Fairish British fare
Pamela Vandyke Price
Summer is a-comen in and so, certainly as far as London is concerned, are the tourists. As one who actually has to spend weekdays working there, I admit to having to grip my British bonhomie with firm claws when I am delayed for appointments because camera-slung characters wave back my car so that they can take low angled shots, when gigantic coaches pulsate until all hours before my door (and on my resident's parking space), loading and unloading vociferous revellers at what they suppose to be olde worlde hostelries, and my perennial twitch when the radio emits sounds such as ' sekerterry ' and ' daybyew ' (for abut), is accentuated by the touch of transatlantic twang I note permeating the tones of news readers.
Tourists considered gastronomically divide themselves into those who take their minds off their stomachs while here and concentrate on more permanent works of art, and those who can afford to maintain their illusion that we all eat.. daily of smoked salmon, barons of beef, Dover
soles, haunches of venison, steak and kidney pudding, Stilton and the more ponderous of cakes and puddings. But for most of us now a visitor would have to bring these with him if wishing to eat them in homes of sub-palatial standards. And isn't the unreality of this sort of ' British fare ' not worth maintaining, any more than the belief that the French _exist on frogs and snails and garlic and that the Italians are wed ges of pasta in human form? It should be possible to offer a visitor from abroad at least some British specialities without bankrupting oneself and distorting domestic routine for days — and without feeling as bloated as one did after those family Christmas nosh-ins, when one seemed to champ from breakfast to the late night drinks tray (and sandwiches).
Good' food, like good anything, is usually adaptable. Many recipes for the most traditional of British dishes were evolved to fit in to working time-tables, hence the hotpot, regional stews, and food to be taken to work, such as the pasty, pies and turnovers and, certainly, Scotch eggs, I suggest that, instead of consulting the more decorative type of cookery book on British specialities, would-be entertainers of visitors from abroad look up the more modest collections of recipes published by the Women's Institutes, whose members have alway borne in mind that not everybody is in the position of being able to afford meat twice or even once a day. Sheila Hutchins's Your Granny's Cookbook (Daily Express) is another
collection of truly family recipes of this kind.
Our smoked salmon is unparalleled for quality. But if you buy ' pieces,' the ends of the skins after the side has been sliced, and, as my Jewish mother-in-law, showed me, mince the flesh scraped off these, the cost is low and the quantity goes twice as far, for sandwiches or on halved wholemeal rolls (brown bread is something not all visitors have at home), or combined with cream cheese and butter, lemon juice and pepper in a pate. Kipper fillets can also be used for pate, or, sliced very thin lengthways, are delicious plain, with a little lemon, as a starter to a meal. Haggis or black pudding can also be served cold, in slices for canapes or as first courses, and several of my friends serve small slices of really first-rate pork or chicken and ham pies by way of substantial cocktail snacks or as part of an assortment of a real assiette anglaise; after all, this kind of pie is our version of the pate en croCite, n'est-ce pas? Smoked trout can also be eked out in pates or, divived into quarters (a whole one is more than enough for most people) and served, with a sliver of smoked salmon and, maybe, a small portion of jellied eels, winkles and cockles, if you live anywhere near a fish stall, for a platter of pesce inglese.
As regards those magnificent joints of meat, I would merely say that it is sometimes forgotten that they can taste as good, though different, if they are served cold — when they can be easier to carve and made to go further anyway. The season is not right for baked potatoes, which visitors do like, but new potatoes, with mint, served with new peas done,in the same way and combined in the one dish at the last moment are an adaptation of British summer vegetables that may appeal. Or you can serve a humbler stew di pie.
Fruit fools (gooseberry isn't the only one), accompanied by fingers of shortbread or brandysnaps or ginger biscuits, preferably in small sizes and as near home-made as possible, apple crumble, summer pudding or a beautiful pool of junket in a cutglass dish or a type of sillabub-cum-custard in one of the little glasses in which it would have been served in the eighteenth or nineteenth cenuries (a smallish modern wineglass will do) are not difficult to make in advance for visitors. And I myself, in chilly Julys, have pleased many a fine bouche with my mama's bread and butter pudding. She made it in a shallow buttered dish, using real bread, not the plastic pre-sliced kind, into the egg and milk custard poured over the bread and butter (unsalted), there are sultanas, plumped out previously in a little port, and the last layer of the bread is not only buttered but has a thick coating of Oxford marmalade. The custard shouldn't cover this, so that the top of the pudding is crisp.
You can serve a foreign wine if you can't get an English one — the food is quite able to stand up for itself.
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