Worried about the taramasalata shortage? Wait till you hear about what else we’re running out of…

As the fishy dip disappears from Britain’s supermarket shelves, Flic Everett says it’s a foretaste of the disasters that could soon befall the middle-class dinner party

Why can’t I find taramasalata anywhere?” began my friend’s Facebook update last week. “I’m not joking, it’s vanished from the shelves.”

Lovers of cured cod roe chimed in, as panic spiralled. Speculation included the disappearance of cod due to climate change, “some kind of blockade” at the ports, and the banning of fishy dips due to an unspecified EU directive, or possibly Brexit.

Turns out none of these were behind the destruction of our dinner parties. The lack of taramasalata is, in fact, down to industrial action at the UK’s largest “dips and sauces” manufacturer, Bakkavor in Lincolnshire.

According to Unite, half the staff are currently striking due to three years of below-inflation pay rises, although Bakkavor denies this figure. Either way, it’s had a significant impact on the dips shelves at Waitrose, M&S, Sainsbury’s and other, less middle-class supermarkets.

Unlike hummus, taramasalata isn’t easy to whip up in the Magimix, despite someone on X (Twitter) last week suggesting: “Just buy some cod’s roe and do it yourself.” Sure, I’ll just nip down to the fish eggs shop at the end of the lane, shall I?

And it’s not as if this is a one-off. The great middle-class food disaster has been building for months. Not only are we increasingly priced out of the restaurants we used to frequent as rents and ingredient costs spiral, often putting our old haunts out of business – we can’t even buy the fancy stuff to replicate their dishes at home.

Last year, panic gripped the Ottolenghi classes when the price of olive oil shot up. A drought in the Mediterranean led to poor olive harvests and limited supply, with Spain producing only half its usual quota. As a result, the cost of production rose dramatically, and supermarkets started putting plastic tags on their bottles, the way they do for whisky. The drought isn’t easing – and those of us worried about maintaining good heart health and making tasty salad dressings have been left bereft.

Meanwhile, even coffee and chocolate are at risk. The march of climate change hasn’t Just Stopped Olive Oil – it’s now attacking our most beloved treats.

Drought and humidity are affecting cocoa plantations, pushing prices up 400 per cent, and chocolate manufacturers are struggling to afford supplies. Soon we may no longer be able to buy our “full of antioxidants, look, it’s actually a health food!” 70 per cent dark chocolate bars. Just as it was centuries ago, only the aristocracy will be able to afford chocolate, with the crowned heads of Europe served thimblefuls on silver trays, while the rest of us stare on longingly like Charlie Bucket.

Even coffee, that basic fuel of the midlife middle class, the beverage behind a thousand memes, the substitute personality of millions, and the most-photographed drink on the planet (if you’ve seen one Insta cappuccino with a heart drawn in the foam…) – well, that’s now threatened, too. The pandemic, combined with further poor harvests in Brazil and Vietnam, war in Ukraine, and a raft of other economic troubles has sent its price rocketing, and it’s likely to keep rising. Some experts predict, horrifyingly, that regular coffee drinking could be history within the next 25 years. How will we demonstrate our personalities then?

Meanwhile, the price of artichokes hasn’t yet recovered after last year’s shortage, when supplies were disrupted by unpredictable weather events across the Mediterranean. Worst of all, the avocado crops of California are suffering from drought, too. We may as well forget our middle-class credentials altogether, cancel the dinner parties and watch armageddon unfold.

Still, at least we can snack on hummus while the world burns. We’ll always have chickpeas.