I am a literary giant in Russia

Chapter 249 The Birth of Fish and Chips and an Invitation from Germany

When Adam and Eve were farming and weaving
And who is a gentleman?
—John Paul, 1381

During his many days in England, Mikhail rarely had a moment to rest. Almost every day he had something different to do. What was rather strange was that Mikhail felt completely able to keep up and showed no signs of fatigue.

Mikhail looked at himself: "?"

Oh no, could it be that I spent too much time with Belinsky and caught the workaholic virus?
To avoid completely falling into this trap, Mikhail chose to take a day off today.

So, Mikhail, who went to bed at 10 p.m. last night, slept straight until almost noon today. After fully waking up, Mikhail left his fairly nice rented apartment and began his shop-hunting adventure for the day.

Although he couldn't have high hopes for the food in Britain, Mikhail, having come all this way, occasionally wanted to experience the local customs and culture.

Food is a big deal in any country, and Mikhail has discovered quite a few interesting phenomena during his travels and observations over the past few days.

First, there was the problem of food adulteration. As early as the 1820s, Akum and the chemist Davy—who was Faraday's teacher—co-authored the book "Adulterated Foods and Food Poisoning," which shows that food adulteration in London had reached a very serious level during this period.

As a result, housewives have to be extra careful when shopping and try to distinguish between true and false food rumors.

For example, there are rumors that sheep brains are added to milk to make it whiter and thicker, and that roasted and chopped horse liver and sawdust are added to coffee. According to British magazines Punch and The Gardener's Chronicle, in the 1850s, potato starch was added to everything from cocoa powder to pepper.

Given this phenomenon, it is natural that large companies would manipulate people's fears to profit from them. Among them, Cadbury, which advertised its chocolate as "absolutely pure and of course the best," became the world's largest chocolate manufacturer at the end of the 19th century by using this method.

Looking at it from the perspective of later generations, one can only say that some of these tactics have proven effective time and again.

While thinking about these things, Mikhail unknowingly arrived at a street with many stalls. After just one glance, Mikhail walked towards a stall that he was very familiar with.

Strictly speaking, there were quite a few street food vendors and small vendors in Britain during this period, especially on Saturday nights. Many workers and residents flocked to the streets, vying to sell shoelaces, baby carriers, ribbons, oranges, biscuits and all sorts of other things. After all, for them, setting up a food stall or selling other things was the best way to supplement their household income.

However, although there are many street food options, most of the food from these stalls is difficult for Mikhail to swallow due to the lack of seasonings. So, is there anything he can eat?
Some brothers, yes.

Upon seeing the familiar middle-aged man who had aged prematurely due to life's hardships, Mikhail smiled and said, "Mr. John, give me a roasted potato."

It's really hard to make roasted potatoes taste bad; anyone who can roast potatoes badly is truly a genius.
Because of this characteristic of potatoes, its customers truly come from all walks of life, and this is the street food that Mikhail has eaten most often during his many days in the UK.

"You're here again? I'll get it to you right away."

Upon seeing that the visitor was the familiar, handsome young man, Old John's eyes immediately lit up. Faced with such a generous and likable customer, Old John immediately said warmly, "I'll bring you the biggest one right away."

As he said this, Old John couldn't help but complain, "But the bigger potatoes have all been picked up by those Irishmen. They especially love roasted potatoes, but they are the worst customers I've ever had in this business!"

Although Mikhail thought it was only natural, he didn't say much. He simply listened to Old John's rambling on and on. Only after Old John handed him the potatoes did Mikhail, blowing on them while roasting, ask with a smile:
Do you remember the suggestion I gave you last time? How have you considered it?

"of course I remember."

When the topic came up, old John was still a little confused and said, "I know about fried fish; it's often sold with bread. But why cut potatoes into strips, fry them, and then sell them with fried fish? What do you call this dish? Fish and chips?"

"Yes. It should also be served with a little salt and vinegar."

Mikhail replied with a smile.

"What a strange combination! How could you have thought of such a thing?"

Old John scratched his head, somewhat puzzled, and said, "Do you really think this combination will be popular, sir? There are more and more people selling roasted potatoes these days, and some are even fighting over good spots."

John the Bread, this later became the national dish of England!

Although fish and chips appeared earlier, the combination did not officially appear in London until the 19s.

In 2012, in a poll asking "What do you think best represents Britain?", fish and chips beat the Beatles, afternoon tea, Shakespeare, Buckingham Palace, and the Queen to become the ultimate symbol in the hearts of the British people.

At this moment, facing old John's question, Mikhail simply nodded and said, "It definitely will. You can try it when you have time."

After smiling and saying these words to the hardworking and honest old John, Mikhail soon bid farewell to him while munching on his roasted potato.

But after Mikhail left, old John couldn't help but mutter to himself again, "Fish and chips, fish and chips. This gentleman seems very reliable, but..."

And so, old John pondered for a long time. Because Mikhail had left a very good impression on him, and he was well aware that he was a truly knowledgeable gentleman, plus the cost of giving it a try was not high.

So on this very ordinary day, old John decided to try this so-called fish and chips.

And so, many years later, even on his deathbed, old John was still calling out Mikhail's name.
Of course, that's all in the future.

At that moment, Mikhail, reflecting on what he had just said, couldn't help but laugh out loud while munching on a potato. Roasted potatoes taste really good!

But for Mikhail, one roasted potato was clearly not enough. As he walked, Mikhail, having thought of something, went to a shop he was more familiar with.

Strictly speaking, before the Industrial Age gradually destroyed past traditions, Britain seemed to have many traditional foods. In fact, during this period, London's markets were filled with a large number of cookbooks, such as Eliza Acton's "Modern Cooking in the Private Household," published in 1845.

In this book, she describes how to make a variety of dishes, such as a soup of fruit peel thickened with arrowroot starch, crabapple jelly, Acton's gingerbread, roasted beef liver marinated in lemon, roasted pigeon with rattan leaves, and candied wild Blass plums in rich cream.
To be fair, some of the things still sound rather dark, but there are indeed some dishes that can be tried as a British experience.

When Mikhail confidently arrived at a restaurant that did a decent job in this area, the restaurant owner's words, which immediately caught Mikhail's attention, made him gasp:
“Mr. Mikhail! You’ve come at the perfect time! We’ve made the Stargazing Pie you mentioned last time. Would you like to try it now?”

Mikhail: "???"
I just had a sudden thought and asked you why you actually took it so seriously?
Just as Mikhail was thinking this, the restaurant owner continued enthusiastically, "What you said last time was really interesting! I thought such a wonderful shape might really attract a lot of customers, so I gave it a try. Wouldn't you like one? It's your invention!"

"You've completely misunderstood that."

Mikhail, his face darkening, patiently explained, “I think I told you last time that this practice originated in the Cornish fishing village of Mousehole in the late 16th century. Local legend has it that fisherman Tom Bawcock caught seven kinds of fish during a storm to save the starving villagers, and the residents baked whole fish into pies to commemorate this event.”

This is a fine traditional dish of yours, and has little to do with me.

"As an Englishman, I have never heard of such a legend before. Where did you hear it from?"

The restaurant owner replied in surprise, "In my opinion, even if there were such a thing, I'm sure you deserve half the credit for making this dish. But it's certainly a good story, and I've already figured out how to promote it."

Mikhail: “???”

Are you really going to pin this label on me?!

Would you like one?

"Give me one, I'll try it."

Driven by a sense of curiosity, Mikhail ultimately ordered a dish, but the moment he put it in his mouth, he instantly regretted it.

All I can say is that for him, the fish died in vain, and the pie was a complete waste.
However, in the end, Mikhail, who was determined not to waste anything, still finished the thing with a dark expression.

It must be said that this thing ultimately did not exceed Mikhail's tolerance limit. If it had, then Mikhail would have packed it up and randomly given it to a lucky audience member.

Mikhail hastily finished his lunch. Although the dining experience wasn't great, thanks to his stomach, which had been toughened up by a life of hardship, Mikhail managed to compose himself and return home.

As mentioned at the beginning, Mikhail is going to take a day off today.

Although it was supposed to be a holiday, Mikhail didn't really have any entertainment to do. He got tired of activities like playing cards after a while. Besides, whenever he started playing cards, a bunch of men would stare at him, seemingly wanting to learn his card-playing skills, which eventually became a bit of a headache.

As for chatting and gossiping with various people, that's best to leave it for now. There's been too much socializing lately, and Mikhail has entered a period of fatigue.

So in the end, Mikhail sat down at the desk, propping his head up with one hand and flipping through the poetry collections of Byron and Keats with the other.

Occasionally, a breeze would slip in from outside, ruffling Mikhail's hair and causing him to yawn lazily.

But looking at the poetry collection in his hand, Mikhail suddenly thought of some amusing things about Byron and Shelley.

In short, feuds and mutual attacks were also common among British writers. In the early 19th century, Byron, living in a luxurious apartment on Piccadilly, showed little affection for the humble Keats, even calling his poems "bedwetting poems" in a letter to his publisher. Some of Keats's works, however, were...
"Describing lust... is like the kind of pleasure an Italian violinist derives from his daily encounters with prostitutes in Drury Lane..."

Mikhail can only say that the description of "bedwetting poem" is absolutely brilliant.

Keats himself responded to this: "There is a huge difference between us. Byron describes what he saw, while I describe what I imagined—my task is the most difficult."

Even after Keats' death, Byron continued to attack his poetry, describing it as "a mixture of East London dialect and country slang," and said: "Stop publishing Keats' poems, please: skin him alive; if any of you refuse, I will skin him alive myself."

If that were all, it wouldn't be so bad. But Keats once wrote such moving lines for Byron: "You sing so sweetly and sadly, you make the heart resonate with tenderness." Moreover, both of them had a complicated relationship with Shelley. So whether they truly appreciated each other or were locked in a love-hate relationship, only they themselves probably knew the answer.

When Mikhail read Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale," specifically the lines "O thou, winged tree spirit, among the green leaves and shadows of the beech," he was in high spirits and couldn't help but hum a tune.

Just as these beautiful poems, simple melodies, sunshine, and gentle breezes were about to make up Mikhail's idle day, a knock on the door suddenly sounded. When Mikhail opened the door, he received two letters from the postman.

After thanking him and closing the door, Mikhail, though reluctant to disrupt his current state, opened the letter Turgenev had sent out, driven by curiosity.

Turgenev was as usual, first talking about his recent situation in Paris and his high spirits, then talking about some gossip in Parisian high society and literary circles, and then seemingly bringing up something about Germany.

Mikhail continued reading.
(End of this chapter)