IT was around 1948 that I was trusted to do a very important job for a large family, ours.
Every Saturday morning I would go into my parents’ bedroom and remove the bolster pillow case form the bolster and head for the corner shop. The shop was situated on the opposite corner to the Green Lane Tavern.
My quest was to collect eight large uncut loaves. Once I got them back home they were placed on the stone table in the larder. The bread would see more dripping than was healthy for it and especially if it had been toasted.
I’ve eaten in a lot of beautiful places and eaten a lot of nice food but fresh bread coated in dripping is sublime to say the least.
In 1948 the main diet was dripping. It was a favourite on bread for workers to take for snap. The customary choice for workers, white or blue collar, was bread and dripping — the choice of millions. This choice lasted well into the seventies, then different spreads came on the scene.
Mention dripping and you get young people saying they love it and people in their forties pulling a face at it.
Dripping will never die. It’s too nice. I can’t partake because of my diabetes. Pass us the toasting fork.
Richard Billups, East Avenue, Rawmarsh