Pies, glorious pies
In defence of British stodge
What are your desert island dishes? A Sunday roast, a bacon sandwich, a Victoria sponge? If so, you are as one with the mood of the nation. This week, a Yougov survey ranking Britain’s favourite foods – which they admitted were “distressingly beige” – laid out our food preferences in a handy chart, listing them all from what they termed “god tier” to “c--p tier”. It serves as a graphic warning as to what our plates might look like had olives never been invented, but it is perhaps a little unkind to some of our traditional dishes. While we flirt with pad Thai and paella, it would be a shame to forget about muchneglected liver and onions or pie and mash. It is a bit like putting grandpa in a home because you’ve heard all of his jokes.
Predictably, the god tier includes Yorkshire puddings, Sunday roasts, fish and chips, and the full English breakfast, which might demonstrate that, despite all the media hoopla to the contrary, we are not quite as vegan as we think we are. We remain more bacon bap than seitan sandwich.
The poll did bring up some worrying results, however. Incomprehensibly, steak and kidney pudding is relegated to the bottom tier, along with rightfully shunned jellied eels and laver bread. Astonishingly, sausages rolls are not even mentioned – Greggs even weighed in with disgust on Twitter
– and Cornish pasties are ranked as “mid tier”, which shows how railway station kiosks and garage forecourts have ruined things for everyone, pushing poor facsimiles of the real thing, with claggy pastry and stingy fillings – not something to thrust upon stressed and weary travellers and still expect them to maintain their place in our hearts and on our plates.
When it comes to puddings, the results show what a nostalgic nation we are, feasting on thrifty stodge as though lemons never existed. Jam roly poly, barely seen in captivity this century – holds steady in the mid tier, along with that cosy favourite, bread and butter pudding. Scones and Victoria sponge come out top, as though the survey was undertaken at a cricket tea. In shocking news, hot cross buns – surely the finest religious-themed baked goods known to creation – don’t make the god tier (Jesus wept).
And how that relative newcomer, sickly banoffee pie, can rank above the fine Eccles cake should make us pause and think about what we have become. It sits alongside spotted dick, Welsh cakes and Christmas pudding in the “low tier”, a clear indication that our heads have been turned by more extravagant confections and we think we’re all too good for vine fruits now.
The survey does demonstrate, though, that we are a thrifty lot, which is rather a comfort in the age of restaurants selling thousand-pound burgers and gold-infused drinks. Just today, an email dropped into my inbox proclaiming IBIZA’S MOST EXPENSIVE COCKTAIL, a $334 pornstar martini (naturally), which in their full-caps excitement they spelt COCKTIAL. All is not lost, though. Hogging the pudding c--p tier in shameful isolation, is the deep-fried Mars bar.
So what of the winners and losers?
Pies
As a nation, we hold pies, in all forms, in great affection. In his recent book, Pie Fidelity: In Defence
of British Food, Pete Brown writes: “Britain does pies better than anyone else in the world and has done since pastry was first perfected by chefs working for the Tudor monarchs. Shepherd’s pie, cottage pie, steak and ale pie, steak and kidney pie, and their cousin, the Cornish pasty, are famous representatives of our culinary tradition”. So it is shocking that the masterpiece, the pork pie, only squeaks low-tier status. We mustn’t allow our heads to be turned by quiche.
Random minced meat
Of course, these humble concoctions are not going to win any beauty contests, but surely we are better than that? How shameful to have shunted haggis and faggots into the c--p tier. These days, we practically fetishise meatballs, and yet the humble faggot is shunned. Perhaps they need rebranding – “medallions of pork shoulder and liver in a rich gravy” might do the trick. And as for the spicy and delicious haggis, any chef who dared put them in a sausage casing and serve them all year round would surely be carried aloft around the finest gastropubs in the land.
Roast dinner
The roast dinner has iconic status at the British table. Not only is it delicious, but it tests the cook’s nerve and skill more than almost any other meal. It is not that the component parts are particularly complicated, but bringing them all to the table at the same time requires a level of skill and coordination seldom seem outside of an Olympic pentathlon.
Eccles cakes
These circles of light, flaky pastry encasing rich, dried fruit are surely one of our greatest contributions to the pastry-maker’s art. While the original versions date back to the 18th century, they have enjoyed a renewed fashionability since appearing on the menu of London’s St John restaurant, served with crumbly Lancashire cheese. If you are unable to track down the real deal, the award-winning Pump Street Bakery in Orford, Suffolk, sells their delicious Eccles cakes by mail order.
Trifle
There really is a trifle to suit everyone, whether it is a children’s party special with jelly, tinned fruit and hundreds and thousands, or Nigella’s indulgent Anglo-italian trifle, with cherries, mascarpone, amaretti biscuits and limoncello. The enduring appeal of the trifle is that even the most cack-handed cook can create something befitting granny’s best glass bowl.
Yorkshire pudding
Of course, it is up there as our most beloved dish, the best part of many a Sunday lunch and, like the roast potato, surrounded by all kinds of lore about how to make the best ones. They are part of some of our happiest meals and any home cook worth their (Maldon sea) salt wants to lay claim to making the biggest and fluffiest. Less self-assured cooks quake at the prospect of turning eggs, milk and flour into this most magical of dishes, and fantasise about bringing sky-high versions to the table. A very hot oven and screamingly hot fat (preferably beef dripping) is your friend. Side note: while Yorkshire pud makes the top tier, toad in the hole only ranks in the mid. Go figure.
The pork pie only squeaks low-tier status. We mustn’t allow our heads to be turned by quiche