The Axis of Evil…Brown Sauces

Though there are many tasty dishes that I have come to know and love in England, there are three sauces that I revile and renounce with such a passion that they induce gagging and a wrinkling of the nose at the mere mention of their names and uses. These evil sauces masquerade as normal spreads and condiments but behind that facade lurks a brown-coloured concoction of no known use other than making Americans vomit and ask “Why? Why would you do that to your food??”

The offenders, listed in no particular order as I hate them all equally, are:

Marmite
Marmite is dark brown-colored savory spread made from the yeast that is a by-product of the brewing industry. It has a very strong, slightly salty flavor. Enough said — yuck!! The Brits spread this stuff on toast and enjoy breathing on those who hate it with a triumphant look. Hey, way to go for knowing that your food stinks!
To learn more about this horrible alleged “food product,” visit http://www.spurgeon.org/~phil/marmite.htm. Amazingly, there were 404,000 entries found for Marmite on Google. There are even FAN CLUBS and HATE CLUBS for this wicked substance. Marmite’s advertising slogan is “You love it or you hate it.” Even they know that it is repulsive to at least some of the population.

HP Sauce
This sauce is used mostly on breakfast foods and is pretty much poured over the entire meal (eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans, et al). From what I have gathered, it is meant to enhance the flavor of the bland food and has a tangy taste. Have the British ever heard of herbs and spices?? Or perhaps grilling or baking as opposed to pan-frying? Perhaps that would give their breakfast a bit more flavor….I guess we’ll never know (unless a mysterious explosion at the HP factory should render production impossible — something to think about).

Branston’s Pickle
A savory brown chutney most commonly spread on ham and cheese sandwiches. Absolutely disgusting sauce with big chunks of god-knows-what in it. Rank smell and even worse taste. I would rather eat fungus-ridden toenails dipped in sour milk chunks than have this anywhere near my sandwich. There actually was a fire at the Branston factory not long ago, causing panic and mayhem across the UK as the tastebud-impaired masses stormed the shops to stock up before supplies dwindled. If anyone asks, I was with a large group of people who can account for my whereabouts….mmmmwaahahahahaha!!

Noble Savagery Explained

Okay, so I didn’t write the next day, it’s been more like a week and a half. Oops! My procrastination and laziness got the better of me…Never to fear though, as today I will explain the origins and meaning of Noble Savagery. First, the standard definitions:

no·ble ( P ) Pronunciation Key (nbl)adj. no·bler, no·blest
Having or showing qualities of high moral character, such as courage, generosity, or honor: a noble spirit.

sav·age ( P ) Pronunciation Key (svj)adj.
Not domesticated or cultivated; wild: savage beasts of the jungle.
Not civilized; barbaric: a savage people.
Ferocious; fierce: in a savage temper.
Vicious or merciless; brutal: a savage attack on a political rival. See Synonyms at cruel.
Lacking polish or manners; rude.

Now apparently, because I am an American living in the UK and have retained my savage American-ness and combined it with the more polished, civilized way of life in England (according to my obviously biased and British husband), I am therefore a Noble Savage. If you too are an American living abroad, you are most likely a Noble Savage. Your way of life, manner of speaking, and what you eat, wear, listen to, see, believe, and do are probably at least moderately, if not drastically, different than what you ate, wore, listened to, believed in and did in the States. Your accent may have changed. Maybe you don’t say “awesome” or “dude” anymore. Maybe you have actually gotten used to regular portion sizes and nearly puke every time you visit home and go out to eat. Maybe, just maybe, you are a Noble Savage too.

So far, it probably seems that I am promoting the more Noble way of life and shunning my roots, my Savageness. This is not true. I am not what you would call patriotic in George W. Bush terms (i.e. blindly trusting my government and worshipping Jesus and the flag), but I am still proud to be an American, even when I am ashamed of what the government has done. I am proud to be from such a varied, beautiful land where thousands upon thousands of acres still sit virtually untouched and remote to all except roaming wildlife, nature hikers, and serial killers looking to bury their victims. I am proud to be from a place where people actually smile at each other on the street and complete strangers will help dig your car out of the snow at 3am in a blizzard; where cities run 24 hours a day and 2.5 Americans per year are killed by pencil sharpeners; where prizes are awarded for gluttony and Coke refills are free. It is that combination of peace and insanity that makes me love and cherish it.

When I hear the history of how America was built and settled (okay, aside from blatant land-grabbing and murdering the natives) and read about the hardships and persecution that millions of people endured just to be free and live their lives in a vast wonderland, I think that’s pretty amazing. The technology, industry, inventions, literature, music, ideas and beauty that have been produced there is mind-blowing. America used to stand for something far greater and more powerful than being a global superpower in terms of military and money. It used to be more than a place, it was an epiphany.

Then came the SUVs, PCs, STDs, and WMDs. (Do we spell anything anymore?) More importantly, do we stand for anything anymore, other than always winning? How can one achieve the Nobleness necessary for doing great things, yet retain the Savageness that allows us to survive?

I think that living in a foreign country brings all of these things to mind because when you are faced with a different language (or dialect in cases of other English-speaking countries), a different culture, and a different mentality, you can’t help but question and reassess your own.

So then, a Noble Savage is an expat (or expat wannabe) who appreciates and cares for their roots but is willing to question, explore, challenge and antagonise that place in the hopes that one day it will retain its former glory. Beter yet, that it will evolve into something no one thought possible or dared to dream…

Okay, that’s the serious part over. On to the fun stuff! On these pages, I will explore all aspects of expat life, particularly in the UK since that is where my expertise and home lie. Politics, culture, humour, social norms and values, language, attitudes, fashion, music, books, movies, food, laws, practices, pets, fetishes, slang words, chocolate bars : none will be spared.

Do not be disconcerted by my grammar, I will use both British and American spellings and will switch back and forth between slang — it’s just my transatlanticness taking hold. Can’t completely let go of one and can’t fully accept the other. How typical of a Noble Savage.

Intro

Hmmm. Is there really any way to start a blog that’s not lame? I’m not going to reveal my name, occupation, hobbies, thoughts and problems quite yet, so what’s left? Maybe I should try to work out why I’ve started this in the first place. Off the top of my head, those reasons are:

1. Though I prefer writing things down on actual, real paper (gasp!) and communicating via completely pointless and randomly chosen greeting cards (the kind found in head shops and independently-owned stationery stores), I have found myself resignedly nodding when my husband sings the praises of blogging — maybe it’s time for me to join the 21st century after all. We’ll see…
2. I do actually have aspirations to be a writer of some description at some point in my life, so I might as well get used to people reading my work and then rejecting it. Sigh.
3. They say idle hands are the devil’s workshop. No, I’m not saying that I believe that BS, just that maybe someday I will find “They” and then slowly strangle them with my idle, sedentary hands. My grip on the remote control is pretty good and I do believe that cracking my knuckles incessantly counts as a hand workout. So there.
4. I need something to do with my time

So there you have it. I suppose I’ll be back tomorrow with my second entry, where I will explain the complexities of Noble Savagery and maybe a bit more about myself.