Christmas is a time for tradition. For my family, part of that means a carefully prepared cheeseboard served after the main meal—warmed by good company, good wine, and a slight, inevitable debate about which cheese is best. But this year, as I was laying out the Baron Bigod and Black Bomber, I found myself thinking about how food—particularly the humble cheeseboard—reveals more about British identity than we might first assume.

Take Baron Bigod, an English raw milk brie that rivals anything from France. Or the punchy Black Bomber—a Welsh cheddar that defies supermarket blandness. These cheeses tell a story of revival, of craft, of pride in regional produce. They speak to a Britain that still knows how to do things properly. Quiet excellence, not shouted slogans.

In a way, the cheeseboard has become a reflection of our national conversation. There are the classics—the Stiltons and Red Leicesters—that speak of continuity. And there are the curious additions—perhaps a French blue or a spicy Yarg—that nod to openness and diversity. Balance is key. Too much novelty and it loses its centre. Too little and it stagnates.

Politics isn’t so different. At its best, it should reflect taste, care, a willingness to accommodate variety while protecting what’s good. We may not always agree on the order of cheeses—or indeed policies—but if we sit down together with goodwill and understanding, we can usually find a plate that works.

Merry Christmas. And pass the crackers.