The news that the European commission is to include apple pie filling specifically made with Bramley apples on its (snappily titled) Traditional Speciality Guaranteed list is great news for UK farmers and, proponents insists, apple pie fans. But is this the most pressing issue that faces us in protecting Britain’s most beloved foodstuffs?

In the US the apple pie is an institution (“as American as apple pie”, in fact), but here it is merely an unfashionable, somewhat mundane dessert. Meanwhile, the genuine staples of British food and drink, the classics we collectively love, are either widely traduced or left dangling undesignated by EU law, and open to humiliating abuses from any rampaging global corporation that fancies gobbling them up. Here are eight, which need immediate attention.

The English breakfast

‘The point is not to get too bogged down in intra-national squabbling.’ Photograph: Suzanne Plunkett/Reuters

Or Welsh or Scottish, of course. The point, here, is not to become bogged down in unnecessary intra-national squabbling (about whether or not square sausage or laver bread is a native ingredient in the full breakfast), but to outlaw the egregious practices that ruin this dish across the British Isles.

The eggs must be scrambled or fried, never poached. The hash brown is a US interloper that has no place on that plate. Beans are acceptable, but inexplicably serving them in a ramekin definitely is not. Fried bread is essential. As for the tomatoes, low-temperature oven cooking is the only way to go. Grilling them should incur fines of up to £1,000 or a short custodial sentence.

Cadbury’s Dairy Milk

‘There is something truly distinct about the ambrosial fudgy qualities of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk.’ Photograph: Graham Turner/The Guardian

With the exception of that chalky, sugary abomination sold under the same name in America, there is no such thing as bad chocolate. However much we all love a bit of 99% cocoa refinement or a little Lindt-style Swiss sophistication, there is something truly distinct about the ambrosial fudgy qualities of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk. Its new overlord, Kraft/Mondelēz, has already ruined that ex-classic, the Creme Egg. It may only be a matter of time before they come for our Dairy Milk. Act now.

Yorkshire pudding

‘The ideal is a billowing, airy cloud.’ Felicity Cloake’s yorkshire puddings. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

I cannot remember the last time I ate a truly great one in a restaurant. The ideal is a billowing, airy cloud of crisp edges and trembling eggy batter. The reality: dry, desiccated husks. Smoking hot oil is the key, advises the Guardian’s Felicity Cloake, a clear front-runner for the role of UK food tsar.



Lager

‘The quality of British life would be improved by at least 4.56%.’ Photograph: Murdo Macleod/The Guardian

As synonymous with the United Kingdom as sunburned football hooligans throwing plastic chairs around a formerly picturesque Belgian town hall square. Yet we do nothing to protect production. Stipulate that all UK-brewed lager should be properly matured for 90 days, and, immediately, the quality of British life would be improved by at least 4.56%.



Greggs cheese ’n’ onion pasties

‘Comfort food.’ A cheese and onion pasty. Photograph: Alamy

Britain is an increasingly atomised society, which makes securing the ties that bind us all the more important. The warm fondant filling of a Greggs cheese ’n’ onion pasty is, arguably, this country’s pre-eminent contemporary comfort food – particularly when hungover.

Long-term admirers will attest that Greggs has occasionally tinkered with this pasty. Its pastry, for instance, is not quite as buttery or flaky as it once was. For now, it remains a delicious entity, but for how long?

Chicken tikka

‘We should be demanding chicken tikka that has been properly marinated in freshly ground spices, yoghurt and lemon juice.’ Chicken tikka masala. Photograph: Foodfolio/Alamy

Whether it is heading into a masala sauce (in that specifically British variation on murgh makhani) or being eaten as a starter, few foods are clutched closer to our collective bosom. Why then do we tolerate those orangey lumps of dubiously spiced, dried-out meat? We should be demanding chicken tikka that has been properly marinated in freshly ground spices, yoghurt and lemon juice, before being authentically blasted to carbon-crusted perfection in a wood/charcoal tandoor.

Warburtons toastie loaf

‘Were this ever to change, Britain would never be the same again.’ Photograph: Alamy

The only mass-produced supermarket white sliced loaf worth mentioning. Were this ever to change, were some accountant at head office to spot a way of shaving a few pence of the processing of each loaf, then Britain (specifically, its Sunday morning bacon sandwiches) would never be the same again.

Fish ’n’ chips

‘Protected status would, naturally, outlaw that bizarre southern practice of serving the fish skin-on.’ Photograph: Simon Belcher/Alamy

The dish that won the second world war for us (it was one of the few foods that were not rationed), but one that has been disgracefully treated in the intervening decades. True, a new wave of chippies are gradually reviving what was once common best practice (ice-water batter; seasonal potatoes chipped that day; both elements cooked to order), but there are still thousands of chippies churning out anaemic, barely cooked chips and flabby fritters of frozen cod.

Protected status would, naturally, outlaw that bizarre southern practice of serving the fish skin-on. However, any diktat on production would have to sidestep the vexed, interminable question of vegetable oil versus beef dripping, lest we descend into a protracted, bloody civil war, ended only by Yorkshire’s unilateral declaration of independence.