Wednesday, September 29th, 2010
Some books are like television cooking shows. You can only read them after you’ve had a meal, or while you’ve got a plate of food close to hand. Otherwise, they make you too hungry. Their authors’ mouth-watering descriptions of the cuisine on which their characters dine are just that good.
It seems to be a particularly British tradition. Enid Blyton’s books might be offensively old-fashioned, racist and sexist, as well as poorly-written, but she was very good at writing about food. Her books abound with blow-by-blow accounts of picnic lunches of jam sandwiches, cakes, biscuits, slices of cold chicken and ham – and don’t forget the homemade ginger beer and lemonade! Everything is covered with ‘lashings’ of butter, of course.