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Paul Dring wonders how anyone ever stomached stews before Worcestershire sauce.
If the Seventies was the age of prawn cocktails and steak and chips, then no one told my mum. Back then, tea-times were a voyage of discovery for an adventurous eight-year-old, as she effortlessly turned her hand to all manner of moussakas, curries and bologneses. After such exotica, my Dad's favourite dish - Irish stew - somehow lost its appeal. Thankfully, on those dark and wintry one-pot evenings, I had at my disposal a secret weapon that could spice up the blandest of casseroles...
Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce is one of those happy examples of serendipity, the culinary equivalent of finding a £20 note in a rarely worn jacket. Its story begins in 1835, when Marcus, Lord Sandys, returned to Worcester after a stint as Governor of Bengal, bringing with him the secret recipe for a condiment. He passed it on to two local pharmacists, John Wheeley Lea and William Perrins, who brewed up a batch of the sauce, only to discover, much to their dismay, that it tasted absolutely awful.
Disgruntled, they consigned the putrid concoction to the cellar and here the tale would have ended were not the sauce unearthed the following year, more in hope than expectation. To everyone's surprise, it had matured into something that tasted really rather good - so good, in fact, that it was bottled and sold commercially for the first time in 1837. Their new Worcestershire sauce was an instant hit, and by 1843 was selling 14,500 bottles a year.
The sauce is made in much the same way as it was 150 years ago, and though the recipe is still a closely guarded secret, a few details are known. Onions, garlic, anchovies and shallots are aged separately in malt vinegar, before being transferred to huge vats and mixed with tamarinds, chillies and molasses. Three years after its first barrelling, it is ready to be bottled.
Today, Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce is as popular as it ever was. Its deep flavour is the key note in many marinades and salad dressings, and no self-respecting Welsh rarebit would be seen grilled without it. I could even be persuaded that it's worth eating Irish stew for.
This article was first published on Waitrose.com in October 2000 |
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