UK: Crumpets. Crumpets lightly toasted with butter soaking into its pores, and then lightly toasted once more with a slather of Marmite.
These are nothing like pancakes. You bite into the crispy surface and are met with a butter/Marmite infusion that explodes into the back of your mouth, and whilst you're dealing with that sensual assault, your teeth sink into the soft almost creamy texture of the crumpet itself.
They are divine, and are the sole reason I stay in this cold dreary backwater of a country.
I feel trypophobia quite strongly with some triggers, even things like budding plants pushing through the ground can make my akin crawl. But for some reason crumpets are okay.
I guess my brain just sees the crumpet texture as being like a macro bread texture, which is okay because it's kinda bready.
Exactly. It is the optimal food sponge; not too deep, not too shallow.
It's also a fantastically endearing insult to use, since it means someone is a little dense but not actually stupid, and I like to believe that we are all crumpets in this way.