Standing up for Stilton is exactly what ministers should be doing

The eleventh hour had passed. After days of intense negotiations, the UK’S international trade secretary, Liz Truss, was poised to sign a deal that would protect £14.8 billion of the nation’s exports to Japan. Yet no pen was dipped, no contract signed. Instead the Japanese foreign minister, Toshimitsu Motegi, flew back to Tokyo last Friday, doubtless baffled at how the UK had taken a stand, and refused to shift, over a matter of just some 0.007 per cent of total exports to his country.

That 0.007 per cent, a mere £100,000 worth of business, related to a few cheeses that might not benefit from tariff-free agreements – in particular softer cheeses such as the blue-veined Stilton.

Perhaps up at 40,000 feet, Mr Motegi wondered what on earth all the fuss was about as he looked down at his tray of food, a few delicate pieces of sushi and sashimi, a tiny bowl of soy sauce, some chopped ginger. What a relief that would be after days of heavy Whitehall sandwiches and that other British cultural horror: biscuits and cheese, including that very specimen – a cheese with actual mould deliberately within it.

But back in Blighty Ms Truss was being heralded as a hero by Britain’s artisanal cheesemakers; I could almost hear the applause at the Nottinghamshire Cropwell Bishop creamery, where some of the nation’s finest Stilton has been produced for 70 years. I have a vast wedge of it myself, and gouged out a spoonful when I heard the news, savouring its epic combination of smooth creaminess and tart tang.

The Cropwell Bishop Stilton is one part of a huge rise in British cheesemaking over recent years. From Northampton’s crumbly and creamy Cobblers Nibble to Cornish nettle-covered Yarg, it’s a key part of the great British food renaissance – one championed by Prince Charles, who once remarked that 20 years ago the only decent cheese you could get was Cheddar, adding: “The extraordinary explosion of artisan-made cheeses has been one of the most remarkable things in this country.”

British cheese is now exported around the world and often beats the French in international tastings. But the bemusement of Japanese officials underlines some of the fundamental, traditional differences between British and Japanese food culture. Their preference for raw we see as basically still alive. Our fondness for cooked they view as boiled to oblivion. Compared with their nimble use of chopsticks, our keenness on crockery is distinctly uncivilised. They are as baffled by our love of dairy as we are by a map of the Tokyo subway. And they view our non-automated public lavatories as prehistoric.

Yet we Brits have come a long way. And so many of us now embrace Japanese culture, particularly the food.

I asked a class of kids in Clapham during a lockdown Zoom lesson what their favourite food was. “Sushi,” they all chorused. OK, so they were quite posh kids, but there’s barely a shopping centre in Britain today without a sushi bar.

So perhaps it’s time that the Japanese – lactose intolerances notwithstanding – cast aside their historic aversion to dairy. Mr Motegi, if you can learn to love Stilton we’ll vow not to overcook our veg and Ms Truss can sign that trade deal.