Of course, British food is only recognised as British when it is being denigrated. The sovereignty of the British people is symbolised just as much by beans on toast as it is by the Union Jack. One needn’t go down the route of explaining the effect of Britain’s wartime food rationing on its eating habits. Our food is agreeable enough to the native populus to keep them fed, yet disgusting enough to everyone else to ensure an occupation of Britain has become unthinkable, an action amounting to self-harm and bordering on suicide. Compared to splitting the atom, cultivating the British palate has taken far more precision and care. The meticulousness of our food is nothing short of genius. Unlike his deracinated American counterpart, the Anglo partakes in the ceremony of sitting down and savouring his food, yet he is not enslaved to the matriarchal tyranny of a spoon-wielding grandmama. The Yanks’ fixation with fast-food emerges from the subconscious fear of their house being destroyed in a tornado, giving cause to pack up shop and travel miles elsewhere to achieve salvation. A product of the Puritan work ethic, its utilitarian design allows it to be consumed on-the-go. In contrast to this collectivism, American cuisine is individualist. Just as all socialist projects inevitably fall apart, so too does every taco when moved from plate to mouth. Individuality and differentiation are denied, as a rigid egalitarian homogeneity is established through a censorious amount of spice.Īs with all socialist projects, there is no room for innovation - hence why Mexican cuisine tends to be, to paraphrase Billy Connolly, all the same, just folded differently. Every ingredient is brought together in an indiscriminate Latin mass. The Anglo may take as much or as little of each ingredient as he likes, giving him room to experiment and prudently tailor his meal to fit his needs.Ĭompare this to Mexican cuisine, which is socialistic and Catholic in nature. Similar to his take on Christianity, the Anglo’s take on food is a pragmatic hodgepodge of everything good on offer. This pattern is replicated in several other British dishes, such as the bountiful Sunday roast, fish and chips with mushy peas, ham, egg and chips (they’re potatoes, it counts!), and the conveniently dissectible steak and ale pie, accompanied by a dollop of creamy mash and baked beans. Here we see individual components from across the food pyramid, assembled in an orderly and harmoniously balanced compact. The Anglo’s take on food is a pragmatic hodgepodge of everything goodĬonsider the Full Breakfast. Just as Hobbes’ Leviathan casts its shadow over the polis, sword and sceptre in hand, the Anglo towers over his grub wielding knife and fork. The fundamental conviction of all British food is to ensure balanc: between authority and liberty, between despotism and the state of nature. They shot their taste buds to pieces by early adulthood. When confronted with British food, they are quick to remark that it is “bland” or that it “lacks flavour”, forgetting their own habits are comparable to chain smoking. The Anglo wanted a bit of spice in his life, so he conquered India.Īs the reaction of those in the Americas would suggest, this pathology is strange to many, especially those who are happy to subsist on a diet of spicy food without deviation. Highly sensitive to the Golden Mean, which he often refers to as “Common Sense”, it was practically inevitable - having spent centuries on his rainy little island, chowing down on roast beef and boiled vegetables - that he wanted to switch things up. Well, yes, but a little bit of context is required. Didn’t the Anglo build his empire, as the saying goes, to escape the British weather, British women and British food? In fact, I maintain its objective and universal superiority. Is it tasteless? Is it unsophisticated? Is it unimaginative? No, no and no. Readers dining out on social media in recent weeks might have come across a familiar dish: the old argument over the merits of British food.
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