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Monday 1 December 2008

And Another Thing

When gobbling brawn is caviar to the general

One of the mistakes in life is to despise tinned food. I do not make it because it was wartime when, aged 10 to 16, I first began to notice food, and a lot of our best treats came in tins from America. I will not easily forget my first taste of Spam, in the dark days of early 1942 when we were taking a terrific beating from the Japanese. It was only spiced ham but it seemed an entirely new taste for us. I have always liked corned beef too, particularly in its American apotheosis as corned beef hash, the perfect breakfast dish, now alas slipping in favour so that it is increasingly difficult to find it on the menu at posh New York hotels like the Waldorf. My father used to tell a story about this dish. He had run away to sea, aged 12. This was before the first world war, when boys were allowed to do such a thing. He served on a freighter crossing the Atlantic, and the captain was kind to him. When they got to New York, he said: ‘I won’t give you your pay for they will get it off you. But you may go ashore and look.’ So he did, and eventually became hungry. A notice outside a tavern said: ‘Free lunch.’ So he went in and sat on a tall stool at the bar, and the bartender said: ‘What’s it to be, young thruster?’ ‘I’ll have the free lunch.’ ‘Righteoh, Suh!’ and a huge plate of corned beef hash was put in front of him. ‘And now, Suh, what’ll you drink?’ ‘Oh, I don’t drink, and anyway I’ve no money.’ The bartender put his hands on his hips and said ‘Waal, ah’ll be damned!’ But he gave my father a second helping. ‘The best food I’ve ever tasted.’

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