In which I can be bought for the price of a Chicken Bake

Okay, I feel rambly today. We’ll start one place and end up somewhere else. This one isn’t going to explode the Death Star, so much as take a few pot-shots at Mos Eisley, then scoot around aimlessly on Hoth, before spending a few centuries stuck in a swamp on Dagobah, and finally shooting at the exhaust port but just impacting on the surface.

Forgive a moment’s ex-pat cliche, but we’ll start with: British Foods That I Miss. Because, well, there are some that I miss, and it seems oddly unfair, now that we have such a global marketplace for many products, that foods are often very much not one of them.

There are sweets that I miss. Note: not candy, sweets. My chocolate fix is mostly dealt with by the fact that Hershey’s makes Cadbury milk chocolate over here in some sort of licensing deal. Though I’ve always been puzzled by the substitution here of almonds for hazelnuts. Give me a bar of Whole Nut (whose whole nuts are hazelnuts) straight from the fridge rather than a bar of Fruit & Nut any day. And never quite quite mind that sometimes a bar of Galaxy is just what I’d go for. Cadbury’s Dairy Milk does the job. As for the fruity, gummy stuff, there isn’t anything in the US that I’ve really become attached to. I’m fond of Mike and Ike, but nothing (nothing, I say) comes close to the intense fruity and filling-loosening hit of a bag of Sports Mixture or Midget Gems or, frankly, anything, from the Lion Confectionery Co., who make the best sweets in the world. Trust me.

And then bacon. Yes, yes, I know that the US has something it calls bacon. It’s a cut that we call ‘streaky bacon’ in Britain, and it’s what you choose if you can’t afford the real stuff, which is ‘back bacon’, a leaner, thicker, meatier cut. And, no, it’s not the same as Canadian Bacon – that’s something else still. US bacon has its place – which is typically as a garnish in burgers or for a bit of crispy crunch to accompany some scrambled egg at breakfast – but there’s nothing quite like a bacon sandwich made with the real stuff: three or four thick rashers, not too crispy, with good-quality but otherwise plain white bread, lots of salt, and a little mayo. Some people swear by brown sauce, or ketchup, but I’m faithful to Hellman’s myself. Yum. (Try Dino’s Grill in Spitalfields for a fantastic breakfast, and some spectacular bacon.)

Bread’s a funny item in the US, too. Two things are startling to me. The first is the vastness of the range of breads available over here. Potato breads and Hawaiian breads and sourdoughs and a huge range of wholewheat breads. The bread aisle is typically baffling to me, but I’m getting there. The second is how amazingly long this stuff lasts. US bread seems to be baked for longevity, rather than freshness. That has its advantages, of course, but I find myself missing stuff that’s still warm from the oven. Even medium-sized supermarkets in the UK mostly have their own bakery these days, and there’s a constant supply of warm, fresh baguettes and other loaves throughout the course of the day. Maybe it’s an LA thing, but I’ve yet to find a really good, fresh and crusty baguette here. (Oh, and I miss Heroes in Oxford, too.)

But perhaps none of these bizarre omissions compares to the greatest one of all: the meat pie. Say ‘pie’ in the US and what you mean is typically a pie made from cooked fruit, and typically served as dessert. That’s all well and good, but the combination of pastry (and/or perhaps potato) and meat (with perhaps some vegetables thrown in there too, if you’re lucky) is something approaching bliss. Start at Cornish pasties and then continue through sausage rolls, steak & Guinness pies, shepherd’s pie, cottage pie. (The North Gare recommendation for meat pies is Piemaker, a takeaway place on South Bridge in Edinburgh that used to be a haunt.) All the way from the hautest-cuisine Beef Wellington right down to the humble yet mighty Greggs. A complete meal in your hot little hand.

How is it that such a staple in one country can be mostly ignored in another? Beats me, and I’m in rambly mode today so I’m not even going to speculate. However – he says, emphasising that ‘mostly’ in the last sentence – I have found something that’s a reasonable analogue (if not quite equivalent) of the Greggs meal-in-your-hand-for-less-than-a-pound. Moreover, it’s politically correct. I’ll explain.

There are many reasons to be in love with Costco. I’m very much attuned to the idea of boxes piled high which you navigate through yourself – even when buying significant consumer electronics. I get very grouchy when offered unsolicited ‘help’. I’m constantly delighted by the Brobdingnagian sizes of the packs – forgive a mixed reference, but I feel like a shrinking Alice, having just nibbled the right side of mushroom. But there’s something deeply, deeply civilised about the idea of a Coke and a Hebrew National (‘We answer to a higher authority’) hot-dog for a dollar-fifty. Moreover (too many moreovers, he says, moreover), that combo is perfectly enhanced by the addition of a Chicken Bake for less than three dollars, which is actually big enough for two people. And it’s, whisper it, essentially a meat pie. It’s that beloved fusion of pastry, meat, and a few vegetables, and it’s quite yummy. Maybe you can go home, after all.

And what better than to shop somewhere that’s on the side of the angels? I’ve spent much of the last few years in the US, and I’ve yet to walk through the doors of a Wal-Mart. I can’t see that changing. It’s not that Costco pays better. It’s not that Costco’s employees get better health benefits and are unionised. It’s all about the Chicken Bake. How cheaply my allegiance can be bought.