Unicorns, Leprechauns, and Steak & Kidney Pie

There are few cultures in the world that give us more pervasive myths that the British. Confused teens dance cry 'druid' and dance in sky-clad circles to the beat of the socially awkward drum, and Loch Ness is oversold while Area 51 continues its tourist dollar slump. Small wonder when Empire de Britannia once covered half the Western World, and all of the Eastern one. Pound Sterling is King, but his reign is based on a pack of lies. My wife and I took a trip to London last week, and I feel it's time to debunk some of the most powerful British legends since Arthur bent Gwen over the table round.

There is no such thing as Steak & Kidney Pie. It doesn't exist, at least not in London. Go ahead. Ask for it. Every barman I spoke with hemmed and hawed and speculated as to the availability of this elusive treasure in some forgotten northern county, but not one managed to produce. In fact, most pubs offer 'pie of the day' of a flavor identical to the offering at every other pub. As corporate UK apparently discovered the value of the four pound pint years ago, every local is the now the subsidiary of a few High Street entrepreneurs. You'll still find Proper English Breakfast, and Fish & Chips complete with fresh frozen mushy peas, but there is no percentage in sweetbread. Steak & Kidney Pie has gone the way of the Dodo.

Other myths abound. Their teeth are fine, as is the food. Despite what John Cleese has said in the past, they are not all that repressed. One of the most evil tales, however, seems pitched to keep the bastards out, much as Iceland earned its moniker.

Beer is not served warm. Who has been taking this proverbial piss, anyway? Whoever he is, he's been having us on. For Harry's sake, most beer containers sport 'best served chilled', as if the English brewer fears his own countryman to simple to pop the bottle in the icebox. While only a couple of the restaurants actually pulled out the frosty mug, malted beverages are served significantly below room temperature. The British understand that warm is for tea and cold is for beer, despite rumors to the contrary.

In fact, I met a monger grinding his rumor mill outside the Tate Modern last week. A young Dutch gentleman with a tape deck and a cock and bull story about 'research' pushed into our conversation with his little microphone and asked us how we felt about the foreigners. Surprisingly enough, my wife whipped out her best public school accent and informed him that most were fine, but what we really couldn't stand were the pushy Americans. While this may skew the numbers on his thesis, it finally put to rest the myth that the English are the only ones with a dry sense of humor.