As one of the patrons and judges at the World Marmalade Awards held in Cumbria every February, the beginning of my year gets taken over by it. Fortnum & Mason held a grand breakfast for the winners of the Artisan Producer category after one festival, and it was loud with chat.
Jasper Conran was seated to my right and Emma Bridgewater on my left, and the conversation got onto design rather quickly. For all the emphasis on the preserve inside, so many of the artisan producer entries arrived in jars with ugly, carelessly designed labels that took your attention away from the contents. I should be clear here: when we judge, the preserve is spooned out onto a plain white plate so we don’t see the jar or the maker, only the category. But afterwards, looking over all the entries, we saw some nasty samples of graphic design. Jars that you would have to decant onto a plate, to hide the evidence.
This was much less a problem in the home-made classes where there were so many beautiful entries, clearly prepared with some love and attention even if they sometimes drifted towards gaudy. But when a commercial producer wants us to spend £4, or €5, or $6 on a jar then I want that jar to be the dog’s bollocks. I understand, really I do, that keeping the quality high – from the cut of the peel through to the design of the label – is hard to manage when you scale up from one jar at home to thousands in commercial production. It’s just that maintaining that quality ‘is’ the job. There were some entries where the peel looked like it was chewed apart by dogs.
Let me put it another way. We must remind the food producers we support not to abuse the relationship by thinking that any element of the production process is beneath them. Money is tight for everyone, and in that climate it matters even more. You will have experienced the same thing at some time, whether it’s from a bakery or a supermarket. That feeling that surely someone in the company is having a joke. Or expecting a TV camera to pop out from somewhere and… ahhhhh… it was just a prank to see whether you’d fall for it. No, no joke, and that will be £4 please.
Low rent companies fall under the radar. The quality of a 40p jar of jam, a 20p loaf or a 15p doughnut doesn’t offend me and, if your needs really drive you to buy only the cheapest you possibly can, then design – rightly – won’t be high on your agenda. But those of us who are able to buy a bit better must demand that it is made with care and attention, and occasionally remind food producers of that.
It gives you such a boost to see really fine packaging around thoughtfully made food. One night, just as David and I were settling down to watch Somers Town on DVD (quite good, though like CousCous, it just suddenly ended abruptly. Yes, I’m getting old.) our neighbour Sarah rang our doorbell with two jars of preserves a friend of hers, Koula, had made; one was a jar of Quince Jam, packed with chunks of tender quince set in a rosy pink jelly, and the other a jar of Medlar Jam – and you don’t see that often. Koula, I’m told, is looking at going commercial and wondered what I thought. The jams? Extraordinary, really. And the labels? Clear and smart.
