Taters

Tonight was Guy Fawkes Night. For those unaware, this Fourth of July analogue celebrates the day a Catholic dissenter failed to blow up parliament with stores of gunpowder locked away in a cellar directly underneath the floor… and was swiftly tortured and hung. And while I love the justice in seeing religious extremists executed and sent to their gods, there was something odd about celebrating the failure of a terrorist attempt. It may have to do with the fact that of all places, England perhaps should not be allowed to celebrate an Independence Day since they spent so many centuries depriving countries world-wide of said right (or giving, in our case). Also, one has to wonder if, weeks prior to getting caught, Guy’s accomplices were joking around with him in a pub that were he to foul up, he would be the laughing stock of Britain for centuries to come. Certainly, in their infinite jest they would have never predicted that even in a town as quaint as Cambridge, some 400 years later, thousands of people would be joyfully watching fireworks and the burning of a Guy Fawkes effigy at the stake while partaking in good drink and rubbish food. I think this deserves the title of epic fail if I’ve ever seen one.

On the topic of epic fail, I do need to stress that British food is sufficiently terrible. For a country that has spent at least the last half millennia globetrotting and land-snagging (or as my friend British Matt would call Smash-and-Grab) how could they not have integrated the high points of myriad cuisines from subjugated cultures into their mix. I have no doubts that Yorkshire pudding and Cornish Pasties have not evolved since the time the corn that went into making them was ground with a large stone mill turned by farm animals. To be fair, the British have developed quite a metropolitan palate… with Indian curry being a nigh-national food. However, I would posit this is an overcompensation mechanism to balance the pervasive dullness that currently riddles their menus. Next time I go to hall for lunch I must remember to take a photo of the vegetable section, generally consisting of French fries, fried potatoes, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes (mash), potato wedges, and carrots. If this weren’t bad enough, you’ll find all of these relatively harmless potato variations smothered in Heinz baked beans or Brown Sauce. Yes, the name of the sauce is brown sauce… and it tastes like some sort of Gravy-gone-bad and mixed with dates and vinegar to cover the funk.

Potatoes and Brown sauce everywhere:



In order to save this post from getting too negative, I’ll spend a paragraph applauding the British and the Europeans for their genuine interest in politics besides their own (something you would never see in Korea or America). I can’t tell you how many folks I’ve run into here who’ve initiated conversations with me regarding Barack Obama, Sarah Palin, or the Electoral College. Perhaps my opinion on them would be different were I to be a republican, but it is quite impressive and humbling to see a country so invest itself in the outcome of an election besides their own. Having spent all night and morning watching the elections through the BBC’s eyes, it is quite obvious that America has made the right selection in Barack Obama. On Monday afternoon, I left my courses an ignorant and oppressive American, on Wednesday morning I returned slapping High-fives (something Brits don’t normally do) and being applauded for my open-mindedness or tolerance.

You’re welcome. In fact, I think I’ve earned me some potatoes covered in meat and brown sludge.