Category: Food & Drink

Brekkie

Food & Drink

Apparently, today is National Cereal Day, and even though said appellation make my nuts start to ache and my trigger finger twitch, it’s a better reason for commemoration than, say, Cesar Chavez Day or Secretaries Day.

Here’s the Britishland hit parade:

If you want my opinion, those choices are far too healthy.  I mean:  Weetabix? [sic]  Ready brek?  (although I have to say that with our kids, Ready Brek was a firm favorite for First Breakfast)  And of Alpen and All Bran, we will not speak.

Here in Murka, the choices are far more (shall we say) kid-friendly:

…although the appearance of Special K (a triumph of marketing over fact) is concerning, even at #9.

I have to confess that I hardly ever eat breakfast cereal anymore, except the (very) occasional bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, which I discovered on my first trip Over Here with Longtime Friend Trevor, and have never lost the taste for it since.

And my special weakness — i.e. as a snack consumed straight from the box — is this one, discovered as a child in Seffrica, and which still captivates me, over half a century later:

Just looking at the pic makes me want to get some — but fortunately (?) there isn’t any of the lovely stuff in the pantry at the moment.  (I try to contain myself to a box every other month, but it’s very difficult…)

I know, I know:  cereal isn’t for grownups.  Mea maxima culpa, but thank goodness I’m not tempted by the really sweet stuff like Froot Loops or Lucky Charms.

But at least when I look at both the above lists, the “nuts-‘n-twigs” type doesn’t feature.

(I noticed that in Germanland, granola is almost the exclusive offering at hotels’ breakfast buffets, which is probably why they lost the war.)

Ugh.  Makes me lose my appetite just looking at them.

Which is probably the whole point.  Damn Birkenstockers.

Memory Lane

Food & Drink

I arrived in the United States in the early 1980s, by which time most of the eating places that follow were on their last legs, or else pretty much doomed.  However, I thought I’d offer my Reader Demographic (i.e. Olde Pharttes) a chance to reminisce…


…wait, beer-steamed hot dogs?  Why is my mouth watering?

I was only ever able to visit a couple of them, but this one stands out in my memory:


…for obvious reasons, and I dearly wish Treacher’s was still around today.

And then there are these guys, if only for those prices:

Feel free to share your memories of these or similar places, in Comments.

Worst Packed Lunches

Food & Drink, Friday Feature, The Worst

Inspired by this tale of woe, list the 3 worst combinations (main, snack & drink) you could put in your 8-year-old kid’s school lunchbox.  You can select according to taste, nutritional “value” or smell, your choice.

Mine:

  1. Vegan “hamburger” / olives / carton of skim milk
  2. Slim Jim / coconut snowball / lemon Kool-Aid
  3. Canned anchovies / soda crackers / can of club soda

Extra points if you actually have given them to your kids in the past, and my apologies if I’ve made anyone feel ill.

Just As Ordered

Food & Drink

Reader Don L. suggests, correctly, that I would enjoy this little snippet:

Of all the things that you think could make you more attractive, what you have for breakfast wouldn’t necessarily be one of them.

But, new research has linked what you tuck into in the morning to how much you’re desired by others.

The small study published in Plos One, looked at the impact on facial attractiveness of eating refined carbohydrates (so-called “bad carbs”) for breakfast compared to eating unrefined carbohydrates (“good carbs”).

Researchers at the University of Montpellier found the amount of carbohydrates someone eats was statistically linked with their facial attractiveness as rated by heterosexual members of the opposite sex.

Well, yes.  I know I’m at my best after one of the above:

This would explain why women throw themselves at me every time I walk out of a Brit restaurant… [eyecross]

Compare and contrast the facial characteristics of some who’s just “enjoyed” a vegan breakfast of whatever it is that vegans eat:

Q.E.D.

Prole Drift

Food & Drink, Travels

I think it was the late (and much-missed) Paul Fussell who in one of his books (either Class  or Bad ) coined the term “prole drift” to describe how American society was shifting inexorably towards the working classes in terms of clothing, manners, taste and so on.  (Aside:  I love books written by ur-patricians like Fussell because I’m one of them, and unashamedly so.)

So I gladly admit to bias when I read articles like this one:


Almost a quarter of the population of Marlow in Buckinghamshire are aged over 65 and many of them think a Wetherspoons pub will attract ‘the wrong sort of people’.

For Readers of the non-Brit persuasion, Wetherspoons is a massive chain of pubs found all over the place, whose modus operandi  is typically to buy a failing pub (or any failing business, for that matter) and reopen it (sometimes under its own name even) as a place that sells cheaper fare — beer, wine, food whatever — to attract a large and it should be said loyal customer base.  Needless to say, the toffs and trendies tend to look down on Wetherspoons because inevitably, the kind of people attracted thereto are quite definitely Not Our Kind, Dear.

So this latest kerfuffle in Marlow should be seen in that context.

As it happens, I’ve actually been to Marlow simply because in looking for a place to have lunch while on a road trip, I took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up there.

It is undeniably beautiful, as these English small towns go, but like the curate’s egg, only in parts.  While the main street is lovely, there are also parts that resemble Typical Brit Suburbia (i.e. fugly semi-detached dwellings) with a population to match. Not Yorkshire Mining Town, to be sure, but not a place where Mr. Free Market would feel at home either.

Here’s what I discovered when I retraced my steps and went back up to Marlow Road (the main drag):  fucking hell, it’s an expensive place to eat and drink, even by Brit standards.  Worst of all, the high street pubs are of the gastropub variety — at least, the ones I looked at were — and when I finally did find a place to eat — off the main street —  I ended up ordering a simple cheese sandwich, chips and a pint which still set me back close to £10 (which was a lot, back in the early 2000s, when the same meal in London cost me just under £5).  I don’t remember which pub it was, but it sure as hell wasn’t The Coach (as mentioned in the article).

So I can see why Wetherspoons would choose to open one of their corporate or franchise pubs there, because if you’re not one of the Snooty Set, there’s nowhere to get a decently-priced pub lunch in Marlow.  And while the Snooty Set are well represented in the town’s demographics, there is also a sizable percentage of people like, well, you and me;  and that that makes for a sound business case.

Finally, I find the outrage at the “prole” Wetherspoons to be hypocritical.  Why?  Because on that same Marlow Road can be found a Domino’s Pizza and Subway sandwich shop.

And if that ain’t prole, I dunno what is.

Not Even For The Chocolate

Food & Drink, Travels

I’ve recently been hammering on about re-visiting Britishland and doing a pub tour of the villages therein.  But I’ll be skipping this one:

Tiny English village is like going back to the 1960’s with chocolate-box houses
Located in southwest Birmingham, Bournville is a tiny village that was built by the Cadbury family.
The model village was founded by George and Richard Cadbury, the sons of John Cadbury.
You don’t have to be from Birmingham to instantly recognise the name, Cadbury, with the chocolate giant celebrating its 200th anniversary this year.
John Cadbury originally opened a small shop on Bull Street where he sold tea, coffee and hot chocolate.

All well and good.  However:

Because of its Quaker heritage, there are no pubs in Bournville.

So… pass, then.

Not that I’d want to go anywhere near Birmingham anyway, having been warned off by Mr. Free Market and other such worthies.

Here’s an alternative:

More my kind of place altogether.  That’s in Burton, Gloucestershire:

Note the uh, other attractions thereabouts.  Yes, altogether much better than some silly Quaker stronghold.  And they even serve brekkie.