BRITISH FOOD, CONTINUED

I had steamed haddock and treacle pudding last night. Up to a 34 waist again. Meanwhile, a reader sends in a literary reminiscence of British food. It’s from – who else? – Kingsley Amis, from his book, “The Folks That Live on the Hill”:

[A waiter] came and laid in front of him a considerable plateful of fried slices of white bread and thick salty bacon with all the rind left on and ancillary tomatoes, as specified. Fats swam and bubbled there.
‘My God,’ said Harry with remote envy. ‘Butter too.’
Freddie shook his head as he picked up two of the three varicoloured plastic dispensers before him. ‘Butter, who said anything about butter? This is marge. Very hard to get these days I can assure you. . .’

“Marge,” by the way, is British for margarine. At the end of the meal, Amis continues:

‘Do you know what I enjoyed most about that snack?’
‘The marge?’
‘The fact that it wasn’t beef Stroganoff or sole bonne femme or steak en croute or tripe a la mode de Caen.’
‘I see. Aren’t you going to have some afters?’
They looked over at a blackboard advertising spotted dick – roly poly – syrup pudding – plum duff. . .

Now, that’s patriotism.

CIVILIAN DEATHS: Here’s the first solid piece I’ve read about them in the Afghanistan war. Noam Chomsky probably shouldn’t read this story. The truth is always a problem for him.

LADS IN TROUBLE: Here’s an interesting cultural indicator. In Britain a few years ago, the “hottest” magazines were testosterone-laden, chauvinistic men’s magazines – the kind that soon came over to the States and made Maxim a huge success story. According to this piece in the Guardian, they’re now in trouble. Big declines in circulation and advertizing. But my favorite detail, noticed by a reader, is the fact that the editor of the leading “lad” magazine, “FHM,” was unavailable for comment because he is on “paternity leave.” As my reader points out, “It’s like finding out that the editor of Cigar Aficionado is on the nicotine patch.”