Right browned off with mildly diverting things a clueless immigrant learnt this week

by awindram

  •  [tweetmeme source=”awindram” only_single=false]British food stores:
    Sod solidarity. There’s a fortune to be made by expats ripping off other expats. I’m specifically looking at you owners of “British” food stores. You know we’re moronic enough and nostalgic enough to spend a small fortune on a Yorkie bar or a Cadbury’s Double-Decker? The employees at World Market must laugh and lick their lips whenever anyone with a pasty, British complexion hoves into view. “Ohhhhh, hob-nobs! Ohhhhh, ginger beer!” Yes, it might only cost 50 pence for a Curly Wurly back in the UK, but here it’s got the same street value as the purest Colombian nose candy. So no more going to the likes of “Carry on at Tea and Sympathy” in Greenwich village. Besides, the most British thing about that store is its customer service, and I’m convinced it’s really staffed by New York hipsters doing bad Liam Gallagher impressions.
  • A1 Sauce versus HP sauce:
    And what’s the cause of me being even more pissy than normal? It’s because I’ve tried some A1 steak sauce for the first time, that’s why. For the last year I’ve been carefully nursing in my fridge a bottle of HP brown sauce. Fastidiously rationing it out in small quantities whenever I’ve used it so that I don’t finish the bottle too quickly. And all that time it turned out that A1 steak sauce tastes exactly like HP sauce. Yes, I’ve checked on the internet and there are plenty of other Brits in the US complaining that A1 is nothing like HP sauce, but really it is. Or it’s close enough. It’ll more than do. And if you’re still not convinced shouldn’t you be finding something better in life to be a connoisseur of than brown sauce?
  • Ferrero Rocher:
    As far as Ferrero Rocher goes it’s still the mid-80s as people here seem to still think of them as being a little bit on the posh side. I saw in an upmarket deli in Philadelphia that they were selling individual Ferrero Rochers by the counter as if they were fine, hand-crafted chocolate truffles instead of them depressingly aspirational and nowadays about as sophisticated as a dinner party that starts with a prawn cocktail and ends with a Vienneta.
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