Excerpt: Insufficiency

Chapter Two – Nostalgia for Nescafe and Marmite

It isn’t as if England means nothing to Jason anymore, it isn’t that at all. He could no more change that part of himself than he could change the shape of his face, or his genetic code. He feels English, born and bred, if not necessarily reared English for those last four years. Not that his mum hadn’t tried. She was on the phone to her mother, his Gran Elise every other day, his dad complaining of the expense. His mum defended herself with a sweep of her arm around their living room that showed, quite clearly, that there wasn’t much need to worry about some little thing like a large telephone bill to one’s kith and kin.

Being away from her family is what got his mum to be interested in computers and the Internet, and truthfully she’d been a lot more of a help to him with his research papers for school than his dad. His mother knew all about Google and Yahoo and such. She also knew all about the websites for homesick Brits longing for good English food, like curry and chutney. Not a word would pass her lips about it at first, but then the Robinsons Squash, the Tetley tea, and Bird’s custard began to show up in the cupboard next to the Walkers shortbread and the Nescafe coffee that you could get in any ordinary American grocery.

They’d joke about her shopping choices at first, his parents, with his dad griping about the Nescafe and how bloody awful it was. How could anyone drink that?

“It’s only nostalgia that’s doing it,” his dad said. His mum sat at their kitchen table, her eyes closed as if she were savouring the wonderful aroma of fresh Nescafe from the jar. Even though it didn’t have much of a smell as far as Jason could tell.

“In America,” his mum said, as if they weren’t actually in America at the time, “they call it Nescafe Taster’s Choice. But it’s Nescafe, like at home.” Just like, “at home”, until his mother had discovered the Internet and the ability to order things online. And hence discovered that the Nescafe Taster’s Choice was different from the kind they’d had at home. She concluded that California had corrupted her taste buds and sense of smell. And straight away ordered the “Imported English blend", which is "not available anywhere in America”.

That began the United States versus the British Isles culinary wars. Eventually, after ordering loads of diverse, but edible, things – biscuits and condiments, came the disgusting things, like Shippams fish paste and Marmite.

“I don’t like Marmite,” Jason had said.

“It helps prevent anaemia,” his mother had replied, reading the label.

“For God’s sake, Evie.” His dad had been laughing, a sound that was a strange combination of fondness, amusement and irritation.

“Very healthy. It’s got loads of B12 in it.”

“I don’t care,” Jason said.

“And a very good source of Riboflavin and Niacin.” She continued to read off the label with one hand, taking occasional bites of a burnt piece of toast using the other. “C’mon, Jase. What’s that in aid of? You learned that at school, didn’t you? Riboflavin and Niacin.”

He sighed dramatically to indicate his displeasure. But his dad looked at him then as well and he wasn’t sure how it happened that he was being asked to defend himself and his intelligence, rather than his mum, for buying such rubbish.