100 Books Like Welsh Food Stories

I first read the tales of The Mabinogion when I was an undergraduate and their amazing otherness helped to propel me towards a career researching medieval Welsh literature.

These prose tales were composed in Welsh between 1100 and 1300. Four of the tales are linked together and are known as ‘The Four Branches of the Mabinogi’. Other tales include two original Arthurian stories, a dream vision set in the Roman British past, and three tales based on the French Arthurian romances of Chrétien de Troyes.

In this rich mixture of genres, otherworldly women marry heroic men, warfare between Wales and Ireland destroys a generation, and Arthur strides the land as the king of the whole island of Britain. Sioned Davies’s translation is the latest and best, capturing all the drama and apparent simplicity of the original Welsh texts.

M. Wynn Thomas is the foremost literary critic writing in Wales today, and a writer I particularly admire.

He pioneered the concept of ‘Welsh writing in English’ as distinct from ‘Welsh writing’ (in Welsh), honouring the bilingual culture of Wales. Thomas’s twelve poems are selected from three key periods of Welsh history, the Middle Ages, the pre-modern period, and our own time.

Each poem is read in the context of its social and political background, educating us about the politics of Welshness, the cultural assumptions written into the literature, and above all what it means to be Welsh in a nation that is not a state.

This is such an elegant and original way to foreground the creativity of Welsh poets alongside the cultural forces that shaped them.

There are a number of anthologies of Welsh poetry in translation, but Tony Conran’s collection remains my favourite.

It is a terrific selection, from the great medieval court poets to the giants of the nineteenth century and the modernist poets of the twentieth century. Well-known poets such as Dafydd ap Gwilym and Waldo Williams rub shoulders with less familiar names, such as Gruffudd ap Maredudd and Alun Llywelyn-Williams.

Some individual poems have their own prefaces explaining their context, while the whole volume begins with a masterly introduction to the Welsh bardic tradition.

As a bonus, the volume concludes with a substantial explanation of the metres of Welsh poetry, so if you are not sure how to tell an englyn from an awdl, this is the book for you.

Pigeon is Alys Conran’s first novel and it exemplifies, for me, the huge energy and potential of the current generation of writers in Wales.

It is not only a powerful story of loss, guilt, and redemption, but a pointed comment on the state of contemporary Wales and its social challenges.

Pigeon’s young adulthood, dominated by a bullying English stepfather, echoes the difficult relationship between the Welsh and the English, while Pigeon’s troubled attitude towards the Welsh language, his birth language, throws up questions about the nature of linguistic identity in a bilingual country.

The novel won the Wales Book of the Year in 2017, has been translated into Welsh, and has been turned into a play, and yet is hardly known outside Wales. Welsh writers like Conran deserve a much wider readership.

I can’t remember how I discovered this book, but once I cracked open the spine and began reading, I found myself going underline crazy.

The book is a captivating read about the history of the future of food, which is a bit of a tongue twister. How do we look back to the future? Belasco does this by investigating the ways in which we’ve projected our current outlook (from fears to concerns) around what’s to come––a bit of doomsday Tarot card reading if you will.

Despite its pub date, 2006, the book continues to inform. Belasco, a professor emeritus of American Studies at the University of Baltimore, helped bring food studies into a legitimate academic field. 

Such an important, relevant, and well-written book. Carolyn Steel traces the journey food takes to feed our cities – from the land where it is grown to the waste dumps, where its decay causes environmental degradation. It is a book that looks forward as well as to the past. Hungry City ends with a rallying cry to create a better food system – better for us, for society, for the planet. ‘How food shapes our lives in our future is up to us,’ writes Steel.

This short (190-page) book shows how the global food system is intrinsically connected to world region’s diverse developmental trajectories, covering the colonial era to the green revolution to the contemporary corporate-dominated food system.

Historically, agriculture has been subordinated ever more tightly to capitalist imperatives of profit – based upon increased, faster, and cheaper production. Agriculture has been transformed from a ‘closed loop system’, where soil fertility was renewed based upon locally-available resources (such as animal manure), to a through-flow system dependent upon external inputs.

This shift raised yields for a while, but at the cost of soil exhaustion and the accumulation of power and resources in the hands of agrochemical companies at the expense of the small farmer sector.

Weis suggests that we need to consider new ways of producing our food, which would also establish new forms of world development. 

Giant corporations control every sector of our economy. Nowhere is this more evident than in what we eat and drink. Controlling these corporations are families about which we know very little. This book pulls back the curtain to reveal the families that created these food empires.

I knew how Cargill captured the grain market, and Walmart muscled its way to the top of the grocers’ mountain. But I had no idea that an obscure German holding company came to dominate what I thought were independent coffee and bakery chains or how the company whose name is on the out-of-season berries in the produce aisle doesn’t really grow them at all. If you are a foodie, Barons will open your eyes and probably turn your stomach. It sure did mine. 

This ‘wake-up’ call to society about the food crisis already affecting one billion people provides both information and guidance about what needs to be done to avert disaster.

It is also full of important philosophy, such as “There can be no peace until people have enough to eat.” The book goes on to offer important insights into what needs to be done for humanity to live sustainably.

The task is enormous, but there is hope if we wake from our slumbers. 

The crux of this book – ‘the need of the moment’ – focuses on the critical role of agrobiodiversity.

It recognizes that the current tendency to focus on only 30 out of 30,000 edible plant species has ignored many wonderful and locally popular foods that are also crucial for healthy and productive farming systems.

The book illustrates a ‘light bulb’ moment for the future of agriculture with the recognition of the numerous untapped benefits of edible plant species that have been overlooked by modern science.