I Could Never Be a Vegetarian

I distinctly remember
As a teenager
Eating a chicken leg
Actually gnawing on the gristle
And declaring to my vegetarian step-mum
"I could NEVER be a vegetarian.
I LOVE meat!"
Nom nom nom.

And then
When I was twenty-something
I got sick
Really sick
I was sick for a year
I had everything
Laryngitis
Bronchitis
Influenza
I got sick of being sick
I did a bit of research
And decided what was making me ill
Was my diet

I cut out meat
And boosted my intake
Of fresh leafy greens
Became friends with farmers' markets
And devoured
All colours of the rainbow
In fruit and vegetable form

I did it slowly over time
To get used to new flavours
New ways of cooking
And you know what?
I stopped getting sick
I started appreciating
Food
I learnt how to cook
With what was available
And seasonal and fresh

If you had told my teenage self
That one night
For fun
I would whip together
Raw courgette and carrot noodles
With a red pepper and pine nut sauce
And meatless eggplant balls
Because those were what she had in the fridge
She would have laughed
And said
"GROSS! Where's the MEAT?!
That meal has NOTHING in it!"

But my present-day-self
Offers thanks
To the farmers who grew all the veggies
The people that delivered them
And the recipes that inspired their ultimate
Delicious consumption

The end.

Into the Wild

Tucked away in
The brightly coloured
Hippy quarter of
Covent Garden
Known as
Neal's Yard
Is the wonderful
Wild Food Cafe

They make fabulous food
And sinful smoothies
And it's all
"Healthy"
Full of vitality
And nutrients
And goodness

Today I had a "raw Shepherd's pie"
Which sounds ridiculous
And gross
But it was utterly
Amazing
Finely chopped olives and carrots and peas
With bright orange pumpkin on top
The flavour explosion was
Out of this world

They call their
Chocolate smoothies
With raw cacao and aloe vera and cinnamon
"Ecstasy"
They're not far from the truth

The staff are friendly
The food is amazing
And every time I go there
I feel better
About life

The end.

Vegging Out

Coming home
At the end of a
Long week
And doing a batch of
Roast vegetables
And a makeshift
Ratatouille
And having the time
To catch up
And veg out
That is bliss

The end.

Let Them Eat Cake

Wandering around the
Real Food Markets
At Southbank
And eating fresh
And garlicky
Bruschetta
And a falafel wrap
And hot cider
And a chocolate brownie
For dessert
With a lovely
Kindred spirit
And relishing the melting pot of cultures
You
An Australian/Spanish person
Living in London
Eating
Moroccan and Italian and English foods
With a Russian/South African/Australian
Who lives in France
And you think
This is precisely
The life
I wanted to lead

The end.

The Bake Sale

cake pops 

Today at work
We had a bake sale
To raise money
For charity
They put up bunting
And balloons
And laid out cakes
And "cake pops"

And biscuits

And brownies

And sold them 

For £1 a slice

And it was festive

And fun

And hilarious

To see grown ups

Excited by mounds of 

Permitted sugars 

It bought a welcome change in routine

And bought people together

To share delicious treats 

And that's what life

Should be about 

The end. 

You Say Potato

From Abel & Cole

Abel & Cole
Who deliver my food every week
From local farms
Suggested making potato mash
By first
Baking the potatoes on a bed of sea salt
And then mashing...
You say potato,
I say
Oh, sweet. heavenly. goodness!!!!

Chestnuts Roasting

What on earth possessed a human to look down at a chestnut pod and think

Hmm, I’m going to crack open that there spiky pod and then I’m going to take out what ever is inside and I’m going to throw it on a fire and crack it open again and eat the yellowy white flesh in the middle

Because truly, chestnuts are a strange item

And it is hard to imagine that you didn’t eat your first roasted chestnut until you were 24 and walking the Camino in rural northern Spain

Because by that time in history chestnuts had already been reduced to a cliche

Swooney tunes sung by swooney men at Christmas time in the northern hemisphere

Entire worlds away from your birthplace

And at 24 you are walking through a chestnut forest with your beloved

And you wonder if the chestnuts on the ground all around you are edible

And you exclaim I want a roasted chestnut! 

And you round a corner and there are Giuseppe and Maria collecting chestnuts

And Giuseppe calls out to you

And you start chatting

And he talks about the niños in the area lighting fires at this time of year

And you and your beloved shake your heads and tsk-tsk those naughty niños because where we come from children who light fires in the forest at the end of summer are asking for trouble

But this is northern rural Spain

And autumn time is chestnut time

And Giuseppe lights a fire and throws a couple of chestnuts into it

And you stare around nervously wondering if it is ok to be in the middle of the forest with old Spanish men lighting fires

And then he gives you a smoldering chestnut

And you peel it

And it burns your fingers

And then you taste your first roasted chestnut

And it is like a hot potato

It is like a hot potato with just the right amount of butter

It is amazing

It is heaven

Suddenly the cliche makes total sense  

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire

And two years later you are at home in Ashfield

And your beloved is gone

But you have a bag of chestnuts from the markets

And you’ve roasted them in the oven according to your uncle’s advice

And the smell of it makes your heart yearn for another time

And you peel the first chestnut

And the heat of it surprises you

And then you bite into it

And the taste is as blissful as heavenly as wondrous as you remember

And you remember the time and place and happenings of your first chestnut

And you smile

And you wonder how it is it all began 

Don't Judge a Soup

Vegetable soup simmers away in the pot and smells delicious and fills the kitchen with warmth and heartyness on a chilly autumn afternoon where the sky is dark and threatens rain. And the soup is ready and it’s pulverised to make it soupy but the vegetables within include two purple carrots and they make the whole soup turn dark purple and look entirely un-appetising. It looks like schlop. You think of Oliver and his bowlful of gruel. And you take a deep breath and try a little sip of that sickly looking soup, and you are pleasantly delighted to find it is delicious! And you mix in a spoonful of goat’s cheese and it melts into the purple and the whole thing becomes a lighter purple and it looks slightly more appetising. But who cares what it looks like. You are feeding yourself and are accountable to no one. It is fairytale soup. It may look a little ugly. But it’s contents are full of goodness. And by eating it you just may turn into a swan who loves to play in the rain that is surely about to come. The end. 

You Don't Win Friends with Salad

Homer Simpson once said, "You don't win friends with salad." Well, actually you do. Because this week, salads, and variations thereof, have become some of my best friends. Rainbow chard and basil, grated carrot, beetroot, and ginger, roughly chopped tomatoes, goat's curd with olive rind, fresh corn on the cob, cold roasted potatoes, all drizzled with balsamic and olive oil, a sprinkle of black pepper and a pinch of salt.  Oh my. The flavour explosions of joy. Filling refreshing, and so damn tasty. It's hard to believe I was once rather adverse to the idea of being a vegetarian. But fresh salads made from locally grown organic ingredients, and purchased from the markets where I have a community of friends who like me love the idea of fresh greens, I believe dear Homer, that I have won.