Second of two parts.

The British seem inordinately fond of dairy products, including savory flans and sweet desserts. Bath supermarkets, large and small, carried not only numerous kinds of yogurt in small containers but also "fools," made from whipped cream and berries; rice pudding, in many variations; cooked custards; fruit-and-yogurt smoothies; and even small trifles, that layered sponge cake, fruit, pudding, and whipped cream staple. Ice cream, often sold from small dairies in carts on the street, or at shops from larger manufacturers, is another favorite.

Pudding itself is a tricky term in England, used almost universally to mean "dessert," but also designating specific boiled or steamed puddings (such as "plum pudding"), and even what we would call custard. One of the best known puddings, said to come from an old nursery recipe, is "spotted dick," a kind of steamed bread pudding with raisins (hence the spots), which you can buy in a canned version to bring home to American friends for a good laugh all around. This name is said to have come from a dialect word for pudding, "puddick."

When a friend and I had supper near Piccadilly, in London, he chose "apple crumble with pudding" and I "treacle tart with pudding." His was like an apple crisp with a warm, rich custard around it, and mine was a light bread pudding with the same delicious custard accompanying it. (Treacle is a lighter by-product of sugar refining than molasses and is often called "golden syrup" in British recipes. Its cousins are found in the sorghum and cane syrups available in Louisiana.)

While in England, you can’t pass up the cheeses, ranging from white Stilton with ginger, and Wensleydale with cranberries, to a hard salty Cornish cheese called "yarg," wrapped in nettles, and the colorful "red" double Gloucester, a bright orange crumbly cheese. Cheddars have been made in Somerset for more than 400 years, and old farmhouse recipes have been revived over the past decade. I bought one, called Westcombe, in a Glastonbury bakery, and another at an Amesbury farmer’s market. Altogether different are two other local specialties: Somerset Brie, milder than its French cousins, and Bath soft cheese, akin to a Camembert. Both are quite delicious. And, when in Wales . . . . Since I was staying on a sheep farm, I had to sample some of the local "ewe’s milk" cheese, a dense, salty variety, similar to the Greek kaseri.

At the Amesbury market, I also found eggs pickled in malt vinegar, and farm-made jars of lemon-lime marmalade and blackcurrant preserve — all three delightful. There are almost as many kinds of marmalade in Britain as we have jellies, by which I mean permutations of citrus fruits alone, with each other, or with other fruits as well as a half-dozen styles of cutting the peel — or leaving it out completely.

Blackcurrants were another recurring motif in my British diet. I had them in ice cream, in yogurt, in a bottled smoothie, in jam, in tea, in an Ocean Spray juice — cranberry and blackcurrant — in a juice concentrate on its own, and in a drink called a "snake bite," a half pint of lager, a half pint of cider, and a shot of blackcurrant liqueur. Other old-fashioned fruits used to flavor everything from creamy desserts to hard candies are gooseberries and rhubarb. There were chunks of the latter in a strawberry-rhubarb yogurt. Other unfamiliar yogurt flavors were pear/ginger, toffee, lemon, chocolate fudge, and, in an unusual herbal twist, peach with lemon balm, plum with hops, blackberry/elderberry with lavender, and pear with marigold.

The Brits also have an unusual hand with potato chips, which they call "crisps." In one tiny deli, I saw these flavorings: chicken tikka marsala, lamb and mint, prawn cocktail, Worcestershire sauce, sea salt and cracked pepper, and salt and vinegar. However, one British family that has visited the States told me they love the American "sour cream and onion" version. To each their own.

As you can see, England is not all steak-and-kidney pie or Yorkshire pudding. Nor is it just London. If you get out to the small towns in the countryside, you’re bound to find cafes and tea rooms that draw on regional produce, artisan breads, farmhouse cheeses, and even local ales. And you don’t have to rely on meat dishes; there’s fresh fish on many menus, smoked on others. Vegetarian and vegan options abound. There’s even a vegetarian pub in Bath. So be adventurous — you might discover some new favorites, even spotted dick!

Note: If you’re yearning for a British cream tea, hop over to Bristol’s Basically British (18 State St., 401-253-5722). You’ll get authentic scones, strawberry jam, and imported clotted cream.