Mala Pinta

I was well positioned to eavesdrop on a smartly-dressed Spanish family as they cast a (very) critical eye over the assorted cured meats on display at Fortnum's last weekend. They do know a thing or two about their embutidos over there. "Todo tiene mala pinta" (It all looks rather smeggy) the young man ventured to his frowning parents. That salami is a "fossil" his father replied.

When I was seven I had a pair of fish called Fortnum and Mason. The names were not my doing. Back then I guess there was a kind of lingering point to this venerable emporium, but today most of the stuff that graces the ground floor food hall is quite widely available elsewhere (and usually better quality /better prices).

Consuming quite ordinary stuff dolled up with a three hundred-year-old brand isn't usually the kind of thing that makes me feel better about myself. In fact I have to say that I find the whole Fortnum's experience more than a bit tacky these days. Yet we found ourselves obliged to pay this Piccadilly destination a visit on Sunday because the parent of one of V's friends in Guatemala craves a tin of their Earl Grey. (Members of Guatemala's elite with British roots that they occasionally choose to cultivate.) In truth the brand premium doesn't operate at its most aggressive on the tea shelf: the quality is sound, and the little green tins are certainly hoardable.