Foody legacy: Wouldn’t we all like to leave our mark by having a dish named after us?

FROM seeing the number of online sites and mobile phone apps advertised on TV later in the evening, it would appear that gambling is a greater activity than ever. Phones and computers seem to have overtaken bingo halls but lotteries are as popular as ever – despite the fact that you’re not going to win.

From a personal point of view, gambling is not something that grabs me. I know that many might see it as entertainment, but I was put off it for life after working in the oil industry and seeing colleagues, when working in the Sahara desert, putting a whole month’s wage (and in the desert wages were high) on one hand of cards – and inevitably losing it of course. As a result of the minor wars that developed I now can’t even put a coin in a fruit machine.

But it’s said that in extreme cases – particularly in Las Vegas – some people get so addicted to gambling in casinos that they can’t even leave the machines and tables for a call of nature and so cope by wearing nappies. Shocking as that may be it’s hardly a modern precedent. It’s said that back in the mid 1700s, a chap called John Montague became so addicted to the pleasures of gambling that he refused to leave the tables. But his major problem wasn't a liquid one, it was food – or the lack of it. In those days you couldn't just send out for a pizza or a burger. And anyway it couldn't have been delivered as the moped hadn’t yet been invented.

So he came up with the idea of getting his servants to put meat and other such stuff between two slices of bread and named it after himself. No it wasn't called a Montague. He was, as you’ve possibly guessed, the 4th Earl of Sandwich.

There’s no more certain way of immortality than ensuring that you create a popular eponym – a word or phrase where the origin is a person. Where would British sartorial fashion be without the Earl of Cardigan? And the wonderful American feminist, Amelia Bloomer, certainly added colour if not modesty to Granny’s generation.

Our world of food is full of people: Nellie Melba and Anna Pavlova designed our desserts, Guiseppe Garibaldi enlivened our elevenses, Count Pavel Alexandrovitch Stroganov served us a stew but, interestingly, the Caesar salad was not named after Julius; rather it was invented by the Mexican chef Caesar Cardini.

I like the idea of having something named after me; the thought that one’s reputation can live on after one’s death and, long into the future, people would announce that the only thing that would satisfy their culinary cravings is an Oldfield, freshly cooked and served rare with a few green beans. But in truth, the most likely meaning for such an Oldfield would be “incoherent ramblings”. But I digress.

Arthur Wellesley had a leather boot named after him. And, after defeating Napoleon at Waterloo, was made the 1st Duke of Wellington and thus also gave his name to the Beef Wellington which upset his kitchen staff somewhat due to his general indifference to food. A mighty leader such as he didn't have time to mess about with food; he had battles to win. But we have, or can make, the time and so can be impressed at the dish his chef titled simply “Wellington Steak” or the French, understandably to bring him down a peg or two, called “Filet de Boeuf en Croute”. In fact it’s said that the dish wasn't actually named after the Duke, rather the Wellington boot it was thought to resemble. So either the boot or the dish has changed somewhat since the 19th Century.