An American Appetite in Bath

After studying for a few weeks in Bath, England, I fancied myself a local. I scoffed at the London day-trippers hopping off the train and flocking towards the Abbey. Between classes I bought a sandwich outside the Abbey and listened to street musicians while I ate overlooking the Parade Gardens. I people watched a while before whipping out my copy of Pride and Prejudice. A fellow Bathite, Jane Austen would be proud, I thought.

Yet, at 6:00 each day my true American self emerged. After our last class, my fellow students and I would hover in the courtyard between the Bath Abbey and Roman Baths and wait like feral cats on the prowl.

During the day, it was one of the most crowded spots in Bath. Lines for the Roman Baths spill out into the courtyard and sightseeing tours congregate in the center of the square. My daytime persona loathed weaving my way through tourists taking pictures of the Abbey’s large wooden doors and intricate Gothic towers. I felt how New Yorkers must feel when they have to walk through Times Square.

But after closing time, it was deserted. In the courtyard, one of the last stores to close was a pasty shop directly across from the Roman Baths. If we timed it just right we’d be there when the shop owner stepped into the courtyard and rang his giant bell.

“1 pound pasties,” he’d say. “Day’s leftovers.”
We attacked. No proper British lady would clamor for an end-of-the-day pasty the way I did, shoving my coin into his hand before running out victoriously.

If you’ve ever had a true Cornish pasty, you understand. If not, let me explain. Picture the contents of a shepherd’s pie in the packaging of a fist-sized calzone. But better. Meat, potatoes, onions, creamy sauce in a warm flaky pastry crust.

Pasty shops are everywhere in England, and this one is easy to miss in the shuffle of the busy square. The trick is catching it right before it closes, and you have to move fast to get one before they’re gone.

My American friends and I claimed the benches in the courtyard with our prizes in hand. We listened to the sounds of storefronts closing up while we ate our treats. As the sun hung lower in the sky, we savored each bite of savory goodness before calling it a night ourselves.

Looking back on it, those pasty evenings were some of my most authentic experiences in Bath. Being my true American self, I was able to find something I loved and make it my own. The place was well known and well frequented, but at night we claimed it as ours.