HUNGRY GERALD

Americans are amused and sometimes repulsed by oddly named British desserts: Spotted Dick, Toad in the Hole, Roly Poly, etc. They are missing a treat. Many of these desserts make ample use of expertly made custard plus dates, raisin and other good things. There is a club in London (Members are mostly “old boys” of posh schools like Eton and Harrow) which meets periodically to consume abundant amounts of these yummies. HG is fond of bangers, the rather bland but good British sausages, and Scotch eggs, the pub treat of fried and breaded hard boiled eggs. An unpleasant habit of the British is serving canned baked beans and tinned mushrooms with a breakfast of eggs and bacon (plus cold toast, of course). At “chippies” (Fish and chips eateries), the classic duo of fish and chips (French fries) is often accompanied by “mushy peas,” a vile concoction. Most of the old criticism of British cooking (bland, mushy, boring, over-cooked) no longer applies. As a foodie destination, London is on a par with New York, filled with excellent restaurants of every description and ethnicity. But, if you are on a budget, it is wise to concentrate on Indian and Korean food. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding still stars at Simpson’s on the Strand and Dover sole rules at J. Sheekey. These are two of the world’s best dishes and are unsurpassed at these historic restaurants. A very good, properly brewed pot of tea is available all over London, even at museum cafeterias. HG/BSK always interrupt their visits at the Tate Modern and Albert & Victoria with tea plus crumpets lavishly adorned with jam and clotted cream. Londoners bemoan the fact that there are only one or two traditional “eel and pie” shops (specializing in jellied eels) remaining. HG does not share their sadness.

HG loves sole. But, like most romantics, HG is often disappointed. The filets at Whole Foods are usually cut too thin to be cooked. They lose firmness and turn to mush. However, HG is nothing if not persistent. Spotted some very fresh looking sole at Whole Foods a day ago. Filets looked reasonably thick. Had earnest discussion with young woman behind fish counter. Pick me a pound of the thickest, said HG (Firmly but courteously). Efficient woman held each filet up for HG’s approval. Bought six beauties. They were dusted with flour and sauteed in very hot grapeseed oil. No more than a minute or so a side. Served with cold soba noodles flavored with Vietnamese fish sauce, stir fried bok choy (with a dab of oyster sauce), bean sprouts (sesame oil and soy sauce). Cooked sole in two batches. Went straight from pan to plate. Very good. Of course, it wasn’t Dover Sole, that princely and pricey fish served at J. Sheekey and other great London seafood restaurants. The Dover Sole at Le Dome in Paris swims in lemony butter and is served with delectable potato puffs. Priced for Russian oligarchs. HG is watching out for Petrale Sole, that excellent fish from California’s Pacific waters. It appears sporadically at Whole Foods. Paragons of Petrale are served at the venerable Tadich Grill in San Francisco.

The coming Academy Awards reminds HG that dining is always treated in a perfunctory manner in films and television. Yes, there are elaborate dining room scenes in such Masterpiece Theater epics as Downton Abbey. The clothes are great and the service (butler, footmen, etc.) looks exquisite. But, what, exactly, are these aristocrats eating? And, is it any good? Drinking gets lots of attention. Much tippling but little tipsiness. Last night, however, HG discovered an exception to cinema’s superficial treatment of dining. After watching brilliant, funny Bill Maher, HG channel surfed. HG stopped at the film adaption of John Le Carre’s, The Constant Gardener. Here’s the scene HG watched: The film’s protagonist, played by Ralph Fiennes, is in London to meet with the aristocrat, Sir Bernard Pellegrin. Meeting place, of course, is the aristocrat’s venerable Pall Mall club. Nice camera work detailing all of the palatial spaces and antique detailing of the club. Into the dining room for lunch. Dark woods. Nicely spaced tables. Subdued lighting from chandeliers. And, here comes the great, cinematic food moment. Sir Bernard suggests sole. Mentions that it is available “Meuniere” or grilled. Fiennes’ character chooses grilled. There are some murmurs and then all action ceases as the camera focuses on an alluring still life. There is the sole, dusted with chopped parsley and glittering with melted butter. Nestled beside it on the plate are small boiled potatoes and what appears to be some fresh asparagus spears. The camera does not move. The food obsessed viewer has plenty of time to absorb this perfection. Mind you, this has nothing to do with the plot. Obviously, there was a food nut in the cutting room. If you want to experience a London Dover Sole experience, HG suggests J. Sheekey in the theater district. The dish will bend your credit card but is well worth it.

Of course, the most soulful sole is Dover sole. But, this should only be eaten — at a great price — in London (even though HG once had some splendid Dover sole at Legal Seafoods in Boston). Folks in the northeast can enjoy firm fleshed Atlantic Flounder filets. In Vancouver, HG developed a taste for sauteed brill, a sole-like Pacific flatfish. But, the closest thing to authentic Dover sole is Petrale sole from the waters off northern California. HG first had Petrale sole at the venerable Tadich Grill in San Francisco’s financial district. HG preceded the beautifully cooked fish with a few sloe gin fizzes, a delightful house specialty.

Petrale sole makes an occasional appearance at the Whole Foods fish counter. When that happens, HG pounces upon it. A quick dusting in flour. Swift saute. A generous topping of melted butter, capers and lemon juice. Finny perfection.