I reckon people are suffering from a tiny bit of campaign fatigue at the moment.
And who can blame them? They're confronted by a constant stream of celebrity chefs leaping on to the soap box to decry some iniquity or another.
But this clearly hasn't put off the makers of Great British Food Revival (8pm, BBC2, 16 March). In fact, they've perversely taken the view: why launch one campaign when you can launch 10? Which may not prove to have been a very smart move.
It's not that each and every one of the campaigns to revive the fortunes of Great British foods doesn't have its merits it's just that some have, how should I put it, more merits than others. Take this week's double-header a plea to the nation to eat more heritage spuds from spud-faced spud lover Gregg Wallace (well, they do say it takes one to know one) and a eulogy from remaining Fat Lady Clarissa Dickson Wright on the delights of rare breed pigs (ditto earlier comment).
Wallace wasn't as odious as usual perhaps because he was genuinely passionate about the plight of the potato. And with good reason. Demand is falling because people think spuds are unhealthy and inconvenient compared with rice and pasta a problem that's compounded by the preponderance of hardy but dull varieties around.
Which begs the question: just how are people supposed to get their hands on these heritage spuds? Wallace seems to think we're all going to contact some scientific institute in Edinburgh requesting seed potatoes. Who's he kidding?
And what was with the recipes? Granted, pasta and rice are not part of our culinary tradition. But neither is gnocchi or dauphinoise (the clue IS in the names). Not that I'd want to cook the latter anyway now he's described it as "the closest you'll get to a snog on a plate". Eurrgh.
Dickson Wright's recipes were both more British and innovative (think roast shoulder with walnut and caper stuffing) and she argued convincingly that we can revive the fortunes of rare breed pigs by eating them (which will have had the veggie brigade spluttering into its carrot soup).
But again, this isn't readily available stuff and unfortunately, there has to be a way as well as a will.
More from this column
And who can blame them? They're confronted by a constant stream of celebrity chefs leaping on to the soap box to decry some iniquity or another.
But this clearly hasn't put off the makers of Great British Food Revival (8pm, BBC2, 16 March). In fact, they've perversely taken the view: why launch one campaign when you can launch 10? Which may not prove to have been a very smart move.
It's not that each and every one of the campaigns to revive the fortunes of Great British foods doesn't have its merits it's just that some have, how should I put it, more merits than others. Take this week's double-header a plea to the nation to eat more heritage spuds from spud-faced spud lover Gregg Wallace (well, they do say it takes one to know one) and a eulogy from remaining Fat Lady Clarissa Dickson Wright on the delights of rare breed pigs (ditto earlier comment).
Wallace wasn't as odious as usual perhaps because he was genuinely passionate about the plight of the potato. And with good reason. Demand is falling because people think spuds are unhealthy and inconvenient compared with rice and pasta a problem that's compounded by the preponderance of hardy but dull varieties around.
Which begs the question: just how are people supposed to get their hands on these heritage spuds? Wallace seems to think we're all going to contact some scientific institute in Edinburgh requesting seed potatoes. Who's he kidding?
And what was with the recipes? Granted, pasta and rice are not part of our culinary tradition. But neither is gnocchi or dauphinoise (the clue IS in the names). Not that I'd want to cook the latter anyway now he's described it as "the closest you'll get to a snog on a plate". Eurrgh.
Dickson Wright's recipes were both more British and innovative (think roast shoulder with walnut and caper stuffing) and she argued convincingly that we can revive the fortunes of rare breed pigs by eating them (which will have had the veggie brigade spluttering into its carrot soup).
But again, this isn't readily available stuff and unfortunately, there has to be a way as well as a will.
More from this column
No comments yet