As the festive lights dim and the new year dawns, a quiet revolution is taking place in British kitchens. Far from the traditional clamour for detoxes and dietary overhauls, a growing number are finding solace in the familiar embrace of comfort food.
The Radical Act of Nostalgic Eating
While friend Bridget is already planning for next Christmas, hunting the January sales for future festive treats, many are choosing a different path for the month ahead. Instead of looking forward with a mix of excitement and angst, they are deliberately looking back, finding a counterpoint to relentless future planning in the dishes they know by heart.
There is something quietly radical about indulging in culinary nostalgia in January. It is a conscious choice of familiarity over novelty, pleasure over punishment, and comfort over guilt. This isn't about believing the past was better, but about creating a comforting anchor amidst the rush of time.
Personal Pasts on a Plate
For some, this means recreating the perfect fish finger sandwich, as championed by food writer Felicity Cloake. For others, like Sarit mentioned in the original piece, it is a simple, beige barley and bean soup – a winter staple from her childhood.
This soup may not be guest-worthy in their eyes, but its power is immediate to anyone who tries it. Nostalgia, it seems, is a universally recognisable flavour. Tasting someone else's memory dish becomes a fascinating journey into their personal history.
The trigger could be anything: a school canteen favourite, a perfected weeknight dinner, or a homemade version of a beloved takeaway. The common thread is the need to take a beat, to look – or taste – backwards before the new year accelerates away.
A Week in Food: Preservation and Pleasure
This reflective, comforting approach extends beyond main meals. The January rhythm often involves taking stock and preserving the present.
Preservation orders see households assessing their jam collections, with summer stocks depleted. The focus turns to winter fruits: quinces, lemons, clementines, and blood oranges. The annual marmalade-making ritual awaits the arrival of the short-lived Seville orange.
It's also a time for aesthetic pleasure that lasts. The best gift for some was a photograph of lychees by Thai-born artist Dham Srifuengfung, proving that some fruit is for the bowl, and some for the wall.
And for those attempting a Dry January, the struggle can be real. A perfect little snack like the jalapeño popper gilda at Rita's in Soho, paired with a mini martini, offers a loophole. With a little mental gymnastics, that drink can be rebranded as a starter. It's not a drink, it's food!
Ultimately, this January offers permission. Permission to sidestep the pressure for reinvention and instead find deep satisfaction in the culinary echoes of our past, using them not as an escape, but as a grounding, comforting force for the year ahead.
