The government hasn’t helped quash worries that we will soon return to a regime of canned food and ration cards. Over the summer, the Conservatives unveiled their plans for a “no deal” Brexit, or leaving the European Union without a new trade agreement in place. If that happens, customs confusion will disrupt the fresh food supply. According to the BBC, the sandwich would be one of the first casualties of any supply-chain problems. “Stockpiling” is the sensible option, said Prime Minister Theresa May. If the situation becomes really grim, the army will deliver rations.

The anti-European Union side says this is hyperbole, part of an elite campaign to scare voters off Brexit. To an extent, that is right: Most people don’t believe that without the European Union, Britons will go hungry.

The deeper anxieties about Brexit are more cultural than practical. We worry that the Britain that opened up to European tastes will start to fade away; that we will revert to being insular, backward, porridge people. This explains a degree of vicious snobbery in many newspaper reports when it comes to food. Fatter people were reportedly more likely to vote Leave than Remain: for “fatter” read also “poorer.” Greggs, the mass-market bakery known for pasties and sausage rolls, has experienced a “Brexit boost,” while chic London restaurants are said to be at risk of closing if they lose European staff. The Remain side will never forgive the Leavers if Brexit destroys our budding culinary prowess.

One consolation is that our appetites are today more global than European. Our food revolution was not just continental. It may not be fashionable to be wistful about the British Empire but it’s certainly popular to enjoy delicacies from former colonies, as well as from countries Britain never even came close to invading. If you had to define our national dish, it would be as accurate to say chicken tikka masala or pad thai as fish and chips, which, by the way, is believed to have been introduced to Britain in the 19th century by Jewish refugees.

Nobody is quite sure what Brexit will mean for our diets. Our taste for world dishes may help, as we start to forge new trade links and wean ourselves off cheap European goods. But a food culture, much like food itself, can perish. Much as it pains us to admit it, we owe a lot of our confidence to our European cousins. So will we go back to where we once were — the laughingstock of the culinary world — or can we prove the critics wrong?

Lara Prendergast (@laraprendergast) is an assistant editor at The Spectator.

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