You can’t beat a ‘picky tea’… but it’s a wicked habit that’s killing off dinner

On a warm summer’s evening, no one wants to switch on the oven, but the alarming rise in popularity of eating straight from the fridge is the latest knife in the back of shared mealtimes, says Charlotte Lytton

According to a survey, Brits eat a ‘picky tea’ – bits and pieces from the fridge, nothing cooked from scratch – three times a week (Getty)

It is the natural order of things that younger generations do exactly as we did – even the achingly cringeworthy stuff – and declare it a new trend on social media. And so to the “picky tea”, previously known as “bits and bobs” or, frankly, a picnic, which has become the official meal of the summer.

According to a new survey from cider brand Orchard Pig, nine out of 10 respondents are eating straight from the fridge three times a week, ditching actual meals for a hunk of sourdough, a handful of cherry tomatoes and some chips ‘n’ dips. (This figure is presumably 100 per cent among Gen Z.)

The options on the picky tea menu are seriously Seventies in taste, per the research, with 43 per cent of respondents saying that potato salad, coleslaw and pork pies feature (scotch eggs rank one percentage point lower); half of those quizzed opt for sausage rolls, while other questionable comestibles on the list include coronation chicken and quiche. Of their findings, Orchard Pig, said “it’s clear to see that ‘picky tea fever’ is sweeping the nation”.

TikTok dwellers will recognise picky plates as an update on last year’s “girl dinner”, another social media trend denoting what is, politely, a random assortment of snacks (to which “dregs from the salad drawer” would also apply). But if we ignore the fact that people have always wanted to cook less in summer, the bigger truth here is that eating this way is more than a hashtag or seasonal pattern – rather proof that dinner time is now dead.

I say this without judgment: I put my oven on approximately twice a year, and since cafés and supermarkets began selling boiled eggs, my hob activity has been much the same. Frankly, I can think of little more dull than cooking or, worse, washing up. Slashing the hours afforded to both is the least we deserve, surely, given the various time-draining add-ons modern life has wrought.

But glamourising this desire for convenience – also known as laziness – via TikTok trends et al denies its downsides. Yes, popping the lid off a tub of tzatziki or peeling the plastic from a packet of pre-cooked prawns might feel like we’re regaining meaningful minutes in our day, but it also erodes what dinner time was designed for. Instead of time, love and sharing taking place over an evening meal, this way of eating is fragmented and thoughtless – and endlessly appealing to the distracted-meal-for-one crowd.

Still, this picky tea take-off can hardly be considered a surprise. We know that the desecration of mealtimes has been going on for decades; according to research from Sainsbury’s in 2021, just 28 per cent of households shared the same evening meal, citing working late, family members’ fussy eating habits and “struggling to find time” among the biggest roadblocks.

The social implications here are depressing; those for our health perhaps worse. Disordered eating has more than doubled among children and young people (research shows that family mealtimes are inversely associated with such behaviours); obesity now affects two-thirds of British adults. Mindless grazing – often involving processed foods, as the picky tea trend necessitates that everything be ready to eat – can hardly be considered an upgrade on the care (and nutrients) previously afforded by communal dinners. Obviously, a Gen Z affectation is not driving these ills, though it’s hard to imagine it helps much either.

Just as “sharing a meal” has developed two radically different meanings for the on and offline crowds, the concept of “dinner” is now experiencing a similar split. If your ideal meal is – God forbid – a slice of quiche and a wedge of cheddar, per the picky tea hitlist, have at it. But know too that this becoming our dinner-time norm has implications that go far beyond the cutesy hashtag.