This wasn't the speech Clegg needed

The Lib Dem leader offered little to reassure his anxious party.

Addressing a party that has lost more than half of its support since the election, a quarter of its membership and hundreds of its councillors, perhaps it's not surprising that Nick Clegg felt the need to reassure the Lib Dems that they would, at least, still exist by the time of the next election. "If we secure our country's future, we will secure our own," he cried, suggesting that extinction was not an unthinkable outcome.

The big policy announcement was that he would block any reduction in the 45p tax rate. While he "conceded" the cut from 50p to 45p, Clegg declared that all future tax cuts must pass "one clear test": "do they help people on low and middle incomes get by and get on?" The problem with this argument is that it applies equally well to the original cut. Why is it only now, after the government has handed 14,000 millionaires a £40,000 tax cut, that Clegg discovers his progressive soul and insists any measures must benefit lower earners? With the exception of one token reference to taxing "unearned wealth", we also heard nothing about the new "wealth tax" he had previously spoken of.

For much of the speech, which was short by recent standards, it was what Clegg didn't say that was most notable. There was no mention of the NHS (perhaps understandably), nothing on constitutional reform (the Alternative Vote and House of Lords reform having been defeated) and nothing on welfare. It is some indication of Clegg's standing in the party that the biggest cheer came when he announced that a former leader, Paddy Ashdown, would chair the party's 2015 election campaign.

Today, Clegg needed to reassure anxious activists that he has a plan to avoid a disastrous defeat at that election. In that task, he singularly failed. His voice rising with anger, the Deputy PM declared that "it was Labour who plunged us into austerity and it is we, the Liberal Democrats, who will get us out." But the failure of the coalition's strategy to deliver growth (indeed, its success in delivering recession) means there is no end in sight for austerity. "Let's go for it!," he rather limply ended. But few, one sensed, were prepared to follow him.

Nick Clegg gives his keynote speech to the Liberal Democrat conference in Brighton. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

HEINZ BAUMANN/GALLERY STOCK
Show Hide image

With the BBC Food’s collection under threat, here's how to make the most of online recipes

Do a bit of digging, trust your instincts – and always read the comments.

I don’t think John Humphrys is much of a chef. Recently, as his Today co-presenter Mishal Husain was discussing the implications of the BBC’s decision to axe its Food website (since commuted to transportation to the Good Food platform, run by its commercial arm), sharp-eared listeners heard the Humph claim that fewer recipes on the web could only be a good thing. “It would make it easier!” he bellowed in the background. “We wouldn’t have to choose between so many!”

Husain also seemed puzzled as to why anyone would need more than one recipe for spaghetti bolognese – but, as any keen cook knows, you can never have too many different takes on a dish. Just as you wouldn’t want to get all your news from a single source, it would be a sad thing to eat the same bolognese for the rest of your life. Sometimes only a molto autentico version, as laid down by a fierce Italian donna, rich with tradition and chopped liver, will do – and sometimes, though you would never admit it in a national magazine, you crave the comfort of your mum’s spag bol with grated cheddar.

The world wouldn’t starve without BBC Food’s collection but, given that an online search for “spaghetti bolognese recipe” turns up about a million results, it would have been sad to have lost one of the internet’s more trustworthy sources of information. As someone who spends a large part of each week researching and testing recipes, I can assure you that genuinely reliable ones are rarer than decent chips after closing time. But although it is certainly the only place you’ll find the Most Haunted host Yvette Fielding’s kedgeree alongside Heston Blumenthal’s snail porridge, the BBC website is not the only one that is worth your time.

The good thing about newspaper, magazine and other commercial platforms is that most still have just enough budget to ensure that their recipes will have been made at least twice – once by the writer and once for the accompanying photographs – though sadly the days when everyone employed an independent recipe tester are long gone. Such sites also often have sufficient traffic to generate a useful volume of comments. I never make a recipe without scrolling down to see what other people have said about it. Get past the “Can’t wait to make this!” brigade; ignore the annoying people who swap baked beans for lentils and then complain, “This is nothing like dhal”; and there’s usually some sensible advice in there, too.

But what about when you leave the safety of the big boys and venture into the no man’s land of the personal blog? How do you separate the wheat from the chaff and find a recipe that actually works? You can often tell how much work a writer has put in by the level of detail they go into: if they have indicated how many people it serves, or where to find unusual ingredients, suggested possible tweaks and credited their original sources, they have probably made the dish more than once. The photography is another handy clue. You don’t have to be Annie Leibovitz to provide a good idea of what the finished dish ought to look like.

Do a bit of digging as part of your prep. If you like the look of the rest of the site, the author’s tastes will probably chime with your own. And always, always, wherever the recipe is from, read it all the way through, even before you order the shopping. There is nothing more annoying than getting halfway through and then realising that you need a hand blender to finish the dish, just as the first guest arrives.

Above all, trust your instincts. If the cooking time seems far too short, or the salt content ridiculously high, it probably is, so keep an eye on that oven, check that casserole, keep tasting that sauce. As someone who once published a magic mince pie recipe without any sugar, I’m living proof that, occasionally, even the very best of us make mistakes. 

Felicity Cloake is the New Statesman’s food columnist. Her latest book is The A-Z of Eating: a Flavour Map for Adventurous Cooks.

This article first appeared in the 26 May 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit odd squad