Even the most die-hard Anglophile will not describe British food as exciting. Even to call it interesting would be a stretch -- it certainly lacks the imagination of, say, the French for instance. The spice route ended in Europe. The British were more interested in the money trail to bother about the finer things in life. So they used very little condiments beyond pepper, occasionally a pinch of nutmeg or cinnamon and a dash of mustard. A few herbs found their way into their kitchen but restricted to the likes of parsley, celery, rosemary and thyme. Nothing exotic. Otherwise, who will sprinkle vinegar over fish and chips? No wonder when the silliest of curries invaded the island they had no defence to counter it. Had it not been for the French across the channel, they would never have discovered wine and remained happy guzzling beer and getting sloshed on whisky. One can argue their climate did not allow growing anything as delicate as grapes. But then let’s face it one wouldn’t associate anything delicate with that land other than Princess Diana.
I am, of course, joking. But it is true that food did not rank very high on the Anglo-Saxon hierarchy of needs. This, I think, is also reflected in how, despite ruling over more than half the world at one time, how little of world cuisine the British brought back with them or imbibed into their cooking. My own theory for that is - the people that the empire sent to manage its overseas colonies were neither its brightest nor the most educated. They were primarily agents of economic imperialism who enjoyed the good life lording over native subjects. The resultant socio-cultural osmosis was, therefore, a one-way street. Yet, there must have been something special about British food to have left an imprint across the globe to have lasted over centuries. The answer to my mind lies in standardisation - much like the famed British upper-lip - rather than innovation.
Come to think of it, even single malts and Scotch whiskies were known by their uniform quality, taste and flavour for a hundred years. No variations in notes as in wine from one vintage to another. Each distillery would stick to its identical process using the same malt, peat, source of water and even old casks for generations. It is only recently that they have started playing around with blends and barrels to produce different effects catering to the fickle tastes of the post millennial consumers. The same went for the perfect roasts, pies, puddings and sandwiches that have been the mainstay of British culinary repertoire.
British cooking probably makes the most extensive use of ovens and grills. It may have something to do with the weather. Being stuck indoors for the better of the year with poorly ventilated homes built with a good deal of wood for insulation, open wood or coal fire were not the preferred mode of cooking. Sealed pots, kettles and pans were used over a controlled source of heat from a stove or grill. The range of vegetables in England was limited with the royal spud or potato ruling the roost with some side actors like carrots, beans, cabbage, leek and a few others thrown into the pot. This left little room for innovation keeping the cooks within the straight and narrow path of traditional recipes. There was also not much sophistication in the sauces and seasonings. The much acclaimed Worcester sauce is nothing but a mixture of vinegar and jaggery and the famous mint sauce that goes with lamb roasts is finely chopped mint leaves in vinegar and sugar.
However, variety came from the source of the raw material. Despite being a tiny island, there was a great deal of variation in the produce and livestock of different regions owing to the different climatic conditions, terrain and resultant vegetation. Thus the lamb from Wales, beef from Scotland or Berkshire pork would not be the same as breeds from other parts of the kingdom. Differentiation was also made from the cuts of the meat according to the muscular texture and amount of embedded fat that gave the final dish its typical taste. Still, I would add British cooking is a work of craftsmanship and not artistry like the French. In fact, it is this mechanical simplicity of British cooking that made it easy for them to take to the colonies, where the local staff could be trained without having to bring cooks along from home. Thus was born the breed of Khansamas and Bawarchis in India, who replicated the originals using local contraptions and local raw ingredients - often adapting recipes for what was available at hand. The roasts, pies, bakes and puddings they would turn out with improvised ovens, pots and degchis and souffles using ice-trays before the advent of refrigerators were nothing short of culinary marvel.
Alas that old style cuisine is nearly extinct. The accent is on modern European and international cuisine. Few hotels serve a good roast except perhaps on special occasions like Christmas and New Year. With the earlier generation of cooks passing and the profile of members changing, it is not easy to come by even at the old clubs. Though pubs are now ubiquitous, the pub food one gets there is alien to the English and Irish pubs of yore. So, in London earlier this month, I went on a club hopping spree on Pall Mall. It was nostalgia time.
The carnivore in me is divided in its loyalty between steak and roast. With age, it has started leaning towards the latter - but that has nothing to do with either the redness quotient of the meat or any other temporal injunctions. It is primarily out of practical considerations. First, a good steak can only be made out of the finest quality of beef, which is not easy to find everywhere. Give me a Wagyu fillet and I will take it any day (provided someone else is paying for it at US dollars 300 a pound). But otherwise, it is difficult to handle a prime piece with frail intestines and fragile dental condition.
However, roasts are meat agnostic. Each has a distinct character which can be carried to perfection by a skillful artisan by applying the right temperature and uplifting the juices into a sauce. Amateur cooks like me tend to make a roast by looking at the oven timer. But the critical parameter is the temperature inside the meat which can be measured with a cooking thermometer. Different meats and cuts have their own optimum heating point, which would also vary depending on the kind of finish one would like. For being some plated with a sauce, one might want a more well cooked softer meat whereas to be put on a carving board in a buffet, a slightly more firm roast that can be sliced into pieces may be preferred. The latter is my favourite for beef roasts, which I usually keep aside for making a cold cut sandwich the day after. Though I love pork, nowadays I tend to lean towards oriental pork roasts, especially if it is a pork belly. The same with duck as well. Though I will never forgive the Chinese for giving Covid to the world, if anything can redeem their sins a wee bit, it is the roast duck. Since travelling to China will be off my itinerary probably for the rest of my life, I made a minor compromise by visiting one of the roast duck restaurants in SOHO Chinatown off Leicester Square. Not the same one gets in Hong Kong or Beijing but a memory jogger all the same.
Mutton is good but I think roast was originally invented for lamb. Goat is much leaner than sheep - so not as amenable to roasting. The Exmoor (Devonshire) lamb roast I had on this trip was easily the best in my recollection. Grass-fed in the moorlands of Devon, it tends to melt in the mouth. One cannot go wrong with a chicken roast at most places - but the highlight of this adventure was the roast grouse. So far the closest I had come to a grouse was the whisky - Famous Grouse - which shot to fame, literally, after the Crown Prince of a neighbouring country sprayed bullets on his entire clan after imbibing copious quantities of that spirit. But this was the real thing. The grouse is a small bird -- in the same genre as partridge. It is a little larger than quail or ‘bater’ - the size of a spring chicken - just enough for one person. Being a game bird, it is a little tough but that does not mean it has to be cooked for. In fact, overcooking would make it harder.
Since wild birds are not available in India -- as shooting and netting are banned -- the closest one can get is a roasted quail. Otherwise, try Kethel Chicken at Rahmaniya in Trivandrum. Or, if in Kolkata, come to Radu Babu’s hotel, next to Lake Market, on a Thursday evening and try their whole chicken roast. Tender spring chicken not more than 400 grams a piece. Not anything like - but much tastier for the Indian palate, if you ask me. The onion, garlic and ginger paste gravy with a hint of turmeric served with white bread can be a big hit as a pop up at Picadilly.
Read all food columns by Sandip Ghose here
(Sandip Ghose is an author and current affairs commentator. He tweets @SandipGhose.)