I don’t have a great deal in common with Lady Thatcher, but my father was also a grocer.
Growing up in Scotland in the early 70’s, I have vague memories of what now seems a very old-fashioned grocer’s shop, as far removed from today’s Waitroses and ICAs, as a Ford Model T is from a Ferrari.
Spaghetti meant spaghetti hoops in cans and polenta and guacamole could have been dances or diseases for all I knew.
A friend has sent round some reflections on an even earlier era, what it was like to “enjoy” eating in the UK in the 1950’s. Enjoy!
EATING IN THE UK IN THE FIFTIES
Pasta had not been invented.
Curry was a surname.
A takeaway was a mathematical problem.
A pizza was something to do with a leaning tower.
All crisps were plain; the choice was whether to put the salt on or not.
A Big Mac was what we wore when it was raining.
Brown bread was something only poor people ate.
Fish didn’t have fingers.
Eating raw fish was called poverty, not sushi.
None of us had heard of yoghurt.
Cooking outside was called camping.
The one thing that we never ever had on our table… was elbows.