food for thought.
status. The pasty’s instantly
recognisable whiff of peppery beef
and potatoes in a pastry shell is the
bane (or joy, depending on your
view) of train travellers. It evokes the
idea of noble miners, coal-smeared
hands clutching a hefty pasty,
making their labour worthwhile.
PGI regulations demand that a
foodstuff be geographically specific
and made in a traditional way
(generally taken to mean by hand
and with quality ingredients). But
pasties were eaten across Europe
for centuries and, even after their
prevalence dwindled, were by no
means unique to Cornwall. Recipes
from the 1910s and 1920s show the
pasties made in Cornwall contained
a wide variety of fillings and the
most commonhadverylittlemeat,
reflecting the
poverty of
rural workers.
Though it’s now
softer, back then
the pastry crust
was reputed to
be tough enoughtowithstand
being thrown down a mine.
Recent research has suggested
the Cornish pasty as we know it
was the invention of late-Victorian
cookery schools in London. Later,
as UK living standards improved,
tourism to Cornwall increased –
and the new version of the pasty
became a tasty way to promote the
area. Its PGI application was made
explicitly to protect and encourage
Cornish businesses.
IDENTITY POLITICS
There are other, less cynical origin
myths, which nevertheless show the
power of food in promoting national
or local identity. The pizza
margherita, widely
supposed to have been
‘invented’ for Italy’s
Queen Margherita in
1889, has ingredients
with the same colours
as insalata tricolore and
the Italian flag.
The green (basil), white
(mozzarella), and red (tomato)
were established as the colours of
Italy by the 1860s. But the 1880s
version of the story simply suggests
that the Queen ate pizza – no
specifics given – as she wanted to
see what the poor of Naples ate.
Meanwhile the tricolore salad was
only popularised – deliberately –
after World War II as part of efforts
to make Italy seem a food mecca to
tourists. It was also used to promote
the Italian flag (newly revised to be
free of Mussolini’s insignia) to a
still disunited internal audience.
Then there is pad Thai, a dish of
stir-fried noodles with beansprouts,
peanuts and prawns, flavoured with
chilli, palm sugar and garlic. The
recipe is interpreted differently
across the globe, yet for many
peopleit’stheir favourite example
of Thai cuisine.
It was codified
and aggressively
promoted by the
Thai Prime Minister
Phibunsongkhram in
the – you’ve guessed
it – 1940sand1950s. Like the pizza
margherita, there was a strong
internal motivation: pad Thai was
seen as healthier than many more
traditional dishes. Like pasties, it
was intended to give a boost to Thai
producers and farmers. And, like the
ploughman’s lunch, it was easy and
cheap to prepare, so it caught on.
There is, on the face of it, nothing
wrong with weaving stories around
food. But when we contemplate our
cheese and bread, our meat-filled
pasty, we risk romanticising a past
that merits more. When we believe
myths about traditional dishes,
we lose out on the rich histories
beyond them. The reason these
myths have such a hold is because
they are simple, neat and make us
feel good. Sadly, life isn’t like that- and the truth is often a whole
lot more interesting.
Annie’s latest book is Victory in
theKitchen: the Life of Churchill’s
Cook(Profile Books £16.99)
AKEAMERICANS FELL IN
VEWITH – THEN REJECTED
omedishes don’t
tchon. Amelia
mmons published
cipefor the popular
England election
r book American
Cookeryin1796.It was a New World
twist on what was originally a generic
British fruitcake or fruit bun recipe.
Election cakes were baked until the
mid-19th century, but now this rich
fruitcake is widely derided in the USA.WE ARE AMUSED, ACTUALLY
Sometimes food fakelor
is invented to denigrate
The internet will tellyo
Queen Victoria banned
Twelfth cake, the precu
to Christmas cake,beca
Twelfth Night celebrations
were rowdy. There’snoevidence of this:
in fact, she was an enthusiastic Twelfth
cake consumer. A food story designed
to make Victoria seem staid, this is one
myth that deserves to be laid to rest.RAISE A GLASS... TO SALES
The third Thursday in November was
designated as the release date for
beaujolais nouveau in 1985, building
on a campaign started in the 1950s and
popularised by a Burgundy-
based wine merchant in the
1970s. For much of the 1980s
and 1990s, the rush to import
the first of the year’s wine
to the UK and USA was a
cause for celebration (and
increased sales). Today
other wine regions happily
celebrate their versions
of nouveau. Release day
may not be time-honoured
but it’s a fine excuse for
a tipple.The pastry was
tough enough for the
pasty to be thrown
down a mineIt ’s complicat d
re
e.
ou
d
ursor
ause
onsated...
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cat
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