Jewish American Heritage Month

Posted By richards on January 19, 2015

'Among the cliches are roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips and jellied eels' Photograph: Alamy

A strange book arrives in the post. Its called 1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die, and is a follow-up, if thats the right word, to 1,000 Places To See Before You Die. My first thought is: how exhausting. On the press release, the American chef and TV star Anthony Bourdain is quoted as saying it lists 1,000 foods we need to eat urgently, as if we are all suffering from some weird, life-threatening ailment that might only be cured by scoffing down a plate of Middendorfs thin fish (a farmed catfish popular in the Mississippi Delta) or a bowl of hideg meggyleves (a Hungarian cold sour cherry soup). My second thought is: ugh, how grotesque. Its too much, this global all-you-can-eat buffet. I cant think Ive ever had a particular longing to eat fenalar, the salted lamb beloved of Norwegians, or shav, the cold Ashkenazi soup made from sorrel. But even if I had, my desire would soon cool faced with this super-sized smorgasbord. Turning the books pages, what I feel I need most is a bowl of plain boiled rice and perhaps a side order of Pepto-bismol.

Foods are a bit like friends: there are only so many you can fit in your life at one time. Old ones mashed potato, tinned tomato soup, orange-flavoured Jacobs Clubs are always lovely, there to fall back on when youre glum or just starving, though occasionally, of course, you do outgrow the odd thing or two (in my case: Findus Crispy Pancakes, instant coffee, sliced white bread). Sometimes, a new one will arrive on the scene, and its love at first sight: you pal up, and gorge yourself. A lot of us, a few years ago, went through this with green curries, with the result that lasagne all but disappeared for a while, having been culled to make way for this new, supposedly more exotic dish. (I still miss lasagne, for which reason I was oddly stirred you might say moved to see it the other night on the menu at Angela Hartnetts swanky St Jamess restaurant, Cafe Murano) Other foods, meanwhile, one can cope with only infrequently, in small doses (again, like certain friends). Craving something seriously hot, you take yourself out to somewhere that does Hunan or Sichuan cooking, and in the heat of your lust, over-order by about eight dishes. But then the food arrives, and you remember the last time you did this, you thought your tongue was going to spontaneously combust and your husband refused to sleep in the same bed as you for eight days. Even before youve laid down your chopsticks in defeat, youre overcome with chilli-fatigue and remorse.

Nausea aside, this is also an immoderately dumb take on the worlds culinary habits: hackneyed and out-of-date. Remember at school, when the Frenchmen in text books were never pictured without a baguette tucked under one of their arms? (Monsieur Navet est trop gros pour lautobus!) Well, this is a bit like that. The books author, Mimi Sheraton, a former restaurant critic of the New York Times, has designed it geographically, grouping foods according to country. So I turn to Britain to see what the tourist hordes inspired by 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die might soon be trying to hunt down on these shores. In my minds eye, I have a rather pleasing image of a load of foodie Brooklynites, their rucksacks stuffed full of Tupperware, boarding the 10 oclock East Coast service from Kings Cross to Newcastle, the better to try and bag themselves some real pease pudding. Its kinda like hummus, they would say to each other, as they flew past Darlington. Only way, way better! (This is an opinion with which I half concur, given the general nastiness and mucked-about-ness of the hummus most people eat.)

But, no. Among the cliches sorry, I mean transcendent tastes to be found in Sheratons British section are: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, Cornish pasties and jellied eels. There are also mentions for cheddar, biscuits (she recommends Carrs and McVities), currants (we love currants, apparently, and stick them in all manner of pies) and smoked salmon. Its as if Dick van Dyke had gone mad in Tesco. I think again of my Brooklynites, though by now theyve morphed into Texans in baseball caps and mustard golfing pants. Driver! Take me to somewhere I might try these famous jellied eels of yours! I suppose it could happen. I mean, I wish it would. Truly. But I dont, in all honesty, believe that Manze and Londons other beleaguered pie and mash shops should be preparing for a sudden transatlantic rush.

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Give pease pudding a chance

Category: Ashkenazi
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