Few would dispute that the variety of food widely available in Britain has increased dramatically in the past half century, thanks to immigration and our entry into the Common Market (as it then was). Cooking in Britain used to be almost comically awful, a kind of war on culinary pleasure.
It took a certain determination to produce food so bad, devoid of taste and of unpleasant consistency; it was as if the pleasures of the table were of the Devil, who was believed by cooks to lead us astray by tempting us to enjoy ourselves and forget our religious duties. Food was fuel and eating a regrettable necessity. How this attitude came about, I am not sure; the English were never known for their cuisine, and their eating habits were frequently regarded as gross by more refined nations; but Victorian cookbooks had recipes for a very wide range of dishes and suggested also a taste for strong flavours. Perhaps the First World War wrought a change.
All that has changed again: culinary puritanism, whatever its origin, is no more. It is now possible to eat well even in provincial towns and cities: indeed, the best Korean food I have ever eaten was in Manchester, followed closely by that in Southsea. I was astonished by the quality of Chinese food available in Coventry and Edinburgh. Foods unheard of in 1970 are now commonplace and are available even in small local supermarkets (though I have noticed a decline in the variety and quality of what is offered in them since the recent Great Inflation set in, suggesting a real decline in living standards).
