That takes the tea cake
The main goals in growing up are to buy your own shoes and eat Tunnock’s wafers whenever you choose, or so Lucy Baring once believed. But why exactly do those distinctive foil wrappers inspire such joy for children and adults alike?
Lucy Baring tucks into Tunnock’s
Most people have an affection for Tunnock’s that crosses all generations
EVERY August, for the early part of my life, I went to bed with a fervent desire not to be a child, because adulthood would mean I could buy my own shoes and I’d never have to go to Scotland again. This changed at about the age of 20, when I fell in love with the place and could just about afford to buy my own footwear, but on the family holiday, where boys were revered and girls were, at best, an inconvenience, the Scottish experience was on the lowering side. ‘I suppose someone could take her out on a boat,’ our host would say when his eye fell on me at supper, having allocated the boys their fun for the next day. He looked desperately about for better ideas before, quite often, falling asleep.
There was one thing that made the week bearable: Tunnock’s Caramel Wafers. Actually, two things, the other being Creamola Foam, but that’s another story. After breakfast, we would make our ‘piece’ and the sense of autonomy in choosing one’s own picnic, was marvellous. I could take two Tunnock’s and nobody cared. And some Fruit Gums. And a Mars bar. Tunnock’s were the most practical, however, as they’re robust enough not to get squished in the pocket. Later, at boarding school, I was introduced to the tea cake, which overtook the wafer as my first love.
Today, more than six million wafers are made and sold every week by the family firm that has passed down the Tunnock generations from its beginnings as a bakery in 1890. It’s currently run by Sir Boyd Tunnock, who, aged 86, continues to be in the factory seven days a week and was knighted earlier this year for services to business and charity.
The statistics are hefty: the company has a turnover of more than £58 million, exports to 35 countries and sells 3½ million tea cakes every week. I’m not going to waste time on the Snowball or Caramel Log, as both of these have a coconut component and I will, therefore, never try them.
Sir Boyd invented his tea cakes in 1956 (four years after his father, Archie, had created the wafer), and encountered a problem early on. The Italian marshmallow, which sits on top of a biscuit base (no, there’s no jam in a Tunnock’s tea cake), kept forming a peak that the chocolate couldn’t cover. Always more interested in machinery and problemsolving than baking, he wrapped a bandage around a roller that smoothed the dome, a method still used today.
Carrying a notebook with a circle drawn in it, Sir Boyd (a passionate fan of Robert Burns, with whom he shares a birthday) measures random bases against it as they come off the production line. Today, the company employs more than 600 people in Uddingston, near Glasgow. Although the products haven’t changed, Sir Boyd never passes on an opportunity to keep the company up to date with technology and reportedly offers a £50 on-the-spot reward to any member of staff who comes up with an idea to improve efficiency.
When I sent Tunnock’s my questions, I had a reply within minutes, including the following diplomatic response: ‘Boyd naturally loves all our biscuits, but if you offered him a plate with all the products, he would go for his favourite, the Caramel Wafer, every time.’
The wrappers have even inspired artists and poets. Miss Glasgow 2011 wore a dress made from the red-and-gold wafer wrappers and sales of tea cakes soared after 30 giant versions starred in the opening ceremony of the 2014 Commonwealth Games in Glasgow.
This year, one of the stars of the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition was a huge fibreglass tiger, covered in used tea-cake wrappers (together with red M&S tea-cake and Viscountbiscuit wrappers), by artists David and Robert Mach. Listening to the admiring visitors, it was clear that most people have an affection for Tunnock’s that crosses all generations. I overheard a man explaining to his wife that he ate the marshmallow and gave his brother the biscuit, in what he assured her had been a happy arrangement.
Ted Hughes penned the following on the back of a wafer wrapper, now exhibited by St Andrews University: To have swallowed a crocodile would make anybody smile, but to swallow a Caramel Wafer is safer
We have used the wafer to bribe and cajole our children on many a midge-ridden picnic and damp walk—something about the gold and red simply cheers one up. Last summer, when spirits and bodies were damp at the family camping weekend, my niece suddenly produced five of them, which she says she always keeps in her bag ‘in case of emergencies’. She’s a wise and practical woman—the wafers don’t seem to melt as easily as other chocolate biscuits.
I have found that, when smoothed out (an essential part of the tea-cake-eating experience), the red-and-silver foil fits perfectly inside a CD case, which is how I decorated one of the children’s rooms back in the day when I could do what I wanted… oh, but I can! I buy my own shoes, eat Tunnock’s whenever I choose and I’m about to go to Scotland. I can’t wait. Tunnock’s (01698 813551; www.tunnock.co.uk)
My niece keeps five in her bag “in case of emergencies”. She’s a wise and practical woman