How do you know your food is fresh? It started with Al Capone.

One of the weirdest moments in the weirdest of years was a battle royale between a 60p Iceberg lettuce bought from Tesco and a beleaguered British Prime Minister.

The entire incident was sparked off by an article in The Economist calling then Prime Minister Liz Truss “the iceberg lady” and claiming she had “the shelf-life of a lettuce”. Never ones to let an opportunity slip, The Daily Star rigged up a webcam on the lettuce to see whether it would outlast the Premier. Seven days later, albeit slightly wilted, Truss had to resign as Prime Minister after a series of disastrous economic decisions—and, in the process, made one particular piece of lettuce into an internet sensation.

Cruel or amusing as the stunt was, it cleverly drew the nation’s attention to its attitudes to the longevity of foodstuffs, a matter of increasing importance as households grapple with the soaring cost of living.


According to the government-backed Waste & Resources Action Programme (WRAP), British households throw away about 4.5 billion tonnes of edible food a year. That’s 70% of the nation’s edible food waste and enough to fill ninety Royal Albert Halls or make an additional 10.5 billion meals. Potatoes, followed by bread and milk, are the most wasted.

As well as costing £13.8 billion a year or the equivalent of £470 per household, there is an environmental cost. Edible food waste in landfill sites degrades over time, releasing methane gas into the atmosphere which traps heat within the atmosphere, making it twenty-five times more harmful than carbon dioxide. Although a concerted effort has been made to reduce the size of the edible food waste problem since the nadir of 2015, the numbers are still eye-watering.

A contributory factor to the problem is the practice of dating foods either by way of a best before or a use-by date, the subtle differences of which are not always appreciated by the consumer.


The best before date, the Food Safety Agency’s website points out, relates to quality, the point up to which it will be at its best, but it will still be safe to eat after that date. The use-by date, however, relates to the safety of the food which should not be cooked or consumed after midnight of the date displayed.

It was only after the mass adoption of refrigeration and the disconnect between food sources and their point of sale that concerns about the freshness and foodstuffs emerged. Until then, eating was simpler, using foods that were either seasonally available or which had been cured or preserved. Even after the great diaspora from the countryside to the towns, consumers, invariably housewives, would buy what was needed each day.

The quality of food on offer was determined by the senses, a visual check to see whether there was mould on bread or a sniff test to determine whether milk or dairy products had gone off. However, many fell foul of unscrupulous traders or were too poor to afford anything other than substandard food. Not for nothing were sausages colloquially called bags o’mystery in the 19th century as no one was quite sure what was in them, and sailors often had to dine on bow wow mutton, meat so bad that it could well have been dog.


On January 17, 1920, America embarked upon what President Herbert Hoover described as “a great social and economic experiment” with the implementation of the National Prohibition Act which outlawed the manufacture, sale, or transportation of “intoxicating liquor”. The thirteen-year experiment ended in failure, defeated by the insuppressible demand for alcohol amongst the public and inefficiency and corruption within the law enforcement agencies, which allowed violent gangsters to supply alcohol, often of dubious quality, at great profit.

Chief amongst them was the notorious gangster, Al Capone.


Al Capone built up a business worth $60m based on the manufacture and transportation of alcohol with side lines in gambling and prostitution. His gang ruthlessly protected and expanded his business, earning him and his brother, Ralph, the sobriquets of public enemy numbers one and three respectively. The passing of the 21st Amendment in February 1933 ending prohibition was a severe blow to Capone’s business empire.

With a transportation network and bottling facilities, he turned his attention to a product that everyone consumed, and which offered a bigger mark-up than alcohol: milk. That the milk in Chicago was supplied by a union-controlled farm, Meadowmoor Dairies, was but a minor inconvenience. Capone sent his boys round, kidnapped the Union President, ransomed him for $50,000, and when the money was paid, used it to buy the farm.

According to Deirdre Capone, in her book Uncle Al Capone: The Untold Story From Inside His Family, it was her grandfather Ralph rather than her great-uncle Al, as popularly supposed, who lobbied the dairy industry to beef up its health and safety standards, after a friend’s child had become seriously ill from drinking out-of-date milk. His efforts to put labels on milk bottles with expiry dates earned Ralph the nickname of “Bottles”. It was not an altogether altruistic exercise as the Capones had extensive bottle labelling facilities. Whilst there is no independent evidence to substantiate the claims, shortly after the Capones involved themselves in the milk industry, date labels became mandatory in Illinois.


Date labels on foodstuffs first appeared in Britain behind the scenes, in the storerooms of Marks and Spencer, in the 1950s as a means of improving control over stock levels and, ironically, to reduce wastage. In 1973 the store’s executives brought them out from the back of the store onto the shelves, calling them sell-by dates and, in an advertising blitz, informing their customers that “the sell-by date means that St Michael foods are fresh”. There was even a television advert featuring the model, Twiggy.

Other supermarkets soon followed suit, as the Marks and Spencer experience showed that shoppers found reassurance in purchasing foodstuffs with a sell-by date. By the 1980s the scope of dating food was expanded to encompass best before and use-by dates, which, far from being helpful and reassuring, sowed the seeds of confusion in the mind of shoppers, especially as Britons became more adventurous in the type and range of foods they bought.


Today, the tide has turned once more. Since 2022, major UK supermarkets like Asda and Sainsbury’s have been abandoning the use of “best before” dates on fruits and vegetables, “to help customers reduce food waste and save money by deciding themselves if the food is edible”

This move is likely to be accelerated by a three-point action plan, launched in February 2022 by the WARP. The aim of this plan is to reduce household waste and plastic packaging. If the three-point plan is adopted, they claim it will save fourteen million shopping baskets full of food waste and 1,110 truck loads of plastic.

Apart from groceries, supermarkets have also eliminated “best before” dates on dairy products like milk. However, “use by” dates, which are there for safety reasons, are still in use. Interestingly, milk producer Morrisons has gone the other way, removing the “use by” date and asking customers to use a combination of the “best before” date and the traditional sniff test.

It looks like the practice of date labelling foods is rapidly approaching its expiry date. Dates will continue to be shown on highly perishable foodstuffs, for food safety and public health reasons, but for the rest, we will be reliant upon our senses and the sniff test, just as we were in the past.

Granny, it turns out, knew best all along.


The Editors' Bookshelf

Badri Sunderarajan


Welcome to The Editors' Bookshelf where you get weekly book recommendations straight from our editors! This week, we have Badri suggesting Shoes of the Dead by Kota Neelima.

An unusual book that caught my eye in the library, Shoes of the Dead is a fast-paced novel tackling the tricky topic of farmer suicides in India.

A bit of no-background: farmers in some parts of India have become very dependent on crop loans: loans given to them to buy seeds, fertiliser, and other necessities for the year’s crop. Unfortunately, if the harvest is bad—due to drought, unfortunate weather conditions, or other reasons—the farmers find themselves unable to pay back their loans, leading them to borrow even more for the next crop. In some cases this cycles drives them so deeply in debt that they resort to suicide…which has the side-effect of getting some compensation from the government to the bereaved families.

The novel handles the story from various perspectives: that of a reporter investigating the issue; the local moneylender who is also on the committee that decides whether a suicide is “genuinely debt-related” or not; an industrialist looking to buy land from farmers in distress; a powerful politician’s son who also happens to be an inexperienced local MP; and one very angry farmer whose family was denied government compensation.

Despite all these different threads, the author Kota Neelima manages to weave together a fast-paced narrative, moving along the story without dragging things out. Reading out about all the machinations and power-struggles was eye-opening, but also entertaining. I won’t reveal the ending, but it was well rounded too and left me with a sense of, not quite victory, and a bit of melancholy, but also some satisfaction.


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