Hell’s Canteen

I think in the US in the 70’s, Roast Beef with yorkshire pudding on Sunday dinner was the ‘high-end’ of the dining scale (for my family, anyway) and roast chicken was more of a regular, not-too-special, but still delicious weeknight meal.

Your Dragon Name
Drolkoop the Sanguine, Hoarder of Sesame Chicken And Clickers.

Why would chicken be a luxury food?
I think (?) because they were still being raised mostly in sort of the old barnyard ways. The “industrial” methods had not yet been developed or were in their infancy. If my extremely vague memories are correct, then prices back then would be a clue as to what totally free-range organic chickens ought to cost today.

I’ll raise Norman Rockwell from the dead to paint the portrait
I’ll chip in for the candles.

Also striking that white fish is actually more expensive in real terms- collapse of the cod fisheries, I presume.
Similar with regard to other types of fish, I suspect. In the sixties the prices of various Great Lakes fish were lower than today, or so I recall.

You are confusing that with the look of a beast dumber than a creosote post without the creosote.
Your eloquence does not leave much room to describe sheep.

You know, all around the world people make mock of Southern cooking
The freshest brook trout I ever had was at a small restaurant in North Carolina. The best baked ham I ever had was at Boone Tavern in Berea KY. Also where I discovered spoon bread, yum. Unfortunately, their menu seems to become less Southern and more “cosmopolitan” in recent years, and spoon bread is not even on the menu.

one thing we can say
That’s What I like about the South

Boone Tavern is not the only restaurant that has compromised its original ethnic focus, but it’s a particularly unfortunate case because the parent Berea College exists in part to study and preserve Southern culture.

Still hoping someone can explain the precise meaning and derivation of “he’s a real cheese and pickle sandwich”.

Laurie Penny has deep thoughts about pronouns.

San Francisco crap artists need subsidies!
From the link:
“According to a 2017 Arts & Economic Prosperity report by the San Francisco Arts Commission, the nonprofit arts and culture sector generates $1.45 billion in total economic activity, supports 39,699 full-time jobs, and generates $1 billion in household income to local residents.”
I wonder what dishonest techniques were used to concoct those economic numbers. After all, if those “artists” are generating so much economic activity then why do virtually none of the dollars end up in their pockets?
Also: Remember all those “studies” that “prove” that cities will profit enormously by building sports stadiums that highly profitable privately owned teams claim to be unable to afford to build themselves?

Speaking as a diabetic some proper hard cheese, cut to order from a block in a decent deli, together with Branson on freshly baked crusty bread (generously buttered) is a real culinary treat. Less is more.

Beating the “who is Neil Young” dead horse…
The sixties was a long time ago so my memory may be inaccurate, but as I recall Neil Young was always a hippie fool whose sympathies were with commies.
Akshullly….back around 1983 or so Neil said some rather positive things about Ronald Reagan. He had recently put out a song that got some traction “Proud to Be a Union Man” that mocked the mentality of workers unions of the day. I distinctly remember an interview, most likely in Musician magazine where the leftist interviewer, like all good leftist cultural tools, pressed him on it and he backtracked so quickly it was embarrassing. I do think Neil tried to think for himself but he was too naive to realize the consequences for that in pop culture. It was one of my earliest indications that there was some sort of cultural ideology that even the supposedly “independent” rich and famous were afraid to cross.

Akshullly….back around 1983 or so Neil said some rather positive things about Ronald Reagan…
Thank you for that. It’s good to get these things right, and I would hate to make an error and have it just sit there unchallenged.

@pst314: about that A10 Warthog ‘cow hit’. I believe in WW2 a British submarine off the coast of North Africa launched a torpedo at a ship landing German tanks. The torpedo missed the ship, slid up the beach and hit a tank. As these things were recorded, the sub’s ‘Jolly Roger’ with outlines of sunk ships on it was joined by the silhouette of a tank.
One takes one’s successes where one can find them.

As these things were recorded, the sub’s ‘Jolly Roger’ with outlines of sunk ships on it was joined by the silhouette of a tank.
One takes one’s successes where one can find them.
A mere tank would only entitle them to return to port with a whisk broom tied to the periscope. 😀

I am surprised no one has mentioned beef dripping, either sandwiched or on a simple slice of bread, and especially the gourmet version with the jellified crunchy bits from the bottom. A healthy sprinkling of salt rounds off the food fit for gods.
Sgt Jackrum, normally a soldier of taste and refinement, prefers the slightly inferior pork dripping.

No, because the Yorkshire Pudding soaked them all up
Not so, the prudent British housewife would not squander all that valuable fat from the roast by turning it into gravy. Rather, she would take a little of the fat as a base and then bulk it out with water in which the cabbage (or other veg) had been boiled and then use the magic of Bisto to add flavour and colouring to the gravy. The rest of the fat (and the pan scrapings which add the gourmet bottom layer of a good dripping) is saved for another day.
Incidentally, beef dripping is the best for making chips (fries as they are known to the heathen).
I loathe thick gravy.

Expect a visit from the Flying Sin Squad later this morning
I am on Quick Reaction Alert with my defensive weapons loaded with High Octane Gravy Salt. The gravy boats are already afloat.

…just how poor they and many other Brits were in the immediate post-war years.
Have you read 84, Charing Cross Road? (A good book, in my opinion.) The same kind of thing is described there, where the writer (living in New York City) often sends food packages to her penpal in London, which he – living through that postwar austerity – greatly appreciates.

Fang’s submarine sandwiches
HA! No chance. They will be cut into small pieces by the carving knife and turned into croutons.