It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I like pretty well all foods, there is almost nothing I dislike in itself although, of course, some dishes I’m not too keen on – though that’s probably the way they’ve been cooked. I only once tried jugged hare, for instance, and it was disgusting, but I’m quite prepared to blame it on the cook. Roses said the other day that she’s tried oysters several times – raw, cooked, smoked – and still doesn’t like them and that’s quite fair enough. And then there are foods that are taboo to you – which may be pork to a Muslim or dog to an Englishman, meat to a vegetarian or honey to a vegan. There’s little I wouldn’t try – a few things, mind you, I have my prejudices – but there are still some things that I can’t take, even if they taste all right. Chocolate pasta is a case in point. Just plain no.
Take a crumpet, for instance. I love a toasted crumpet. I’ve even been known to make them, quite a pleasure if I’m in the mood, though I can rarely be bothered. But they are to be eaten with butter. The Sage adds Marmite. I love Marmite, but not with a crumpet. No, I haven’t tried. The taste is irrelevant. A poached egg is fine and I suppose topping it with cheese and toasting it is permissible, not that it’s right, but that’s all. Maybe a freshly-picked field mushroom at a pinch. Or (not and, don’t be silly) a smear of strawberry jam. But a buttered crumpet is perfect, it can’t be improved upon.
Oh, and what’s with adding fruit and stuff to cheese? I was persuaded to buy some ginger-flavoured cheddar once. I couldn’t eat it. That is, I tasted a bit and it was perfectly nice, but it was wrong. As is cheese flavoured with apricot, cranberry and the like.
I once watched a daytime cookery programme and the unfortunate amateur cook used cheese with his fish dish. The Italian judge wouldn’t even try it. Fish and cheese were wrong together and that was that. And Belgian Waffle wrote the other day about a macaron baking class she went to, with savoury macarons – she gave examples, but my mind won’t retain them because they were perfectly horrid. Bristling with horror, darlings.
And you, dear hearts? Puzzle me or make me squeal in agreement, why don’t you.