Nice thread Rimmer, certainly brings back some memories....
One thing about the Brits...until recently they were seriously culinary challenged.
When I lived in Britain's southern area from 1971-late 1973, there was an "attitude" to all things British that seemed to run right through the entire country, and particularly the food.
that attitude was, (and with the recent Brexit, it seems still exists to some degree), that Britian is NOT EUROPE.
In our British life, even a house full of people who worked still meant that "muther", as they called my step-father's mom, had a set menu that went round and round, week after week, hardly ever varying.
One would think that wartime rationing was still a feature of culinary England
was always the same...shepard's pie and chips.
we used to eat liver. My almost worse day of the week. "Muther" used to cover it in thick gravy, to soften the blow. Kennith, and Leslie were always at their girlfriend's place on Tuesdays.
, can't remember, I was only a child under ten.
...my favourite working week food day, with minced meat savoury style, and mashed potatoes.
...EVERYONE looked forward to Friday, because it was the ONLY day where a "take away" was to be purchaced....and in Britain of the 1970's, that meant FISH AND CHIPS, The Sacred Day of The Fish & Chip Cult.
Lines on Friday for "4 cod, two plaice and 50 'pee' worth o' chips",
or "6 flake please, and chips"
went round the corner. ALL fish was deep fried,
(English people don't eat their fish anyother way...grilled fish UNKNOWN, crumbed fish...ewwww!) Deep fried fish and chips as I mentioned, was a Cult Status meal, frequently wrapped in newpapers, (try finding a F&C shop that does THAT nowadays), and covered in lashings of vinegar and salt.
when I went to Holland to visit relatives, I nearly fell over with surprise, little Pom that I was, when that Friday spent in Genappe, we got the usual F&C meal, and those silly Dutch vendors put mayonaise on my bloody chips!
I, being the culinary challenged little Pommie that I was, turned my nose up without even sampling those mayonaise encrusted "chips". The Dutch people grinned knowingly, as my mother ordered another serving, and in true Australian country fashion, ate the lot herself.
This small story is The British Attitude to food in the Seventies in MICROCOSM.
Who needed to try something different? With only the BBC to watch, we had no 'celebrity' TV chefs telling US how to cook and eat. "Muther' did that all for us; ALL the adult males in the family, ("Father", Barry, Kennith, and Leslie) only went NEAR the kitchen when it was time to eat, and 'muther' faithfully did the washing up as well, whilst the boys piled into the lounge, or disappeared in their cars, to go to their girlfriend's houses and have post dinner sex, another tradition of the English. They all had long hair and flared trousers, played soccer on Barry's football team, (he was quite a successful manager, winning 13 trophies in a calender year, and having one of his players successfully be picked up by a 'scout' for Liverpool F.C.. They all supported SOUTHAMPTON F.C., with Mick Shannon as Barry's favourite.
Back to the food, Saturday
, 'muther' got a small break from her ceaseless kitchen chores, and we used to get, what Spike Milligan called with horror, "The Dreaded Cold collation". "Sald" consisted of sliced tomatoes, sliced cheese, a bit of lettuce, (when available) and otherstuff that shall remain nameless, because as a good little Pom, I used to turn my nose up at our "Salad Days"...and look forward to the best meal of the week....THE SACRED SUNDAY ROAST
SUNDAY...the ONLY day when 'dinner' was replaced by lunch. "Muther' used to make Yorkshire pudding, in little 'cups', and it wasn't stodgy or too dry, it was her speciality, and my mother, on this day of all days, was BANISHED from the kitchen, lest she interfear with the SACRED SUNDAY ROAST.
It was nearly alway roast LAMB, (we never ate pork for some unknown reason, and beeef was simply "to expensive"), but OHH that Yorkshire pudding, baked potatoes and lashings of gravy!
Sunday also meant the ONLY day for televised football. Brian Moore and "The Big Match", with brian taking the commentary for the main games, and Northerners with strong accents for ga,es from "anglia Television", (in my ignorance, I used to think it was ANGLICAN television.) High Johns used to cover those games.
At the near end of the show, Brian would say.."And now it's time for your letter"...usually featuring some poor slob up north that hadn't the money for a ticket more than once a year to see his favourite club, and then we'd get some northerner, calling about thirty seconds of higlights, because it was usuually some untelevised all year third or fourth division club....(The Welsh League was unheard of!).
Commentary usually finished the "Big Match", and the Letter section would see guts Kennith diving for the leftovers, to be ritually slapped on the hand, and told, "save it for "father" for loonch"
OH, Happy "Culinary Challenged Days of the Seventies"...Benny Hill on Thursdays, (the only day I was allowed to stay up late), long summer nights of Wiltshire, the boom of Larkhill Artillery School practicing in the distance....