac clear rain hoods and gout ridden noses drooping over plague masks with their dripping gouty noses and rain obscured and steamed up glasses..

So, rather than sallying forth to tempt the ravenous hordes of dace and roach that have been waiting for my attention I am admiring the dead level and well braced shelves I put back up yesterday and contemplating a click and collect Dangling Indirect bait order for the week ahead.

But before I do venture out (the Little 'Uns are pressing for a healage testing bike ride before the snow arrives) I'm procrastinating with this post about the king of all table sauces, HP sauce. Not generic Brown sauce, or even (probably) Deli procured Artisan offerings but the real deal HP sauce. I think it's the tamarind that does it. 

I know Heinz tommy sauce is most peoples standard go to, and for me with take out fish and chips and lashings of vinegar yes too, but for your brekkies and what ever time fry ups or bankside sossidges these days it just has to be HP.