Alan Davidson (1) (1924–2003)

1) I read this only late at night, after all meals of the day had been taken, but I suspect reading it before meals would be a great aid to dieters as an appetite suppressant. (Those on calorie-controlled diets living in the British Isles, though, may because of habituation find it less effective and dieters from Iceland accustomed to eating with gusto sheep's eyeballs might experience a paradoxical effect.)

2) Davidson has interesting accounts of the origins and evolution of traditional English dishes and ways of cooking them. He also provides some, though not enough for my taste, information on the social history and cultural connotations of British eating habits.

3) Some of the entries (invariably ones in which the ingredients of a dish aren't mentioned) are fascinating. The discussion of 'banquet' not only suggests a question for a pub quiz but skirts the stuff of domestic anthropology whilst serving as reminder that an aristocrat can indulge in vulgar display as obviously and heartily as a footballer.

4) And it was over 'banquet' that I lingered longest. There was a time when the host of a feast would before the pudding lead his guests out of the dining hall, and 'one can imagine the merriment with which [they] would file along a corridor . . . finally emerging from a small circular staircase onto the roof, enjoying a panorama of the surrounding countryside' before entering the banquet room. Perhaps I'm constitutionally incapable of merriment, but all I can imagine is the misery of wandering down long, cold corridors and up a spiral staircase after a heavy meal and of having one's silks and velvets sodden by the British rain which would of course render that panorama a grey blur. (Even more confounding, there was later a craze for contructing banquet rooms of twigs. Outdoors. Next to a fountain.)

5) An all-purpose traditional English recipe: Make two pie crusts with flour, water, and suet. Into one of them load chopped meat, suet, currants, orange peel, lemon rind, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Cover with other crust; into a hole in the centre of it pour the broth you have made with offal, which will when cooked act as gelatin and hence turn the pie into a jelly.

For dessert, simply mince the meat fine and assemble as above, adding sugar and omitting the broth. (For a 21st-century touch, dump several cupfuls of cream over cooked pie. On no account add sugar to or whip the cream; doing the former presents the danger of overwhelming the delicate suety undertones and doing the latter would make the crust insufficiently soggy.)

6) The title of the book is not a tongue-in-cheek one.

7) Davidson is knowledgeable and perversely enthusiastic about the subject and the book is except for the food quite enjoyable;h

8) hence the book is worth keeping an eye out for even though one phrase in it says all you think you need , but don't in the event want, to know about English cookery: [of the inedible fish heads poking out around the circumference of stargazey pie] '. . . the only valid reason for the pie is an aesthetic one.'… (més)