Modenus has English friends. The English friends talk about all sorts of rituals that are important to them; drinking tea, of course, drinking warm beer, moaning about the weather and Sunday lunch.
Sunday Lunch is a fixture, a custom, a ritual and a delight. It can be at home around the dinning table, in a pub or on a cloth spread out on Hampstead Heath or the local equivalent.
If it is at home or in the pub it will, indeed must, feature roast meat, roast potatoes and some sort of pudding. Wine and beer are probable. On the Heath the food and wine flow. People may eat slices of cold meat, the dreaded pork pie and pickled onions or any of the exotic concoctions that Londoners , and ok, we are talking about Londoners, forage from the city that is host to six and a half million people from around the globe.
The two essential ingredients for Sunday lunch, however, are plenty of time and people you love. This is how it works. You sit, you relax, you gossip, you share, you enjoy each other. Sometimes family, sometimes friends, sometimes both.
It’s a bit like a weekly Thanksgiving without the stress. And we’ll drink to that.
Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, veg. And enough room for rhubarb crumble or Eaton Mess for ‘afters’?
The Garrison pub in Bermondsey Street London. A civilised place for any meal.
And enjoying sunset from Hampstead Heath. You are going to have to imagine the picnic. It’s gone!