HARDEEP ON THE TASTE OF HOME
The best way to describe it would be as an homage to the carbohydrate. You take a tattie scone (I believe the English call it a ‘potato farl’; no poetry in that name) and, having fried it, you place it within the welcoming confines of a generously buttered morning roll. And then...well, bliss ensues.

 
Welcome to my Scottish childhood. Much hilarity is poked at the diet of we Scots and, I'm afraid, with very good reason. As a nation we eat terribly. The greatest irony of all is that, as a country, we have some of the world's finest produce. The shellfish of the West Coast finds itself on the menu at J Sheekey, The Ivy and any number of fine dining restaurants across the Kingdom. Our raspberries are the very epitome of sharp berry sweetness. Scottish lamb is superb. And when it comes to pork, there are few finer examples across Europe. The beef obviously speaks for itself.
 
Yet we eat badly. If you ever find yourself in my hometown and choose to order a ‘Glasgow Salad’ be forewarned that there will be nothing green or salad-like on the plate. Pie, beans and chips: that is a Glasgow Salad. As a food lover I find it heartbreaking to watch school kids in Glasgow consuming a breakfast of crisps and Irn Bru. These are food facts that blend and meld with the mythology of battered and deep fried chocolate bars that won't help you work, require you to rest and remove the ability to play.
 
Recent research carried published Oxford University suggests that if Scots switched to a more ‘English’ diet – lower in saturated fats, higher in fruit and vegetables – it could lead to almost 4,000 fewer deaths in Scotland each year. As it stands, life expectancy in Scotland is four years below the European average, and that's after an improvement over the last thirty years. A sobering thought.
 
The notion of there being a difference between a ‘Scottish’ and ‘English’ diet, may prima facie, seem risible, but there is much truth in it. I remember leaving Scotland almost twenty years ago for the incandescent lights of a bustling London. I was struck by the marked differences between the countries. You will struggle to get a plate of mince and tatties, stovies or even the relatively healthy cock-a-leekie soup south of Hadrian's Wall.
 
Scotland is in every way a Northern European country. Step off a train at Pitlochry in late January and tell me you don't notice the difference, as manifested meteorologically.  Historically Scotland was a country predicating on heavy industry, physical work. Also, Scotland was a poorer country than England, despite being at the very heart of the Empire: the wealth wasn't shared.  Combine the geography, the industry and the poverty and one starts to understand why there should be such a marked divergence in diet. When it comes to building ships or mining coal at sub-zero temperatures you need more than a bowl of Bircher Muesli to keep you going. A fried breakfast, carnally carbohydrate, piled high with protein, was a necessity rather than a choice.
 
Even after two decades and much education in matters gastronomic, I still miss some of the staples of my childhood, none of them healthy. I'll be home in a couple of weeks and I will almost definitely enjoy a deep fried pizza supper. I know it's unhealthy; I know it is fundamentally wrong. But it is also delicious. It tastes of my 1970s, of Glasgow drizzle and a time when we had an international football team that qualified for major tournaments. Luckily, my Punjabi heritage meant I was also inundated with any manner of pulses and vegetables, some so obscure they have no English name.
 
The Scottish government has recently resurrected plans to change the pricing of alcohol in an attempt to tame the famously Scottish sport of drunkenness. Perhaps they should consider a similarly interventionist policy with our food? It is a genuine conundrum for politicians and thinkers. It's all about rights and responsibilities. Freedom, the right to make personal choices, is now at the very heart of our lives, the sine qua non of the free market. Yet if these choices, as in the case of the Scottish diet, lead to the state having to pick up the healthcare pieces, can that be considered a fair and equitable arrangement?
 
I have no answers. I suppose the only way forward is through gradual education. In the last 3 decades Scottish life expectancy has risen by seven years. Small steps. Perhaps when I return home this month I will conservatively scrape a thin layer of an olive oil-based spread on a single piece of Ryvita, on top of which I will place a grilled potato scone.
 
At least that way I may eke out a few more years to remember how delicious the original version was...