Sweet England
Welcome to London — Episode 14
London. Sunday. 3.50 pm. “You have never -” she snorts in disgust and grabs my arm.
“Where are we going?” I ask out of breath, wondering what suddenly happened.
My friend Hannah and I were strolling along the south bank promenade and enjoyed the Sunday afternoon when she had one of her moments.
“We get you some education!”
She mumbles something that sounds like “not on my watch”, however, I only asked what Tunnok’s Caramel are.
Please excuse my silly questions from time to time. Although I am living in the UK for quite a while now, I obviously have not discovered all of it, yet. And things that might seem perfectly normal for you, are pure magic for me.
Hannah, in particular, has a special way of answering these silly questions — like the one time we spent the rest of the day in the National Museum because I wanted to know why on earth the English still deny the usage of the metric system. I really should know better by now.
My carelessly asked question leads us now into the next grocery store and straight towards the sweets.
I don’t bother any more, that there is an entire aisle for crisps alone. Watching my colleagues eating crisps for lunch every single day I do understand that this is a passion. My friend’s aunty even packs us crisps for the way each time we head off for a motorbike ride for a couple of hours!
Where a German supermarket offers a couple of brands and flavours of crisps there are different types and salt levels per flavour multiplied by the brands in a British supermarket. One would think there is this one flavour salt and vinegar — by most nations considered as the most disgusting combination after liquorice chocolate — but there are at least ten different salt and vinegar crisps, some a bit more salty, some a bit more vinegary …
And there is more: spicy ones, different shapes, flavoured with cheese or bacon or onions, Walkers, McCoy’s, Tyrells …
Hannah unconsciously grabs a bag of vegetable crisps while she passes the shelf with practised routine and approaches the sweets with firm steps.
Admittedly the various wrappings colourfully winking from the shelves look rather tempting. Hannah stacks several packages in her basket with occasional Ahhs and Ooohs fully concentrated on her task.
I feel like a child spending all my pocket money on junk behind my mums back and smile to myself. It’s probably a dream come true when you need a basket just to carry your sweets.
Back on the south bank we find a seat on one of this weird shaped, bright orange benches and start our feast.
Giggling like five-year-olds we spread the pray on our labs and search our treasures.
I pop a bite of Rocky Roads in my mouth and moan in delight. “Mhhh, that is fantastic!”
“I told you,” Hannah replies with a satisfied look on her face and digs up the next item for me to taste.
We eat our way through Percy Piglets and chocolate Eclairs towards the vegetable crisps. Apparently the British are not afraid of frying anything on their hunt for new crisp flavours and here I am now eating fried — and of course, salted — beetroot and parsnip and, what should I say, it is not half bad.
We joke and laugh while we feast and slowly the sun sets over the river on this autumn afternoon.
“You haven’t tried these, yet.” Hannah drops the last package in my lab which has still an unbroken seal.
“I think I have to be sick, if I eat one more bite,” I reply and eyeball the chocolate bites suspiciously.
“The last one, I promise. They are the best,” Hannah insists and I chuckle, “You said that about every other thing we tried today.”
“And did I let you down?”
True, the sweets were better than I imagined. England is not necessarily known for its haute cuisine and nor for caring a lot what they feed into their organism to keep it going. A nation with fried — what else — fish and potatoes as their national dish, well, what to expect.
However, I give in and open the seal on the last box. The lid bounces open invitingly and I take my first bite of Millionaire’s Shortbread.
Goodness! I swear in German.
“All those years I had no idea,” I sigh and have to grab another one, although my belly feels like it’s going to burst any minute now, loaded with all this crap.
Hannah’s face shows something, easily mistaken for jealousy when she angles for the shortbread in the box herself.
“I wish I could experience it for the first time again, like you,” she laughs and packs our treasures in her bag.
“What are you doing? These are staying with me!” I snatch the package before they disappear in the depth of her rucksack and we both laugh.
With this newly gained knowledge, I obviously have to share it with the world. The English can hardly be so selfish to keep all their delicious stuff to themselves.
As I book my flight to go back home to Germany I book some additional luggage as well. I need to collect some stuff from home and why not bring something on my way there?
Each time I go home I plan my time most efficient — who would have expected that from a German. Anyway, I always try to visit most friends in the short time and I am going to spoil them with some tasty souvenirs.
There is something for every taste: Extra salty crisps — they are probably prohibited in Germany — extra sticky caramels, extra crunchy nuts …
From my 10kg check-in luggage I shall admit that I only fill a small portion with personal stuff I need, while I still have enough cloth and such at home to survive for a couple of days, and yet I use up all my space.
I snicker to myself when I lift my suitcase on the belt and read 9.8kg on the scale while the lady wraps the obligatory label around the handle.
To A. — Who introduced me to Millionaire’s Shortbread.
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