The God Life
Consuming disinterest
Pamela Vandyke Price This is the season when those who !re putting off attempting to clean '.1? their living quarters after the Winter, go all 'best buy,' consumer protection' and 'labelling' minded. I do not grudge them these outlets for their energies, although I have never been able to change a plug since electric leads went ever so contemporary as regards colours, whereas formerly I would juggle with watt, volt and ampere with casual assurance.
Nor do I entirely share the cynicism of one comment on the problem of prices, to the effect that if people hadn't got such a range of things to buy, they wouldn't spend so much money and therefore wouldn't be so hard up. One man's convenience food may be another's sinful luxury, wanton extravagance (or simply idiotic shopping by a mediamuddled spendthrift).
But my own seasonal reforms would be to do with how food is described. The poor old film censor could be charitably resuscitated to wield his deleting arm over such meaningless terms as 'Fresh,' 'Morning gathered,' Real fruit,' 'As good as and half the price,' Home-made,"Oven baked,' 'Country style,' Grown on the farm.' He could slash irritating descriptions such as 'Quick,' when minutes are wasted in deciphering the instructions and many average cooks could beat the scheduled period anyway; 'Like mother used to make' (how do they know the woman wasn't a lousy cook?) and that wholly treacherous claim that 'You can't tell the difference from ' when most palates outside the toffee-encrusted cornflake crunchers and spreaders of marg on crustless mock bread could certainly tell the difference and reject the product. The cow has claimed my attention again too. For how is it pos sible to describe as 'Unbeatable for custards, batters, soups, sauces, pastries, desserts, tea and coffee in fact for every recipe for which you now use fresh milk,' a substance which is 'spray dried separated milk enriched with vegetable fats and Vitamins A, D and C'? Why, as the makers of champagne say wearily when people will desparkle their products with swizzle sticks, why make the thing in the first place when what the customer apparently wants is something different? Surely any old lab could run up an uncow powder, liquid or pellet which might even be an agreeable thing, instead of mocking up milk? As for the 'unbeatable' quality — do the copywriters mean that you cannot take whisk or fork to the stuff — and, if so, is this an advantage? With some sauces, desserts, batters etc. etc., I would not have thought so. This is an advertisement in a catering paper, promulgating new-milk to hapless wayfarers.
The recent action taken against a West End classy nosh bar because its chickens, described as 'free range' on the menu, did indeed, on the occasion when some official did a sampling, not know the meaning of the word 'range,' is perhaps significant. The restaurant concerned actually does seem to have been the victim of its supplier. (And do I ever produce a corked bottle except when I really want to peacock before the palates of my guests, or does a sauce ever become boardinghouse blancmange except when I want choice viands to glide subtly into the maws of friends whom I am throwing together as potential life partners? No — these doomladen times beset us all.) But how fearful for us if we are obliged to eat abroad only when armed with gauging, probing and analysing devices to ascertain that everything is as it should be — one would not get to eating lunch until after theatre supper time.
If one is paying through the nose, one ought to be able to take certain things for granted in the mouth, and to hell with the 'garden fresh,' hand reared,' mid-day uprooted' appliques on menu, can, pack and sachet. If I want to eat baked beans, canned soup, fish fingers and dried fruit, I will — but I don't want them lurking among the plats cuisines, any more than I want mock couture labels inside my chain store sweaters, or ever so chateau-seeming labels on my plonk.
And a warning note to our new dear leaders admittedly du cdte de chez vache, but it could be a trend: certain French cattle producers, wishing to stress the need to obtain higher prices for beef and milk, have sent to the agricultural ministers of the EEC a cow each, individually marked with the recipient's name. I am sure this is adorable status symbolism but is it consumer protection? Indeed, how is the grazing in Whitehall? For when the cow turns, the sheep, the pig, the deer and the bunny rabbit may well follow, the park ducks being joined in their perambulations across the roads by hens, geese, guinea fowl and turkeys. As one who — once — actually could milk (by the actual operation of the mitt), I anticipate a happy, handcrafted, ever so 'morning churned' time.
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