Whatever happened to the Knickerbocker Glory? I haven't seen one on a dessert menu in years and the thought occurred to me at 6.04am this morning, that it may have disappeared for ever.Firstly, you may ask, why was I awake at 6.04am on a Saturday morning? Well I was simply responding to a 'call of nature'. Actually, whilst we're on the subject, don't you think that the phrase 'call of nature' is a little grand? I mean that phrase conjures up an image of the instinctive migration for millions of birds across the globe, or the natural desire for great herds of wildebeest to sweep majestically across the great plains of Africa. It doesn't make think of having a wazz.
Anyway, I digress. The Knickerbocker Glory has a significant place in my heart. Why? Because when I was a kid, the culinary landscape of Britain was like a flat, vapid, grey and brown terrain of bland flavours and unspeakably bad restaurants and eateries. God forbid you should decide to have a meal at a pub. If you chose to dine during the day, you could expect a cheese sandwich (two doorstop slices of bread, a tiny film of margarine, 3 thin slices of processed Cheddar and a penny-sized smudge of pickle), a packet of 'plain' crisps and a small bottle of warm tomato juice. Yum.
Eating out at night was often little improved with dishes such as gammon (with pineapple ring), chips and a wedge of lemon or chicken in a basket, chips and a small heap of processed peas. Yay.
So, with this in mind, try to imagine how enormous a gourmet experience the Knickerbocker Glory offered as you gazed at it, sitting proudly at the top of the dessert menu. A huge, tall glass stuffed with fresh melon, strawberries, grapes, vanilla and strawberry ice cream, strawberry sauce, squirty cream and a fan wafer, all topped off with a glace cherry. It was pure, unadulterated food heaven.
The Knickerbocker Glory was like no other dessert or pudding. In fact, it was like no other food. It was a God amongst edible things and I adored it. And what made it even more special was the fact that I only ever got to experience one a few times a year. You couldn't just pop down to Tesco and buy one. Oh no. You had to eat at a proper restaurant like a Berni Inn or a Little Chef. It was a rare treat indeed.
So, I shall raise a glass of Blue Nun to this great British institution that began in the 1930's and may, we hope, still survive somewhere in the quaintest backwaters of the UK.
Somewhere like Mansfield.
2 comments:
Back in the 50's my Dad used to take my sister and me to De Marco's Ice Cream Parlour(?) in Kentish Town Road - London, every Saturday afternoon for a NBG. Sheer Heaven ! That mesmerizing layering of colours and fruits in those lovely shaped, tall glasses. Those (exciting) long, thin, silver(?) spoons you had to use if you wanted to be able to get to the bottom of the glass. And we did ! Oh yes, we did !
De Marco's was there all through my childhood and well into my adult years. They made the best ice-cream EVER !!!!!!!
The knickerbocker glory is alive and well and available not as a mere desert but as an event outing from Scarborough infamous Harbour bar (Try saying that and sounding sober).
Sadly the magic of a knickerbocker glory never affected me, the top of the desert menu was an item to skip past due to the often included, nay snook in rogue piece of pineapple. The food of the devil, eat it and satan shall take your soul, always marred the experience and has now relagated the Knickerbocker glory to a dark place where it will always reside for me languishing beside its partner in crime the Banana split (for the same reasons)
For this reason move on to a finer class of desert and the gravy of the pudding world....
Apple pie with its perfect accompaniment , the mighty CUSTARD.
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