Читать книгу Bad Food Britain: How A Nation Ruined Its Appetite - Joanna Blythman, Joanna Blythman - Страница 9

Just days before the 2005 G8 Summit meeting at Gleneagles in Scotland, French President Jacques Chirac put his diplomatic foot in it. At a high-level meeting in Russia to celebrate the 750th anniversary of the founding of Kaliningrad, and in earshot of reporters from the French daily newspaper, Libération, President Chirac entertained the Russian President Vladimir Putin and German Chancellor Gerhard Schroeder by mocking British food. ‘We can’t trust people who have such bad food,’ he was quoted as saying, compounding the insult with, ‘the only thing they [the British] have ever done for European agriculture is mad cow.’ President Putin and Chancellor Schroeder seemed to appreciate his humour, laughing and joining in with the banter.

Britain, on the other hand, was not at all amused. Rather than brushing it off as might a country confident about its food culture, and cuisine, the UK rose to the bait – big time. ‘Don’t talk crepe, Jacques!’ bellowed the Sun. ‘How would Mr Chirac feel if others descended to this level of argument and called him a snob and a has-been who pongs of garlic?’ asked the Daily Telegraph. Egon Ronay, publisher of the eponymous restaurant guide, accused the French President of being ill-informed. ‘A man full of bile is not fit to pronounce on food. There’s no other country in the world whose food has improved so greatly and more quickly in the last 15–20 years than this country,’ he said. In the Evening Standard, Fay Maschler, doyenne of British restaurant critics, denounced President Chirac’s ‘ignorant, witless remarks’, retaliating with a tirade against French food:

‘The simple little restaurant run by maman and papa straight off the pages of Elizabeth David’s French Provincial Cooking, where a carefully composed meal made from local produce was sold for a song, exists no more. Or at least it needs a Sherlock Holmes detective to find. Menus in various departments of France are repetitive and monotonous … Restauration in its homeland (France) has become a depressed and cynical exercise … Even getting a good cup of coffee and a noble loaf of bread is nowadays easier in London than in Paris.’

The rivalry between the French and the British is historic. France and Britain have been best of enemies for centuries. Cross-Channel insults are nothing new, and the French President’s remarks were bound to provoke a certain amount of retaliatory flag-waving and chauvinism. Back in 1999, a light-hearted article published in the New York Times in which the critic William Grimes said that Cornwall ‘probably offers more bad food per square mile than anywhere else in the civilized world’ and likened the Cornish pasty to a doorstop, actually provoked one pasty maker into burning an American flag in protest.

But the strength and stridency of the reaction to President Chirac’s comments demonstrated that he had wounded our national pride in a fundamental way. But why such vulnerability? The French President had exposed our long-standing Achilles heel. However much commentators try to promote a rehabilitated image of British food with inspiring tales of booming farmers’ markets, new-wave artisan producers and innovative restaurants, the unpalatable fact is that other nationalities either just don’t buy it or, at best, they judge any improvement to be minimal. For instance, in 2001 the New Yorker magazine talked of ‘the baby steps the British are taking away from their tradition of gruesomely bad cooking’.

The United States enjoys being rude about Britain’s food. Thinking Americans feel embarrassed about their own fast-food diet which is universally hailed as unhealthy and obesogenic. Britain gives them a country to which they can feel superior, one with worse food than their own. Even high-profile ambassadors for Britain’s revitalized food culture such as Jamie Oliver can’t escape the sneers and curled lips. Mr Oliver complains that when he travels abroad, he frequently ends up listening to people bad-mouthing British food. ‘You go on Jay Leno [a US talk show] for the third time and he’s still making cracks about shitty English food.’ The British take it particularly badly when Americans criticize our food. It feels like a best friend swapping sides and ganging up with the enemy – that’s France, Italy and any other country that outshines us on the gastronomic front.

Britain becomes tetchy very easily when negative comparisons are made with countries that have thriving food cultures, using attack as a form of self-defence. This sideswipe at Italian food, from the Daily Telegraph’s restaurant critic, Jan Moir, is a classic example. She took exception to chef Antonio Carluccio pointing out that Italian labourers eat truffles – an illustration of how good food in Italy is regarded as a democratic entitlement, enjoyed by all social classes.

‘Really, stuff like this does get tiresome. We all know about the excellence and seasonality of Italian food, but every time I go to Italy, the supermarkets there are full of the same old rubbish that they sell here, but we’re always led to believe that every grotty little shepherd is dining like a king on heavenly risottos and garlic-infused baby lambs, while ignorant John Bull has to make do with boiled hoof and carrots because he knows no better.’

In contrast to such defensiveness, our king in waiting, His Royal Highness, Charles, Prince of Wales, has accepted that Britain does have a serious problem with what it eats:

‘Over the last two generations we have managed to create a nation of fast food junkies to whom food, often processed by industrialised farming systems, is nothing but fuel. The result is a growing obesity and health problem and a disconnection in the minds of too many people between the food on their plate and where and how it is produced.’

Whether or not we choose to face up to it, Britain has always had a particular credibility problem in convincing the rest of the world of its culinary credentials, and that perception has not substantially shifted. Viewed from outside its borders, Britain is a strange and aberrant country, a cultural exception in Europe, and second only to the US in its capacity to shock outsiders with its eating habits. As one Chinese writer, looking forward to his first trip to London, told the Guardian: ‘I’ve tasted an English breakfast but otherwise I’ve heard the food is awful.’

So common are the negative perceptions of British food abroad that bodies charged with attracting visitors to the UK are well-rehearsed in fielding them. The British Council in Japan, for instance, has a website aimed at students who are considering studying in Britain. The site has a Frequently Asked Questions section: Question number 3 (following questions about the cost of study and the weather) deals with what is clearly one of the biggest disincentives to people contemplating visiting, studying or working in the UK:

Q: ‘I’ve heard that British food is boring. Will I be able to find the sort of food that I like?’

A: ‘Britain used to have a bad reputation as far as food is concerned. This has changed dramatically. Britain is a land of lovers of good food. As well as traditional British food which is currently seeing a revival after years of neglect, Indian, French, Greek, Chinese, Italian, Malaysian, Turkish, Mexican and many other ethnic restaurants can be widely found. Japanese food has become popular in Britain during the last few years. There are even kaiten-zushi bars in London!’

While more optimistic potential students might feel reassured, the more cynical might interpret the sub-text as follows: ‘Take it on trust from us that the ghastly things you have heard about British food no longer apply, but just in case you don’t believe us, let us reassure you that there are lots of other cuisines to go for. And if you don’t fancy those, there’s always sushi – in London at least.’

Foreign students contemplating taking a course at the University of Oxford are likewise pre-warned as to what to expect:

‘British food does not have a good reputation overseas. However, there is in fact a very wide variety available, both traditional British food and international cuisine, especially in bigger cities. There are many fresh ingredients which are delicious when cooked well. However, many busy people don’t pay much attention to preparing food well and prefer instant meals.’

Of course, it is only natural for foreign nationals to be attached to their own cuisine, to cling on to what they know and even be somewhat suspicious of the food they might encounter when they travel abroad. But the fact remains that British food continues to be notorious worldwide. When Malaysia Tatler magazine sent a reviewer to sample the British food at the Ivy restaurant in Kuala Lumpur (no relation to the eponymous London establishment) in 2005, she enjoyed chicken with Stilton and leek, but queried whether it could really be a British dish, as she was ‘surprised that something as tasty could come from there [Britain]’. As Malaysia Tatler pointed out: ‘The British have given many things to the world – television, the steam train, even the internet … But nowhere, on any listing of the island’s achievements will you find the phrase “culinary finesse”.’

In 2003, the results of a survey of Polish attitudes towards British food were almost universally negative –108 out of 111 responses. A great many critical comments were recorded, including: ‘tasteless’, ‘unhealthy’, ‘lot of fat’, ‘not many vegetables’, ‘cheap’, ‘industrial’, ‘no specific cuisine’, ‘no traditional food’, ‘not nutritious’ and ‘no good bread’. Indeed, there was repeated amazement at the state of British bread. ‘They [the British] don’t eat normal bread, only tosty’ [white sliced bread],’ one respondent expanded. The existence of vinegar-flavoured crisps raised eyebrows too. Many people commented on the proliferation of fast food and the lack of home cooking in the UK. The problem, concluded one respondent, was that ‘the British don’t really know what good food tastes like’. Another opined that ‘if British people can survive their cooking they can survive anything’.

Speak to people of diverse foreign origins who live or work in the UK, and it will quickly become evident that food is one of their biggest obsessions. Wherever they come from, they pick out habits and customs that strike them as incomprehensible and strange, even though they are considered unremarkable by many natives. Most preface their opinions diplomatically with the things they really like about Britain – more personal freedom to live your life as you want being the compliment that crops up most frequently. But when it comes to food, the floodgates open. One German student told me:

‘When I moved to London from Berlin, my first experience of British food was on the boat from Dunkirk to Ramsgate. We wanted to eat something and waiting in the queue I saw them serving lasagne with chips and peas. I just felt so shocked by that, I left the queue and didn’t eat anything, thinking that I really couldn’t cope with this kind of food. The idea of eating chips with lasagne!’

That hoary old stereotype – chips with everything – still crops up regularly in outsiders’ images of British food. The traditional fish supper, in particular, described by Egon Ronay as Britain’s ‘most distinctive contribution to world cuisine’, finds few admirers; on the contrary, most people from abroad are bemused by Britain’s fondness for what they see as an unappetizingly greasy meal, served without knives and forks and eaten from dirty newspaper. Others cannot get over Britain’s addiction to food consumed on the hoof. ‘When I first arrived I was surprised to see how people walk about eating in the street and quite astonished to see school children walking around at lunchtime eating a packet of crisps and some sweets,’ a French Cameroonian engineer told me. ‘The French have a completely different attitude. Either you go home for lunch or stay and eat in the canteen.’ People from other countries are gobsmacked by the food that British children eat. A Dutch mother told me:

‘Until I came to Britain, my children had never been exposed to sweets at all. My kids didn’t even think about them. They liked fruit but it was impossible to keep that up because always when they entered the nursery or playgroup in Britain there were people giving them sweets; not just biscuits – things like sticky sweets and fizzy drinks. In kindergarten in Holland, the kids got fruit and yogurt, but no sweets. It would be unheard of in Holland if the kids brought in crisps and sweets from home. They would not be allowed, a bit like bringing cigarettes into school. Here the kids open a lunch pack and there is at least one packet of crisps, one Mars bar or similar, and then they have these really weird takes on real food like cheese strings or something where they make the food into a funny, dinosaur shape. In order to persuade a child to eat a piece of cheese in Britain they have to make it into a shape!’

A Danish artist told me that when she arrived in the UK, she could not get over the contents of British shopping trolleys:

‘When standing in line I noticed what people had in their shopping baskets, all that sugar and fat in there, and I would be really amazed to see even old people stocking up with junk. Three years later I stand at the checkout here and still can’t get over all those trolleys filled with big amounts of pies, ready-made food, and lots of crisps – but without any vegetables. A Danish trolley, irrespective of social class, would look much different. In a word, “greener”. We eat a lot more green food and our dishes look nicer as a result because we eat more salads, more stewed vegetables, more vegetables on the side as a garnish.’

An Italian teacher recounted her first encounter with prospective in-laws, picking out what she saw as the entirely alien habit of staggered eating, the unceremonious speed of eating, and the lack of effort that goes into food in the UK.

‘I went to my [British] husband’s family for Christmas. It was a huge cultural shock, the saddest Christmas in my life. If somebody had come to my house in Emilia Romagna at any time, not even a festive period, my mum would make an extra effort – a special pasta, a special secondo [meat or fish course], more of everything, a real welcome. But I don’t think his mum is cooking at all. She doesn’t care about that. When it was lunchtime she said “Everything is in the fridge, everybody can help themselves” and off she went. At about 12 o’clock, his dad would go to fridge and make himself a sandwich, at 12.30 his sister served herself and so on. The day after was the same. At the actual Christmas dinner, after half an hour, all the food had already disappeared from the table. I have had to adapt to it, but for me, it was definitely shocking.’

People from abroad are regularly baffled by what they see as a lack of family meals and communal eating. One Austrian arts administrator explained:

‘Now that I live in Britain I still cook every night. We eat together every night and that is a most important time for us. But I see from other British families that this is considered really strange. In the UK, eating together is almost something you do on a Sunday if you are a “good” family. It’s really important to me that we sit properly, half an hour or so – not like in France where they take one and a half hours – and not a fancy meal necessarily, just something that’s properly cooked. We would not sit at the TV and eat either. I notice people do that here. You don’t come across much of what I would call proper, normal eating in the UK.’

For an executive summary of the outsider’s verdict on British food and eating habits, click onto the web pages of ‘Grenouilles au Royaume Uni’ (‘Frogs in the UK’), a reportage by French people living in Britain, and look under the ironic heading ‘The Delights of British Cuisine’:

‘The British no longer consider a meal as a family ritual. That’s a growing trend in France too but it’s more noticeable here. English families cook less in general and rely more on food delivered to their homes. Members of the same family tend to eat on their own when they feel hungry. Hence the profusion of junk food, fast food, takeaway and so on. Direct consequence: 39 per cent of Britons are overweight, 19 per cent are obese.’

Although most Britons view it as entirely normal, Terry Durack, restaurant critic for the Independent on Sunday, has voiced the ongoing incomprehension with which British eating habits are viewed internationally:

‘As an Australian, I often find myself blinking in disbelief at the average Briton’s relationship with food, at how unimportant it is to so many people. But then, I grew up in a country where good food was available to all at a good price. Here [in Britain], eating well is an economic issue, a class issue, and an education issue. Good food is available – at a price. And nobody is going to pay the price if good food is simply not a priority in their lives.’

Whether we like to admit it, Britain is seen abroad as a country that has well and truly lost the gastronomic plot, a food recidivist, demonstrating precious little capacity for improvement.