A curious thing is afoot in the kitchens of the nation. While our political class fiddles with net-zero targets and carbon quotas, a more primal revolution is bubbling away in mason jars and ceramic crocks. Fermentation, that oldest of human tricks, has been rediscovered by the British public as a means to transform our mountains of food waste into something edible and even profitable.
Sauerkraut, kimchi, kombucha: these are not the faddish toys of hipster grocers but the practical solutions of a civilisation that remembers how to preserve its own abundance. The Victorian era understood this well, with its pickled eggs and chutneys. Now, as we face a crisis of waste, we return to the wisdom of our ancestors.
The lesson is clear: when the empire of convenience collapses, the art of patience and salt saves the day. And let us not forget the economic angle. A jar of homemade fermented vegetables costs pennies but sells for pounds at farmers' markets.
This is thrift reborn as enterprise. The fall of Rome was preceded by a loss of basic skills. Our rediscovery of fermentation suggests we may yet avoid that fate.
