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best of British - Pret A Manger
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“The greatest British invasion since the Beatles” proclaim the signs around mid-town. What are they talking about? The future and present of British indie-rock Arctic Monkeys? David Beckham, perhaps? The new Hugh Grant movie (disclaimer: I am hideously excited about the new Hugh Grant movie. Seriously.)? No, no and no. The answer, surprisingly, is ‘Pret A Manger’. Now, this is not any sort of slight on Pret’s deliciousness, not at all. I love their sandwiches, particularly their arugula (that’s ‘rocket’ to you and I) and roast beef (that’s ‘roast beef’ to you and I) baguette. I love that everything is baked fresh, and tastes that way, that they try to make their food well-produced and healthy, that they make really excellent sandwiches in all shapes and surprises. No, what surprised me is that – foolishly – is that I had always assumed that Pret A Manger was French. Now, as a Brit I am of course born to be innately suspicious of anything French, it’s an innate part of being British; as Blackadder once asked: “Did you all those men die in vain of the fields of Agincourt? Was the man who burned Joan of Arc simply wasting good matches?”.
And though their sandwiches may have been tasty and fresh, the name and implied French-ness always restricted my ability to wax lyrical, but now that I have thoroughly done my research (ie “Wikipedia-ed”) it turns out the publicity is correct, and it’s as British as a baguette can get. There are ten of them in New York, mostly around mid-town and Union Square, and je vais vous y voir!
