There's often a very fine dividing line between ‘enough’, 'plenty' and 'too much'. Some news stories celebrate the diversity of the UK's population while others warn of a cultural invasion. The proverb tells us a single straw can break a camel's back. Tickling stops being funny after a while. My own experience of this tipping point doesn't involve immigration, overloaded dromedaries or physical comedy but the consumption of pizza. Some years ago, there was a trend for restaurants to promote 'all the pizza you can eat' evenings when business would otherwise be quiet. I attended some of these almost-spiritual gatherings in Brighton with my friends, starting with the simple Margherita before moving on to spicy pepperoni for a main course and then something unusual – perhaps chicken and cranberry pizza, if the chef had been feeling creative – for dessert. On occasion, we'd repeat the process before leaving. However, at some point there'd come a time when you realised you'd eaten enough, when your stomach had reached capacity, and you'd vow to call it a day after the current slice. It was usually at this point that a fresh batch of pizza would emerge from the kitchen and you'd spot a previously unsampled flavour. Could it be Hawaiian? Thanks very much. Fortunately those days of stupidity are behind me. Not mine; I mean that pizza restaurants are more responsible these days. And besides, I can't see Ringmer's visiting wood-fired pizza van needing to promote its business with such a deal on Tuesday evenings.
I seem to remember history lessons suggesting that Henry I - youngest son of favourite Sussex invader William the Conqueror - might have enjoyed unlimited pizza. The king is reputed to have died after eating an excessive amount of eel-like lampreys in December 1135. "He toke a surfet by etynge of a laprey", wrote Robert Fabyan, who could have done with a spell-check and a sub-editor. Lady Callcott's
Little Arthur’s History of England adds detail, telling us that Henry ate so many potted lampreys – 'potting' preserved them under a layer of fat – that he became ill and died. It's also been said that the lampreys were probably served in a pie; seasoned with nutmeg and placed on a layer of butter, then covered with bay leaves and some more butter before being baked and, yes, topped up with extra butter. Makes a grande mochaccino with cream look positively healthy.
Yet a little more research suggests that events aren't as clear-cut as they first appear. 12th-century historian Henry of Huntington – writing three hundred years before Robert Fabyan – just tells us the king ate lampreys against the advice of his doctor. No mention of a surfeit whatsoever; a message that seems to have been added later as a warning against overindulgence. If anything, I'd say this story now proves the opposite. There's one thing you can't have too much of - and that's information.
First published in Viva Lewes magazine issue 121 October 2016
