China's first traceable wine

A big step for an industry plagued with scandals.

I have been fortunate enough to be involved with the beverage industry across Asia over the past decade. In particular, China’s evolution into a global economic powerhouse has been nothing less than spectacular. Given the sheer geographic and population spread, China is too big to be considered as one country. For example, Guangdong province alone has a population of over 100m which itself is bigger than the Philippines (the 12th most populated in the world), therefore businesses should treat each province within China as a separate country.

Over the past few years, China’s food & beverage industry has been plagued by a number of scandals. The most famous of which has been the melamine contamination post Beijing Olympics in late 2008. The Associated Press back then reported that over 50,000 babies and children were affected with nearly a thousand being hospitalized as well as several deaths. There was a public and media outcry which resulted in several high profile arrests in the dairy industry as well as open apologies from the leading dairy companies such as Mengniu and Yili. Sales of dairy products declined sharply in the months following the scandal, but have since recovered as the industry continues to prosper and grow.

Despite the promise by the government to tackle and improve food safety in China, further scandals broke out in 2011 as Xinhua News Agency reported unscrupulous businesses collected used cooking oil from sewers and restaurants to process and repackaged as new cooking oil for sale. This type of dishonest practice continues to be the norm as businesses sidelines consumers’ health and safety for a quick profit.

Frustrated by the slow progress taken by the authorities, the industry has taken the matter into their own hands. Star Farm, which is a wholly owned subsidiary of the retailer Metro Group, was established in 2007. The company is committed to food safety and quality through a traceability system along the whole value chain. As of 2010, it has developed over 2,000 products with local producers resulting in RMB 700m (£70m) in retail sales in 2010.

One of the recent developments with Star Farm has been the collaboration with Beijing Summit Wines. The result is a brand called 1421, which is China’s first traceable wine. The cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay grapes are cultivated and grown in Xinjiang province by which Star Farm has maintained full records of the soil, fertilizers used as well as processing, bottling and distribution. Consumers can scan the barcode at the back of the bottle with their mobile phones as it directs them to Star Farm’s website, by which they will be able to access all relevant information about the ingredients and processes along the value chain for the brand.

The initiatives taken by the industry to provide food safety assurance to consumers represents a step in the right direction, but there is still a very long road ahead as consumers are becoming more knowledgeable, with health and safety becoming a key priority for their families. The central government needs to maintain a fine balance between consumers and businesses in order to continue its economic miracle.

Wine, China, Getty images

Phil Chan is Asia director for Canadean, the consumer market experts.

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era