I know that British cooking has been the point of many jokes, but I can say having spent time in England, I did not starve to death, and did not loose any weight. In fact, I think I picked up a few pounds. Of course there was the ale. Ale seems to be something our Brit cousins do exceedingly well. I loved walking into a pub, and ordering a pint on courage. "Landord, a pint of courage please!" Of course I'm talking about John Courage ale. Wonderful stuff, and very capable of sustaining life in a very pleasant haze.
Then there was the fish and chips.
I was staying at a bed and breakfast place just outside London, and after a day of marveling at the wonders in the British Museum, was walking back to the underground stop to catch a train back out. I was a bit hungry, and I was passing a little hole in the wall joint with the most wonderful smell coming from it. Why is it that fried food, bad for us, smells sooooo day-am good??? Anyways, I went in, and was introduced to the fish and chips. I paid my money, and was handed a cone of day old newspaper, and it was filled with these chunks of golden brown fried fish. Crispy on the outside, moist juicy cod inside. I've since loved fish and chips.
Then there's pub food. Wonderful stuff. I experimented with something called a scotch egg. A snack that is best described as a fried hard boiled egg. Of course, after a few ale's, most any munchy tastes good. And that british ale is brewed soooo smooth it just slides down so easy. Contrary to American reports of the warm beer in England, it's cool, room temp, but brewed to be drank that way. Or is that drunk that way? Oh hell, after a few it doesn't really matter. Have a cheese sandwich and play a game of darts and have fun.
I loved English pub life!!!
I could live happily ever after on the food I had while in England.