Whilst baking some cookies today, I stopped for a moment to admire the baking powder. I couldn’t tell you the brand name, only that it hadn’t changed it’s label since I was a kid. It was the brand my mother used, and so it is the brand I use. The more I looked around the pantry, the more I found these gems.
The curry powder that looks like it came from the East India Trading company. The soy sauce that might have arrived on our shores in the gold rush. The spread and biscuits that have since been bought by American conglomerates, but occasionally retain a hint of their origin.
They are the nameless products who lack swish marketing departments (or have intelligent ones). When sending someone to do the shopping, I can’t communicate what I want. It comes out something like “Not those dates you got last time, the ones in the normal packet from the good place”. I have lost ‘my brand’ when they have changed packing before.
In addition, quite frankly and superficially, I just love the old packaging. I dislike slogans, and captions telling me the benefits of this, or the new efficiency of that. Call it nostalgia, call it vintage tastes, but the simple lettering advising what’s inside is a relief from the information advertising overload of today’s stores.
This is flour. This is butter. This is milk. If you don’t know what to do with it, have baked beans. No, not that one, the one in the normal tin.