PALATABLE POLITICS

Politics, and for that matter, politicians, leave me cold. They are however rather a verbose lot generally, and I enjoy playing around with words almost as much as I relish a frolic with my fritters in the food stakes.

I also have a personal aversion to rice pudding so perhaps this is why I am so endeared to Prince Philip’s observation in 1967 that ‘If you really want to get your teeth into the biggest rice pudding of all, I suggest you take a look at the duties of government and its administrative structure.’

Politicians of all persuasions are not renowned for their taste in matters culinary, and with few exceptions have never seen fit to utter forth some great pronouncement on the subject of our national diet, unless of course it is to serve their own political ends, or as part of an exercise in damage control when once again they have failed to safeguard our national interest.

The exception to this may well have been Thomas Jefferson (3^rd President of the US) who wrote - ‘I am an epicurean’, and he alone amongst his contemporaries understood that improvement could not be achieved by flannel and charitable bowls of soup, but by the increase in national prosperity that the energetic and powerful could achieve for the country.

I concur with his view that ‘Good food, good wine, intelligent talk and humour are the best background for diplomacy, and for happiness in general.’

So, what of politicians and their girths, or lack of them, as the case may be in the much publicized slimmed down versions of Nigel Lawson and Judy Steel.

Where do they eat, and what do they like to eat on and off the campaign trail, and who cares? Not yer average man in the street certainly, unless of course he happens to own the fish and chip shop frequented by Tony Blair, or the hot dog stand favoured by John Major at the football ground.

‘I hate a man who swallows his food affecting not to know what he is eating. I suspect his taste in higher matters.’ Let’s hear it for Charles Lamb.

In all probability the only ones to cast even the merest hint of interest in this direction will be the chefs who’s task it is to tempt jaded expense account palates into submission, and then they’re onto a sure loser when catering for either side. One side too ebullient to care what passes between those flabby jaws, the other too miserable and tight lipped to do much else but cry into their G&Ts.

When the general election rolls around once every five years or so it’s time for everyone to put on their thinking caps and come up with the frivolous and meaningless dishes that may or may not find their way into the culinary almanacs. As I write I can just imagine some poor caterer in Nigel Lawson’s constituency ploughing his or her way through the Nigel Lawson Diet Book desperately trying to locate one delicious edible what-not to feed the masses who have tirelessly worked the campaign trail - they surely deserve better. I cannot help but be reminded of Einstein’s observation that - ‘an empty stomach is not a good political advisor’.

Perhaps they could take a leaf out of Cardinal Wolsey’s book. He was never one to stint when it came to entertaining at the government’s expense, never mind the starving wraiths on the streets of London, he still found the wherewithal to give sumptuous banquets at his palace in Whitehall, and the piece de resistance of one such extravaganza in 1509 was a porpoise. This of course would be off the list nowadays with our increasing concern over the environment and ecology.

What then of the wines produced on our shores? Not if Disraeli had anything to do with it, he wrote in Sybil in 1845 -

‘I rather lie bad wine,’ said Mr Mountchesney, ‘one gets so bored with good wine.’

A celebratory cake is also out, for Margot Asquith was quite capable of sniffing out those little white lies so loved by political figures, and considers them only good enough to ice cake - ‘Ettie has told enough white lies to ice a cake’

It’s a good job Sir Compton Mackenzie (1883-1972) is no longer with us for then those cucumber sandwiches so beloved of English tea parties would find no place in his presence

‘You are offered a piece of bread and butter that feels like a damp handkerchief and sometimes, when cucumber is added to it, like a wet one.’

Lord Randolph Churchill obviously had no truck with the chattering classes as is evident by his homily on chips, so out they go too, sorry Tony.

He (Gladstone) told them that he would give them and all other subjects of the Queen much legislation, great prosperity, and universal peace, and he has given them nothing but chips. Chips to the faithful allies in Afghanistan, chips to the trusting native races of South Africa, chips to the Egyptian fellah, chips to the British farmer, chips to the manufacturer and the artisan, chips to the agricultural labourer, chips to the House of Commons itself.

Champagne however passes muster, at least in the eyes of his son, for Sir Winston was a well documented fan of Pol Roger, a man after my own heart.

But what of those too young to imbibe? No milk for them, despite Churchill’s declaration that every baby should have milk There is no finer investment for any community than putting milk into babies.’ Margaret Thatcher soon took care of that.

Perhaps some notice should have been taken of Adlai Stevenson during his acceptance speech at the 1956 Democratic National Convention -

‘The idea that you can merchandise candidates for high office like breakfast cereal - that you can gather votes like box tops - is, I think, the ultimate indignity to the democratic process.’

Was anyone listening? I think not. And how often are we told of the importance of a good breakfast? Not in this packaging thank you.

We could always turn our attentions to a long forgotten book of recipes published in 1961 and entitled ‘Celebrity Cooking for You’, in which I see Joe Grimond’s offering was Fish Soup, the principal ingredient being haddock, brain food indeed. Harold Macmillan’s contribution was Fluffy Eggs - oh yeh, the mind boggles. The Lady Tweedsmuir informed us that she uses a mix of cheddar and parmesan in her souffles, with a little paprika sprinkled on top but no further details are given, I wonder if she made them herself? Lord Robertson was a bit of a slippery character, preferring the melted cheese concoction known as fondue, whilst Lord Boothby obviously likes a little spice in his life, with curry being his favoured dish. Ted Heath went for the feminine approach with Steak Diane, and Hugh Gaitskell felt inclined to instruct us in the making of Ginger Ale Salad. Lady Longford longed to stuff marrows, and Barbara Castle raided her herb bed for tarragon to serve with chicken. Many others, in an obvious bid to illustrate their much traveled selves, and a hint of superior knowledge, went for fancy foreign concoctions, with equally unpronounceable names. My vote goes to Cyril Smith for his simple Yorkshire Pudding, I can’t think of a better way to increase one’s girth.

All these recipes aside I can suggest only one alternative. It must surely be Cabinet (or Chancellor’s) Pudding, requiring no added sugar, being sweetened by its main ingredients, all stale cake and wrinkled fruits. Oh that the bitter pill of the prospect of increased taxation were so sweet.

CABINET PUDDING

(Serves 4)

¼ pt. Milk

3 large eggs

1 tsp vanilla essence

1/2lb stale cake (Victoria sandwich or madeira)

2oz each currants and sultanas

glace cherries and angelica

jam sauce, brandy butter or cream to serve

Heat milk

Whisk eggs in a large bowl, and slowly pour over the hot milk

Add vanilla essence

Break the cake into pieces and add to the bowl, mixing gently

Stir in the currants and sultanas

Cover and leave to cool, allowing the cake to soak up the liquid

Grease a 1pt pudding basin, and put a circle of greased foil in the bottom

Arrange the glace cherries and angelica decoratively in the bottom of the basin

Pour the pudding mixture over the top

Cover the basin tightly with foil, and place a saucer on top

Steam gently for 45mins., until firm

Turn the pudding out onto a serving dish (removing the foil circle)

Serve with jam sauce, brandy butter or cream

More recently in ‘A Foreign Affair’ - If you give a hungry man a loaf of bread, that’s democracy. If you leave the wrapper on, it’s imperialism.

Lord Boyd -Orr (1955) - If people have to choose between freedom and sandwiches they will take sandwiches.

Adlai Stevenson - A hungry man is not a free man.

Lech Walesa (1981) - Freedom is a food which must be carefully administered when people are too hungry for it.

Bertrand Russell - Undoubtedly the desire for food has been and still is one of the main causes of great political events.