Food and economics are not commonly seen as natural bedfellows. The dismal science is not, after all, a culinary science.  In this book, Chang imaginatively connects the two. The book’s objective is to re-present the complexities of much economic debate through vignettes of the interaction between particular foods and contentious economic issues. The eighteen chapters are better seen as parables, each used to critique a widely held claim associated with neoclassical economics.

Chang argues that the dominance of this school means that contemporary economics is comparable to the British food scene before the 1990s, which was ‘actually terrible’. He regards the prevailing neoclassical tradition’s intellectual and cultural domination as ‘the only item on the menu’, and not because of its inherent virtues.

Recent decades have seen the British embrace cuisines from around the world, supporting the emergence of one of the most sophisticated food cultures. By contrast, economics has moved in the opposite direction. It has become less diverse, trapped in the neoclassical domain which has narrowed the intellectual gene pool of the subject.

Mathematics has become dominant.  Relevant issues such as the distribution of income, wealth and power have been pushed into the background, as has the knowledge embedded in economic history. Self-seeking behaviour has been normalised. This has widespread ramifications.  Economics, like food, has a profound impact on societies, even to the extent of changing who we are.

Chang takes economics out of the journals and textbooks and embeds it in the stories of different foods. For example, an analysis of noodles is used to critique the view that individual brilliance rather than collective efforts underlie corporate success. Limes are used to demonstrate that collective action rather than individual choice in the market is required to solve economic problems such as climate change.  The story of coconuts illustrates why poverty in poor countries is not the result of lazy indigenous populations.  And Chang uses the history of rye to support the role of welfare states in making capitalist economies more dynamic through reducing resistance to change.

A prescription for ‘good’ economics emerges from these parables. The vision is pluralist. The best economists should be like the best chefs, drawing on a wide range of ingredients to deliver a dish with specific qualities. They should understand the power and limitations of markets, while knowing that entrepreneurs are successful when supported and appropriately regulated by the state. Furthermore, individualist and collectivist theories can be combined, and associated with theories of human capabilities, to address issues such as inequality.

This is a book aimed at a non-specialist audience, but it could be usefully read by anyone. The author’s interest in food and cooking provides a personal dimension unusual in most economics books, and also some interesting asides – why are we comfortable eating prawns and lobster, but not insects? In addition, much of the history is interesting independent of the economics arguments.  For example, the British predilection for fish and chips did not originate with the Anglo-Saxons, but was developed by  Jewish immigrants in the 19th century. In addition, Queen Victoria disliked garlic so much that no-one was allowed to eat it in Buckingham Palace or Balmoral while she was in residence.

Purists may quibble at the resilience of some of the analogies used. The same spice may perk up one dish and ruin another, and the social return to shareholder limited liability may also be similarly contingent. A metaphor too far, perhaps?  Quibbling may, however, miss the point.  The purist who reads this delightfully written book carefully may not be able to think of limited liability in the future without associating it with spices.