Scoff: A History of Food and Class in Britain

Product Information

Well now I have had the last laugh because, as this book shows, my instincts were entirely correct. There is such a thing as working class cheese, middle class marmalade and a whole host of other class based foods preferences. I learned, to my horror, that my beloved Golden Shred is lower-middle-class while Oxford Cut (I should have known from the name, what an idiot I am) is upper-middle-class and even appropriate for minor members of the aristocracy who do not have their own orangery. I once had tea with a Lord on the tiny island of Carriacou which he had invited me to visit. We sat on the terrace of his villa on the lovely pink-sand beach of Hillsborough with three of his women friends. I had scarcely begun to drink my tea when I saw a look pass between the women. What had I done? I saw the sneer. I hadn't crooked my little finger, I hadn't stirred my tea so that it slopped over the side. I couldn't think. But I could see them looking down their noses at me. They'd marked me out. I was only middle class. But how? I have the right kind of accent (also a Welsh one for street cred and a sort of Caribbean one that doesn't impress West Indians). I pondered over it for days. I suggested that a triangle of aged Brie de Meux would be better, but sliced cheese was easier to use when she made my sandwiches. I had no choice but to explain the real motivation behind my cheese preferences; sliced cheese was “working class” and it was my opinion that, as a family, we should pay greater regard to our lower-upper-middle-class social standing when selecting dairy comestibles. So utterly fascinating that I read it in great greedy gulps, like a novel. Vogler is incredibly good company as she dismantles pretty much every assumption we make about how we, and other people, eat.' -India Knigh, Sunday Times White bread had become an obsessional mark of identity for families who felt their kind had been denied it for centuries. Disapproval of it became an opposing obsession for the gentry whose forebears had considered it their birthright. One after another, commentators, doctors, self-appointed medical experts and disgusted correspondents published pamphlets, tracts, arguments and letters to the press to disabuse ‘persons in the lower class of life’ of their misapprehensions. Every published argument marshalled empirical and anecdotal ‘proof’, involving stories of dogs in scientific trials, mariners, or other nationalities who thrived on wheatmeal bread or languished on white. It was clear to many self-appointed advisors that bread, along with salty foods such as bacon and cheese, was driving labourers to the inns – another scourge of their class. Although their advice might be couched in compassionate terms, it generally rested upon the conviction that it was up to the poor to manage themselves better. If only they could learn to eat more vegetables and less bread, their troubles would be over. The poor, when they had the chance, replied that their troubles would be over if their employers paid a living wage which bought adequate food, clothes and shelter for them and their families."

Vogler's book is a series of dazzling essays on subjects such as venison pasties, spices, Christmas pudding and Brussels sprouts. The learning and the range of references, from obscure Italian Renaissance texts to Bridget Jones, are astounding.' - Literary Review Review This book will delight foreigners, especially Americans with all the quirky, class-based rules that govern our choice of food. They will then be qualified to go to Waitrose (our version of WholeFoods) to select the appropriate upper middle class brand of whatever it is they want be it jam, cheese, or bread etc. And they will pay for it! For the British, it is a good way of learning to up your game as you up your accent and lose the regional phrasing that immediately identifies what class you are from. Don't be put off by the author's implied sneering at the upper classes and their food habits, that's called reverse snobbery. A superbly researched romp through food, cooking and class in Britain, looking at everything from brown bread versus white to the dangers of the dinner party. Full of history, Scoff is never heavy, thanks to Vogler's writing style and wit.' -Best Food Books of 2020, The Independent Oh and they charged us the same price for a Virgin Mary as a Bloody Mary which feels outrageous for a glass of spicy tomato juice.

aastal 2020 avaldatakse briti lehtedes "iasoovijatest" keskklassitädide nõuandeid, kuidas inimesed, kes on koroona tõttu töö kaotanud ja koolivaheajal oma lastele süüa ei suuda osta (kooliajal aitab tasuta koolilõuna natukegi), peaksid neile keetma tervislikku putru, ainult 13 penni portsjon - tõsi, moosi ega võid selle raha eest sinna peale ei saa, aga kui inimene ei ole osanud nii elada, et tööd ja raha oleks, siis ta ei peagi end ja oma lapsi hellitama ei moosiga ega ka mingite peenemate (liha)toitudega. plus ca change. You may also opt to downgrade to Standard Digital, a robust journalistic offering that fulfils many user’s needs. Compare Standard and Premium Digital here. A terrific history, in bite-sized chunks, of how food and drink relates to social status.' -Book of the Week, The Guardian Pen Vogler provides a fascinating social history of British food through the centuries and throws in a selection of enticing recipes from the past for good measure.' -History Books of the Year, Daily Mail

For all its rich history of foods, I find that sort of cultural material much more interesting (tea sounds common; napkin sounds ridiculous). It is a rare moment to catch Vogler scoffing. Mostly she circumvents any suggestion of being a latter-day Mrs Manners by making it clear that what concerns her is less about what to say when invited round to supper in Chipping Norton, and more about what the majority of Britons get to eat on a daily basis. She blames centuries of food snobbery for the fact that we have ended up in the topsy-turvy situation where words such as “fresh”, “local”, “home-made” and “healthy” signify the diet of the wealthy few, while everyone else gets to eat cake – shop-bought and ultra-processed and quite likely to kill you, in one way or another.What was the semiology of garlic cheesecake in the 80s? I don't think Pen Vogler is going to tell us. lots of fun little titbits but it doesn't really hang together very well. In the conclusion she states that there were 3 throughlines to the stories and I think she would have been better off structuring it around those throughlines instead of bouncing from food item to food item. Reading notes In the North of England, meals are breakfast, dinner and tea. In the South they are breakfast, lunch and dinner. Helen Fielding during her first week in Oxford was invited by her tutor for dinner and turned up in the middle of the day. Her tutor, astonished, explained how things worked in the more sophisticated world she was moving into!