Luxury food doesn’t have to be expensive, and expensive food isn’t always the definition of luxury
The other day, I got to thinking about the matter of luxury in food, and for a few moments all I could picture was fish and chips in some lovely but out-of-season seaside town. The batter would be crisp, the peas would be mushy, and afterwards I wouldn’t want for anything - save, perhaps, for a pontefract cake pulled from a paper bag in my pocket and chewed on the way home.
But, of course, there are other things, too. To me, homemade mayonnaise is about as luxurious it gets. So is cheese on toast with Worcestershire sauce – though only late at night after a concert or the theatre when, perched at the kitchen table in your best frock, you might imagine yourself a character in a Nancy Mitford novel. I love lobster, but since the advent of various high-profile lobster-based restaurants, I only consider it truly luxurious if it has come from the fishmonger or, even better, a quayside. Caviar is delicious, but it’s expensive rather than luxurious. All that loot, but you’re still only opening a tin. Then again, if someone made me scrambled eggs that were laced with caviar, and brought them to me on buttered toast in bed, I would certainly consider that luxurious. I would also refuse ever to allow them to leave my side.
Caviar is delicious, but all that loot and you’re still only opening a tin
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