Reason #47 that I should be a British citizen...

... I adore prawn-mayo sandwiches. I have loved them since high school, the first time I remember coming to the UK. I fully realize that many, many Britons find them revolting. I respectfully disagree with them. Further, despite the revulsion, these sandwiches are undeniably British.

Don't tell me you've never had a prawn-mayo* sandwich? Well, whenever you come to this magical country, please do indulge your baser instincts and settle down to one. Preferably one that comes like this:


This is, after all, a foodie's blog. So let's get right to the point: the food. As I remarked to J., there is something about the conceptualization of a sandwich here in England that makes sense to me. A kind of sensibility that extends to food in general: simplicity and moderation. In a sandwich, this translates to the essentials only: bread, filling, maybe a condiment or crunchy enhancement. That's it.

Let's take a closer look, shall we, at the object of my affection?


What you see here is soft wholegrain sandwich bread pillowing a proper amount of small shrimp mixed with mayonnaise, and a thin layer of crunchy iceberg lettuce. The lettuce is not strictly necessary, but I find it to be a bonus when it's included. The shrimp are tiny and tender, the mayo lubricating the whole affair and providing a richness that complements the wholegrain bread. I hesitate to use the word "pure" about a food item that comes in a triangular plastic box and costs somewhere around £2-2.50, but it's hard to deny its simplicity.

I contrast this 'sandwich sensibility' to that in the US. Like most things, of course, Americans generally value bigger over better. The Subway regime dictates that we should pack in as many ingredients as can fit between two spongy halves of vehicle-bread, just as the American concept of pizza is vehicle-dough with piles of toppings.

Not so with the impeccable prawn-mayo vehicle of tastiness, nor its brethren in sandwich cases across London, in newsagents, off-licenses, Prêt-a-Mangers, supermarkets...anywhere the telltale plastic pyramid is to be found.


While on the train where I consumed this particular specimen of seafood delight, I also drank an M&S Raspberry Brekkie to Go Go, which intrigued me for this reason: one of its four or five ingredients is... oatmeal. Call me crazy, but I had to investigate. Oatmeal -- smoothie? Smoothie -- oatmeal? Could it be that this was not disgusting?

I'm here to tell you, folks, that this is fantastic. My only complaint was that it was a little too sweet. Otherwise? Delish. The oatmeal gave it some texture and chewiness -- I'm aware of how gross this sounds, but just go with me on this -- that reminded me of eating something nutty and working on the little bits of nuts that get left behind after swallowing. Do you know what I mean? Additionally, it made this into a powerful energy-source that would probably be great for a morning when dashing to the Tube is all I can manage before 9am seminar. I've been fairly successful so far at spending next to nothing on breakfast (cereal, tea and toast, yogurt, or some combination), but I know there simply will be Those Days, and it's good to have a backup.

Thank you, England, for not letting me down. Please expect my application for citizenship shortly.



* I should explain here that, contrary to the distinction many Californians (and other Americans?) make between "prawns" and "shrimp", all of these curling sea creatures are termed "prawns" here in England, at least as far as I can tell. The prawns included in such sandwiches are what we might call "bay shrimp" in California/Oregon.