Illustration: Jackson Rees.
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The modern chip evokes dreams of flat caps and full employment. But the best fries begin at home

The bistro chip, with its author or workmanlike authenticity, casts a spell of happy, socialist reverie - and autosarcophagy ensues.

Obtain a litre and a half of vegetable oil – sunflower for preference. Pour oil into heavy saucepan and commence heating. Peel and slice potatoes into appropriate shapes; place shapes in frying basket; lower basket into boiling oil. Wait. In due course remove frying basket; tip cooked chips on to kitchen towelling or newspaper to remove grease; add salt and malt vinegar to taste. The end.

I return to the subject of chips, and gladly. Given that the chip is the veritable substratum of British cuisine, the sprung floor upon which all our other dishes promenade and pirouette, it seems only fitting that this column – dedicated as it is to the grittiest of gastronomy – should consider them on a regular basis. Above is my own “recipe” for chips, which is one of the things I cook at home fairly frequently – so often, indeed, that they’ve acquired their own sobriquet: “Dad’s Chips”. We live a hop, a skip and a waddle away from Rohan Palmer’s chip chop (see Real Meals passim), so there’s no requirement for home-cooking, yet while his chips are absolutely fine the pleasing consensus is that Dad’s Chips are just a little bit better. Indeed, such claims as patriarchy have in this household are wholly embodied in these starchy little phalluses – all else is healthy, low-fat gynarchy.

As it is to Self Family, so it is to the wider world. “Dad’s Chips” are a throwback to a simpler, happier world; one in which men wore hobnailed boots and went down t’pit or t’mill while the womenfolk stayed at home beating carpets and blacking grates. In the monstrous realm of mediatised commoditisation that is the reality of British restaurant eating, the chip has come to play a crucial role: as we’ve just had Easter, perhaps the best way of conceptualising this is to imagine two giant chips, one implanted in the earth of Golgotha, the other forming a crossbar crudely affixed to the first with congealed tomato ketchup. On this chipifix is crucified the pukkah form of Our Saviour, Jamie Oliver, who died for our dietary sins.

Except He hasn’t really died – He’s been resurrected, in common with other celebrity burger-flippers; and the chip, rather than being reviled as an evil repository of unsaturated, satanic fats, has been taken up as the symbol of sacred edibleness. I had been aware (who couldn’t be?) of the “new chips”: the humble potato repurposed for gastronomy in the form of shoestring fries, thick-cut chips, rosemary chips, sweet potato chips, crinkle-cut fries, etc; yet it wasn’t until I had supper at the Everyman Bistro in Liverpool in October last year that full horror of the “new chips” impinged.

I was supping with a group of inoffensive academics from the University of Liverpool after an event we’d done in the crypt of the nearby cathedral (the one that looks like a cruet, not the upended-yoghurt-pot one), and in keeping with the Everyman Theatre’s tradition of radical socialist experimentation the Bistro had a vaguely utilitarian feel: long, wooden-topped tables, low spotlights and open kitchen area. The food, when eventually it arrived, was served either on wooden platters or in large and chunky crockery – deep bowls, or plates with extra-wide rims.

These deceptive vessels deserve a column of their own, for their disproportion is an unconsciously cultivated effect, rendering the food they contain out-of-scale and slightly unreal. In our bistros and fancy burger joints, our brasseries and diners, we are no longer presented with food itself, but only with three-dimensional images of food.

Such is the influence of television cookery programmes and online recipes on our food culture, that the epistemic value of a mere potato is far lower than that of artfully photographed outsize chips. At the Everyman Bistro, observing the bowl that had been deposited in front of me, I struck the board and cried, “No more!” Then I picked up one of the chips and waggled it in the faces of my fellow diners. “This isn’t a chip,” I admonished them: “it is a pseudopod of the Spectacle, and by putting it in your mouth you are initiating a form of phagocytosis, in which you yourself are the foreign body that’s to be absorbed.”

Needless to say, they looked pretty fazed; but I soon put them further into their misery. The chip, I explained – which was fully six inches long and a half-inch through – had been cut monstrously large in order to enhance its aura of workmanlike authenticity, then placed in a big bowl so as to hide this trompe l’oeil. Yet it is only at the point at which hand lifts chip to mouth that the diner feels himself to be hefting the gustatory equivalent of a pit prop. And so, as he bites into it, he indulges in a fantasy of full employment, universal social housing and increasing equality of wealth.

Of course, once the chips are all gone this happy, socialistic reverie also dispels: all that is left are bowls smeared bloodily red and a fat bill. Big and fancy chips are like museums of industrial heritage – they fool us into forgetting for a short while the automated world of hyper-consumption we truly inhabit. Since last October I’ve been keeping a list of fancy chip prices. The most expensive portion to date has been £4.95 at a burger joint just off Carnaby Street, a 2,000 per cent mark-up on Dad’s Chips.

Ah well, you pays your money and you chooses your patriarchy.

Next week: Madness of Crowds

Will Self is an author and journalist. His books include Umbrella, Shark, The Book of Dave and The Butt. He writes the Madness of Crowds and Real Meals columns for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 09 April 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The Anniversary Issue 2015

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Why isn't Labour putting forward Corbynite candidates?

Despite his successes as a candidate, the organisational victories have gone the way of Corbyn's opponents. 

The contest changes, but the result remains the same: Jeremy Corbyn’s preferred candidate defeated in a parliamentary selection. Afzhal Khan is Labour’s candidate in the Manchester Gorton by-election and the overwhelming favourite to be the seat’s next MP.

Although Khan, an MEP, was one of  the minority of Labour’s European MPs to dissent from a letter from the European parliamentary Labour party calling for Jeremy Corbyn to go in the summer of 2016, he backed Andy Burnham and Tom Watson in 2015, and it is widely believed, fairly or unfairly, that Khan had, as one local activist put it, “the brains to know which way the wind was blowing” rather than being a pukka Corbynite.

For the leader’s office, it was a double defeat;  their preferred candidate, Sam Wheeler, was kept off the longlist, when the party’s Corbynsceptics allied with the party’s BAME leadership to draw up an all ethnic minority shortlist, and Yasmine Dar, their back-up option, was narrowly defeated by Khan among members in Manchester Gorton.

But even when the leadership has got its preferred candidate to the contest, they have been defeated. That even happened in Copeland, where the shortlist was drawn up by Corbynites and designed to advantage Rachel Holliday, the leader’s office preferred candidate.

Why does the Labour left keep losing? Supporters combination of bad luck and bad decisions for the defeat.

In Oldham West, where Michael Meacher, a committed supporter of Jeremy Corbyn’s, was succeeded by Jim McMahon, who voted for Liz Kendall, McMahon was seen to be so far ahead that they had no credible chance of stopping him. Rosena Allin-Khan was a near-perfect candidate to hold the seat of Tooting: a doctor at the local hospital, the seat’s largest employer, with links to both the Polish and Pakistani communities that make up the seat’s biggest minority blocs.  Gillian Troughton, who won the Copeland selection, is a respected local councillor.

But the leadership has also made bad decisions, some claim.  The failure to get a candidate in Manchester Gorton was particularly egregious, as one trade unionist puts it: “We all knew that Gerald was not going to make it [until 2020], they had a local boy with good connections to the trade unions, that contest should have been theirs for the taking”. Instead, they lost control of the selection panel because Jeremy Corbyn missed an NEC meeting – the NEC is hung at present as the Corbynsceptics sacrificed their majority of one to retain the chair – and with it their best chance of taking the seat.

Others close to the leadership point out that for the first year of Corbyn’s leadership, the leader’s office was more preoccupied with the struggle for survival than it was with getting more of its people in. Decisions in by-elections were taken on the hop and often in a way that led to problems later down the line. It made sense to keep Mo Azam, from the party’s left, off the shortlist in Oldham West when Labour MPs were worried for their own seats and about the Ukip effect if Labour selected a minority candidate. But that enraged the party’s minority politicians and led directly to the all-ethnic-minority shortlist in Manchester Gorton.

They also point out that the party's councillor base, from where many candidates are drawn, is still largely Corbynsceptic, though they hope that this will change in the next round of local government selections. (Councillors must go through a reselection process at every election.)

But the biggest shift has very little to do with the Labour leadership. The big victories for the Labour left in internal battles under Ed Miliband were the result of Unite and the GMB working together. Now they are, for various reasons, at odds and the GMB has proven significantly better at working shortlists and campaigning for its members to become MPs.  That helps Corbynsceptics. “The reason why so many of the unions supported Jeremy the first time,” one senior Corbynite argues, “Is they wanted to move the Labour party a little bit to the left. They didn’t want a socialist transformation of the Labour party. And actually if you look at the people getting selected they are not Corbynites, but they are not Blairites either, and that’s what the unions wanted.”

Regardless of why, it means that, two years into Corbyn’s leadership, the Labour left finds itself smaller in parliament than it was at the beginning.  

Stephen Bush is special correspondent at the New Statesman. His daily briefing, Morning Call, provides a quick and essential guide to British politics.