As an avid reader, cook and wine tutor, I eagerly explore the link
between literature and our eating and drinking habits. The upcoming Ilminster
Literary Festival (28 May – 6 June) provides the opportunity to consider one of
our most famous, and best loved, authors, Eric Arthur Blair, better known
as George Orwell.
A true eccentric, Orwell was keenly aware of social injustice,
opposed to totalitarianism, and an outspoken supporter of democratic socialism;
considering fish and chips, the pub, strong tea, cut price chocolate, the
movies, and radio among the chief working-class comforts.
Most of us are familiar with his novels ‘Animal Farm’, and ‘1984’, which
introduced the concept of ‘big brother’. The extent to which he foresaw the
current social shift towards that kind of environment is particularly
unsettling.
What is less well-known is Orwell’s keen interest in food and
drink. His attitude to eating was hard-nosed – “what is a human being after
all,” he wrote, "primarily a bag for putting food into".
Orwell's food writing often focused on the unpalatable side of English
cuisine, but he also composed delightful essays on the pleasures of saffron
buns, marrow jam and cottage loaves; his appetite for such dishes may well have
been in response to wartime austerity.
Some of his food descriptions are quite vivid, focusing on the
‘grubbier’ (forgive the pun), side of what those he observed chose to consume.
In ‘The Road to Wigan Pier’, his description of Mr. Brooker’s squalid
tripe shop, and his black thumb print on the bread and butter he serves, is
revolting. Likewise, the image of cooks and waiters fingering the
steak in ‘Down and Out in Paris and London’ would be enough to curb anyone’s
appetite.
However, his passion for English food comes through loud and clear in an
essay, written in Dec. 1945, "In Defence of English
Cooking", praising the virtues of such quintessentially English dishes as kippers,
Yorkshire pudding, bread sauce, stilton cheese and Oxford marmalade.
Many traditional favourites have long since disappeared, but the current
interest in our culinary heritage, largely fuelled by TV cooking programmes,
has seen a revival of the likes of saffron buns, apple dumplings, jugged hare,
potted shrimps and faggots; several of our top chefs have risen to the challenge,
working with food historians to recreate dishes, adapting them to modern
palates.
Orwell enjoyed a good cuppa and had Fortnum & Mason's tea delivered
to him in Catalonia. In his 1946 essay, "A Nice Cup of Tea", Orwell
wrote, "tea is one of the mainstays of civilisation in this country and
causes violent disputes over how it should be made". The main issue was,
and remains, whether to put tea in the cup first and add the milk afterward, or
the other way around. Orwell asserts that ‘by putting the tea in first and
stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one
is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the other way round.’ I agree
wholeheartedly.
He gives eleven rules for the perfect cup of tea, the first of which is
that one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. I contacted Fortnum & Mason
recently, and although unable to unearth details of the teas shipped out to
Orwell, they did send me information from their archives; from Orwell’s
description I would hazard a guess at ‘Perfection’, their blend of Assam and
Ceylon teas, at 2s. 8d. for 1lb (equivalent to £4 today).
In addition to giving advice on how to warm the pot beforehand, Orwell
also stresses that the tea should be strong, and teapots made of china or earthenware.
He was a staunch advocate of drinking tea without sugar, suggesting that
those who insist on drinking it with sugar should ‘Try drinking tea without
sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will ever want to
ruin your tea by sweetening it again.’
I know this to be true, as I tried it myself.
Orwell was an enthusiastic beer drinker, in moderation, despising lager
drinkers. He used to frequent The Plough in Wallington, North Hertfordshire,
coming in for a take-away pint of Simpson’s dark mild, which would be served in
a mocha ware beer jug; in his opinion, “beer tastes better out of china”.
He is also often cited as being a driving force behind the rising
popularity of Micropubs. In his essay about the fictional pub "The Moon Under
Water", he extols this symbol of working-class life, the qualities he
yearned for, and what remains for many of us the criteria for the perfect
old-fashioned pub; small backstreet establishments, family-gathering places
with a garden to the rear, a focus on providing good draft beer, light snacks,
no music, and a welcoming atmosphere where conversation is encouraged, barmaids
who know their customers by name and regulars who have their favourite spot in
which to sit and pass the time of day in front of a roaring fire; solid,
comfortable and dependable.
And finally, a cautionary quote, “A man may take to drink because he
feels himself a failure, but then fail all the more completely because he
drinks.” - George Orwell.
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