Similarly, in the American imagination, the British are all highly genteel, pale-skinned folk, who sip tea out of dainty bone china cups at exactly four p.m. every day, and take tiny bites out of their cucumber sandwiches to avoid baring their horrific teeth. Of course, most Brits are more likely to be swigging gin or alcopops from a tin mug than Earl Grey by the time four o’clock comes around, but as with French and Mexican stereotypes, these outdated notions retain an element of truth.

In this case, the Victorian era high-tea of, well, tea and various sandwiches and cakes isn’t a tradition that has survived intact. However, the summertime practice of taking ones tea (meaning the meal here) out of doors in a kind of impromptu and slightly lame picnic is still going strong, particularly since the tea (meaning the drink here) is commonly replaced by another Victorian era stalwart, Pimm’s.

As I wrote last year, prior to the industrial revolution, London’s East End and Docklands area was known for the quality of its shellfish. The large tidal range on that part of the Thames revealed great and healthy mudflats at low tide from which bushels of cockles, mussels, winkles, razor clams, and oysters were pulled. This bounty of shellfish meant that oyster bars were as much a part of East End life as rhyming slang, and it was typical for your working man to wash down each mouthful of crustacean with a jigger of dry gin. Now, if you’ve ever drunk cheap London dry gin neat, you’ll know that the bitter flavor can turn even the toughest Cockney’s mouth inside-out and have him clutching the Betty Grable for support.

A Little of the Back Story
So it was that in 1823, East End oyster bar owner James Pimm began serving a drink that mixed gin with quinine, citrus fruit, and spices to make it more palatable. Pimm’s cocktail, or No.1 Cup, as it became known after the small tankard it was served in, quickly became a hit, and before long even the posh folks of London’s West End were quaffing it as “The Original Gin Sling”. So popular was his beverage, that James Pimm introduced two other kinds of Pimm’s cups to London drinkers: numbers 2 and 3, based on scotch and brandy, respectively.

Indeed, by the late 1880s, Pimm’s had established itself such a following that even when the Pimm family sold their business – to no less than Sir Horatio Davies, member of Parliament and (at the time) Lord Mayor of London – the purchaser decided to keep the name. Davies expanded the Pimm’s brand to five new oyster bars around the city and succeeded in making his drinks such an integral part of Victorian life that throughout the empire from Delhi to Khartoum, Pimm’s was refreshing the British troops, tommies and officers alike. And, until the outbreak of the second World War, Pimm’s was the drink of choice for any self-respecting Britisher. This enduring popularity bringing forth a 4th “cup”, this time based on rum.

Pimm’s Gets Groovy
During the 1960s, when Britain, and particularly London – with the arrival of the Stones, Kinks, Beatles, and The Who – became cool again, sales of Pimm’s, which had dipped in the post-war years, took off. Daring to reinvent itself as the drink of the trendy, swinging classes instead of the stuffy, buttoned-up Victorians, the company launched two new cups, numbers five and six, based on rye and vodka, to great acclaim.

Ever the fashion-conscious beverage purveyor, Pimm’s capitalized on the latest era of Brit-pop cool – the mid-1990s – when Blur and Oasis were kings of indie rock, to release its ready-mixed cans of Pimm’s & Lemonade, and in certain places, Pimm’s on tap. Sadly, throughout it’s long, chameloenic history, Pimm’s has been out of fashion as often as it’s been groovy. Between 1970 and 1990, many of Pimm’s cups were phased out, with only numbers 1 and 6 currently still in regular production. The no.3 cup, based on brandy, is still sold but only seasonally nowadays as Pimm’s Winter Cup.

Personal History
In my lifetime, Pimm’s has mostly been associated with watching a cricket match, or watching things float by from a beer garden by the Thames, while scorching my pinkish skin scarlet under sunny skies. However, you don’t have to be British, in Britain, or even interested in British mod-style music to enjoy Pimm’s. Wherever the sun is shining and it’s approaching Pimm’s o’clock, there’s an opportunity to slice-up some fruit (strawberries, apples, and oranges are good), cucumber (not just for sandwiches), and mint leaves, mix yourself a large jug of Pimm’s and lemonade (lemon/lime soda is fine), and watch the sun fall into the sea.

And, lest you wonder why we’re promoting a British drink on America’s no.1 (pun intended) holiday, I should remind you that every year on or around Independence Day I am asked, by more Americans than seems possible, how we celebrate 4th July in England.

For example, in the past several years, we’ve had Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the recent remake with Johnny Depp), Chocolat, No Reservations, Super Size Me, Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle, and Fast Food Nation. Prior to that were such movies as Fried Green Tomatoes, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (the original version with Gene Wilder and his weird sweep-over), Mystic Pizza, and Jamon, Jamon.

Okay, so I hate to be film-snob, but really. Apart from that fact that only one of these movies is really about enjoying food (Chocolat), and many of them are about what’s wrong in the world of food today (SuperSize Me and Fast Food Nation) there really aren’t many good food movies out there. I should say that I didn’t see No Reservations, but that’s because it looked gash on the trailer, and that during a brief web search I found that someone else had had written about this same thing (Brownie Points Blog) from where I cribbed some of the titles above, but when you visit that site, you’ll realize (if you recognize all the films – I had only heard of half of them) that most of them aren’t really about food. They are stories that revolve somehow around food (Jamon, Jamon) – love stories mostly (must be the sensual thing, I guess) in which food is a metaphor, but, sadly, food just as food is hardly ever the central thing. Why is this? And, why do you so rarely see people eat in movies?

I mean, how often to you encounter movie scenes in which tables are laden with food, but nobody’s eating it? A lot, that’s how often. That’s why, apart from it being an excellent, thought-provoking movie, I really enjoy the scenes in Munich when the Israeli kill-squad are sitting around a table laden with brisket, vegetables and wine bottles, tucking in to a delicious meal. And, the other scene in the movie when Eric Bana’s character “Avner” is blindfolded and taken to lunch with Michael Lonsdale’s “Papa” and they all sit down and eat at a table for about thirty outside under a trellis — it’s a beautiful scene. To me, these scenes clearly show that even men focused on killing other men must eat, and when they do, it can be an enjoyable and life-affirming experience. So it depresses me that there are so many movies in which the cast are sitting at a table piled with delicious victuals and then, suddenly, it all goes west — someone gets shot or a fight starts or the dreaded monster arrives with the appetizers and the cast becomes it’s dinner and miss out on their own. Why is this?

Perhaps a focus on food is missing because watching other people eat makes you feel queasy? But then, people very readily watch gory, slasher movies while wolfing down popcorn, soda, ice-cream, hot dogs, nachos and mike & ikes every weekend. And, why do you take your girlfriend/wife out for dinner if not to sit opposite them while they eat? No, it can’t be that. Is Hollywood trying to tell us something about the family dinner, or food in general?

I’m remembering lots of occasions now when meal times get messed up in movies. For instance, Tim Roth and Amanda Plummer hold up a diner in Pulp Fiction spoiling the John Travolta and Samuel L. Jackson’s breakfasts, Kate Capshaw screams and passes out during dinner in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (due to the chilled monkey brains, I think) which must have disturbed the other guests, and, the glutton in Se7en is tied to a chair and made to eat plate after plate of spaghetti before he finally carks it. Even worse, perhaps, Marlon Brando has a heart attack among the tomato canes in The Godfather. Is Hollywood attacking gardening — the source of food — too?! I think I’ve identified something sinister here that needs exploring, and in the spirit of figuring this conspiracy out, I’m planning to sign-up to NetFlicks and begin my lengthy research into why Hollywood hates food.

Until this research is complete, please tell us what your favorite food film or food-focused movie scene is. It could be from a TV show too, if you’d prefer, but that’s almost another post in itself. I mean, the cafe in (long-running and absolutely dreadful English soap opera) Eastenders always struck me as unnecessarily grim — ugly people swilling weak tea and sullenly pushing down plates of fried eggs, sausage and fried tomato to the sounds of some crappy 80s music on a crackly radio somewhere – the whole thing just looked insanitary. Then again, the entire show is depressing and ridden with ugly people, so why should the food by any different?

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