Living On Three Continents: A Full English
On a recent visit to her native England columnist Susan Siddeley found herself overhelmed by an over-abudance of tasty meals which included the fabled full English breakfast.
It helped, tackling Full English at the wonderful George Hotel in Huddersfield recently, that the corners of the diagonally set tablecloths gleamed smart and white as Andean crests dividing Chile and Argentina. I felt really at home.
The famous National Breakfast was part of a two-night package.
I was in the curtain-swagged dining room by 8 o’clock the first morning, eagerly propping the complimentary morning paper against the sugar basin. I hadn’t had a proper English since Mum stopped being up to the challenge a few years ago.
When the welcome spread arrived, I couldn’t wait to dive in. The bacon slices - full back - the likes of which you rarely see in Canada or Chile - curled promisingly. They lay next to half a rosy tomato and a pile of mushrooms on the left side of the platter. On the right, a fluffy mash of yellow egg surrounded a plump Cumberland sausage.
Unloaded next from the giant tray by the smiling waiter, triangles of toast in a silver rack, a mini-crock of butter and my favourite classic, individual preserves. Lastly, the large pot of strong Yorkshire tea I would need to wash it all down was carefully placed on my right.
I breathed deeply, knowing I had to take it slow and easy. Breakfast these days - fruit and a coffee, with a pancake thrown in on the weekend - is stomach shrinking. But early habit stood me in good stead.
Traditional 1950’s West Riding fare; porridge, fried eggs, ham, beans and bread and dripping, dished up before we were turned out into the cold, foggy streets to school, built stamina.
Now, stopping regularly to ponder a crossword clue and let the food settle, I was able to clear the nosh and wipe the plate clean.
The second morning was harder. The previous day had, besides the big breakfast, included two other spectacular national dishes: fish, chips and mushy peas for lunch and a golden lamb birinani for supper. I managed to down the lot, but as I folded the Observer and pushed my chair back, wondering how I was going to stagger up three flights of thickly carpeted stairs to pack, I remembered the old chestnut -
“First Prize - A Day in Blackpool. Second Prize - Two Days in Blackpool.”
Ditto the George package! Best deal is definitely two nights with just one Full English. Two nights with two is a killer. Best choice the second morning is definitely the yogurt and croissant Continental.
P.S. Only realised later - when the whole lot was history, that there hadn’t been any fried bread. Mother and Auntie Mabel would have thought it a poor do.
