I have lived in the UK for a year and was left stunned when I attended my first British BBQ — two things in particular left me completely baffled
The UK’s weather has lately been nothing short of miraculous recently, with blue skies and brilliant sunshine that screams “barbeque”. BUt as a New Zealander who relocated to London last year, I’ve encountered a bewildering truth: Brits just don’t barbeque like we do back home.
My experience at my first English barbie was eye-opening — a far cry from our Kiwi mastery of outdoor gatherings. I eagerly accepted the invite, envisioning a slice of home, and promptly offered to bring salads, margaritas, and a classic pavlova for dessert. To my astonishment, the response was: “No, we don’t need to make anything, we’ve got it all already.”
Impressed at their confidence to cater for 15 people, I inquired about the menu: sausages, burgers, bread with tomato sauce, veggie patties, and skewers were on offer. Puzzled, I queried about the presence of sides and, as expected, there were none. No sides at a barbeque? Inconceivable!
The sides are often the highlight of a Kiwi barbeque yet here I was, facing a backyard bash devoid of them. In New Zealand, it’s customary for guests to bring a plate to a gathering — not an empty one, mind you, but one filled with a side dish. The host typically takes care of the meat and might whip up a salad or two, while everyone else contributes either sweet or savoury sides or perhaps the makings of a charcuterie board.
The result is a veritable smorgasbord, with plates piled high not just with burgers but also salads, corn, fresh produce, cheeses and, naturally, no shortage of ice-cold beers, wines and cocktails.
I couldn’t fathom attending a barbeque without these staples, so I bucked tradition. I arrived bearing an orzo salad and my freshly made pavlova, despite being told not to bring anything else as it wouldn’t be consumed. To the host’s surprise, though not mine, both dishes were a hit.
Another thing that left me scratching my head was the way the meat was cooked. To me, a barbeque is a luxury item. In New Zealand, they’re gas-powered hot plates, large enough to cook at least 10 burgers at once, and if you own one, you’re automatically the designated host for the summer.
Here, I was taken aback by a knee-high circular device powered by coals, fire-starters and the isobutane from a broken Bic lighter. How on earth can you cook that much food efficiently on something so small? The answer is: with military-like precision.
I can’t say I wasn’t impressed at the quick switches by the men doing the cooking and the burgers were actually pretty delicious but I could have done without having to constantly move upwind to prevent the smoke making my eyes water.
Although it wasn’t what I expected, my first British barbeque was lovely. At its heart, a barbeque is about getting together with the people you love, eating together and enjoying not only the weather, but the community. Still, I am determined to host the next one at my house, and show everyone how it really should be done.