In the second half of the 20th century, western consumers were treated
to an unprecedented array of high-quality, low-cost food. Monochrome
national cuisines were spiced up by immigration, globalisation and
holidays abroad. Increased disposable income turned a restaurant
pilgrimage into an everyday jaunt. You could have pain au chocolat for
breakfast, a Mexican tortilla wrap for lunch and a Thai green curry for
dinner. Farmers' markets popularised heritage tomatoes. Celebrity chefs took up residence in gastropubs.
Now, I think it's great that in recent years we've woken up to the
wonders of fresh, local, home-cooked food. But this new food culture is
not quite as it seems. The spectacle of Jamie Oliver,
a cheeky lad from Essex, tearing basil leaves on to spaghetti was in
some ways a step forward for equality, but in other ways it was a sneaky
step back – because it made it that much harder to notice the dodgy
doublespeak that has come to dominate the way we talk about food.
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