The deadliest oxymoron

I grew up on it, so I consider it fair game for retribution. That would be English cooking—the deadliest oxymoron, far eclipsing such favourites as “guest host,” “government assistance” and “appearing live.” Tripe. Kippers. Turnip, boiled beyond recognition in a pressure cooker and then mashed to a sodden pulp. Beef, roasted to match the consistency of footwear. Blancmange. Custard, made from powder, heated, and poured over everything that might otherwise have a flavour of its own. I could go on, but my readership may include those with weak stomachs.

I do grant, however, that there are a few pleasant tasting shards to be found in the wreckage. Fish and chips, soaked in newspaper. Cadbury Flake chocolate bars. Rose’s lime marmalade. Steak and kidney pie. I’ll have to think pretty hard to make that list much longer.

Having said all that nasty stuff, it’s perhaps surprising that there are so many British food specialty stores (there’s one in Cobourg, for example, and seven in Mississauga). These stores stock—and actually sell—such essentials as Marmite and Bovril—respectively, a salty yeast spread and a meat-flavoured extract usually mixed in hot water. I suppose it goes to show that habits ingrained in childhood die hard.

But what is newsworthy is that our government, acting through the Canadian Food Inspection Agency, has begun to play tough cop and started to clear these and other British import items off store shelves. Not, mind you, because of any safety risk, but because of technical violations of Canadian regulations. Marmite, for example, contains vitamins not approved for Canadian sales. Bovril contains a meat product, and British meat is not permitted into Canada. “From a layperson’s standpoint,” said one of the affected store owners, “it does seem a little mindboggling” that food (if that’s what we’re going to call it) brought in for years without incident can be banned because it contains added vitamins.

As far as I’m concerned, anybody brave enough to consume Marmite or Bovril deserves counseling and a safe ingestion site, rather than the harsh whip of the Canadian authorities.

And with the crackdown comes a certain amount of collateral damage. Penguin biscuits—a traditional parent to child gift in my family at Christmastime, perhaps by way of atonement for all the custard – gone, because the labels now reveal they contain calcium. Irn-Bru orange soda, long the drink of choice for Ian Rankin’s recovering alcoholic Inspector Rebus—gone, because it contains the colouring agent Ponceau 4R.

Now it’s easy to pile on and make fun of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency for going hog wild over technical violations, while letting tainted meat freely flow across the continent; but surely regulations are regulations, and they have to be enforced as written or else the law would fall into disrepute. Right? I obviously also reject, and therefore will not even mention, the theory that the regulatory regime is overseen by some embittered soul who himself or herself grew up on English cooking, and who for some deep Freudian reason has it in for anyone who seeks to relive the culinary tastes of his or her childhood.

You may think that I am being an alarmist, but it might get worse. According to a recent report, by the middle of this century, Britain could become one of the world’s biggest wine producing regions. (Although China, Russia and the Scandinavian countries also stand to benefit, all at the expense of France, Italy, Australia and the United States). That’s right: thanks to global warming, the country that brought room temperature beer to the world has been growing its wine industry at a rapid rate (doubling in size over the last 30 years). Scarily, a prominent French vineyard owner recently moved lock, stock and caskets to the south of England; and English sparkling wines have begun to beat Champagnes in international competitions.

Perhaps the only hope for humanity lies in global warming itself. Because it’s not just vineyards that are moving northwards: it’s such undesirables as mangrove swamps as well. Maybe the mangrove swamps will take over England before the masters of English cuisine get their bloodied hands on the grape. Or maybe the English will figure out how to ferment and distill the mangrove. And serve it up with custard.

So we can conclude by adding a few new oxymorons. Award winning English wine. The benefits of global warming. Unembittered columnists.

dsimmonds@wellingtontimes.ca