“We’ve had our quarterly food waste report in. Two major supermarkets have requested permission to sell pre-cut onion, carrot and sweet potato. The argument they’ve provided is that they are helpful for those with disabilities who can’t cut vegetables. Hmm, interesting. Our reasoning for banning them had been food waste.”
“Onions spoil too quickly once cut to be feasible,” someone says. “There’d be enormous waste.”
“Why don’t we agree to limited amounts of carrot and potato, see how much waste results and then reassess for other vegetables in the next quarter. Everyone in agreement? Excellent.” Marianne looks at her notes and stifles a frown. “Next, Donna, you wanted to discuss celiacs?”
“Yes, I really worry that those who can’t eat gluten are restricted in their carbohydrate choices at the moment to potatoes. I want a budget to explore alternatives, maybe think outside the box.” I can practically hear Marianne’s eye roll from the other end of the room.
“Well,” Marianne says crisply, “if you happen to find a paddy field somewhere in England, by all means do let me know. In the meantime, the one percent of the population with a gluten allergy will have to make do. We have bigger fish to fry.”
“Next on the agenda is our monthly report on ration book fraud. I’m happy to report that fraud continues to be very low. The past month has seen thirty-two cases of fraud, all of which received the standard punishment of a twenty percent reduction in overall allowance and total removal of the ‘treat’ allowance for a minimum of six months.” Marianne looks up and smiles. “Remarkable what the threat of no sugar or booze can do for people’s moral compasses, isn’t it?
“And finally, the restaurant initiative. Now, I know we aren’t in a position to explore this yet, but I hope to in the near future and it will take some planning.”
I can feel my left eyebrow raise and Marianne clocks it. Restaurants? In a time of national crisis when our economy is still barely surviving and we’re only ever one bad harvest away from starvation? Really?
“I’ll hold my hands up here and admit to being a foodie in the worst possible way. I miss foams and silly edible flowers and I know we can’t do this yet, but I want us to plan for a restaurant allowance system. It’s quite simple—restaurants that register with the scheme would take bookings between one and two weeks in advance. As part of the booking process, a portion of the ration allowances for the diners would be transferred to the restaurant. If the diners don’t turn up for their meal, tough luck; the allowance has already been used.”
Silence rings around the room. I can’t say I’m massively enamored by it but then, I was never a big fan of going out to overpriced, fancy restaurants where someone would somehow always end up offering me a drink with flowers in it for twenty pounds.
A woman at the end of the table clears her throat and says, softly, “I think it could be very helpful from a psychological perspective.” Ah, she must be the shrink.
“Yes!” Marianne seizes on this small encouragement. “It will allow a crucial part of society and culture to continue, create jobs and create a sense of normalcy. Isn’t that what we’re always talking about? Maintaining normal life as far as possible. No one should go hungry, people should still be able to enjoy food and, I think, enjoy the singular experience of dressing up, going to a nice restaurant and enjoying food far lovelier than anything they could ever cook for themselves. I want to go to a restaurant, recognize a part of my former life and maybe for a few hours feel like nothing has changed.”
I try to think of the most diplomatic response that will piss off the fewest people in the room and break the silence. “Why don’t you draw up a plan and we can consider it further at the next meeting.” Marianne smiles at me gratefully. I have no interest in restaurants, but a desire for normalcy I can sympathize with. Rationing is a glorious thing, it has rendered everyone’s hunger equal in the eyes of the law. No person is more or less entitled to food and the feeling of being full, but I miss the fun of food in abundance. I miss buying three bottles of wine for when my friends were coming over on a warm summer night. I miss barbecues with steak, ribs and burgers on a drizzly Saturday afternoon in June because English weather always insists on raining on barbecue days. If restaurants will make some people feel like their lives haven’t changed, we should do everything we can to make them happen. Too much has changed that we can’t ever fix. We should return to how things used to be wherever we can.