"England," complained the Marquis di Caraccioli, a discriminating Neapolitan foreign minister in the 18th century, "has more than 60 different religions and only one saucemelted butter." Other Continental gourmets, to whom the savoring of a delicately shaded sauce is almost a religion in itself, have shared his uncomplimentary views of English cookery. But the English, firmly entrenched behind impenetrable ramparts of bubble & squeak, cold shape and suet pudding, have gone right on boiling their Brussels sprouts and slicing their mutton too thick.
Last week British obstinacy won a surprising victory over Continental superiority. After a two-day stay at the 300-year-old...
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