When a country is at war, people’s lives are shaken up in ways we can, in these modern times, only imagine. Not just in terms of loss, but their whole day-to-day. Adapting to these circumstances has consequences for future generations, incredibly nuanced as they may seem. But can those consequences be embraced? Can what’s experienced during wartime have a positive effect on the future? The future of what we do, the way we live, the things we identify with? When food is the medium, then maybe.
During the mid-twentieth century, British food culture changed forever. German submarines patrolling The Channel, North Sea, and Atlantic torpedoed ships supplying the UK – cheese, seventy percent of which in Britain imported, almost vanished from shop shelves. Wheat, which to a large extent came from the Americas, was made scarce. Supplying anything by sea became impossible.
When food rationing kicked in during January 1940, access to sugar, butter, eggs, jam, sausages and bacon – to name a few – dwindled. A home cook who wanted to live as close to normality as possible had to think resourcefully. You can’t have tea without cake, and you can’t have cake without eggs and sugar, so what do you do? Your toast’s a bit dry, your weekly allowance of 57g of butter has long gone, and shop-bought jam is, if you’re lucky, a novelty. What are your options?
You see why eating for pleasure was a struggle. Those living at the time, especially in the cities, grinned and bared it. They made do, then got used to what they had. It’s largely why Britain is where Britain is, with a food culture that (reputedly or by fact) still reflects how mundane food used to be. Take a look in your fridge or pantry now and, from that cheese to this family-favourite pudding, the after-effects of a rationed country, long after the fact, are right there.