For Jews, a community shaped by brutal histories of ostracisation, expulsion, desperate attempts to survive, and, of course, weekly festive cycles, food has always had an added edge of intensity. No surprise then that Britain’s supermarket landscape has an immigrant Jewish flavour.
Tesco, Britain’s largest chain, was founded by Jack Cohen (born Jakub Kohen in 1898, the son of Polish immigrants) in 1929. Marks & Spencer came from Tom Spencer and Michael Marks, the latter born around 1859 in Slonim (Belarus).
He was a travelling pedlar who set up a market stall in Leeds Kirkgate Market in 1884, and opened the first Marks with Spencer in 1894.
Later, through the alliance with the Sieff family (Michael’s son Simon’s in-laws), Marks became closely involved with early 20th-century Zionism.
So when my friend Jo declares that Marks is the most Jewish (“It’s so indulgent, in that Jewish way”), it’s hard to argue, but I have my reservations about its contemporary form, which has been tarnished by an excessive railway station rollout, and always feels full of plastic and overly sanitised products of dubious necessity.
It’s lauded for its prepared foods, though I find these a little slimy and tangy, not to mention packaged with extreme inconsiderateness; if you don’t want to eat all your taramasalata or piri piri chicken in one, you’re stuck, as there’s no way to resealing.
Tesco has rather fallen away from its roots. For me, and the population of NW6, NW11 and NW3, it’s got to be Waitrose. Jo says Waitrose is completely non-Jewish, but I think it’s more of a yekke thing, austere but thorough. Waitrose will always be my yekke supermarket home, since its Temple Fortune branch was where my late Bamberg-born grandmother always did her shop. When I was little, we would go together and stock up on, among other things, packs of little white bratwurst (you can take the girl out of Germany…), which we’d then go home and bake to glistening perfection.
Sainsbury’s, we agree, is the least Jewish of all the major supermarkets. It’s something about the orange and maroon brand colours, the middlebrow averageness of it all, especially that premium Taste the Difference range. I must confess, I’ve never tasted a difference.
Lidl is good for mounds of pickled herrings and huge packs of nuts certainly evoke the Ashkenazi heartlands. As for the others, Asda and Morrisons barely even merit consideration. And don’t get me started on the Co-op with its strident anti-Israel stance.
Which is to say that what was once a harmless game of deciding which is the most Jewish supermarket has taken on a new, political dimension since October 7.
Calls to boycott Israeli producers grew to a sometimes deafening din. No more Israeli produce, hummus, snacks.
The Co-op is entirely given over to the activism and its boycott of Israeli products is now integral to its brand, while it pointedly sells Palestinian beer.
But even at other chains, there still may be no escaping the keffiyeh-clad middle-class activists who are drawn like ageing moths to the toxic orb of the cherished BDS cause.
It’s not just the protests and frenzied leafleting outside stores.
In October 2024, the International Centre of Justice for Palestinians threatened legal action against eight major UK supermarket chains – including Waitrose – if they continued selling products made in Israeli settlements, snarling that individual directors could be personally liable.
My response was to make a point of buying Israeli dates at my local Waitrose to show support.
That was until the Israeli dates disappeared to be replaced by medjools from Tunisia and California.
It happened quietly. Waitrose admitted to Ethical Consumer that it had made the shift, but refrained from giving a political motivation, but you can’t help but wonder if that’s what’s going on.
The date switcheroo is profound enough to have spoilt my once-loyal love of the supermarket, though I’ll admit not enough to reroute somewhere less convenient.
At least at my local branch, you can still get Bamba and Osem products, plus those from Yarden and Sabra.
I’ll buy them all, in bulk.
That’s my way to taste – and make – the difference.
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