Food And Religion

Back From England
I managed, albeit with some difficulty, to get to England for Christmas to see my mother and “kids”. Chiddingfold village looked very pretty in the snow but driving around was hazardous and I thought the TV programmes on offer over the holiday period particularly uninteresting this year. So I spent a lot of time reading Nathaniel's Nutmeg and learning about the origins of the East India Company, keeping my mother's bird feeders stocked up and acting as general cook and bottle-washer. The carers who came in twice a day to see my mother were cheerful and helpful and so the holiday period passed quietly and uneventfully. My mother is very frail now as her heart is failing bit by bit and I think that may be her last Christmas; I'm glad she enjoyed it.

When I return to England I find that my eating habits tend to revert (but with some ideas for meals culled from France). I start off the first day or two with just a couple of slices of toast for breakfast but then the lure of a kipper or bacon and tomatoes proves too much. As a visiting French professor once said to me, the English breakfast is not a meal, it is an institution. Anyway, that's my excuse. Now, though, an English breakfast lasts me right through until the evening. And in the evening I revert to the all-on-one-plate type of meal. That, in fact, is becoming the norm in France. When I went to the wedding of my late French friend Claude in 1964, the wedding breakfast consisted of 10 courses, but potatoes and peas, for example, were served as separate courses (each cooked and dressed to perfection). That custom has almost disappeared, although vegetables are normally served in separate platters at the same time as the meat.

I brought back with me some pheasant's breasts wrapped in bacon which I shall cook as a belated Christmas dinner (the same as I cooked in Chiddingfold) for Steve, Jo and Mana tomorrow evening. Pheasant is unobtainable here except as pâté, although there must be plenty elsewhere in France. And I must invite Daniel and Patricia to eat later in the week. Creating a meal for Daniel and Patricia involves overcoming a few constraints. Daniel has an allergy to all milk products and especially cheese. Patricia is a jewess who observes the dietary restrictions of her faith; so no pork or shellfish. However, a lot is possible within these constraints.

Thinking about this led me to reflect on the dietary restrictions imposed by various religions. I have been told that the Anglican faith is the only major religion that imposes no such restrictions, although I've no idea whether that is true; it could well be. Most such restrictions strike me as having had a reasonable foundation in the past which simply does not apply today and so I wonder why some intelligent people choose still to adhere to them. Patricia, obviously, does but yet another jewess and summer visitor to the village, Hallie, completely ignores them (although she says she offers up a silent apology to her long-deceased grandmother when she transgresses).

All this reminds me of a good Malian friend, Vincent, whom I knew when I was in Senegal. Vincent had been educated in France through the helpful intervention of a French consul and returned to his village after passing his baccalaureate. His father welcomed him as the prospective future chief of the village and had thoughtfully arranged a good marriage for him in his absence, to a 10-year old girl. Vincent had declined and gone off to seek his fortune in Dakar. While I was sitting drinking a beer with him one day, Vincent explained that his father had written to him saying that he would refrain from cutting Vincent off completely from his family, village and inheritance if Vincent would observe the dietary restrictions of Islam for a year; and that Vincent had agreed to do. Hearing this, I pointed out to Vincent that we were drinking beer. Vincent replied asking whether I had noticed him put a finger into his beer and shaking the beer off his finger before drinking. I hadn't. “Ah”, said Vincent, “the Koran states that just one drop of alcohol will damn you to eternal perdition so I always take out that drop before drinking the rest.”