On Barbecue In England

“On the Continent people have good food; in England people have good table manners.”

Anonymous

 

On Barbecue in England

 

After returning from Las Vegas, Howard and I were picking tomatoes, Hungarian peppers and green beans in our garden, and for some unknown reason I began to reminisce about our unfortunate experience trying barbeque in England.  The only advice we have is: just don’t do it.  We found a restaurant a short distance from our hotel in Kensington that boasted authentic Texas barbeque.   Naturally, we had to try it.  I don’t know what fantasy world the owners were inhabiting, but it was as authentic as a reality television show is about real life.  We were seduced in by the crowded dining area (how bad could it be?) and the charming, down home interior.  There the charm ended.  I ordered the beef ribs and the menu stated that it came with potatoes.  Silly me, I thought it would be a baked potato or fries.  Howard ordered the fish.  There were no baked beans, coleslaw, corn on the cob, collard greens, salad, or alternative vegetable offered.  In fact, there were little to no vegetables anywhere in sight.  The two Russian girls at the table next to us ordered the tacos.  Another mistake.

Our meals arrive at the same time.  My place had two lean, heavily sauced beef ribs, scalloped potatoes (really?) and sliced tomatoes.  No salad came with the overpriced dinner.  Howard’s catfish came with fries and sliced tomatoes.  The Russian girls’ dinner also arrived.  Their tacos arrived with fries instead of the customary rice and refried or black beans.  They looked at our plates, we looked at theirs, we all looked at each other and laughed.  Apparently, they were as disappointed in this rendition of “authentic” Texas food as we were.  I considered demanding to speak to the chef to query just what were they thinking in touting this ridiculous farce as authentic Texas barbeque.  Apparently, the chef never met a real Texas barbeque and the patrons had never experienced the real thing or this restaurant never would have stayed in business longer than a week.  But Howard convinced me to let it go and chalk it up to a humorous story to tell our friends back home.  But it so wasn’t funny at the time.

My two ribs were stringy and tough and so lean that I suspected that the poor animal had starved to death.  The overly sweet, cloying barbeque sauce overwhelmed any taste the ribs might have had.  The scalloped potatoes were good and the English do know how to do potatoes.  I just would have preferred a baked potato or fries.  Howard said his catfish was good but would have preferred collard greens to the sliced tomatoes.   We skipped the “authentic” desserts offered and fled to a pastry shop down the street.  We gave them a solid 2.  They were overpriced and we were underwhelmed.