No, we're not going on a trip down memory lane to 1964 here. The year The Beatles stormed America. What we're talking about here is closer to home - my home.
Three years ago L joined our little household and brought with him his British ways. Sometimes I think he is talking to me in a foreign language. I understand what he is saying, but not always what he means. Over time, I have learned the meaning of many a British phrase. Words like bits, chat, peckish and whilst have crept into our everyday lexicon. But it is not only words. There have been some strange, to us, foods showing up around here also. Stuff like this:
To the uniniated, this is Marmite, a yeast extract spread. Their slogan in England is "Marmite...you either love it or hate it!" I belong to the latter group. I can't even begin to explain the salty savory vile taste of this stuff. But L absolutely bloody loves it. Whenever he is feeling peckish, he will get out the crackers and eat this stuff spread on it. We can't buy it here. We either have friends bring it down from NOB or L picks it up whilst he is visiting England.
But there are some good things too. Like this:
Evidently this is one of the tamer varieties of crisps you can buy in England. They come in flavors that I have never heard of. Like Marmite, Salt and Vinegar, Roast Turkey with Stuffing, Roast Beef and Mustard, Worcester Sauce and Pickled Onion. Sounds yummy. I think I would give them a miss.
Along with a sometimes strange vocabulary and snack foods, L also brought his cooking skills. He is no Billie in San Miquel, but he holds his own in the kitchen. He can open the refrigerator and make a meal out of whatever bits he finds in there. He is a sauce king. I really enjoy the nights it is his turn to cook. Most everything he makes is a culinary delight. But, like most of us, he has his own version of comfort food. Witness this:
It's a plate of bangers and mash. Throw in a green salad (not pictured) and some grilled veggies and you got yourself a hearty and delicious meal. Of course, he complains about the quality of the bangers one can get here, but makes do. I tell him that he needs to chat up the butcher about getting better bangers but he knows it would do no good.
Even though he is well-traveled, wordly and sophisticated, I can't seem to break him of the one English culinary cuisine that he enjoys the most. He puts in on almost everything. Except salad. That would be just too gross. And what is this lip smacking delight? Take a look.
Ta for reading this!