Thursday, October 20, 2022

The story of the choko (Sechium edule) in Australia


 



The choko (Sechium edule) is a member of the same plant family as cucumbers, melons, pumpkins and squashes. It is a pear shaped fruit with a deeply furrowed surface. It can be covered in prickles, and these become more pronounced as the fruit ages. The firm, crisp flesh is cream coloured, and contains a single seed.Every part of the plant is edible from the underground tuber to the leaves and the young tendrils.Today the choko, which goes by a number of different names (chocho, chuen, christophine, chow chow, mirliton), is widely cultivated in warm temperate climates, in Mexico where it is thought to have originated, throughout Latin America, the Caribbean, south-east Asia and China, India and Africa.The choko made its way to Australia in 1890 thanks to the Queensland Acclimatisation Society.

 

The nineteenth century has been described as a century of acclimatisation, a period when an intense scientific interest in the natural world, and in particular the natural environment of distant lands, fused with imperial zeal to foster a desire ‘to correct the unequal distribution of the earth’s natural productions’ and finish the work which nature appeared to have left incomplete.[1] The idea that plants and animals from other countries could thrive and be of benefit in other environments was certainly not new. In a general sense, as part of the network of empire, acclimatisation societies served to formalise an already established world-wide exchange of animals and plants.[2]

 

The first acclimatisation society was established in Paris in 1854 and thereafter similar groups were formed throughout the world - in London in 1860, in other European cities, and in the colonies such as India, Ceylon and Algeria.[3] The first in Australia was the Victorian Acclimatisation Society founded in 1861 and other states (New South Wales, Tasmania, Queensland and South Australia) quickly followed suit.[4]

 

The operations of individual acclimatisation societies depended in large part on the personal interests and inclinations of the membership and incidentally on their stance regarding the newly articulated and hotly debated theories of evolution. Scientifically acclimatisation in the nineteenth century meant the gradual adaptation of plants and animals to conditions which differed from their original habitat but the term was often used interchangeably with domestication, adapting wild plants and animals for human use, and naturalisation.[5] In Australia acclimatisation was generally understood as the practical science of naturalisation, that is the introduction of foreign animals and plants from climates and environments similar to those found here, and their subsequent successful rearing and propagation.[6]

 

Thanks to the influence of Edward Wilson, proprietor of the Melbourne Argus, ardent enthusiast for acclimatisation and the first president of the Victorian Society, all the local bodies adopted roughly the same rules and objectives, principally the collection, breeding, propagation and distribution of innoxious animals and plants, both foreign and indigenous, and the dissemination of the knowledge gained.[7]

 

Acclimatisation societies in general have borne the brunt of much criticism. In Australia the acclimatisation movement has been accused of a desire to reshape the land for ‘aesthetics and recreation’, for undervaluing the Australian environment and trying to make it into something more interesting or more familiar, and of course for their errors of judgement such as the introduction of mynar birds and sparrows. [8]

 

But this fault finding fails to recognise the societies also had an interest in indigenous flora and fauna and an underlying practical motivation. The naturalist, Dr George Bennett, who had a keen interest in understanding and protecting Australian fauna and had a long association with the Australian Museum, was an advocate of acclimatisation.[9] He saw it as a means of increasing the resources of the colony, expanding commerce, providing employment, and adding to the food choices available. Whilst we might take exception to his reasoning, he did recognise that native animals both needed to be protected and could be useful. While Bennett proposed the introduction of antelope as a source of meat, he also recommended indigenous sources such as kangaroo, wombat, bandicoot, wonga pigeon, and brush turkey as worthy of investigation with a view to commercialisation.[10] As Pete Minard has made clear in his study of the Victorian Society, acclimatisation in Australia focused on ‘engineering the local ecology for human benefit’ and this is particularly evident in the activities of the Queensland Acclimatisation Society.[11]

 

        The Queensland Society was established in 1862 at the instigation of the then Governor of Queensland Sir George Ferguson Bowen. It was granted land in Brisbane on which to conduct its investigations, which the Society imaginatively named Bowen Park. Given that Queensland had only recently become a self-governing colony it is hardly surprising that the society focused on making practical contributions to Queensland’s agricultural industry. Arguments in support of the society’s formation stressed its potential to aid in the development of the material resources of the colony and assist in establishing its prosperity.[12]

 

The gentleman of the Queensland Acclimatisation society did not completely disregard the introduction of animal species, but with a limited budget and small acreage at their disposal they soon concentrated their attention on economic botany.[13] Their principle aims became obtaining seeds, trees and plants with some intrinsic value and protecting and propagating the more valuable indigenous flora and distributing it both within the colony and to other countries.[14] The Queensland Acclimatisation society remained the principal government advisory body on agriculture until a Department of Agriculture was established in 1887. Although in decline both in membership and influence from then on, the Queensland society continued its activities until 1956, long after the enthusiasm for acclimatisation had waned and other Australian societies had been subsumed into zoological societies and the like.[15]

 

The mainstay of the Queensland Society was Lewis Adolphus Bernays (1831–1908).[16] Bernays was an enthusiastic amateur in as much as his day job was clerk of the Queensland Legislative Assembly from 1859 until his death in 1908. He served the acclimatisation society for thirty odd years as the first honorary secretary (1862–1868) and subsequently vice-president (1868–1881) and president (1890–1895). He was a prominent member of Brisbane society, a trustee of both the museum and the botanic gardens, and above all totally committed to the application of science in the interest of colonial progress. It was Bernays who grounded the objectives of the society in practical botany, his guiding principle being to confine the objects of the society to those of a ‘strictly utilitarian character’.[17]

 

In 1888 the then governor of Queensland, Sir Anthony Musgrave recommended the choko to Bernays and suggested he obtain samples from the director of the public gardens in Jamaica, where Musgrave had previously been governor. Bernays did so and a box of specimens was duly obtained, of which only two had survived the journey. In the care of the manager of Bowen Park these two ‘were nurtured into vigorous growth’ and, given that it had shown admirable adaption to the local climate, Bernays felt the ‘chocho’ was likely to become a useful addition to the local food plants as feed for both humans and animals.[18] As was the society’s usual practise samples were then sent far and wide to gardeners in Queensland and beyond, for them to experiment and determine the plant’s suitability for and adaptability to local conditions. But, as Bernays well knew the mere introduction and distribution of useful plants was not sufficient to ensure their successful commercial application.[19]

 

News of the choko and samples of the fruit appear to have spread almost as vigorously as the plant itself and in no time chokos were being exhibited at meetings of gardeners and beekeepers, and at agricultural shows, and were available to purchase at markets.[20] The choko quickly developed a reputation as hardy and prolific, a great attractor of bees when in flower, and all the more valuable because it could be ‘utilised on all lands to cover unsightly fences and buildings’.[21] By 1894 Mr Valder of Leichhardt, a Sydney suburb, who also happened to be the principal of Hawkesbury Agricultural College, reported that his one plant had covered 50 foot (that is around 15 metres) of fence and had yielded 3 to 4 dozen fruit every week from February through to June, some of which he had distributed to his neighbours, at least 20 of whom now had flourishing specimens of their own.[22]



Fred Turner, 'New Commercial Crops', Australian Town and Country Journal, 30 June 1894, p. 22

 

Initially this phenomenal plant was of more interest to horticulturalists than to cooks. But it was clear that it was unlikely to be a commercial success. A significant problem was that, to be at their best, chokos needed to be eaten when small and young, and ideally freshly picked. They did not store well, quickly shooting and toughening and becoming unpalatable as they get older.[23] Many of the specimens available in shops were old and stale so that ‘many housekeepers, tried them once or twice, and concluded they were no good’.[24] Its potential as a food for pigs does not appear to have been extensively explored and the suggestion that there might be export potential in pickled chokos seems to have been a flight of fancy.[25]

 

Another issue which none of the horticulturalists mentioned was what was referred to as ‘the juice of the choko’.[26] Everyone who handled chokos, would have been aware that peeling them left the hands covered in what was variously described as ‘a sticky fluid’ or ‘a disagreeable film’, which was difficult to remove.[27] William Souter, onetime overseer of Bowen Park and confederate of Bernays, lamented that the choko was not fully appreciated by the general public’ but stale, tough and slimy, it is little wonder that it was slow to gain popularity. [28]

 

While the plant naturalised happily in the garden its naturalisation in the kitchen took time. To be acceptable means had to be found of domesticating the choko, incorporating it into the diet in familiar ways which belied its foreign origins. Fortunately, the choko was sufficiently bland in flavour to be readily disguised. From the beginning the choko was recommended as an alternative to more familiar fare – it could be treated in the same way as marrow and could be made to substitute for pears or apples.[29] Mrs Hannah Maclurcan was an early adopter of the choko. The first edition of her eponymous cookbook, published in Queensland in 1898 (while she was resident in Townsville), included a recipe for chokos peeled, boiled in salted water until tender, sliced, dipped in egg, coated in breadcrumbs and fried.[30] But chokos were slow to make their way into recipe books. They do not rate a mention in either Mrs Foster Rutledge’s The Goulburn Cookery Book (1905) or Home Cookery in Australia (1904), compiled from recipes contributed by housekeepers. There are no uses for chokos in The Schauer Cookery Book published in 1909 by the Misses Schauer, who were teachers of cookery and domestic arts in Brisbane at the time. However, The Worker Cook Book, another complied collection published in 1914, did provide a recipe for Choko Pickles.[31]

 

Recipe exchanges in the women’s pages of the newspapers gradually established the principal ways of using chokos – fried à la Maclurcan; boiled and served plain with butter or with some sort of sauce, usually flavoured with parsley or cheese; stuffed with either a meat or vegetable stuffing; or used as a fruit extender or substitute – in apple pies in particular, or in preserves, either jam, chutney or pickles.[32] Pickled chokos for example were considered equal to pickled cucumbers. It was not the choko itself but what it could be made to represent that became its greatest attribute. 

 

Chokos finally came into their own from the 1920s and were common on tables throughout the depression and war years. Abundant and generally cheap if not freely available, they were particularly prized when other vegetables or fruit were expensive or in short supply. Cook Maggie Beer recollects that after WWII chokos were not necessarily available in shops but because so many people grew them, there was a glut every autumn and, since thrifty households did not waste anything, they were ‘a staple’.[33] In particular ‘Mock Apple Pie’ (involving stewed chokos, sweetened with sugar and flavoured with lemon juice) became familiar to many families. 

 

If one of the advantages of chokos was that they had 'no distinctive flavour of their own' finding imaginative savoury uses for them remained something of a challenge. [34] In 1937 Ruth Furst, the cookery expert for the Australian Women’s Weekly had few original ideas to suggest, but she did propose Choko Salad (cooked and mixed with mayonnaise or French dressing; or used as an alternative to potato in potato salad), Curried Choko and Choko Souffle.[35] As time went on however even the choko adapted to more sophisticated tastes and changing ideas of what families should be eating at home. 

 

By 1954 boiled chokos were served with Hollandaise sauce; chokos dressed with white sauce was now Choko Mornay; Stuffed Chokos had been transformed into Choko Farci, and last but not least there was Choko and Tuna Newburg (cooked choko halves topped with a white sauce flavoured with sherry to which was added a tin of tuna, served with fingers of hot buttered toast).[36] The Leila Howard test kitchen’s ‘20 Best Choko Recipes’ published in the Australian Women’s Weekly in 1971[37] included, along with the more traditional ideas, exotica like Creamy Minted Choko Soup, Chokoes à la Polonaise, Choko and Zucchini Salad, and Chokoes with Pineapple. 

 

Chokos at last achieved culinary stardom, more than 100 years after first imported to Queensland, when Stephanie Alexander devoted a chapter to them in the second edition of her kitchen bible, The Cook’s Companion.[38] Alexander’s recipes for  Chinese-style Pickled Choko (with ginger and chilli), Mexican Choko Salad (cooked choko mixed with tomato and onion, dressed with lime juice, extra virgin olive oil and coriander), and Choko Sautéed Mauritian-style (with chilli, garlic and oregano) recognised the versatility of the choko while acknowledging its foreign origins and international acclimatisation. Perhaps most significantly Mock Apple Pie finally shook off its derisory title to revel in the name Choko Tart from Jamaica, although Alexander did note that prepared in this way, that is cooked with cloves and favoured with the juice and zest of limes, the choko was said to be indistinguishable from apple. Maggie Beer also challenged the stereotype of the now ‘delicate’ rather than tasteless choko with recipes for sautéed chokos in olive oil with fresh thyme and garlic, and raw choko salad–with crab and a dressing of coconut milk and lemon juice or with witlof, bacon, croutons and a vinaigrette flavoured with chervil. [39]

 

Although these new recipes dragged the choko into the twenty first century it was, sadly, too late. Not yet rediscovered as fashionable, the choko is now only rarely available to buy at the greengrocer or farmer’s market. Many people can still remember chokos growing rampant in the back yard but today choko vines have all but disappeared from suburban gardens for a number of reasons not least the greater choice of vegetables and fruit available in the marketplace, and the gentrification of the garden along with the disappearance of the outhouse over which the vine was proverbially grown. Not everyone remembers the choko fondly, partly because it was such a regular feature of mealtimes and remains a reminder of days of scarcity and hardship. 

 

The choko may not have fulfilled the hopes of the Queensland acclimatisation society but it has been absorbed into Australian culture in ways Bernays and his colleagues could not have anticipated. Since the choko’s reputation is forever tarnished by the association with ersatz food, in particular, mock pears and mock apple pies, two of the more persistent Australian urban myths are that canned pears are really sweetened chokos and that McDonalds use choko in their hot apple pies. And the choko vine’s vigour and ability to naturalise in the Australian back yard has given us this wonderful metaphor for someone or something totally hopeless or incompetent:



Original tea towel from Mount Vic and Me https://mountvicandme.com

 



[1] Warren Anderson, ‘Climates of opinion: acclimatization in nineteenth century France and England’, Victorian Studies, 32 (2), 1992, pp. 135-57, p. 135. Quote from Linden Gillbank, ‘A tale of two animals – Alpaca and Camel. Zoological shaping of Mueller’s botanic gardens’, Victorian Historical Journal, 67 (1), 1996, pp. 83-102, p. 85.


[2] Anderson, 136. Pete Minard, All things harmless, useful and ornamental: environmental transformation through species acclimatization, from colonial Australia to the world (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2019), p. 1.


[3] Acclimatisation societies were subsequently set up in Berlin, London (Society dated from 1860), Amsterdam, Brussels and Moscow and acclimatisation was an active interest of most zoological or botanical societies and institutes. Anderson, p 146.


[4] Tasmania 1862; South Australia 1864 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article159522742; Queensland 1862; NSW 1861.


[5] George William Francis, The acclimatisation of harmless, useful and interesting animals and plants: being a paper read before the Philosophical Society, Adelaide, South Australia on May 13th 1862 ‘The correct meaning of the word acclimatisation is evidently the process of rendering a plant or animal adapted to a climate different to that natural to it. If brought from a similar climate it may be introducing, domesticating, naturalising but not strictly acclimatisation.’ p. 5.


[6] Helen Clements, ‘Science and colonial culture: scientific interests and colonial institutions in Brisbane 1859–1900’ PhD thesis, Griffith University, 2019, pp. 97–98, quoted Dr George Bennett, 1872, Sydney naturalist.


[7] https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/wilson-edward-4866


[8] Thomas R. Dunlap, 'Remaking the land: the acclimatisation movement and Anglo ideas of nature', Journal of World History, 8 (2), 1997, pp. 303–319, p. 303. Peter Osborne, ‘The Queensland Acclimatisation Society: challenging the stereotype’, Queensland Historical Journal, 20 (8), 2008, pp. 337–50.


[9] https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/bennett-george-1770


[10] Dr. George Bennett, Acclimatisation: Its eminent adaptation to Australiaa lecture delivered in Sydney by Dr. George Bennett, W. M. Goodenough & Co., Melbourne 1862 ‘p. 5. See also Minard, p. 23.


[11] Minard, p. 10.


[12] Queensland was self-governing from 1859. Osborne, p. 340; Brisbane Courier, 15 August 1862, p. 341; 7 April 1863, p. 2.


[13] Brisbane Courier, 4 February 1868 p. 3; Brisbane Courier, 31 August 1869, p. 3; Brisbane Courier, 17 January 1871, p. 2. 


[14] Clements, p. 105 


[16] https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/bernays-lewis-adolphus-2982


[17] Brisbane Courier, 4 February 1868, p. 3.


[18] See Telegraph (Brisbane) 11 February 1889, p. 3 ‘Acclimatisation Society’, for receipt of ‘box of seeds’; Brisbane Courier, 12 October 1889, p. 6 ‘Queensland Acclimatisation Society’ ‘the choko introduced last year from Jamaica has again commenced to grow vigorously’; Brisbane Courier, 14 June 1890, p. 6.


[19] Louis Bernays, Cultural Industries for Queensland, Brisbane: J. C Beal, 1888, preface.


[20] Daily Telegraph (Sydney), 19 May 1893, p. 3 (Field Naturalist’s Society), Windsor and Richmond Gazette, 29 July 1893, p. 4 (The Beekeepers Association); Macleay Argus, 7 March 1984, p. 5 (the Port Macquarie Agricultural Show); available to purchase The Cumberland Mercury, 28 July 1894, p. 1; Windsor and Richmond Gazette, 26 May 1894, p. 3; Toowoomba Chronicle and Darling Downs Advertiser, 12 May 1894, p. 6.


[21] Dungog Chronicle, 27 November 1894, p. 3.


[22] Australian Town and Country Journal, 30 June 1894, p. 22. 


[23] Wm Souter, Brisbane Courier, 25 February 1904, p. 2.


[24] Sydney Morning Herald, 15 May 1918, p. 7.


[25] Australian Town and Country Journal, 3 November 1894, p. 22.


[26] Queenslander, 26 October 1918, p. 30. 


[27] The Propeller (Hurstville), 26 October 1923, p. 7; Sunday Times (Sydney), 16 May 1926, p. 22. Suggested ways of overcoming the problem involved either peeling under water, smearing the hands with dripping before peeling, or cutting off the stem end of the fruit and allowing it to sit and ‘bleed’ before peeling. 


[28] See Australian Town and Country Journal, 3 November 1894, p. 22 suggesting pickling whole small fruit in brine and vinegar and the potential for this as an export product and Australian Town and Country Journal 23 November 1985, p. 25 suggesting consuming the young leaves of the choko.  William Souter to the editor Brisbane Courier, 25 February 1904, p. 2 re correspondence on ‘a phenomenal plant’.


[29] The Week (Brisbane), 27 May 1892, p. 3.


[30] Mrs Maclurcan’s Cookery Book: A collection of practical recipes specially suitable for Australia, Hannah Maclurcan, Townsville, 1898. Recipe number 393.


[31] Mrs Foster Rutledge, The Goulburn cookery book, Sydney, 1905; Presbyterian Women’s Missionary Union of Victoria, Home cookery for Australia, Melbourne: Arbuckle, Waddell & Fawckner, 1904; Miss A. and Miss M. Schauer, The Schauer cookery book, Brisbane: Edwards, Dunlop & Co., 1909; Mary Gilmore, The Worker cook book, Sydney: The Worker Trustees, 1915.


[32] See for example recipes supplied by Miss Amie Munro, lecturer in charge of the Domestic Science Department of Sydney Technical College, Sunday Times (Sydney), 16 May 1915, p. 6. ‘Delphia’ who wrote the Woman’s Corner for the Brisbane Courier advised readers that the usual fault with chokos was that they were not cooked for long enough and arrived at the table ‘hard and indigestible’. She recommended boiling for about an hour and serving with melted butter, or with parsley sauce. Brisbane Courier, 18 May 1901, p. 13. Recipes for Choko Pickles appeared in The Worker on 5 June 1913, p. 21 and 24 July 1913, p. 11.


[33] Maggie Beer, Maggie’s Harvest, Melbourne: Penguin, 2007, p. 66.


[34] The Queenslander, 27 October 1906, p. 4.


[35] AWW, 1 May 1937, p. 39 ‘New food values found in chokos’.


[36] The Farmer and the Settler, 30 April 1954, p. 22.


[37] Australian Women’s Weekly, 24 November 1971, pp. 79–81. ‘Chokoes’ is the preferred spelling in AWW.


[38] Stephanie Alexander, The Cook’s Companion. The complete book of ingredients and recipes for the Australian kitchen, Melbourne: Penguin Books, 2004, pp. 321–325.


[39] Maggie Beer, Maggie’s Harvest, Melbourne: Penguin, 2007, pp. 66–68.

Thursday, September 22, 2022

Selling Australian meat 1850–1880: Convenient and economical but not pleasant to the eye.


From the middle of the nineteenth century the supply of meat in Britain became a matter of national concern. The British had long prided themselves on being a meat-producing and meat-eating people, the roast beef of Olde England was considered a standard national dish and a symbol of national pride.[1] But from the 1840s to the 1870s, while the population steadily increased, there was no increase in home meat production and meat prices were moving upward. At the same time the growing urban population and rising incomes resulted in more people entirely dependent on the market for the supply of meat, and more people in a position to afford to buy meat, which meant even more pressure on the meat supply. The situation was further exacerbated by an outbreak of rinderpest (Cattle plague) in England and Europe in the 1860s, followed by interruptions of supply during the Franco-Prussian War in the next decade. At the same time the nutritional value of the working-class diet was also causing concern, since the well-being of the nation depended on the health of the labouring classes:

The amount of nourishment which a people obtains must exert a large influence over the national character. An ill-fed nation can scarcely be a healthy one, and certainly it will be deficient in bodily strength and enterprise, whilst a sufficiently fed people, having these characteristics in a high degree will be able to acquire wealth, which may be regarded as the material foundation for the stability of an empire and influence among nations.[2]

Technology, it was hoped, would provide a solution.

One of the significant advances of the nineteenth century was the development of canning on an industrial scale and from as early as 1813 the Royal Navy and British explorers had been provisioned with tinned meat and tinned vegetables. More economical pound for pound since there were no bones, and easy to store, preserved meat, a product previously associated with ship-board life, adventure, war fare, hardship and privation, was now seen as entirely appropriate for domestic use. 



Fig. 1 ‘Preserved Meat of the Navy’, Times (London), 3 January 1852, p. 7.

Meanwhile in Australia the first experiments with meat canning began in the early 1840s. However, the discovery of gold which put paid to cheap raw materials and reduced the available labour force, and a major scandal over the supply of inadequately processed tinned meat to the Royal Navy, caused the Australian industry to falter until overproduction and falling prices encouraged livestock producers to consider less wasteful and potentially more profitable alternatives to simply boiling down carcasses to produce tallow. Exporting canned meat was a promising proposition for Australian producers in the late 1860s. Given the situation in Britain the canned product was cheaper than fresh meat and faced no competition from America, currently embroiled in Civil War. There seemed to be good prospects for making ‘the redundancy of one part of the earth subserve to the scarcity of other parts’.[3]

The boom years for Australian canned meat were 1869–1871. Through agents in London several companies supplied the market with meat in a variety of forms – from soups, stewed kidneys, sheep’s tongues, calf’s head and tripe and onions to, rabbit and even kangaroo, but the term ‘Australian meat’ appears to have been used most frequently to refer to tins of solid lumps of unadorned beef and mutton. Selling these products proved to be no easy task.

The savings to be made purchasing meat without any wastage made using tinned meat particularly attractive to large institutions with many mouths to feed. [4] Australian meat was used widely in hospitals, workhouses, goals, lunatic asylums, and other public institutions which did little to enhance its reputation. The general presumption was that the authorities were purchasing ‘a “cheap and nasty” substitute for butcher’s meat and there were strikes and demonstrations against the food in some of these establishments.[5] Some thought the eaters too fastidious:

The British pauper is about the most dainty specimen of humanity in the kingdom. If he thinks his guardians are supplying him with anything they get at a very cheap rate, no matter how good it might be, he will turn his nose up at it.[6]

while others suggested the suppliers were making a serious mistake by encouraging prejudice:

The precise prejudice they have to face is that their meat is wholesome, but only good enough for paupers and convicts, and they deliberately go and give that prejudice a seeming foundation.[7]

Outside the workhouses and asylums there was a suspicion that the meat itself was inferior, not just in terms of the cuts of meat used, but that Australian animals were somehow not as good as English stock.[8] And there were those who believed that the contents of the tins might not even be beef or mutton. The idea that the product was both cheap and inferior also led to questioning its nutritional benefit. Many supporters were at pains to explain that all the goodness was retained in the tin after processing.[9] A Dr. Williams conducted a well-publicised experiment with the inmates of the Hayward’s Heath Lunatic Asylum to demonstrate that people could thrive on Australian meat, but entrenched suspicion was hard to overcome. [10] After the lurid reports which had accompanied the discovery of the putrid meat supplied to the Royal Navy in the 1850s there were many who simply thought canned meat was unsafe to eat. But the most difficult and most persistent problem was the product itself.

Because the preservation process involved maintaining high temperatures over long periods, up to 260 degrees Fahrenheit for as much as 3 hours, followed by slow cooling, the contents of the cans was severely overcooked. Writer Anthony Trollope said of Australian meat that it came out of the tins in England in a condition fit for use but it did not come out ‘in a condition pleasant to the eye’.[11] The tinned product bore little resemblance to fresh meat. It had a ‘tendency to break into long fibres’ and was described as insipid, ugly and unappetising. 

Not surprisingly suggestions for using Australian meat concentrated on disguising its appearance and counteracting its lack of flavour. One of the great drawbacks of Australian meat was that it did not lend itself to roasting, and its use in stews and curries was limited by the fact that it ‘disintegrated’ when subjected to further cooking. If it had to be eaten hot, then it was important to remember that the meat only needed to be warmed through and served with a gravy or tasty sauce, as Mrs Beeton recommended:

That it is cooked too much and should be just warmed through in a good gravy is as a rule true of all cold meat … but it is especially true here. That the meat is tasteless and insipid necessitates a high-flavoured or sharp sauce. And because the tough fibres and unusual consistence of the meat constitute one of its greatest faults, it is often advisable to chop or mince it before serving. Perhaps the best plan of all is to take out any large and well-shaped pieces that may be suitable for serving whole in a gravy, and then to reserve the scraps for mincing separately as croquettes, rissoles, &c.[12]

By its very nature Australian meat was hardly suited to the rudimentary equipment and scarce resources which characterised working class and many middle-class kitchens. For the poor meat was a rarity to be savoured and enjoyed rather than something to be camouflaged and excused. Moreover, the eating of meat did not just assuage hunger, it conferred status. It was suggested that Australian meat had been so widely ridiculed that working men were almost ashamed to take a tin home lest it should be thought that they could afford nothing better.[13] Servants were accused of being averse to eating tinned meat themselves and unwilling to prepare the product to advantage for their masters. Even its defenders had to admit that Australian canned meat conjured ‘a hugger-mugger, hand-to-mouth, all-work-and-no-play sort of existence, which may be endured, but in which only a peculiarly constituted mind could rejoice’.[14]

By the 1870s, outside its use in public institutions, the greatest amount of Australian meat was being purchased by those who usually ate large amounts of fresh meat and could afford to experiment, what the author of Recipes for Australian Meat described as ‘such a class as would not hesitate to expend a small extra sum, if, by such expenditure, the flavour and quality of the dish be thereby improved’.[15] That is households who could afford to serve their tinned meat with pickles or salads, buried under well-flavoured mayonnaise, elaborately decorated with hard-boiled eggs, cucumber, capers, or radishes, or even set in aspic.[16]

Fig. 2 ‘Recipes for Tinned Meat’, ‘Isabella Beeton’, The Book of Household Management (London: Ward, Lock & Co., 1888), p. 568

At the tables of the wealthy tinned meat could also be attractively stored or presented in a decorated ring dish purposely designed to conceal the contents.


Fig 3 ‘Ring Dish for Australian Meat’, A. G Payne, Choice Dishes at Small Cost (London: Cassell, Petter, Galpin & Co., 1882), p. 90.

For those with means eating tinned meat was a matter of choice, a demonstration of modern, scientific thinking and a commitment to the golden virtues of economy and thrift, without which, according to Mrs Beeton, no household could hope to prosper.[17]  The less wealthy regarded resorting to Australian meat as humiliating, while the very poor clung to eating whatever scraps of meat they could afford as a sign that they were not entirely destitute.

By 1876 the chairman of the Society of Arts could claim that preserved meat was ‘a recognised article of household consumption’.[18] Canned foods in general had gained wide acceptance by the 1880s and in the 1888 edition of Beeton’s Book of Household Management tinned meat was described as ‘an addition to an already sufficient diet’ but nonetheless an absolute necessity, ‘chiefly valuable because it is at hand when butcher’s shops are not, and is convenient to furnish forth an impromptu meal’.[19]  Clearly Australian meat did find a market in Britain but it was never adopted by the lower orders with either the enthusiasm or the gratitude that its promoters expected.[20]

Fig. 4 ‘You Must Learn to Love Me’, ‘Punch’s Almanack for 1873’, Punch (London) Vol. 64, 17 December 1872. 

Logic deemed tinned meat offered the working classes a welcome economical alternative to their usual ‘inferior cuts’ and provided an opportunity for even the poorest to include more meat in their diet. The supposed inadequacy of working-class meals was predicated on scientific principles but was also filtered through the tastes and attitudes of men accustomed to roasted sirloin of beef and leg of mutton. For them, even though they recognised that it was no substitute for the real thing, tinned meat seemed inordinately preferable to meals based around fatty bacon, offal, marrow bones and sheep’s head. Similarly, they interpreted limited facilities and endless meals of stews and soups as indicative that the working classes were ‘ignorant of the proper use of food’ and were ‘deplorable’ cooks rather than recognising demonstrations of resourcefulness and ingenuity.[21] Men of wealth and learning attributed the indifference to Australian meat to the fixed prejudices and settled habits of the labouring classes, failing to understand the value and meaning of fresh meat and making no allowance for their own bias and preconceptions.

Despite continuous improvement in technology, the export of canned meat from Australia was not a success. Fluctuating fresh meat prices in Britain meant that Australian canned meat was not always an economical alternative. Inconsistent supply of the canned product, dictated by the market for livestock in Australia, was only exacerbated by its poor quality. By the mid-1870s Australian tinned meat was outclassed by cooked, compressed meat products from North America which were cheaper, better quality and packaged in more attractive and more convenient tapered rectangular cans.[22] Canned meat now also had to compete with chilled and frozen meat which provided the market with a product which looked identical to fresh meat, performed like fresh meat and tasted like fresh meat.[23] The export trade in Australian tinned meat never made a substantial contribution to feeding Britain’s poor. At its best the Australian product only ever represented 7 per cent of the British meat supply. [24]

Overcoming the suspicions surrounding new products and convincing people to eat what is deemed to be good for them are problems which food technologists and dieticians continue to face. In the case of meat however all classes of society were happy to eat more once it came in a form which was both cheap and acceptable. The promotion of Australian tinned meat and the controversy that aroused, helped to establish the notion that meat should be both plentiful and affordable and further whet Britain’s appetite for meat. What on one side was a potential answer to overstocking and on the other a solution to impending shortages and dietary deficiency led to an insatiable demand for cheap meat. The export of Australian tinned meat was an early step along the road to what Paul Young and Chris Otter call ‘planetary meatification’, a small, but no less important, move in the direction of ‘the voracious, environmentally unsustainable way the global meat complex operates today’.[25]



[1] Roast beef and plum pudding ‘our standard national dishes’, J. C. Buckmaster, Buckmaster’s Cooking, being an abridgement of some of the lectures delivered in the Cookery School at the International Exhibition for 1873 and 1874; together with a collection of approved recipes and menus (London: George Routledge and Sons, 1874), p. 7 “For what are your soups and your sauces/ Compared to the beef of old England!/ And, oh! The old English roast beef!” For tradition of meat eating, especially beef, see Stephen Mennell, All Manners of Food. Eating and Taste in England and France from the Middle Ages to the Present, 2nd edition (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1996) p. 102–3.

[2] Dr. Edward Smith, ‘On Public and Private Dietaries’, Journal of the Society of Arts (hereafter JAS) 12, no. 587, (19 February 1864), p. 212

[3] Andrew Wynter, ‘Good Food for the Millions’, in Peeps into the Human Hive volume 2 (London: Chapman and Hall, 1874), p. 139. I am indebted to Professor Paul Young for this reference.

[4] Keith Farrer, To Feed a Nation: A History of Australian Food Science and Technology (Melbourne: CSIRO Publishing, 2005), p. 46. Exporting 4 and 6 lb tins made more sense economically and 2 lb tins were more expensive to purchase on the London market, i.e. the meat was only cheap in the larger sizes. In his articles for the Argus J. J. Manley was at some pains to point out the problem with both pricing and supply. See ‘Australian Food Products and their Use in Great Britain’, Argus (Melb.), 18 January 1873, p. 1 and24 January 1873, p. 6. See also ‘Australian Preserved Meat in England’, Argus, 7 May 1872, p. 6 re. problems with supply and problem of sending consignments to be auctioned.

[5] Manley, Argus, 18 January 1873; Keith Farrer, A Settlement Amply Supplied: Food Technology in Nineteenth Century Australia(Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1980), p. 139.

[6] Manley, Argus, 24 January 1873, p. 6.

[7] Anon, ‘The Australian Meat Companies’, The Spectator (London), 23 December 1871, vol. 44. No. 2269, p. 1555

[8] Buckmaster, p. 105; Australian Meats and American Preserved Provisions, How to Cook, Eat and Enjoy in 80 Different Ways (London: George Howe, 187?) p. 14.

[9] J. J. Manley, The Age of Tin (London: William Tweedie, 1872) p. 8; Buckmaster, pp. 105-6.

[10] For Williams’s experiment see ‘Nutritive Value of Preserved Meat’, Argus (Melb.), 7 May 1872, p. 7, also Manley, Tin, p. 10.

[11] Anthony Trollope, Australia (Gloucester: Allan Sutton, 1987) vol 1, p. 168.

[12] Isabella Beeton’, The Book of Household Management (London: Ward, Lock & Co., 1888), p. 565. See also Australian Meats and American Preserved Provisions, How to Cook, Eat and Enjoy in 80 Different Ways (London: George Howe, 187?), p. 5. For roasting see Manley, Tin, p. 8. ‘Food Committee’, JAS 16, no. 789 (3 January 1868), p. 103, report on evaluation of McCall’s Australian boiled beef notes ‘any further application of heat deteriorates it and diminishes its usefulness as an article of food’, and advises ‘disintegration … inevitable if it is further cooked’.

[13] ‘Australian meat banquet at Birkenhead’, The Australasian, 2 January 1875, p. 1. See also ‘Domestic Economy Conference’, JAS25, no. 1290 (10 August 1877), p. 870 comments by Reverend J. P. Faunthorpe that ‘the vulgar prejudice that cheap foods are bad needs to be dispelled’.

[14] ‘Australian meat’, Saturday Review (of politics, literature, science and art) (London), 14 November 1874, 38 no. 994, pp. 634–5.

[15] ‘A Cook’, Recipes for Cooking Australian Meat with Directions for Preparing Sauces Suitable for the Same, (London: Chapman and Hall, 1872), p. 71.

[16] Manley, Tin, p. 8; Buckmaster, p. 101 ‘The best way is to make soup with the jelly, and eat the meat cold, with vegetables or salads.’ Beeton, p. 568; ‘A Cook’, p. 21, 22. Although cold mutton, however wholesome and nutritious, was ‘not provocative of enthusiasm’,Saturday Review (of politics, literature, science and art), 14 November 1874, 38 no. 994, pp. 634–5. See also ‘Food Committee’, JSA16, no. 789 (3 January 1868), p. 104, recommending could be eaten cold but ‘few persons would like it in that condition’.

[17] Beeton, p. 2.

[18] Chairman’s address to the Society of Arts, Journal of the Society of Arts, 25, no. 1252 (17 November 1876) p. 8. 

[19] Beeton p. 565 and Preface, p. vi. Also see Lizzie Heritage, Cassell’s New Universal Cookery Book (London: Cassel and Company, 1894). 

[20] Rebecca J. Woods, ‘The Shape of Meat. Preserving Animal Flesh in Victorian Britain,’ Osiris 35 (2020), p. 137. My thanks to Professor Woods for making this article available.

[21] G. C. Steet, ‘On the Preservation of Food Especially Fresh Meat and Fish, and the Best Form for Import and Provisioning Armies, Ships, and Expeditions', JSA13, no 644, (24 March 1865), p. 315 ‘poor cooks’;p. 316 ‘this description of meat was never intended to come into competition with the sirloin of beef and the leg of mutton, which were the food of the rich’ but rather ‘with the inferior parts, which for the most part fell to the lot of the poorer classes as being within their means’. See JSA, 15, no. 743 (15 February 1867), p. 190 for report of Food Committee: working classes ‘ignorant of the proper use of food’, and guilty of ‘the most wasteful’ settled habits and fixed prejudices and ‘Deplorable cooking’. Also Dr. Thudichum’s comments reported by the Food Committee, JSA 15, no 746 (8 March 1867), p. 240, ‘As the common people do not know how properly to cook the simplest thing, they would not succeed in imparting appetizing qualities to preserved food materials’.

[22] By 1875 Americans had introduced tapered cans which made the contents easier to remove, Farrer, Settlement, p. 90, in addition the product was cheaper since it travelled less distance.  Re. cooked, compressed meat, see Richard Perren, Taste, Trade and Technology. The Development of the International Meat Industry Since 1840 (Burlington: Ashgate, 2006), p. 45. Compressed meat could be removed from the can in a solid block ready to slice and serve. 

[23] See ‘Chairman’s Report’, JSA, 25 no. 1252 (17 November 1876), pp. 8–9. 

[24] Farrer, Settlement, p. 129.

[25] Paul Young, ‘Carnivorous Empire: The Global Growth of Victorian Britain’s Meat Markets’, Victorian Review, 45 (2), 2019, p. 180. Again, my thanks to Professor Young for providing me with a copy of this paper. For ‘meatification’ see Chris Otter, Diet for a Large Planet, Industrial Britain, Food Systems and World Ecology (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2020), p. 11, and particularly Chapter 1 ‘Meat’, pp. 21–47.