The Industrial Revolution; the Empire; cricket; Rolls Royce; the Beatles; the Queen; Shakespeare; David Bowie, Margaret Thatcher, David Beckham. Britain is famous for many things, but rarely for its food.
I now live in the US which, as we all know, is the home of fine dining. Colonels, actual war heroes, bring us home-made chicken based on secret family recipes. The closely-knit McDonalds clan sells us fine cuts of beef, from a small herd of hand-reared cows that live healthy, rewarding lives in a pasture visible from Ma Mac’s kitchen window.
In the New World, we look down our collective rebellious noses at our former colonial masters across the Atlantic and their fearful attitude to such fancy ideas as presentation, aroma, taste.
The English are just not that daring, conventional wisdom says. Look at their boiled meats, their thick slices of gravy, their stodgy desserts, the intellectuals on the Continent sneer.
Well, no more. The Brits are fighting back with more adventurous, cutting-edge delicacies, as pictured above. A side of skin. Yes, skin. Take that, France! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, USA! See how you like them apples, Japan!
And, of course, it comes with chips. Baby steps, everyone. Baby steps.
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