The Ribman, London

I can’t even begin to tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this day. Ever since I saw my first picture of The Ribman’s pulled pork buns, I was obsessed. I needed to go. I’d even gotten to the point where I followed Mark on Twitter and had tweeted him about how much I was craving his pulled pork and my plans to go. Yep, it’s a bit sad. My expectations were getting unrealistically high. But the day had come, the sun was out and off I popped to Brick Lane on Sunday morning to find him.

If you’ve never been to Brick Lane on a Sunday, you need to go. It’s full of food and stalls and bustling with people.

We scanned the road full of delicious smelling food, and there it was. The best ribs in London.

Look at it in all it’s glory.

Yeah, put that sauce on real nice.

It looked amazing. I was drooling each second I stood there.

My mind went back and fourth between ordering an extra large roll or not, but I stuck with a normal one since it was still morning. Which was still was pretty damn big.

Mark’s famous Holy Fuck hot sauce was there too.

Breakfast of champions.

I wasn’t really sure how to go about it. I was attempting to be a lady and tried to attack it with a fork.

Screw being a lady. I just had to go for it. People should accept me as I am.

I thought my expectations were unrealistic, but boy did they meet them. You know how quickly I eat? This was demolished in a very, very disgusting (yet a little impressive) amount of time.

We looked to wash it down with a coffee, which didn’t take long at all to find. There were coffees being served out of vans and taxis everywhere.

The only problem was that now I was full up. Well, it wasn’t really a problem, I didn’t regret a second of it, but it just meant I couldn’t try anything else. We strolled past this bagel place that Boy pointed out and he told me it was the best salt beef bagels in London. The line for them was ridiculous.

I’ll be back for you, my pretty.

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