3 hours ago
7
As a grumpy old woman in the prime of my pedantry, I have already died on many hills, and I have the scars to prove it. I have sacrificed myself on the battlefield of patriarchy chicken, by walking square into people who stride down the centre of the pavement staring at their phones and expecting everyone else to jump out of their way. I have risked life and limb in a pub full of football fans by declaring my belief that the only “real sports” are running fast, jumping high and throwing or swimming far – the rest are just “games”. And I have driven myself to tears by consistently walking into the same branch of Pret a Manger and ordering the same coffee, please, “and nothing else”, and then standing there blankly when I’m invariably asked, “And anything else?” When it comes to defending arbitrary red lines, my belligerence knows no bounds.
And yet, with Christmas approaching, I have been trembling at the thought of strapping on my armour and fighting yet again for what I truly believe: that meat and fruit should never be served on the same plate. And yes, you perverts, I do mean turkey and cranberry sauce – just stop putting jam on your Christmas dinner!
I know what you’re going to say: “But surely you don’t mean pork with apple sauce?” You bet I mean it. Bacon is for a sandwich and stewed apple goes in pie or in babies – they do not belong in the same bite. Oh, you’re thinking, but what about duck à l’orange? Put it down you weirdo, you’re not even French. It’s a hard no to lamb and redcurrant, a massive boak at mango chutney on curry, and I sincerely hope that no Guardian reader would think of whispering the obscene phrase “ham and pineapple pizza”.
Everyone I meet is sure they can think of an exception to my rule. This week, colleagues have sidled up to me saying, “Coronation chicken?” Step away from me with your squishy raisins! Anything with figs? You’re so wrong. One sick person asked me to consider prosciutto and melon, except that he misspelt it “lemon” at first, so for a minute I actually considered it. Which would have been the thin end of the wedge.
Don’t get me wrong, I love meat – ideally with gravy – and then fruit, for pudding. I’ll adore you for offering me a crunchy green apple, a blackberry crumble, a banana for breakfast or raspberries any which way. Just keep it away from my dinner. Lamb belongs with mint, ham with mustard, and turkey (if you must) with a bucket of coleslaw. A burger, on the other hand, should be served with plenty of ketchup. Because a tomato identifies as a vegetable and should be accommodated as such – and that is a hill I will die on.
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Katy Guest is a Guardian Opinion deputy editor and a style guide editor
