Tom Bowles - Fortnum & Mason - Christmas & Other Winter Feasts

And it is many of the pictures from the Commentaries that help illustrate this book. Artists such as Rex Whistler were contributors, and in 1932 Edward Bawden (now, at long last, being rightly revered) started working on a regular basis with Fortnum & Mason. Menzies, in addition to holding the store’s advertising account, was also in charge of the firm’s Invalid Department, a place where all manner of restorative broths and gentle blancmanges were sold to the well-heeled weak and poshly poorly. In the words of Robert Harling, ‘Bawden’s drawings were exactly attuned to Menzies’ almost carefree yet cunningly persuasive prose.’

The relationship continued until the late 1930s, when the war put a swift end to any advertising. Among many other things. Life in post-war Britain was, in many ways, harder, with increased rationing and a country crippled and on her knees. But with the end of rationing in 1955, the relationship with Fortnum’s resumed. Colonel Wyld was dead, Hugh Stuart Menzies would soon follow, and Fortnum’s had been bought by Garfield Weston, a Canadian multi-millionaire for whom the store became a hobby, and then a passion. The advertising firm was now Colman Prentis & Varley, managed by a friend of Bawden’s called Jack Beddington, who had worked with John Betjeman on Shell’s brilliant ‘Shell on the Road’ ads in the 1930s. Bawden now worked with Ruth Gill’s crisp and clean lettering, instead of Menzies’ witty prose, and the results are astounding.

As Mary Gowing wrote, ‘You have only to look at the impeccable yet lively and varied typography of the Fortnum & Mason catalogues (page after flawless page of it) to realise the demands that must have been made on the compositor. The colour, too, with its exciting juxtapositions of cool pinks and luminous scarlet, of blue greens, and green blues, must have been equally demanding of the printer.’

The first Christmas catalogue Bawden did for Weston was in 1955, and he produced some spectacular work each year until 1959. The 1958 catalogue is an extended pun on the word cat, and is full of witty and playful drawings – and one dog. Cats were a passion, and they strut and mewl, dance and grin their way through these remarkable works, along with chickens and sturgeon, elephants, ants and bees. His clean lines, bold colours and whimsical wit delight to this day. And will endure for generations to come.

Now, of course, Bawden is seen as one of Britain’s great painters, printers, illustrators and graphic designers. Part of his enduring appeal is his combination of modernism and tradition. He always believed that a good piece of design was as valuable as a painting (he was endearingly self-effacing and never took anything too seriously), and his work took in everything from iconic London Transport posters in the 30s, to film posters (‘The Titfield Thunderbolt’ being a particular favourite), illustrations for books (his pen and ink drawings for Ambrose Heath’s Good Food series are sublime), as well as book jackets, linocuts, wartime watercolours (from uniformed police officer to Ahwad Abdulla, son of Abudulla the coffee man), even wallpaper. He’s one of those artists you will have come across endlessly, without actually knowing it was him.

Bawden’s association with Fortnum’s was as fruitful as it is eternal. His illustrations have the same immediate appeal now as they did then. He not only learnt his trade at the store but managed to perfect it too. A marriage made in design heaven. Because at Fortnum & Mason, it’s never just about the food.

Christmas at Fortnum’s. It’s the pure, 175-proof spirit of the festive season, the quintessence of Yuletide delight. ‘Is greediness a forgivable sin at Christmas time?’ gasped a smitten journalist, waxing lyrical about the store, some time towards the start of the twentieth century. ‘It ought to be, seeing how many well-nigh irresistible temptations one is exposed to at that delectable season.’

As a child, it was less shop, more glittering, spice-scented Xanadu, a sugar-coated stately pleasure dome. With the added advantage of being real, and sitting, ever-merrily, at 181 Piccadilly. Stepping into the shop, past the tail-coated doorman, was the nearest one could get to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. ‘At no time as now do the confectioners’ windows glisten with more enticing bait,’ sighed another scribe, in 1876. ‘Fortnum and Mason’s exhibition is enough to drive the whole race of children wild with delight.’

But this isn’t a book about childish delight, nor is it about Christmas alone. Not that we’d ignore the seasonal essentials, the likes of Norfolk turkey and York ham, porcelain pots of Stilton, sticky dates, smoked salmon, glorious griottes and Elvas plums. As if. Winter feasting, though, is at the book’s heart, feasting in its every guise. Once the nights draw in, and the temperature plummets, so the pleasures of the table, the age-old act of sitting down and breaking bread together, come to the fore. Food as succour, satisfaction, the great unifying force.

Keats rather nailed it (for a change) in ‘The Eve of St Agnes’, falling on 19 January: ‘… he forth from the closet brought a heap/Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;/With jellies soother than the creamy curd,/And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon;/Manna and dates, in argosy transferr’d/From Fez; and spiced dainties, every one,/From silken Samarcand to cedar’d Lebanon.’ A particularly Fortnum’s-esque feast.

We explode into Guy Fawkes night, with its fireworks, flaming anti-Papist pyres, pasties and caramelised apple pancakes, before gliding through the Somerset House ice rink, and SKATE!, with a cheese-drenched, Alpine-inspired smörgåsbord of Stilton fondue and tartiflette.

Game, that much under-rated British seasonal star, has its own section, with everything from braised venison pappardelle to pot-roast pheasant. There’s an entire chapter on Christmas baking, things to munch on Christmas Eve, and things to devour on Boxing Day, too. Leftovers are given the Fortnum’s treatment, from austere to revere. And the recipes take in both traditional and modern, much like the store itself. So there are Christmas spiced sausage rolls alongside scallop ceviche, roast goose next to gin and orange gravadlax.

It’s not all rich winter succour, either. January may be a time for a new start, and a rather lighter menu, but that doesn’t mean that flavour and joy have to be thrown out with the tree. At Fortnum’s, the first month of the year is about vibrant eating, delight without any of that ghastly guilt. Because this is a book entirely devoted to the pleasures of cooking and eating in the colder months, a volume that embraces influences British and international alike. Above all, though, this is about celebration. Of winter feasts and Christmas, rib-sticking tucker and salads both light and lithe. ‘Baby, it’s cold outside,’ crooned Dean Martin. All the more reason to stay inside and feast. Eat, drink, and be truly merry.

BURFORD BROWNS

Our eggs of choice. The yolks have a deep yellow hue, and are wonderfully creamy, too.

HONEY