The chance purchase of a second-hand book led food writer Sue Quinn to discover the remarkable and as yet untold story of Florence White (1863-1940). Sue salutes a lady who strived to save traditional English recipes from oblivion while forging a path for future female food writers to follow
PHOTOGRAPHS INDIA WHILEY-MORTON FOOD STYLING EMILY GUSSIN
Letter to my food hero.
Dear Florence
I discovered your treasure of a book, Good Things In England, in a second-hand shop more than a decade ago, and immediately you swept me away. The recipes you collected – 853 in all, dating from the 14th century to 1932 – took me on an incredible journey. You sourced them from cottages and sculleries as well as castles and royal kitchens the length and breadth of England. You didn’t just compile a set of cooking instructions – your book is a vibrant social history.
I’ve spent countless hours trying to find out more about you. What fired your passion for English cookery? Reading your books, tracing your life, sifting through archives of all your articles, I’m awestruck – honestly – by how prolific you were. How did you manage the recipe testing, writing and travelling, and still find time to establish the English Folk Cookery Association in 1928 to fly our culinary flag?
Like an old-style gumshoe, I’ve stood outside places where you lived and worked to try and get a better sense of who you were. Once, I even peered over a fence to see the building and garden that housed your beloved cookery school in the 1930s. It’s a hairdressing salon now, but the apple tree you mention in your book is still there, can you believe it?
As my research continued, you emerged as a truly remarkable woman. Born in Peckham, London, you lost your mother when you were only six, and soon after were blinded in one eye. With your marriage prospects over (or so you were cruelly told), you started a life of exceptional toil, working variously as a governess, teacher, journalist, lady’s companion and cook-housekeeper into your late 50s.
When poor health finally forced you to give up domestic service, you set out to become a journalist specialising in food and cookery. You were tireless but, really, what choice did you have? Unmarried, with meagre financial help from your family, suffering poor physical (and mental?) health, women in your position had to be extraordinary to survive.
But your passion for our food heritage spurred you on, too. You feared that traditional British recipes would be
