Upon reflection I realize that my side of the pond is also guilty when it comes to salad bastardisation. We are responsible for both tuna salad and egg salad, while the Brits more truthfully call these tuna mayo and egg mayo. Still, at least tuna and egg salad have a protein component rather than the double fat fantasy of cheese salad.
I realize it smacks a bit of the fat lady who sued McDonalds, but this whole British “cheese salad” mentality has not been good for my food habits over the past three years. The countryside has just encouraged me. Today I breakfasted on an undeserved bacon savoury at the local bakery. My excuse for eating bacon and cheese in a buttery bread product was that there were no croissants left, which in my anglicized mind seem healthy in comparison. There was a time in my life when croissants were considered an evil only to be consumed when vacationing in France. Christ, three years ago I lived in a city where ordering anything with mayonnaise raised an eyebrow.
There are other, humbler food stuffs to get excited about in the country. I never knew I could get excited about a boiled egg, but I do. That’s because my egg comes from L., who sells them on Friday nights in the wine bar complete with mud and bits of hay still stuck to the shells. I can also pick up a jar of marmalade in the wine bar if I am feeling frivolous. Did I mention that L.’s eggs set a new standard in yolk size? Did I really once eat egg white omelettes in L.A.? What’s the point of that?!
