Reviewed: The Food Programme on Radio 4

Turn on, tuna in.

The Food Programme
Radio 4

An episode of The Food Programme (21 April, 3.30pm) considered the eating habits of lorry drivers. “Truckers are fussy,” claimed an interviewee at dawn on a stretch of the A3 referred to as “suicide alley” because of the lack of good places to stop and eat. “They want vegetarian, they want low-calorie, they want carrots.”

At a one-time kebab stand, now selling tomatoes from its own poly tunnel, someone ordered a tuna roll with “lots of cucumber” while another kept fruit in a pristine fridge in his cabin, destroying the cliché that truckers go around in dented white bread lorries feasting on Yorkies.

But while the show tried to be about what drivers eat, it kept pausing and ruminating on the lack of safe truck stops specifically in the UK and the dangers of a night spent pulled up in a lay-by – new draconian timesheets force drivers to sleep wherever they can park.

One man spoke about waking to find a hole cut in the side of his lorry and thieves quietly removing 50 cases of milkshakes. Newer vehicles now have microwaves, fridges and hobs, which mean drivers are expected to cook for themselves and rarely leave their cabs. The word “lonely” was uttered just once, but it was all the while heavily implied.

Surely a series about what lorry drivers listen to on the radio is a must? And particularly about the infamous CB channel 19 – the truckers’ channel. Recently Ofcom announced that AM on CB radio will be made legal by the end of this year, allowing foreign drivers to join the conversations: radio gold. CB is a life-saver, especially if, like me, you are eager to talk and like your personal information shouted.

Ah, I can just hear it now. “Alors, you ordered quoi?” “Tuna with lots of cucumber.” “Quoi?” “Tuna. With cucumber. On the A3. Delicious.”

Tuna. Photograph: Getty Images

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 29 April 2013 issue of the New Statesman, What makes us human?

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How wine crosses national boundaries

With a glass of wine, and a bit of imagination, wine can take us anywhere.

Wine offers many pleasures, one of which is effortless movement. You can visit places that make the wines you love, but you can also sip yourself to where these grapes once grew, or use a mind-expanding mouthful to conjure somewhere unrelated but more appropriate to your mood. Chablis, say, need not transport you to damp and landlocked Burgundy, even if the vines flourish there, not when those stony white wines suit sun, sea and shellfish so well.

Still, I’d never been to Istria – a triangle of land across the Adriatic from the upper calf of Italy’s boot – either in vino or in veritas, until I tried a selection of wines from Pacta Connect, a Brighton-based, wine-importing couple obsessed with Central and Eastern Europe. 

The tapas restaurant Poco on Broadway Market in east London has fiercely ecological credentials – it uses lots of locally sourced and sustainably grown food and the space is a former bike shop – but this fierceness doesn’t extend to entirely virtuous wine-buying, thank goodness. I’m all for saving the planet: waggle the eco-spear too hard, however, and I’ll be forced to drink nothing but English wine. Trying each other’s wines, like learning each other’s customs, is vital to understanding: there’s no point improving the atmosphere if we all just sit around inhaling our own CO2 at home.

The world is full of wine and it is our duty to drink variously in the name of peace and co-operation – which are not gifts that have frequently been bestowed on Istria. I have sought enlightenment from Anna, the Culinary Anthropologist. A cookery teacher and part-time Istrian, she has a house on the peninsula and a PhD in progress on its gastronomy. So now, I know that Istria is a peninsula, even if its borders are debated – a result of Croatia, Slovenia and Italy all wanting a piece of its fertile red soil and Mediterranean climate.

From ancient Romans to independence-seeking Croatians in the early 1990s, all sorts of people have churned up the vineyards, which hasn’t stopped the Istrians making wine; political troubles may even have added to the impetus. A strawberry-ish, slightly sparkling Slovenian rosé got on splendidly with plump Greek olives and English bean hummus, topped with pickled tarragon and thyme-like za’atar herbs from the Syrian-Lebanese mountains. A perfumed white called Sivi Pinot by the same winemaker, Miha Batič, from Slovenian Istria’s Vipava Valley, was excellent with kale in lemon juice: an unlikely meeting of the Adriatic, the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Sivi Pinot is another name for Pinot Grigio, which seems fair enough: as long as we can raise our glasses and agree to differ, names should be no problem.

But sometimes we can’t. The other Slovenian winemaker on the menu, Uroš Klabjan, lives three kilometres from the Italian city of Trieste, where his Malvazija Istarska would be called Malvasia Istriana. Either way, it is fresh and slightly apricot-like, and goes dangerously well with nothing at all: I see why this is Istria’s most popular white grape. His Refošk, an intense red, is also good but there is a complicated argument over when Refošk should be called Teran. Like battles over parts of the Balkans, these wrangles seem incomprehensible to many of us, but it’s sobering to think that wine can reflect the less pleasant aspects of cross-cultural contact. Intolerance and jingoism don’t taste any better than they sound.

We finish with Gerzinić’s Yellow Muskat and rhubarb parfait: Croatian dessert wine from an ancient grape found around the world, with an English plant transformed by a French name. There’s nothing sweeter than international co-operation. Except, perhaps, armchair travel.

Nina Caplan is the 2014 Fortnum & Mason Drink Writer of the Year and 2014 Louis Roederer International Wine Columnist of the Year for her columns on drink in the New Statesman. She tweets as @NinaCaplan.

This article first appeared in the 23 June 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Divided Britain