D is for Dining Out

“… and its amenities.”

In 1949, the year that M.F.K Fisher’s An Alphabet for Gourmets was published, Edward Keeling, Conservative MP for Twickenham, raised an urgent question in the House of Commons.

“The British public are a long-suffering, patient people,” he began. “I do not think any other people in the world would tolerate the continuance, after four years of peace, of the regulation that one may not spend more than 5 shillings on a lunch or dinner in a public restaurant.” 

Keeling’s speech came at a time when the UK was becoming increasingly agitated at the prolongation of the phenomenon known as restaurant rationing.

In 1940, the move to assimilate restaurants into government funded, publicly subsidised canteens, known as British Restaurants, was met with widespread approval. The national price cap made sure that everyone, regardless of their income, had equal access to food, and guaranteed that those displaced by the bombing were properly fed.

But after the dissolution of British Restaurants in 1949, many Brits were left reeling at the inheritance left behind. Though several household big hitters - including bread, sugar, coffee, and cheese - had already been liberated, restaurant rationing, despite its relative obscurity, trundled on under a new guise.

Meals were to be kept to three courses. Only one component dish could contain fish, game, or meat. No food could be served after 11.00pm. The use of importing was discouraged. And the maximum price of a meal was five shillings, or £12 in 2024 money.

Considering The River Cafe can charge £30 for a small bowl of pesto pasta and get away with it, I am led to believe that perhaps restaurant rationing wasn’t such a bad idea. Not only was it egalitarian in nature, but it could also be cited an early example of the slow food movement, preserving traditional and regional cuisines against the sweeping powers of overproduction and food waste. 

But alas, in the grand tradition of ill conceived government directives, restaurant rationing brought with it a raft of convoluted regulations that provide some insight into the frustration felt by proprietors and punters alike.  

A main dish was only a main dish if 25% of the plate was its primary ingredient. Kippers and bloaters were classed as a primary ingredient, but not herrings. Oysters could be served raw in their shells, but not cooked. The legislative footnotes were lampooned nationally and left more conformist members of society concerned that ordering a ham sandwich may risk jail time. 

“Of all countries in Europe, we have the mildest climate, the most charming scenery, and the grandest historic buildings. But we have the least attractive food,” Keeling implored. “I am sure that it is largely because tourists seek first-rate and varied food without any restrictions that… they so often cross the Channel to France after two or three days.” 

Dr. Edith Summerskill, Labour’s Secretary to the Ministry of Food, had heard enough. Catching the Speaker’s attention, she rose to the dispatch box. 

“The honourable Member for Twickenham levelled some criticism at British cooking in his opening remarks,” she replied. 

“Not a word of truth in that,” Keeling retorted.

“On behalf of the cooks of Britain, I resent those remarks. When the honourable Member comes to consult the Official Report tomorrow, he will find that he did criticise in no uncertain terms the cooking of British women and, no doubt, British men.”

Once the inevitable political point scoring was out of the way, Keeling and Summerskill eventually reached the question at the crux of their debate - What form should the UK restaurant industry take?

This question would have a profound impact on how a country defined its culinary identity. Incorporating social, economic, and political considerations, the topic was deeply complex, necessitating a solemn approach.

But for the Conservative in the room, Keeling, the answer was simple - let’s just copy America!

Fresh off its latest moral crusade as the defender of liberty and freedom, the United States wanted to give everyone – unless you were Black, Hispanic, LGBT, a woman, Asian, or an immigrant - an equal slice of pumpkin pie. As the post-war baby boom inflated the population, and its appetite, Uncle Sam saw dollar signs, capitalising on the disposable income of a new middle class to establish a capitalist approach to eating out.

Fast food exploded, leading to a steep rise in casual dining, while other innovations such as quick-service, drive-ins, standardisation, and franchising made affordable food a reality to millions of families for the first time.

To those on the right, replicating America’s big gourmet experiment was a no-brainer - higher employment, lower inflation, and a bucket load of cash.

“I have talked with many Americans and have no hesitation in saying that the 5s. limit on restaurant meals loses us many millions of dollars a year and drives people in this country abroad to spend millions a year there.” 

Well, he obviously hadn’t spoken to M.F.K Fisher.

She, who once put a bowl of shelled garden peas as her top meal of all time, had deep reservations about the direction of American restaurants. The ever-democratic Fisher welcomed the widening accessibility of food. Yet, with a level of foresight most politicians could only dream of, she remained concerned that her beloved restaurants were becoming less about the fish market, and more about the free market. 

“The attitude seems to be that all humans must eat, and all humans must make money in order to eat,” Fisher writes in the original D is for Dining. “Therefore, the two things might as well be combined.” 

Fisher’s analysis should have acted as a prescient warning for the dangers of unchecked consumerism, as inextricably fusing profit with profiteroles did, in fact, fire the starting gun on a race to the bottom. 

Think about the accessibility of nourishing, reasonable, food today. It’s harder than ever to find establishments that, in this economy, can do both. With very few laws in place to protect restaurants from the brutality of the high street, much-loved neighbourhood establishments have been gutted, only to be replaced by transatlantic junk food behemoths and extortionate fine dining.

When the Labour Party established British Restaurants in 1940, they saw these food halls as a permanent solution to equalise consumption across the class line and guarantee a nourishing diet to all. The abandoning of this commitment has deepened that divide even further.

When two parliamentary giants, from either end of the political spectrum, stood debating the future of dining out, they presented opposing visions that appeared entirely incompatible with each other. One, antiquated but fair. Another, competitive but obsessed with the bottom line.  

If it wasn’t already obvious, we chose the latter. But what if, all those years ago, instead of blindly following our American counterparts we opted for a third way? What if we introduced legislation that meant restaurants operating in the UK had to respect quality and fairness, whilst still remaining ambitious and nimble? Wouldn’t it be remarkable if that existed today? 

Oh wait, it does. It’s called France.

An Alphabet for (Modern) Gourmets brings M.F.K Fisher’s seminal 1949 anthology, An Alphabet for Gourmets, into the 21st century with an updated A to Z on all things food. Contrasting the generational differences, and timeless similarities between centuries, Ben Drinkwater offers a witty and thought-provoking exploration of life’s most storied ritual.

Words: Ben Drinkwater

Artwork: Laura Sheppard