In 1440, Henry VI founded The King's College of Our Lady of Eton beside Windsor. You know, Eton, school for the wealthy inbred, er, I mean, school for the young, leading boys of the world. Popular with the royals now, it began as a community of secular priests, a pilgrimage church, and an almshouse. Naturally, scholars came to be educated--all boys of course.
Later, in 1719, Francis Bird's fine bronze statue of the founder in Garter robes was erected in the school yard. Five and a half centuries after its historic inception, and a number of scholars, musicians, martyrs, saints, atheletes, politicians, civil servants, travellers, explorers, artists, historians, actors, and successful mathematicians have passed through its celebrated halls. It means so much to go to Eton, writers include it as a part of their fictional characters' history: James Bond, Captain Hook, Edmund Bertram of Mansfield Park, and Mark Darcy all went there. Enough said.
But don't be fooled by all that Etonian propaganda--for it is in those dark halls, twenty miles west of London, on the river Thames, that the Eton Mess was first put together, named and consumed by the posh, public school boys of England. Eton Mess is the trashiest of English puddings: broken meringues, whipped cream, and strawberries. Try and make it classy by reconstructing it, but you'll fail. Eton Mess is what it is--a Bourgeois blemish, some might say, on the impeccable history of the school but a fine pudding nonetheless.
I remember many evenings after dinner measuring out my own proportions of the three ingredients in a bowl before joining the rest of my family outside in the garden--everyone happy with the least amount of fuss. It remains one of my mother's favourite desserts, Marks and Spencers meringues in her case, and on occaison substituting the cream for vanilla ice-cream. Or the strawberries for bananas. Or in our case, the strawberries for raspberries plus a glug or two of stoli raspberry vodka and sugar. O.K, so it's quite a loose term for crushed up meringues, fruit and cream.
And if you're to take something, anything, English, to a Superbowl party, this is it; for nothing else will follow a bucket of chicken wings, spinach dip and a six pack of beers with the modesty, character, and tastiness required at such an event quite like a bowl of Eton Mess.
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