Amazing asparagus

I had never tasted asparagus so tender and young before. Out of this world.

Asparagus in the UK has a short season from May to mid-June.

Well, it used to.  The season now starts  in April in the UK. When a fellow food blogger bought hers last week, I was surprised – that’s climate change for you.

In supermarket-land, they appear all year long, spears the regulation length, lined up in rows in small plastic boxes. They look pretty – and are pretty tasteless.

The supermarkets now race to get seasonal British-born asparagus on their shelves.

Waitrose failed the test yesterday according to my mum, the queen of real food lovers. Shocked by its offering of Peruvian asparagus, my 80+ mum made a special trip to Marks & Spencers for the British kind. (Reader, thus is my provenance).

It’s not that I am jingo-istic, set against Johnnie-foreigner.

Nooooo, hardly. a) I believe in a world without borders b) I am of foreign-blood myself.

My love of seasonal stems from common sense. Eating food grown as near to where I live tastes fresher. Looking at the bigger picture, my spears’  journey-to-market is less polluting too.

My asparagus came 10 minutes away by foot thanks to the local organic grower setting up stall in the self-build eco-houses at St. Werburgh’s every Thursday afternoon until 6.30pm.

Mike is going to check the name of the grower for us next week. We hope to find out more how it was grown, as growing it organically is supposed to be hard.

He barely steamed the young spears then latticed them over fried brown rice, chilli and mushrooms (above).

We love brown rice but let’s face it, that’s hardly local.

So, Little Englander or bigger picture and more taste? Why do you like local food?

Stop press: Wrington Greens sell their fresh organic veg every Thursday 4.30-6.30pm at the Self-Build homes at Ashley Vale, St. Werburgh’s – please buy if you like to be wowed…

Turnip tops and haricot beans

After a lively exchange on Facebook about how to cook turnip tops, I set to con brio.

I also consulted Jane Grigson’s The Vegetable Book and, as always, she came up trumps with Broccoletti di rape. They eat turnip tops in Italia, you know, and appreciate their health-giving qualities.

Then I winklerfied all the information and this is what happened:

I started the whole process by frying onions because once I have done that – I am committed.

I washed the fresh turnip tops bought the day before at Bristol Farmers’ market from the wonderfully abundant organic Wrington Greens stall.

Leaves so young and fresh, I had no need to remove their stalks – just gathered them on a board and chopped them once or twice.

Then tipped them into the gently frying onions (see pic above) and stirred it all a bit.

But what to add? It’s amazing what is in the fridge. I found haricot beans, cooked at the weekend, perfectly edible and ready to go.

And of course the ubiquitous brown rice, cooked the night before.

Several grinds of black pepper, a smattering of nutmeg, a crunch or two of rock salt, a splatter of soya sauce, and about 5-10 minutes later, the dish was ready to eat.

Voilà , a plate of mean greens and beans…

Vegan nettle pesto and brown rice

Nettles came to the rescue today when the cupboard was bare.

Abundantly springing up on our path. Luckily we had Mike’s gloves.

We pinched off fresh tips and dropped them into a foraged plastic bag.

At home I planned to make pesto, having seen a recipe last week.

But vegan as I now eschew dairy for the sake of my delicate gut.

The following came under the force of my hand-held blender:

3 shallots fried in a tablespoon of olive oil

40z nettles drained after plunging in boiling water to de-sting

bit of cinnamon bark

handful of raw sunflower seeds

balsamic vinegar

olive oil

and salt.

I whizzed, obtaining a seriously delicious green sauce.

Served with brown rice (leftover from last night and stir-fried with shallots and ginger) and some freshly soaked and simmered-for-one-hour-till-soft haricots beans.

Ray Mears, author of Wild Food, says Bosnians sold nettles to eat during the war.

But don’t wait for disaster to discover their nutritious qualities.

This is the spirit of  Transition: prepare for climate change by leading a green life now.

Oh dear. I am such a dilettante. How can I transition without my electric blender?

Not to mention the balsamic vinegar…

What would you miss/embrace in a low-carbon world?

Michelle Obama gardens, Big Farm-a worries

The Mid America CropLife Association sent an email to Michelle Obama, perhaps nervous that growing food might put the “wrong” idea in people’s heads.

“As you go about planning and planting the White House garden, we respectfully encourage you to recognize the role conventional agriculture plays in the U.S.”

The full letter is here http://www.lavidalocavore.org/showDiary.do?diaryId=1309
More on Michelle Obama
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Nettle soup is the one to make

Sometimes an idea takes years to come to fruition. It has distinct stages such as scoffing, curiosity, acceptance then habit.

Take nettles. I used to think eating them was weird. But over the years the idea started to intrigue.

Last spring in Westward Ho! Chloë showed me a patch of nettles, and how to pick then with gloves, the freshest top leaves according to another blogger. Nettles were no longer alien as I cooked them in pasta and soup and found them delicious.

Perhaps precisely because nettles are wild and have not been cultivated or hybridised, they taste extra-vibrant and are highly-nutritious.

This spring, in Bristol, I saw nettles growing and thought “soup”. Then on Friday I overheard Leona, the owner of St Werburgh’s City Cafe talking about: “nettles and wild garlic soup.”

The next day Mike and I found ourselves on a magical walk beside the river Avon  in a mysterious part of the city. An abundance of nettles and wild garlic grew.

I picked up a discarded Tesco plastic bag (litter bugs have their place in the universe), sniffed it, found it clean and after borrowing a glove, started pinching off the fresh greens and filling the bag.

The next morning, I weighed the nettles and the wild garlic: 4 ounces.It didn’t seem enough – but it was.

I cut up a fat onion and gently fried it in 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a saucepan. I let it stew for an hour with the lid on, so the onion was soft and a bit caramelised. I was experimenting but you could fry the onion for much less time (like 10 minutes or so).

I added 900 mls of water. To thicken the soup I added 1 ounce of raw oats.

Then I snipped in the washed nettles and wild garlic, and let it simmer for about five minutes and turned off the saucepan. The soup carried on cooking with the lid on.

And it was delicious.

Can you get food more real than nettle soup?

Proud to fly the Food Renegade flag, I contribute this blog on local and sustainable Nettle Soup to Fight Back Fridays to help overturn the domination of industrialised food!

Fast fish dish

This fish dish had to be fast as it was 11pm at night and we were all tired.

I sliced several shallots thinly and fried them gently in olive oil, with the heat turned right down and the lid on. Using a lid is my new habit; it retains heat so ups a dish’s eco-credits,  as well as moisture and flavour. Win/win/win…

Still in my macrobiotic-mood, I slivered an inch of peeled raw healthy ginger in with the onions. Then I placed the fresh fish fillets on its bed of onions and back went the lid.

I figure the fish cooks by a combination of steam and heat from the aromatic stewing onions. If you can add some scientific know-how, please do!

I had bought the fillets of ling that morning from David Felce, one of two fab fishmongers at Bristol Farmers’ market. Although from the endangered cod family, the ling is line-caught, a method that does not net a ton of other fish at the same time, (then discarded wastefully).

Ling is not considered glamorous but please ignore this illusionary hierarchy of fish. Seasonal and fresh, its flesh is firm, white and flavoursome.

Meanwhile I steamed my beloved purple sprouting broccoli from Radford Mill organic farm shop, having sliced its woody stems into smaller tubes so they would be soft enough to eat.

Purple sprouting broccoli is in season from January to May when other UK-grown greens are sparse, according to my much-recommended Riverford Farm Cook Book.

I had some miso paste left over (a tablespoon of miso blended with water) and added it to the pan with about 50mls of water, for extra flavour.

We served it with organic spelt bread bought at the Common Loaf stall – who make their bread with love and the best raw ingredients-ever – also from the farmers’ market.

And voila, after 20 minutes, the dish was ready. Fast-enough for you?

P.S. The next day I had the pleasure of meeting and having lunch with a fellow blogger, Helen, from Haddock in the Kitchen. Helen was over from France visiting her lovely daughter Holly.

We ate freshly-cooked food at Zazu’s Kitchen – heartily recommended.

We chose frittatta (omelette and potatoes and herbs) and salads (including my adored lentils). I pictured my lunch with Helen’s kind gift, a pot of honey, or miel, comme on dit en français.

The honey was made by a friend of Helen’s in France.  Oooooh I absolutely love real honey.