BY DAVID CAMPBELL
The reputation of English food is, unfortunately, one of blandness—a calumny I believe stems from the soldiers who tasted it during the rationing of World War II and carried that impression back to their home countries. My own experience has been quite the opposite; I’ve found English food to be excellent and deeply satisfying.
It all begins with breakfast. A full English is a masterpiece: fried eggs, back bacon (a superior, meatier slice compared to the streaky American style), grilled mushrooms and tomato, sausages, baked beans, and toast. In Ireland, a black hockey puck of blood pudding was added to my plate; after one hesitant bite, I was hooked. In Scotland, smoked salmon made it heaven on earth.
But baked beans for breakfast? As Wikipedia notes, they were introduced to the UK in 1904 by Henry J. Heinz from my hometown of Pittsburgh as a convenient meal. I later discovered they became a vital protein replacement during the war years, growing so popular that beans on toast became a staple. For a breakfast on the go, I always grabbed an egg and bacon baguette before my train from King’s Cross. The choices are endless: from Pret A Manger to any local bakery, you’ll find breakfast sandwiches, stuffed bagels, and pastries guaranteed to deliver a sugar high.
For lunch, my go-to is fish and chips, but the options are vast. Most pubs offer the magnificent Ploughman’s Lunch: a smorgasbord of cheeses, mustards, pickled onions, chutney, and thick slices of fabulous brown bread. Then there are sausage rolls encased in flaky pastry, Cornish pasties (a complete handheld meal of meat, potatoes, and vegetables), hearty cottage pies, and steak and kidney pudding.
And then there is cheese on toast—elevated to an art form. Toasted bread is spread with mustard, covered with cheese right to the edges, and broiled until golden and bubbling. It’s served with HP Brown Sauce, a pungent sweet-sour condiment a friend introduced me to, which now rivals ketchup as my favourite.
Dinner in England can range from extravagant five-star establishments to incredible Indian restaurants (a proprietor once told me there are likely as many curry houses as fish and chip shops). There is every type of cuisine, with local pubs often serving fabulous farm-to-table meals.
Living in West Sussex, my dinner choice is often Turner’s Pies. Americans think of pies as sweet fruit or the meek chicken pot pie, but Turner’s are a poetry of the palate. Choose from Steak & Ale, Stilton, Chicken & Ham, and at Christmas, Turkey, Gammon & Cranberry. My favourite is the rich and savoury Steak and Kidney.
The crown jewel of English cuisine is the Sunday Roast: slices of beef, lamb, or chicken served with roasted potatoes—crisp outside and creamy within—a variety of vegetables, and of course, the glorious Yorkshire Pudding, a perfect vessel for soaking up rich gravy.
Then, oh, the desserts! Spotted Dick (a currant-studded sponge cake), sticky toffee pudding (familiar to many Americans from Harry Potter), apple pie served with custard (unheard of in the U.S.), treacle tarts, Knickerbocker Glory (an ice cream sundae), and Eton Mess—a delightful combination of crumbled meringue, whipped cream, and strawberries.
The reputation of English food as bland is an unjust and outdated slander. It is a cuisine of comfort, history, and surprising delight.
David Campbell is an American who spends a lot of time in Littlehampton, West Sussex.