10 Things We Cling to From the Mother Country

This week we turn the tables and ponder the habits we still adhere to from the countries of our birth:

Mike:

1. My flag: I had an American flag flying from every place I lived in the States and I see no reason not to have one here. The only concession is, now that I am a dual citizen, I put up the Union Flag on Remembrance Day and replace it with the American flag on Memorial Day. My neighbors think I’m a nutter.

2. The “H” thing: Sorry, but it’s “urb” not “herb.” Herb is short for Herbert. And besides, it drives my wife potty, like when I say “a LUM in um” instead of “al u MIN i um.”

3. The “Z” thing: Whenever possible, when making an example, I say “Company XY ZEEEEE,” instead of “XY ZED,” just to let them know they say it wrong.

4. Coffee: I brought a thermal pint coffee mug over from America with me. I still use it.

5. Thanksgiving: if you’re an American, it’s in your genes; you must celebrate.

6. Rinsing the dishes: I know this tradition of leaving soapy dishes in the dish drainer is becoming out-dated, but many people—my wife included—still subscribe to this habit. To an American, it is just wrong. Consequently, I do the dishes.

7. Fruit of the Loom underwear and white tube socks: Just before I moved overseas, I went to Sam’s Club and bought a bale of each. I still have them.

8. Ketchup: The universal condiment; it goes on everything, except French toast.

9. Expecting good customer service: If we go into a restaurant and no one comes to take our order in the first ten minutes, I’m ready to walk out.

10. Driving on the right: I still drive on the right side of the road, as God intended. It keeps my passengers alert and the looks on the faces of the people in the oncoming traffic are priceless. (Note to the serious minded: I’m just kidding.)


Toni:

1. Saying "Please", despite the fact that it sometimes sounds either very needy or just plain ridiculous. Now I know some Americans are going to take exception to this, so please do your own private survey. I have been taking notes on this specific point for over ten years, all over the US. I have found that Americans rarely use the word itself when making a request, although no rudeness is intended. In fact, because of the intonation, they usually sound very polite. As a Brit however, I'd be looking over my shoulder for my mother if I omitted the word.

2. Making my kids say "Please". Parents all over the UK are seen withholding treats until the magic word is heard. Despite years of doing this and role-modelling the use of the word, my kids still seem to think it's optional. Apparently they warn their friends before coming to the house, that a "please" now and then would be a good thing.

3. Spreading butter or margarine on bread when making a sandwich. I have had little 6 year olds recoil in horror when I do this (and yes, I make them another one). My question is, how do you get the ingredients to stay in there without the marg?

4. Booting my kids out of the stroller/pushchair before they start school. Living in an urban area where everyone walks, it's quite common to see young children the size of small adults, being pushed around everywhere. If they don't want to walk, get one of those plastic wagons for cryin' out loud.

5. Walking instead of driving. In the interests of time, I sometimes drive when I could easily walk, but we live about an eighth of a mile from school and I never drive them there. It would take longer to get the car out, and by the time I found a parking spot, I'd be right outside my front door. However, other parents never fail to tell me how "good" I am because I walk.

6. Hankies up the sleeve. Yes, I know it's a disgusting habit and I am getting much better at not stuffing the hankie up my sleeve, but I don't always have pockets. (OK, OK, I know.)

7. Things on toast. Beans, scrambled egg, poached egg, spaghetti hoops. You name it but most Americans don't touch it, including my kids. It's a real shame because anything on toast makes a great, quick meal. (The Little Guy will have beans next to toast, but not on it.)

8. Food pronunciations. I can say "bayzil" without much of a problem but I can't make the transition to the American "tomaydo". There's just too many letters to change in the one word. First the "a" becomes an "ay", then the "t" gets the "d" sound. No. And I pronounce "herb" with an audible "h" because, well, it's there.

9. Almost laughing when someone calls me "ma'am". When I first lived in the States I was in Texas where everyone (including other women) calls you "ma'am". (If you're female that is.) In the mid-west it's still heard and I always have to check to make sure someone's not being funny.

10. Calling myself English. I know my passport says "British" but back when I lived there we pretty much all referred to ourselves as English, Irish etc. Now, if someone asks if I'm British (as opposed to Australian and South African, which I also get) I inadvertently say "English actually".

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You Want Ketchup on That?

The Yanks, the Brits and their Sandwiches

This week's guest blogger is Dylan A Brit Out of Water "One Man's Struggle in a Foreign Land." During his 580 (and counting) days in exile, he has found much to comment on, today he gives us his views on The Sandwich.

Mike:

When people ask me what is different about Britain and I tell them, “everything,” they think I’m exaggerating. But when something as simple and ubiquitous as a sandwich can cause confusion, you know you are dealing with decidedly disparate cultures.

First of all, the British have no concept of the Peanut butter and Jelly Sandwich. That’s right, PB&J does not exist here, and when you explain what it is, the idea leaves them slightly horrified. And when you get to my next point, you’ll see why.

To a Brit, making a sandwich involves these three steps, from which they rarely waver: 1) take two slices of bread, 2) butter both of them, 3) put something between them. The culture is so steeped in this “bread and butter” routine that they appear unable to break it. I once ordered a chicken sandwich at a deli and asked the lady if I could have mayonnaise on it. “Of course,” she said, then proceeded to butter my bread and then put mayonnaise on it. So you can appreciate how the idea of peanut butter and jelly might be a bit disturbing; frankly, it disturbs me in that context.

The upside is, what they put between the slices, is good, imaginative and tasty. And, if like me, you are partial to butter, the odd fixation they have with this dairy-based spread, while jarring at first, does not detract from the overall effect. Branson Pickle, a sort of heavy relish, is commonly used as a compliment to the filling in sandwiches, or as the filling itself. Cucumber sandwiches are tasty, as are bacon butties and fish finger sandwiches (these are fish sticks, for you easily-startled Americans).

But my all time favourite (for bizarreness, not tastiness) is the chip buttie. This is, quite simply, a French fry sandwich, with buttered bread, naturally. They’re quite popular with the pub crowd, though not as popular at the kebab. This is only Sandwiches 101, however, so we’re not going to mention them

If it wasn’t for the presence of Marmite coupled with the total absence of the Reuben Sandwich on this island, I would have declared Britain the clear winner in this round. As it is, I’ll call it just slightly in favour of the UK.


Dylan:

As Mike so rightly says, the biggest difference between sandwiches in the US and the UK is the use of mayonnaise or butter. However, given that the UK is the original home of the sandwich, I’ll just say that the British are right and let the matter rest.

The problem with buying a sandwich in the US is that, with very rare exceptions, sandwiches don’t come pre-packaged. Having spent twenty years buying boxes of sarnies freshly made that morning, I’d got used to lunch being a minimal human contact event in which you made your selection, paid your money and waltzed out of the shop free to chomp on your cheese and pickle sandwich to your heart’s content.

In New York, however, buying a sandwich involves the kind of rapid fire questioning that you would expect if you were, say, in the final round of a gameshow attempting to win the grand prize. Ask for something simple like a chicken sandwich, and you’ll have at least thirteen queries thrown at you in the space of three seconds, including (but not limited to) ‘what kind of bread?’, ‘do you want mustard?’, ‘lettuce and onion?’ and ‘what is the capital of Ecuador?’ You’re only allowed to pass on one question, else they send you to the back of the line to desperately swot up your answers in an attempt to get served.

Of course, being a Brit in America doesn’t exactly help when it comes to getting your hands on everyone’s favourite bread-based snack product. Ask for a tuna sandwich and you’ll get chicken unless you deliberately pronounce it ‘toona’. An appeal for tom-ah-toes will automatically result in death stares.

Still, you can’t argue with the value offered by American sandwiches. My Little Sis has been to the States just once, and when I texted her to ask what she thought, her only response was “Huge sandwiches!”. And she’s right. As everyone knows, size matters in America – and never more so than with the sandwich. I can only assume that some arcane law decrees that there must be precisely seventeen times as much filling as bread in all American sandwiches, such is the amount of stuff that’s piled into them.

Don’t get too excited though – the only two things allowed in American sandwiches are turkey and cheese. You may think you occasionally see other ingredients, such as lettuce or onion, but be aware that every single one has been industrially manufactured from either turkey or cheese. Sometimes from both.

Is it any wonder that so many people eat bagels with cream cheese instead?



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