For the Love of Welsh Rarebit
In a politically correct era, is it OK to honor some remnants of imperialism?
MY BRITISH LUNCHMATES on a recent Sunday in Edinburgh, Scotland, were exceedingly polite when my order arrived. Amid their tableau of salads and artfully filleted fish, my plate held Welsh rarebit, the venerable dish that assembles melted cheese, ale, mustard, and Worcestershire sauce atop a slice of bread. I sensed that my companions’ eyes were averted from my selection. Then, someone decided to be more direct and asked, “Do you like British food?”
I always answer this question with an emphatic “Yes!” While this sometimes incites gobsmacked silence, when I interviewed Anthony Bourdain a few years back, he sanctioned my unfashionable palate. “To eat a nicely aged grouse
