Oh god, I haven’t blogged for ages! I’ve left it for so long that it’s even prompted my mum, who never normally sends emails, to write me a polite little note asking if she can have a new link (wowzas, and get her using the correct web lingo) because she’s not seen an entry for weeks.
Sorry mum. You’re not doing anything wrong on your computer. I’ve just been a bit tardy with the blogs.
I’ve still not been anywhere near a supermarket. But, quite frankly, I’ve completely run out of things to say about avoiding Tescos. Life has gone one without the trollies and endless aisles, and 10 months into the challenge I don’t even think about supermarkets any more.
So instead, seeing as I begun this entry by talking about mothers, I’m now going to write about breast milk cheese.
Yes, such a thing apparently exists, all thanks to a chap called Alex James, who most people will remember as the bassist from Blur, but these days is more at home churning cheese.
After his success with Blur, floppy-haired Alex moved to the Cotswolds, bought a farm house and turned it into a 200-acre cheese farm producing award-winning British artisan cheeses.
And yesterday I encountered one of the for the first time, thanks to the incredibly friendly lady behind the counter at my lovely new local deli, Fresh Basil, in Belper.
I’d popped in to grab some blue cheese, but the choice was so huge I ended up having a bit of a tasting session.
“What kind of blue do you like?” asked my new friend behind the counter.
“The stronger and stinkier the better,” I assured her.
“Ever heard of Alex James from Blur?” she continued.
I treated her to an impromptu and totally tuneless rendition of Song 2 by way of answer, joined halfway through the chorus by the lad working the cakes section alongside her.
She handed me a soft blue cheese called Blue Monday, made by Alex and apparently named after his favourite New Order track.
It was hands down one of the best blue cheeses I had ever tasted, but something was bugging me…
“It’s lovely,” I told the lady behind the counter. “But it’s not made with breast milk, is it?”
We both laughed. Alex James made headlines a few years ago when he talked about attempting to make cheese using his wife’s breast milk, and serving up a breast milk coffee to Gordon Ramsey.
But I’m assured that Blue Monday is definitely made with cow’s milk, so I take home a large chunk (which, 24 hours later, has mostly disappeared). Apparently breast milk is very difficult to curdle, which (thankfully) makes it less-than-ideal for making cheese.
Sunday 13 October 2013
Friday 27 September 2013
Fantastic tips from a fellow bookworm
I’ve mentioned before that shopping local is a real movement… those of us who do it are really keen to help each other out, point out the best places and support our favourite traders. Yesterday, for example, I was chatting to one of the girls in Sound Bites, my favourite wholefood shop in Derby, and she said she was struggling to find really nice bread, so I immediately raved to her about Baked, the wonderful Bakery run by my friend Victoria, in Derby.
So it should come as no surprise that my Belper book clubs pals have been keen to tell me about their favourite places as I explore the town.
This morning I came into work to find a wonderfully thoughtful email from book clubber Michele, who had very kindly taken the time to look through the shopping list I posted yesterday and point out some of the places where I could buy what I need.
It included some brilliant insider suggestions such as a greengrocer who keeps large bunches of coriander at the back of his shop, a place in Heanor for herbs and spices that offers next day delivery, and a local farm that offers daily milk deliveries.
She also told me about Belper Farmers’ Market, on the second Saturday of each month, and included a list of other places to try, such as a fantastic Indian restaurant and a great local deli.
I can’t thank Michele enough for all this information and I’m definitely going to be checking out these places. It’s hard to imagine anyone taking the time to rave about their local Tesco or Morrisons in the same way.
Belper is already starting to feel like home, thanks to the welcome I’ve had my from book clubbers and the general friendly feel of the place. Every time I go out for a potter round town strangers stop in the street to say “hi” and the shopkeepers always have time to chat.
In the words of Orphan Annie (always a profound fountain of wisdom) “I think I’m gonna like it here”.
(Yes, I know she was referencing Daddy Warbucks’ mega mansion whereas I’m talking about a small, spider-filled cottage, but you get the idea)
So it should come as no surprise that my Belper book clubs pals have been keen to tell me about their favourite places as I explore the town.
This morning I came into work to find a wonderfully thoughtful email from book clubber Michele, who had very kindly taken the time to look through the shopping list I posted yesterday and point out some of the places where I could buy what I need.
It included some brilliant insider suggestions such as a greengrocer who keeps large bunches of coriander at the back of his shop, a place in Heanor for herbs and spices that offers next day delivery, and a local farm that offers daily milk deliveries.
She also told me about Belper Farmers’ Market, on the second Saturday of each month, and included a list of other places to try, such as a fantastic Indian restaurant and a great local deli.
I can’t thank Michele enough for all this information and I’m definitely going to be checking out these places. It’s hard to imagine anyone taking the time to rave about their local Tesco or Morrisons in the same way.
Belper is already starting to feel like home, thanks to the welcome I’ve had my from book clubbers and the general friendly feel of the place. Every time I go out for a potter round town strangers stop in the street to say “hi” and the shopkeepers always have time to chat.
In the words of Orphan Annie (always a profound fountain of wisdom) “I think I’m gonna like it here”.
(Yes, I know she was referencing Daddy Warbucks’ mega mansion whereas I’m talking about a small, spider-filled cottage, but you get the idea)
Thursday 26 September 2013
Shopping list
Now that I'm living alone and have bills to cover by myself I need to try to economise a little.
And when it comes to food shopping I'm not really used to budgeting. I tend to be ruled very much by my stomach and what I fancy on any given day, meaning I probably spend too much on food - some of which (I'm ashamed to say) goes to waste.
I've decided to try writing myself a weekly meal planner and shopping list to stick to, in the hopes of using up everything I but and saving a bit of money. I'm on a late shift today so I've put together my first list this morning... and I have a feeling that part of my challenge will be finding everything I need from my new local shops in Belper.
My meals for next week include lentil and spinach cottage pie and pasta with leeks (both recipes torn from last Sunday's Observer Food Monthly magazine), roasted butternut squash ravioli (from Tuesday night's Hairy Bikers), bangers and mash, jacket spud with veggie fingers, and a quickie tea one night of egg chips and beans. I'm also going to make a banana cake and minestrone soup this weekend to take to work for my lunches next week.
Obviously I've already got some of the above in my store cupboard or freezer, so my shopping list is as follows:
Lemon
White onions x3
Carrots x4
Celery
Mushrooms
Bay leaves
Thyme
Weighing scales (I left my old ones behind)
Vegetable stock
Spinach
Spuds x5
Eggs x12
White flour
Sage
Parmesan
Red onion x1
Creme freche
Butter
Brown sugar
Gruyere
Broccoli
Leeks x2
Tupperware (to freeze some soup)
Baking powder
Bicarb of soda
Milk
Kale
Tin mixed beans
Tomato x1
Lets see how I get on...
And when it comes to food shopping I'm not really used to budgeting. I tend to be ruled very much by my stomach and what I fancy on any given day, meaning I probably spend too much on food - some of which (I'm ashamed to say) goes to waste.
I've decided to try writing myself a weekly meal planner and shopping list to stick to, in the hopes of using up everything I but and saving a bit of money. I'm on a late shift today so I've put together my first list this morning... and I have a feeling that part of my challenge will be finding everything I need from my new local shops in Belper.
My meals for next week include lentil and spinach cottage pie and pasta with leeks (both recipes torn from last Sunday's Observer Food Monthly magazine), roasted butternut squash ravioli (from Tuesday night's Hairy Bikers), bangers and mash, jacket spud with veggie fingers, and a quickie tea one night of egg chips and beans. I'm also going to make a banana cake and minestrone soup this weekend to take to work for my lunches next week.
Obviously I've already got some of the above in my store cupboard or freezer, so my shopping list is as follows:
Lemon
White onions x3
Carrots x4
Celery
Mushrooms
Bay leaves
Thyme
Weighing scales (I left my old ones behind)
Vegetable stock
Spinach
Spuds x5
Eggs x12
White flour
Sage
Parmesan
Red onion x1
Creme freche
Butter
Brown sugar
Gruyere
Broccoli
Leeks x2
Tupperware (to freeze some soup)
Baking powder
Bicarb of soda
Milk
Kale
Tin mixed beans
Tomato x1
Lets see how I get on...
Tuesday 24 September 2013
Under siege
I know I’ve been quiet again, but this time with good reason... I’ve been busy moving house and I’m happy to report that I’m now settled in my lovely new little cottage in Belper.
Lots of local shopping tales will follow as I start to get life back on track... but first I’d like to share this little missive on the joys of moving into a very old, listed building, right in the middle of spider season.
Now, as every arachnophobe knows, September is a dangerous month. It’s the time we spend the rest of the year dreading.... the time when all those huge monsters that usually stay tucked away beneath our floorboards come crawling out to terrify us.
Yes my friends, September is spider mating season.
It’s the month when those massive hairy lady spiders (because in the eight-legged world, the girls are bigger than the boys and there’s no such thing as a Gillette Venus) come out of their hidey holes and go parading around your house, like amorous singletons cruising the town’s cheesiest nightclubs on a Saturday night, looking for action.
These girls are on the pull.
So I knew the move could be dangerous and I braced and mentally prepared myself accordingly.
The first couple of spiders that appeared were only medium (on a scale that starts with microscopic and ends with utterly massive and satanic) so I bravely sucked them up with the hoover nozzle.
And when I spotted a couple of smaller ones in two little webs in the kitchen, I decided to try leaving them to it, and even Christened them Fred and Wilma in an effort to make them seem more pet-like.
I was on a roll and thought I’d got it covered, until Saturday night.
After a hard three days struggling to move all my worldly goods I was ready for a girls’ night on the sofa with the cat and rabbit, a glass of wine and a cheesy rom com. Something comforting with Hugh Grant in it.
And I was enjoying just such an evening when one of the largest spiders I have ever seen came sauntering out of a corner and strutted across the living room carpet.
My god, she was striking. She was the spider equivalent of the 6-foot leggy blonde parading across the middle of the night club.
As I levitated off the sofa in absolute horror I could be sure of only one thing.... there was absolutely no way I could allow any spider boys to get their hands (legs) on her. Such a beast must not be allowed to procreate.
In a fit of superhuman bravery I tipped out the contents of the bin and thrust it over her - trapping her inside.
I then dashed over to the bookcase, grabbed the Complete Works of Shakespeare (the heaviest volume I could find) and plonked it on top of the bin.
Phew.
Heart pounding and knees trembling, I then took myself back to the sofa to have a little cry - partly in relief (I’ve got her cornered) and partly in horror (but what the hell do I do now?!).
What I did, of course, was frantically text a couple of my closest friends who are also arachnophobic for sympathy. Being scared of spiders is like a club - you’re either in or you’re out.
And of course the following morning, having re-assessed the situation and decided that I was absolutely not capable of dealing with the contents of the bin, I called in a brave (and definitely non-phobic) helper to tackle Her Ladyship.
I am now living in fear. Roll on winter.
Lots of local shopping tales will follow as I start to get life back on track... but first I’d like to share this little missive on the joys of moving into a very old, listed building, right in the middle of spider season.
Now, as every arachnophobe knows, September is a dangerous month. It’s the time we spend the rest of the year dreading.... the time when all those huge monsters that usually stay tucked away beneath our floorboards come crawling out to terrify us.
Yes my friends, September is spider mating season.
It’s the month when those massive hairy lady spiders (because in the eight-legged world, the girls are bigger than the boys and there’s no such thing as a Gillette Venus) come out of their hidey holes and go parading around your house, like amorous singletons cruising the town’s cheesiest nightclubs on a Saturday night, looking for action.
These girls are on the pull.
So I knew the move could be dangerous and I braced and mentally prepared myself accordingly.
The first couple of spiders that appeared were only medium (on a scale that starts with microscopic and ends with utterly massive and satanic) so I bravely sucked them up with the hoover nozzle.
And when I spotted a couple of smaller ones in two little webs in the kitchen, I decided to try leaving them to it, and even Christened them Fred and Wilma in an effort to make them seem more pet-like.
I was on a roll and thought I’d got it covered, until Saturday night.
After a hard three days struggling to move all my worldly goods I was ready for a girls’ night on the sofa with the cat and rabbit, a glass of wine and a cheesy rom com. Something comforting with Hugh Grant in it.
And I was enjoying just such an evening when one of the largest spiders I have ever seen came sauntering out of a corner and strutted across the living room carpet.
My god, she was striking. She was the spider equivalent of the 6-foot leggy blonde parading across the middle of the night club.
As I levitated off the sofa in absolute horror I could be sure of only one thing.... there was absolutely no way I could allow any spider boys to get their hands (legs) on her. Such a beast must not be allowed to procreate.
In a fit of superhuman bravery I tipped out the contents of the bin and thrust it over her - trapping her inside.
I then dashed over to the bookcase, grabbed the Complete Works of Shakespeare (the heaviest volume I could find) and plonked it on top of the bin.
Phew.
Heart pounding and knees trembling, I then took myself back to the sofa to have a little cry - partly in relief (I’ve got her cornered) and partly in horror (but what the hell do I do now?!).
What I did, of course, was frantically text a couple of my closest friends who are also arachnophobic for sympathy. Being scared of spiders is like a club - you’re either in or you’re out.
And of course the following morning, having re-assessed the situation and decided that I was absolutely not capable of dealing with the contents of the bin, I called in a brave (and definitely non-phobic) helper to tackle Her Ladyship.
I am now living in fear. Roll on winter.
Sunday 15 September 2013
Thank you to the Swedes
"Come on love, you can do it"
I peeped over the top of my trolley Jenga and gave her what I hoped was a plaintive, puppy-dog look.
I'm at the check-out at Ikea, being cheered on by a pair lovely (and exceedingly patient) ladies in the (quite long) queue behind me, as I try to unpack my trolley (which seems to have turned into a giant Jenga game) onto the check-out conveyor belt thingy, which is frankly laughably short. I mean, this is Ikea, for Christ's sake, and the check-out is so small you can't even fit the inevitable accidental house plant purchase on it.
I actually don't really like Ikea very much, and in a previous life I will admit I spent a lot of time bitching about its nasty, characterless, flat pack furniture.
But in this life, with house move number two of the year looming, and with not much more than a pot to p*ss in, needs must... and where else can you find six glasses for a couple of quid and two frying pans for a fiver?
So I took the list from my last blog, gritted my teeth and headed off to the branch in Nottingham this weekend. And I have to say, I got all my household bits and bobs, including unaccounted-for things like a wok and bathroom bin, well within my budget. Thank you Ikea.
But I have to say, it was pretty much like a modern-day Challenge Anika. Ikea really is meant for couples. It's the old cliche.... you go to Ikea with your partner when you're in need of a good argument. But as a sole shopper, it soon turns into a bit of a nightmare.
The shopping trollies they give you really aren't big enough, and mine was soon so full that I couldn't even see over the top of it. I nearly flattened several small children on my way round that weird, claustrophobic, Ikea one-way system, forgot to pick up my kitchen bin lid because I got myself into such a fluster, and by the time I reached the check-out my patience was wearing thin.
"I need an ironing board," I told the girl at the till. "I didn't see one on my way round."
"You missed it," came the bored reply. "It's back in aisle five million and fifty eight."
I peeped over the top of my trolley Jenga and gave her what I hoped was a plaintive, puppy-dog look.
She sighed, picked up the phone and telephoned someone to go and pick up a £9 (£9!!!!!!!) ironing board for me.
Then of course I had to suffer the indignity of unloading the overflowing trolley while a bunch of other shoppers spectated and the bored cashier checked it all out and piled it up at the other side. Because apparently, at Ikea, there is no one to help you. Not like at Tesco where they ask you if you need any help packing up your shopping, when all you've bought is a packet of chewing gum.
As I trotted my empty trolley round to the other side of the till and started re-packing it, I could see the interest mounting with my fellow shoppers. Will she get it all back in again? Is that bin going to balance on top of that pan? I bet that cushion is going to fall off half way to the car park. And oh hell, where is she going to put the ironing board? I'm surprised they didn't start up a sweepstake.
Gingerly I grappled the trolley out to the car park, and then realised that I probably was going to lose the cushions half way to the car. It was time to give up trying to go it alone and call in some help. Luckily a friendly lady was waiting by the loading bays with her own trolley, having sent her husband (yes apparently they can be useful sometimes) off to pick up the car, so she offered to watch my trolley while I went to do the same.
Phew! Not an experience to be repeated again in a hurry, but at least it was cheap and cheerful, so I'll say a grudging thank you to the Swedes.
Friday 13 September 2013
A little help from my friends
I hate the Beatles, I really do. I think it’s an inbuilt hatred, fed down to me in my formative years by Rollings Stones-loving parents and then nurtured by a traumatic primary school project to create a mural of a yellow submarine. But every time I hear those whiny Scouse voices (and they really are whiny) the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. And not in a good way.
But just this once, I’m going to make an exception and quote them….
“I get by with a little help from my friends”
In this case, it’s my lovely friends at my book club who I’m referring to. I went to a meeting a few days ago, and as my book club is in Belper, I was excited to tell them all about my move. The cottage I’m moving into is about a two-minute downhill walk from the Queen’s Head pub where we meet so I’m already looking forward to rolling home after a couple of glasses of wine.
Perhaps more than a couple….
And my amazing book club friends immediately rallied round with tips on where to shop and a couple of much-needed donations to help me with the kitting out of my new place, which as I’ve said before, I need to try to do on a shoe string. Lovely Hilary has volunteered a TV that she was going to put on Freecycle, and Lovely Jill is donating a microwave.
Both of these gifts are hugely appreciated.
Then this morning I received an email from another book clubber, Michele, asking if I'd like any help moving as her partner has a van.
With the exception of my book club pals and a couple of Derby Telegraph colleagues (plus my friends at my second home – Fresh Bite Pizza) I don’t actually know anyone in Belper – I really am starting afresh. So the warm reception and donations really made me feel like I’m making the right move. And of course, also mean that I won’t be buying either a TV or a microwave from Tesco!
Thursday 12 September 2013
A list!
After nine months of bitching, I think it’s probably becoming pretty obvious that I don’t very much like Tesco.
But I do have one thing to concede….
If you need to kit out a house, cheaply and in a hurry, you could pretty much find whatever you wanted – from microwaves to pots and pans, bedding and even candles - at any decent-sized Tesco Extra store.
They even sell Tesco branded horse rugs. Not that I would…. (and I don’t particularly need one of the house either)
But I do need to kit out a house in a hurry. Unfortunately without the help of Tesco.
The little cottage in Belper that I’m moving into next week is unfurnished so I need to buy a hell of a lot of stuff, and because this move is the second I’m making this year (neither of them planned!) the funds at the Bank of Beecroft are running a little low.
Tesco’s well-known motto is “Every Little Helps” and right now I could see how the supermarket could actually be helpful… simply by providing me with a lot of the stuff I need, at a decent price, all under one roof.
But no. Don’t worry. I’m not going to crack. I’m going to do this move without the supermarkets. Here’s my shopping list for the next week (and I’m sure I’ll be adding to it)….
Washing machine + installation
Fridge
Freezer
Hoover
Ironing board
Microwave
Freeview box
TV
Frying pan
Set of saucepans
Knives and forks etc
Plates
Bowls
Glasses
Chopping knives
Chopping board
Toaster
Kettle
Throws
Cushions
Kitchen bin
Potato peeler
Blow up bed
Kitchen utensils set
But I do have one thing to concede….
If you need to kit out a house, cheaply and in a hurry, you could pretty much find whatever you wanted – from microwaves to pots and pans, bedding and even candles - at any decent-sized Tesco Extra store.
They even sell Tesco branded horse rugs. Not that I would…. (and I don’t particularly need one of the house either)
But I do need to kit out a house in a hurry. Unfortunately without the help of Tesco.
The little cottage in Belper that I’m moving into next week is unfurnished so I need to buy a hell of a lot of stuff, and because this move is the second I’m making this year (neither of them planned!) the funds at the Bank of Beecroft are running a little low.
Tesco’s well-known motto is “Every Little Helps” and right now I could see how the supermarket could actually be helpful… simply by providing me with a lot of the stuff I need, at a decent price, all under one roof.
But no. Don’t worry. I’m not going to crack. I’m going to do this move without the supermarkets. Here’s my shopping list for the next week (and I’m sure I’ll be adding to it)….
Washing machine + installation
Fridge
Freezer
Hoover
Ironing board
Microwave
Freeview box
TV
Frying pan
Set of saucepans
Knives and forks etc
Plates
Bowls
Glasses
Chopping knives
Chopping board
Toaster
Kettle
Throws
Cushions
Kitchen bin
Potato peeler
Blow up bed
Kitchen utensils set
Wednesday 11 September 2013
On the move again
One of the reasons this blog has occasionally fallen by the wayside is that this has been quite a year for me – in terms of changes to my life – and things are certainly looking very different now to how they were when I started avoiding the supermarkets back in January.
And one of the reasons I’ve been a little distracted again of late Is that I’m on the move again – this time to a little cottage of my own in a town called Belper, which is just north of Derby. The big move is happening next week and I’m hoping it might be my last for a little while.
Hilariously, one of the first people to find out about my relocation to Belper was the lovely guy in Fresh Bite Pizza – where I imagine I’m going to become an even more regular customer!
However, as well as being good news for the till at Fresh Bite, I think my move will be good news for this blog too, because Belper is a really brilliant, thriving little town with lots and lots of independent shops for me to explore.
And yet again I’ll be doing the move without the aid of Morrisons banana boxes, and kitting out my own place on a budget without the aid of Tesco’s homeware aisle, so there will be plenty to blog about over the coming weeks.
And one of the reasons I’ve been a little distracted again of late Is that I’m on the move again – this time to a little cottage of my own in a town called Belper, which is just north of Derby. The big move is happening next week and I’m hoping it might be my last for a little while.
Hilariously, one of the first people to find out about my relocation to Belper was the lovely guy in Fresh Bite Pizza – where I imagine I’m going to become an even more regular customer!
However, as well as being good news for the till at Fresh Bite, I think my move will be good news for this blog too, because Belper is a really brilliant, thriving little town with lots and lots of independent shops for me to explore.
And yet again I’ll be doing the move without the aid of Morrisons banana boxes, and kitting out my own place on a budget without the aid of Tesco’s homeware aisle, so there will be plenty to blog about over the coming weeks.
Sunday 8 September 2013
Giving in to the inevitable
Another Sunday… another night in the newsroom….. which regular readers will know is usually my excuse to stuff my face with all manner of naughty treats to keep me going. There’s something about the graveyard shift that just inspires over-eating. It’s like I can’t possibly put Monday’s paper together unless there is something sugary or stodgy in my mouth at all times.
So today, I decided to give into the urges early and make myself a pack-up accordingly, rather than pushing coins into the office snack machine at regular intervals. If I’m going to be naughty, I may as well make it good-quality naughty.
So I popped to Brown and Green, the artisan foods shop near Little Eaton, this morning for a better class of naughtiness, and bought myself treats including posh chocolate, Belgian waffles, real cream from Duffield dairy and so on.
My pack up for this evening includes some olive sourdough bread made in Crich, homemade humous, an amazing looking lemon meringue with raspberries and cream, a waffle (which I have just polished off with a cup of tea), choccies and a really nice salad to go with the (inevitable) Pizza Hunt pizza.
I’m all set. Bring on the news….
Friday 6 September 2013
Wild thing... You make my loaf spring!
These days it seems like there’s a promotion week for pretty much everything…. And working in a newsroom we get all the crazy press releases for them. It ranges from the very very worthy breast cancer awareness month to the slightly crazier things like mushroom fortnight… national sausage week, and so on….
So imagine my (admittedly slightly dubious) excitement when I came across the news that this month is officially Britain’s first Sourdough September.
Sniggering aside, this is actually quite worthy of a plug. In the UK we really are totally crap with bread, favouring those horrible, tasteless white sliced loaves and huge round stodgy bread cakes over properly baked bread, which tastes better and is so much healthier.
The Real Bread Campaign is attempting to address this, and it is the organisation behind Sourdough September.
New campaign ambassador Duncan Glendinning, of the Thoughtful Bread Company, in Bath, said: “For me, the best Real Bread combines great crust, depth of flavour and fantastic crumb. Sourdough is the only bread capable of delivering all of these and the only type that actually improves with age.”
And campaign coordinator Chris Young added: “Happily Britain is rediscovering the delicious delights of Real Bread made with just flour, water, salt, time and care. Plain sourdough has the simplest recipe of any loaf and yet, like alchemists, the most skilled bakers can transform these three basic ingredients into a whole world of gold medal Real Breads.”
On Twitter, @RealBread is running SourDOH! inviting people to name and shame sourdough shams by posting photos using the #sourdoh hashtag, and joining the #RealBread conversation.
Genuine sourdough bread is leavened only using a live starter culture produced by mixing flour and water to nurture one or more species of yeast and lactic acid bacteria that occur naturally on the surface of cereal grains, and therefore in the flour. As well as developing a greater depth and complexity of flavour, aroma, and texture than commercial baker’s yeast, some studies have found long fermentation using a sourdough starter to have a range of dietary benefits. The Real Bread Campaign calls for more research into real bread.
For more go to www.realbread.org
Thursday 5 September 2013
Off message
Okay okay, I know I’ve gone a bit “off message” again.
Truth be told, I’ve been struck by a bit of writer’s block. And yes I know I do this for a living, but after nine months even I have started to run out of steam when it comes to writing about avoiding the supermarkets. Don’t worry, I’m still avoiding them. I’m just running out of things to say about avoiding them!
Today, for example, I popped out on my lunchbreak and bought some lovely bread, baked in Crich, Derbyshire, and brie from Jack Rabbits, Derby’s amazing delicatessen. I also grabbed an avocado from the Eagle Market and a salad from Soundbites. But having already written about all those places, it’s hardly the stuff of gripping headlines.
I think what this shows, more than anything else, is that avoiding the supermarkets has ceased to be a challenge and has simply become a way of life for me now, which can only be a good thing.
Maybe at this point, rather than continuing banging on about bread and cheese, I should open myself up to questions from the floor?
Truth be told, I’ve been struck by a bit of writer’s block. And yes I know I do this for a living, but after nine months even I have started to run out of steam when it comes to writing about avoiding the supermarkets. Don’t worry, I’m still avoiding them. I’m just running out of things to say about avoiding them!
Today, for example, I popped out on my lunchbreak and bought some lovely bread, baked in Crich, Derbyshire, and brie from Jack Rabbits, Derby’s amazing delicatessen. I also grabbed an avocado from the Eagle Market and a salad from Soundbites. But having already written about all those places, it’s hardly the stuff of gripping headlines.
I think what this shows, more than anything else, is that avoiding the supermarkets has ceased to be a challenge and has simply become a way of life for me now, which can only be a good thing.
Maybe at this point, rather than continuing banging on about bread and cheese, I should open myself up to questions from the floor?
Tuesday 27 August 2013
A plug for my pals
Today’s blog is a little bit of a plug for my friends at Brown and Green, in Derby Garden Centre, near Little Eaton, which (now I’ve moved to Derby) is officially my new favourite place to shop.
They are having a special local food celebration event this weekend.
Manager Susie writes:
"We're pulling out the stops to celebrate all our Derbyshire made produce this coming Saturday and Sunday (31st August/1st Sept). Inspired by a recent flurry of new Derbyshire producers on board, we thought we'd take the opportunity to highlight the growing range of food and drink within our store which is grown and made within the county.
"Over the weekend we have various suppliers joining in store to meet customers, tell them all about their produce first hand, and of course offer tastings too.
"On Saturday meet Dan from Derby Brewing Co with tastings of local bottled beers Old Intentional, Business as Usual and Quintessential. Baljit from Mickleover based Apna Spice also joins us with her handmade authentic Curry Bases, and last but not least, new Derbyshire producer Brock & Morten will be joining us introducing their Derbyshire rapeseed oil.
"On sweet Sunday Louise from Chesterfield based Liza Bakes will be offering tastings of her Orange Polenta Cake and Sticky Toffee pudding (both of which have won Great Taste Awards recently), and Buxton Puddings join us with tastings of their fantastic Moorland Pudding and Buxton Pudding.
"On both days we'll be offering tastings and information on a wealth of other Derbyshire products, including Derbyshire cheeses from Franjoy Dairy and Hartington Creamery, chutneys and relishes from The Quirky Cook plus new season, and just arrived, local honey – from apiaries located nearby at Mickleover, Etwall and Hilton. Add to this our fresh delivery of artisan real bread from The Loaf at Crich on Saturday morning, plus gorgeous fresh seasonal Derbyshire veggies and mushrooms. A feast made in….Derbyshire!
"Brown and Green is located at Derby Garden Centre, Alfreton Road, Little Eaton, Derby, DE21 5DB. Free parking, wheelchair and pushchair friendly, restaurant, large garden centre and pet store on site – come and see us!"
They are having a special local food celebration event this weekend.
Manager Susie writes:
"We're pulling out the stops to celebrate all our Derbyshire made produce this coming Saturday and Sunday (31st August/1st Sept). Inspired by a recent flurry of new Derbyshire producers on board, we thought we'd take the opportunity to highlight the growing range of food and drink within our store which is grown and made within the county.
"Over the weekend we have various suppliers joining in store to meet customers, tell them all about their produce first hand, and of course offer tastings too.
"On Saturday meet Dan from Derby Brewing Co with tastings of local bottled beers Old Intentional, Business as Usual and Quintessential. Baljit from Mickleover based Apna Spice also joins us with her handmade authentic Curry Bases, and last but not least, new Derbyshire producer Brock & Morten will be joining us introducing their Derbyshire rapeseed oil.
"On sweet Sunday Louise from Chesterfield based Liza Bakes will be offering tastings of her Orange Polenta Cake and Sticky Toffee pudding (both of which have won Great Taste Awards recently), and Buxton Puddings join us with tastings of their fantastic Moorland Pudding and Buxton Pudding.
"On both days we'll be offering tastings and information on a wealth of other Derbyshire products, including Derbyshire cheeses from Franjoy Dairy and Hartington Creamery, chutneys and relishes from The Quirky Cook plus new season, and just arrived, local honey – from apiaries located nearby at Mickleover, Etwall and Hilton. Add to this our fresh delivery of artisan real bread from The Loaf at Crich on Saturday morning, plus gorgeous fresh seasonal Derbyshire veggies and mushrooms. A feast made in….Derbyshire!
"Brown and Green is located at Derby Garden Centre, Alfreton Road, Little Eaton, Derby, DE21 5DB. Free parking, wheelchair and pushchair friendly, restaurant, large garden centre and pet store on site – come and see us!"
Monday 26 August 2013
Jacket potato fatigue
This afternoon I’m suffering from a medical condition called Jacket Potato Fatigue.
Now don’t laugh, this is serious. It’s brought on by eating a large baked spud on a lunch break, too quickly (and possibly without really drawing a breath) while sat hunched over a computer, and symptoms include extreme lethargy, slight blurred vision, back ache and shortness of temper.
Basically I feel like every other organ in my body has shut down in a vain attempt to prioritise digestion of the crippling potato.
But, like with smokers’ cough, or gout, I’m well aware of the behaviour that brings on an attack, and that succumbing to a baked spud at lunchtime will result in Jacket Potato Fatigue. I’ve suffered before. And yet, like a moth drawn to a flame, I still go to the baked potato stand. Why?
Well firstly I do love a good baked spud. I like them with cheese, then beans, then coleslaw (in that order – I get very upset if the order of toppings is mixed up).
And secondly, I’m on a bank holiday shift in the newsroom today, so I felt the need for a bit of stodge, but lunchtime options were limited. None of my usual favourite shops were open, and I couldn’t take my colleague Whaddy up on his offer of picking something up from Morrisons. So I went for a wander into Derby city centre and one of the only places I could find serving food was the jacket potato stand.
We’re back to the issue of convenience, because most local greengrocers and market stalls simply don’t open on bank holidays, so unless you’re very well planned, the only option available is the supermarket.
Now don’t laugh, this is serious. It’s brought on by eating a large baked spud on a lunch break, too quickly (and possibly without really drawing a breath) while sat hunched over a computer, and symptoms include extreme lethargy, slight blurred vision, back ache and shortness of temper.
Basically I feel like every other organ in my body has shut down in a vain attempt to prioritise digestion of the crippling potato.
But, like with smokers’ cough, or gout, I’m well aware of the behaviour that brings on an attack, and that succumbing to a baked spud at lunchtime will result in Jacket Potato Fatigue. I’ve suffered before. And yet, like a moth drawn to a flame, I still go to the baked potato stand. Why?
Well firstly I do love a good baked spud. I like them with cheese, then beans, then coleslaw (in that order – I get very upset if the order of toppings is mixed up).
And secondly, I’m on a bank holiday shift in the newsroom today, so I felt the need for a bit of stodge, but lunchtime options were limited. None of my usual favourite shops were open, and I couldn’t take my colleague Whaddy up on his offer of picking something up from Morrisons. So I went for a wander into Derby city centre and one of the only places I could find serving food was the jacket potato stand.
We’re back to the issue of convenience, because most local greengrocers and market stalls simply don’t open on bank holidays, so unless you’re very well planned, the only option available is the supermarket.
Saturday 24 August 2013
Sexist magazines - a rant
I've managed to get the TV in my bedroom working - which those who know me and know how bad I am with technology will agree is a pretty special achievement.
So I had the news on as I was getting dressed this morning and was interested to hear about a protest that was happening outside Tesco stores across the country today, calling on the supermarket to Lose the Lads Mags.
The campaign, led by a couple of feminist pressure groups, wants the supermarket to stop selling titles like Zoo and Nuts, because they argue that the magazines fuel sexist attitudes towards women. The campaigners also say that exposing employees to the images of nearly naked ladies on the front covers of these publications is tantamount to sexism in the workplace.
They have targeted Tesco mainly because it is the biggest supermarket in the UK, so clearly they are starting at the top.
I tend to agree that lads mags are bad news, promoting a kind of casual sexism that I think is much more damaging because it's so mainstream.
But has anyone stopped to think about the women's magazines recently? Because in my opinion, some of these titles can be just as damaging when it comes to equality.
I stopped buying magazines like Cosmo years ago, because, quite frankly, they made me feel a bit depressed. Literally everything in these magazines is about image and attracting a man - with articles on clothes, shoes, make-up, and getting/pleasing a boyfriend. The message is clear - if you're not going about your business while looking so attractive that you are literally beating men off with a stick (like a kind of reverse Linx effect) then you are basically a failure as a woman.
And if you're not spending your life thinking about looking good or attracting a boyfriend, then you're also a bit crap. Back to Lady School for you!
I actually did my university dissertation on the effects of the glossy magazines, both for men and women, on attitudes towards women. I remember specifically one particular article (and I think this was in Cosmo) that I analysed as part of my work. It was one of those top-ten lists, called something like "10 ways to be happier" and one of the suggestions was waxing your bikini line into a heart shape.
Now I'm sorry, I'm all for personal rooming, but a heart shape? Seriously? That's not going to make you happy - it's just going to make you frustrated and inevitably a bit stressed when you accidentally lop off the top left hand corner of your design.
Meeting friends increases happiness. Laughing increases happiness. Doing something worthwhile increases happiness. Having a heart-shaped bush does not.
So yes, in the fight for equality for women, lads mags are a step backwards. But in my view, a lot of the magazines for women aren't much better either.
Friday 23 August 2013
Local shops are not twin-friendly
I’m cheating slight today (which clearly I never normally do!) by using a comment from my lovely pal and newly-yummy-twin-mummy Christina as the basis for this post.
She told me the other day that she was hoping to do a little bit more local shopping, as she is currently on maternity leave, but that as it turns out, she’s finding that the supermarkets are simply better equipped to help her in managing the shopping and the babies at once.
Christina writes: “I was hoping to make this more of a way of life now I am on maternity leave and have time in the day to shop about. In fact, every day I take the pram for a stroll into the village, so it's now very easy for me to buy veg, birthday cards, bread and so on from the village shops... or it should be.
“Unfortunately, EVERY shop in my village has two, steep stone steps leading up to its entrance. No way can I get a double buggy up there, and nor could anyone get a wheelchair up there.
“The only shop in my village to have installed a ramp is the Sainsbury's Local - would love to hear what local shopkeepers have to say about accessibility. I understand there's a short term cost, but there's a host of wheelchair users and pram-pushers out there who can't shop local.”
She also sent me this lovely picture of the twins, Amelie and Rosa, enjoying a snooze in the double trolly chair kindly provided by those bods at Asda.
Christina makes a very good point. Most of the local shops that I go to, although not having steps, are very cramped and sometimes in can be hard to move around with a basket without bumping into other customers – never mind a pushchair or wheelchair.
When it comes to accessibility, perhaps supermarkets here again have the edge – alongside convenience – as factors that the local shops are struggling to match.
She told me the other day that she was hoping to do a little bit more local shopping, as she is currently on maternity leave, but that as it turns out, she’s finding that the supermarkets are simply better equipped to help her in managing the shopping and the babies at once.
Christina writes: “I was hoping to make this more of a way of life now I am on maternity leave and have time in the day to shop about. In fact, every day I take the pram for a stroll into the village, so it's now very easy for me to buy veg, birthday cards, bread and so on from the village shops... or it should be.
“Unfortunately, EVERY shop in my village has two, steep stone steps leading up to its entrance. No way can I get a double buggy up there, and nor could anyone get a wheelchair up there.
“The only shop in my village to have installed a ramp is the Sainsbury's Local - would love to hear what local shopkeepers have to say about accessibility. I understand there's a short term cost, but there's a host of wheelchair users and pram-pushers out there who can't shop local.”
She also sent me this lovely picture of the twins, Amelie and Rosa, enjoying a snooze in the double trolly chair kindly provided by those bods at Asda.
Christina makes a very good point. Most of the local shops that I go to, although not having steps, are very cramped and sometimes in can be hard to move around with a basket without bumping into other customers – never mind a pushchair or wheelchair.
When it comes to accessibility, perhaps supermarkets here again have the edge – alongside convenience – as factors that the local shops are struggling to match.
Wednesday 21 August 2013
Free pizza!
I’ve raved about Fresh Bite Pizza, in the Derbyshire town of Belper, before. Run by a lovely smiley Iranian gentleman and a handful of equally-smiley staff, it is, quite simply, one of the best places in the world to get a pizza.
So imagine my delight when I popped in yesterday for my usual Tuesday treat and was told that my pizza would be on the house, because the staff have read this blog and think I’m doing a great job avoiding the supermarkets.
I’m on a bit of a soapbox at the moment I know, but the evidence really is mounting up that when you avoid Tesco and the like, and give your custom to your local shopkeepers and businesses instead, you end up building up a network of friends who will happily help you out, and really make you feel it’s worth your while supporting them. Forget your faceless customer loyalty cards – you get a much better service from your local shops – be it a free pizza, packing boxes, or even the offer of a helping hand moving house.
Thanks Fresh Bite!
So imagine my delight when I popped in yesterday for my usual Tuesday treat and was told that my pizza would be on the house, because the staff have read this blog and think I’m doing a great job avoiding the supermarkets.
I’m on a bit of a soapbox at the moment I know, but the evidence really is mounting up that when you avoid Tesco and the like, and give your custom to your local shopkeepers and businesses instead, you end up building up a network of friends who will happily help you out, and really make you feel it’s worth your while supporting them. Forget your faceless customer loyalty cards – you get a much better service from your local shops – be it a free pizza, packing boxes, or even the offer of a helping hand moving house.
Thanks Fresh Bite!
Tuesday 20 August 2013
It's just my life!
Despite my best intentions and promises to blog every day, regular readers may have noticed that the posts have been drying up a bit of late.
It’s certainly not due to lack of enthusiasm for my challenge – quite the contrary. I’m loving my year without supermarkets so much that I can’t ever imagine going back to being a regular at Tesco. I’ve met so many lovely people and eaten so much wonderful food over the past eight-and-a-half months.
But I’m just running a bit short of things to say about it. I envisage myself, in a Big Brother Geordie voice, repeatedly monotoning: “DAY 212 IN THE WITHOUT SUPERMARKETS HOUSE…. STILL NOT BEEN TO TESCOS”
And actually perhaps this is a reflection of how well the challenge is going. I no longer have much to say about it because shopping without the supermarkets has simply become a way of life. I no longer find it at all difficult; I have shops that I regularly visit for everything I need, and it just doesn’t require much thought any more.
I still get asked how I’m getting on my friends and shopkeepers, and recently I’ve almost found myself reacting with surprise. It’s been a case of: “yes fine, great thanks, I barely even think about it anymore to be honest”.
But it certainly answers all those people who wondered how I’d cope, or how much effort I’d end up putting into avoiding the supermarkets.
I guess I could liken it a bit to becoming a vegetarian, which I did in a fit of stubborn self-righteousness aged 13. It was tough at first, as I figured out what my new list of food likes (Lynda McCartney pies) and dislikes (frozen veggie lasagne) would be. But once I got the hang of it…. Well, I never think about it anymore. It’s just my life.
It’s certainly not due to lack of enthusiasm for my challenge – quite the contrary. I’m loving my year without supermarkets so much that I can’t ever imagine going back to being a regular at Tesco. I’ve met so many lovely people and eaten so much wonderful food over the past eight-and-a-half months.
But I’m just running a bit short of things to say about it. I envisage myself, in a Big Brother Geordie voice, repeatedly monotoning: “DAY 212 IN THE WITHOUT SUPERMARKETS HOUSE…. STILL NOT BEEN TO TESCOS”
And actually perhaps this is a reflection of how well the challenge is going. I no longer have much to say about it because shopping without the supermarkets has simply become a way of life. I no longer find it at all difficult; I have shops that I regularly visit for everything I need, and it just doesn’t require much thought any more.
I still get asked how I’m getting on my friends and shopkeepers, and recently I’ve almost found myself reacting with surprise. It’s been a case of: “yes fine, great thanks, I barely even think about it anymore to be honest”.
But it certainly answers all those people who wondered how I’d cope, or how much effort I’d end up putting into avoiding the supermarkets.
I guess I could liken it a bit to becoming a vegetarian, which I did in a fit of stubborn self-righteousness aged 13. It was tough at first, as I figured out what my new list of food likes (Lynda McCartney pies) and dislikes (frozen veggie lasagne) would be. But once I got the hang of it…. Well, I never think about it anymore. It’s just my life.
Monday 19 August 2013
Lovely supermarket-free shopping
Busy day today so very quick post this... just to prove I'm still avoiding Tesco... here's my lovely shopping from Brown and Green in Derby...
Sunday 18 August 2013
Hope Valley ice cream
“Sorry Austin” I muttered in my best Elizabeth Hurley accent as we ground into yet another huge pothole in the track.
Keen-eyed readers will recall that Austin is the name of my little grey Astra, and the poor car took a serious punishing yesterday after an unplanned de-tour to Hope Valley Ice Cream parlour.
I’d taken a friend for a drive around the Peak District and we were making our merry way out towards Ladybower Reservoir when I spotted the Hope Valley sign at the side of the road.
Those who know me will know that I’m largely governed by my belly, so of course the breaks were slammed on and a speedy u-turn was performed.
Who cares that it was raining and blowing a gale? HOMEMADE ICECREAM. ‘Nuff said.
The track up to the farm can only be described as perfect for making visitors feel like they are embarking on an adventure into the rural wilderness – probably best negotiated in a 4x4. But as long as you don’t mind gritting your teeth and wincing a bit as the bottom of your car scrapes into yet another dip, then the reward is well worth the effort.
Thorpe Farm has been a dairy farm for 300 years, and the Marsden Family have been working the land since “great granddad” moved there as a tenant.
We arrived to find some happy-looking calves who were keen to be stroked and scratched, and indeed animal welfare is at the heart of what the Marsden Family do.
Milking in the farm’s parlour is a low-intensity process, with a viewing gallery for children on school trips and visitors, and turnips are also grown on the farm to supplement the cows’ diet.
Wildlife is also taken into consideration – the farm’s four miles of hedgerows are tended carefully to make sure it is a haven for birds and the Hope Valley website boast that the farm is “a home and feeding area for over 74 types of bird including owls, curlews, green woodpeckers, kestrels and swallows”.
The icecream is made with milk from the cows and egg yolks from the farm’s free range hens, and as well as selling it from a small parlour on the site, it is also sold at various Peak District farm shops and supplied to the local pubs.
I had a pot of Gertrude’s Whisky and Ginger, which was absolutely gorgeous, and I was gutted that I couldn’t take any home with me because with our day trip still in progress, it would have melted before reaching my freezer.
For more information visit www.hope-valley.co.uk
Thursday 15 August 2013
Bad bunny update
It’s tedious link time again…. but I’m going to make today’s blog a short update on the war between myself and Bad Beans Bunny, because last night an important battle was won.
Avid readers (god bless you) will recall that the rabbit has been driving me nuts rattling the bars of her cage all through the night, leaving me feeling not dissimilar to my beautiful best friend Christina, who is currently getting up every two hours (god bless her too) to feed her newborn twins.
And on Tuesday I went out into Derby’s Eagle Market to buy some soap and some mega hot, blow-her-furry-little-brains-out chilli sauce, with a view to making the bars of her cage less palatable.
I decided to play fair (after all – she is a little bit smaller than me) and start with the soap – reserving the mega hot chilli sauce for an if-all-else-fails 4am desperate situation. My own personal version of the atomic bomb.
So last night, before bed, I sat by her cage and liberally rubbed the dry soap bar (a foul-smelling pink thing from a market stall bargain bucket – yep, there goes the supermarket link) all over the front bars of the bunny cage, where Princess Beans likes to rattle.
And then I went to bed.
And then I slept. A long, glorious sleep, right through the night, with no bunny disturbances what-so-ever.
I woke up this morning and looked over to the cage to find Beans sat by the bars, looking at me somewhat distastefully, but making no attempt to put her mouth round them.
Victory! VICTORY IS MINE.
Avid readers (god bless you) will recall that the rabbit has been driving me nuts rattling the bars of her cage all through the night, leaving me feeling not dissimilar to my beautiful best friend Christina, who is currently getting up every two hours (god bless her too) to feed her newborn twins.
And on Tuesday I went out into Derby’s Eagle Market to buy some soap and some mega hot, blow-her-furry-little-brains-out chilli sauce, with a view to making the bars of her cage less palatable.
I decided to play fair (after all – she is a little bit smaller than me) and start with the soap – reserving the mega hot chilli sauce for an if-all-else-fails 4am desperate situation. My own personal version of the atomic bomb.
So last night, before bed, I sat by her cage and liberally rubbed the dry soap bar (a foul-smelling pink thing from a market stall bargain bucket – yep, there goes the supermarket link) all over the front bars of the bunny cage, where Princess Beans likes to rattle.
And then I went to bed.
And then I slept. A long, glorious sleep, right through the night, with no bunny disturbances what-so-ever.
I woke up this morning and looked over to the cage to find Beans sat by the bars, looking at me somewhat distastefully, but making no attempt to put her mouth round them.
Victory! VICTORY IS MINE.
Wednesday 14 August 2013
60 miles for tins of Sheba
A 60-mile round trip to buy a few tins of Sheba?
Well that is a slight exaggeration... but suffice to say I’m now going to certain lengths to support my favourite local shops.
This morning I had an appointment and a couple of errands to run in Chesterfield, so I took the opportunity to call into my favourite pet shop, Hasland Pet Supplies, and received a warm welcome as always from owner Judi.
She asked me how I was settling into Derby life, and as a loyal blog reader (thanks Judi) she was also laughing at my current stand-off situation with naughty Beans Bunny - who took the war to the next level this morning by peeing three times on my bed.
I’ve been running low on a couple of things, including cat litter, but had purposely been making what I had last as long as possible so that I could buy a new bag from Judi and continue to support her pet shop - instead of going elsewhere.
I also popped into my favourite greengrocers, Hasland Fruit and Flowers, for some salad and fruit.
At the beginning of My Year Without Supermarkets I wrote a lot about customer loyalty and building relationships with the people from whom you buy your groceries, never imagining that by the middle of the year I would be putting that loyalty to the test following a re-location.
Now I find that after months of shopping in places like Hasland Pet Supplies, where Judi has been so lovely that she saved boxes for me to help with the house move and even offered to shuttle my stuff in her van, I still want to give my hard-earned cash to her instead of finding somewhere closer to home.
And I guess that goes some way to proving the point of this whole exercise - a life without supermarkets connects you to the people who produce and sell your groceries in a way that trudging round Tesco never could.
Well that is a slight exaggeration... but suffice to say I’m now going to certain lengths to support my favourite local shops.
This morning I had an appointment and a couple of errands to run in Chesterfield, so I took the opportunity to call into my favourite pet shop, Hasland Pet Supplies, and received a warm welcome as always from owner Judi.
She asked me how I was settling into Derby life, and as a loyal blog reader (thanks Judi) she was also laughing at my current stand-off situation with naughty Beans Bunny - who took the war to the next level this morning by peeing three times on my bed.
I’ve been running low on a couple of things, including cat litter, but had purposely been making what I had last as long as possible so that I could buy a new bag from Judi and continue to support her pet shop - instead of going elsewhere.
I also popped into my favourite greengrocers, Hasland Fruit and Flowers, for some salad and fruit.
At the beginning of My Year Without Supermarkets I wrote a lot about customer loyalty and building relationships with the people from whom you buy your groceries, never imagining that by the middle of the year I would be putting that loyalty to the test following a re-location.
Now I find that after months of shopping in places like Hasland Pet Supplies, where Judi has been so lovely that she saved boxes for me to help with the house move and even offered to shuttle my stuff in her van, I still want to give my hard-earned cash to her instead of finding somewhere closer to home.
And I guess that goes some way to proving the point of this whole exercise - a life without supermarkets connects you to the people who produce and sell your groceries in a way that trudging round Tesco never could.
Tuesday 13 August 2013
Waging war on a badly-behaved bunny
Since moving into Anna’s things have become rather cosy in my bedroom.
“Woohoo, the joys of being single,” I hear you cry.
But in this particular case, sadly that is not what I’m talking about.
Various tactics have been trotted out over the last week to bring an end to this situation.
A couple of nights ago, after being disturbed for the third time, I thought I’d hit upon a solution. I spent ten minutes in the kitchen at about 4am, mixing up a paste of chilli powder, cayenne pepper and paprika, while laughing slightly insanely to myself like a wicked witch at her cauldron (or a mad woman who hasn’t had any sleep).
Unfortunately Beans bunny is quite the little princess, and wasn’t able to accept my victory without putting up a fight. After letting her out for playtime yesterday, I returned to find she had hit back right where it hurts by chewing one of my books to shreds.
War had officially been declared.
That was the night before last, and I believed I still had the upper hand. So last night I liberally applied some more of my magic mixture to the bars of her cage, and then settled down for what I hoped would be a second silent night.
Sadly it wasn’t to be. At about 2am my badly-behaved bunny decided that actually, she quite liked the taste of my homemade paste after all, and spent the next three hours enthusiastically rattling the bars of her cage chewing at it.
Then I headed to the Jamaican stand, and asked for the hottest sauce they had.
“What’s it for?” the lady behind the counter asked, as she handed me a jar of Mr Naga Very Hot Pepper Pickle.
She laughed when I told her, but then expressed some concerns that the sauce in question might actually blow bunny’s little head clean off.
“Woohoo, the joys of being single,” I hear you cry.
But in this particular case, sadly that is not what I’m talking about.
Unfortunately, the living arrangements mean that Beans bunny is now sleeping in her cage in the corner of my room, as opposed to her former home in the utility room - a much more sensible set-up. And she has taken to waking me up at intervals throughout the night, every night, by rattling the bars of her cage (which is surprisingly loud in a quiet house) asking to be let out.
Various tactics have been trotted out over the last week to bring an end to this situation.
I initially tried throwing water over her every time she did it, but she soon cottoned onto what was happening and dived off to the back of her cage as I got out of bed, only to return to the front to rattle the bars again whenever I got back into bed.
I tried leaving her loose in the room overnight, and she celebrated by hopping around on my bed and nipping at my toes as I slept.
A couple of nights ago, after being disturbed for the third time, I thought I’d hit upon a solution. I spent ten minutes in the kitchen at about 4am, mixing up a paste of chilli powder, cayenne pepper and paprika, while laughing slightly insanely to myself like a wicked witch at her cauldron (or a mad woman who hasn’t had any sleep).
And seemingly it worked! Bunny sniffed at the paste and then retired to the back of her cage in disgust, and I spent the rest of the night in blissful silence.
Unfortunately Beans bunny is quite the little princess, and wasn’t able to accept my victory without putting up a fight. After letting her out for playtime yesterday, I returned to find she had hit back right where it hurts by chewing one of my books to shreds.
War had officially been declared.
Sadly it wasn’t to be. At about 2am my badly-behaved bunny decided that actually, she quite liked the taste of my homemade paste after all, and spent the next three hours enthusiastically rattling the bars of her cage chewing at it.
So 5am this morning once again saw me back in the kitchen, blearily rummaging in the cupboard for something else to try. I hit upon English mustard, which secured me a decent three-hour sleep before work this morning. But I did see the rabbit licking at is as I woke up, so I don’t think it’s a long term solution.
So this lunchtime I headed out into Derby’s Eagle Market to try to find something that the rabbit will hopefully find deeply unpalatable. After scouring a few forums, a sympathetic friend suggested rubbing a bar of soap on the bars of bunny’s cage, so I found a particularly vile-smelling pink bar in the bargain bucket of one market stall.
Then I headed to the Jamaican stand, and asked for the hottest sauce they had.
“What’s it for?” the lady behind the counter asked, as she handed me a jar of Mr Naga Very Hot Pepper Pickle.
She laughed when I told her, but then expressed some concerns that the sauce in question might actually blow bunny’s little head clean off.
“Don’t worry,” I explained. “Hopefully the smell alone will be enough to put her off and she won’t even try tasting it.”
“Well,” the stall holder answered. “This is one of the hottest sauces you can buy. We’re the only place in Derby to sell it.”
After promising to go back in a few days and tell the lady whether it worked, I headed off back to the office with my packages, feeling more than a little smug. Human ingenuity WILL win out over bunny bad behaviour.... eventually....
Monday 12 August 2013
Asda's degree
It has been revealed today that Asda is going to offer a degree course for its staff.
The three-year course, in either distribution or retail, is being offered in partnership with Middlesex University and 30 employees will initially take part.
The scheme involves 12 days of classroom workshops, work-based assessment as well as online studies, leading to a BA degree.
Asda has said students will learn about merchandising as well as managing and developing people.
And a spokeswoman for the retail giant said the course was being offered because so many supermarket staff had left school without the opportunity to attended higher education - in many cases due to the cost of tuition fees.
Supermarket chain Morrisons also runs a foundation degree in supermarket operations.
Clearly I’ve been a pretty consistent supermarket-basher throughout the course of this blog. But credit where it’s due; I think this is actually an example of some good being done by the supermarkets.
The three-year course, in either distribution or retail, is being offered in partnership with Middlesex University and 30 employees will initially take part.
The scheme involves 12 days of classroom workshops, work-based assessment as well as online studies, leading to a BA degree.
Asda has said students will learn about merchandising as well as managing and developing people.
And a spokeswoman for the retail giant said the course was being offered because so many supermarket staff had left school without the opportunity to attended higher education - in many cases due to the cost of tuition fees.
Supermarket chain Morrisons also runs a foundation degree in supermarket operations.
Clearly I’ve been a pretty consistent supermarket-basher throughout the course of this blog. But credit where it’s due; I think this is actually an example of some good being done by the supermarkets.
Saturday 10 August 2013
Local loyalty
I'm typing this blog out on my iPhone while sat in the hairdresser, and I think the choices I've made this morning perfectly demonstrate the power of local shopping.
Despite now living in Derby, I've still chosen to drive up to Chesterfield to get my hair cut with my normal (and trusted) hairdresser Lisa, at Bliss salon in Hasland.
Why don't I just find a new hairdresser in Derby? Well Lisa is really good value, she always makes my hair look lovely and we get on and have a natter, so I look forward to chatting with her and the other customers.
It's worth the 40 minute drive, and while I'm here I've also called in on my favourite bakery and greengrocer too. I also plan to stay loyal to lovely Judi at Hasland pet supplies.
So perhaps the power of local shopping really lies in the loyalty you build up... because even though I'm no longer local, I still want to give my favourites my custom.
Despite now living in Derby, I've still chosen to drive up to Chesterfield to get my hair cut with my normal (and trusted) hairdresser Lisa, at Bliss salon in Hasland.
Why don't I just find a new hairdresser in Derby? Well Lisa is really good value, she always makes my hair look lovely and we get on and have a natter, so I look forward to chatting with her and the other customers.
It's worth the 40 minute drive, and while I'm here I've also called in on my favourite bakery and greengrocer too. I also plan to stay loyal to lovely Judi at Hasland pet supplies.
So perhaps the power of local shopping really lies in the loyalty you build up... because even though I'm no longer local, I still want to give my favourites my custom.
Friday 9 August 2013
Food you can trust down on the farm
Here's today's Food You Can Trust feature, which is the product of my driving around Derbyshire (and ending up in Tesco for an emergency wee-stop) on Tuesday.
You can read the full story on our website: www.derbytelegraph.co.uk/pleased-meat-ndash-couple-s-passion-local-produce/story-19638006-detail/story.html
You can read the full story on our website: www.derbytelegraph.co.uk/pleased-meat-ndash-couple-s-passion-local-produce/story-19638006-detail/story.html
Thursday 8 August 2013
A whole bar of Dairy Milk, you say?
Tonight I am having trouble typing. I’m actually having trouble propping myself up at my desk… and even focusing on my computer screen.
The reason?
Nope, not a hangover, although given my recent behaviour you’d be forgiven for having a guess at that one. It’s actually because I seem to be having a huge sugar crash, having recently eaten a family-sized bar of Dairy Milk.
I’d like to present the excuse that I bought it to support my new local economy here in Derby – specifically the lovely Murco petrol station just round the corner from Lovely Anna’s house. I’ve been a semi-regular customer for years as it’s right en-route to the office, but now it’s also my most local fuel stop apart from Morrisons (which is, of course, out of bounds).
And it’s staffed by a really nice bunch of smiley guys.
So when I stopped for some diesel earlier and spotted the Dairy Milks on offer for £1, I decided it would be rude not to.
Clearly it was bought with the intention of being put in my desk drawer and taken out one square at a time, during times of need over the next few weeks.
And it has lasted a mere four hours.
Oops.
The reason?
Nope, not a hangover, although given my recent behaviour you’d be forgiven for having a guess at that one. It’s actually because I seem to be having a huge sugar crash, having recently eaten a family-sized bar of Dairy Milk.
I’d like to present the excuse that I bought it to support my new local economy here in Derby – specifically the lovely Murco petrol station just round the corner from Lovely Anna’s house. I’ve been a semi-regular customer for years as it’s right en-route to the office, but now it’s also my most local fuel stop apart from Morrisons (which is, of course, out of bounds).
And it’s staffed by a really nice bunch of smiley guys.
So when I stopped for some diesel earlier and spotted the Dairy Milks on offer for £1, I decided it would be rude not to.
Clearly it was bought with the intention of being put in my desk drawer and taken out one square at a time, during times of need over the next few weeks.
And it has lasted a mere four hours.
Oops.
Wednesday 7 August 2013
The toilet clause
Those who know me well (and to be fair, probably also those who don’t as well) know that I have a pretty small tank on board, so need to make frequent trips to the loo.
And up until starting the challenge to avoid the supermarkets, the public toilets in stores like Tesco and Morrisons were my saving grace.
As a roving reporter in Scotland a few years ago I was often out on the road for most of the day and relied totally on my supermarket stop-offs to prevent me from spoiling my car upholstery.
Now I’m mainly office-based, but yesterday I spent the afternoon out and about in Derbyshire visiting farms for Friday’s food you can trust feature. And sure enough, a couple of hours into my trip, after enjoying a nice fresh orange juice at Hackwood Farm cafe, near Derby, I started to need the loo.
Unfortunately, the time this need became more pressing coincided exactly with the moment I realised that I had got myself lost while on my way to Woodside Farm and nature reserve, near Shipley.
What followed what a tense time in the Astra, as I clutched the steering wheel and shifted in my seat, swearing colourfully at every red traffic light or slow driver.
Would I make it to the farm in time? And once there, would there be a loo? Or would I have to suffer the ultimate indignity of finding myself a secluded patch of shrubs?
So when I reached Heanor and the familiar blue Tesco sign loomed into view I’d never been more grateful. It was time to invoke the toilet clause of this challenge.
I skidded into the car park, parked diagonally across one of those family spaces and shot into the store, veering sharply past a security guard and into the cafe where the toilets were situated.
Perhaps I’m not quite ready to give up supermarkets completely. I have a feeling I’ll always be able to make use of their loos.
And up until starting the challenge to avoid the supermarkets, the public toilets in stores like Tesco and Morrisons were my saving grace.
As a roving reporter in Scotland a few years ago I was often out on the road for most of the day and relied totally on my supermarket stop-offs to prevent me from spoiling my car upholstery.
Now I’m mainly office-based, but yesterday I spent the afternoon out and about in Derbyshire visiting farms for Friday’s food you can trust feature. And sure enough, a couple of hours into my trip, after enjoying a nice fresh orange juice at Hackwood Farm cafe, near Derby, I started to need the loo.
Unfortunately, the time this need became more pressing coincided exactly with the moment I realised that I had got myself lost while on my way to Woodside Farm and nature reserve, near Shipley.
What followed what a tense time in the Astra, as I clutched the steering wheel and shifted in my seat, swearing colourfully at every red traffic light or slow driver.
Would I make it to the farm in time? And once there, would there be a loo? Or would I have to suffer the ultimate indignity of finding myself a secluded patch of shrubs?
So when I reached Heanor and the familiar blue Tesco sign loomed into view I’d never been more grateful. It was time to invoke the toilet clause of this challenge.
I skidded into the car park, parked diagonally across one of those family spaces and shot into the store, veering sharply past a security guard and into the cafe where the toilets were situated.
Perhaps I’m not quite ready to give up supermarkets completely. I have a feeling I’ll always be able to make use of their loos.
Tuesday 6 August 2013
What's wrong with cauliflower?
What's wrong with cauliflower?
Apparently sales of this traditional British vegetable have fallen by 35% over the past decade, and last year around half of all UK households didn't buy a single cauli - prompting some growers to stop producing them.
I know loads of people who don't like cauliflower. I wonder if it partly harks back to childhood memories of mushy, rank-tasting vegetables boiled to within an inch of their lives by some well-meaning granny.
But no vegetable is going to taste great when it's been overcooked.
Personally I love cauli. It's great just lightly steamed, and one of my favourite things in the world is good, homemade cauliflower cheese. Anything smothered with cheese sauce is okay with me.
But it's much more versatile than that. The Indian dish aloo gobi is another brilliant example of tasty cauli cooked really well.
And I even like to put it in salad. Yesterday I bought a cauliflower, grown locally in Melbourne, South Derbyshire, at artisan food store Brown and Green, in Little Eaton.
I chopped it up, covered it with extra virgin olive oil, parsley and a good squeeze of lemon, and baked it for about 40 minutes.
Allowed to cool, cauli baked in lemon is a really tasty addition to the salad I've made for my lunch at work today.
So don't overlook the humble British cauli!
Apparently sales of this traditional British vegetable have fallen by 35% over the past decade, and last year around half of all UK households didn't buy a single cauli - prompting some growers to stop producing them.
I know loads of people who don't like cauliflower. I wonder if it partly harks back to childhood memories of mushy, rank-tasting vegetables boiled to within an inch of their lives by some well-meaning granny.
But no vegetable is going to taste great when it's been overcooked.
Personally I love cauli. It's great just lightly steamed, and one of my favourite things in the world is good, homemade cauliflower cheese. Anything smothered with cheese sauce is okay with me.
 |
| Cauliflower baked with lemon |
But it's much more versatile than that. The Indian dish aloo gobi is another brilliant example of tasty cauli cooked really well.
And I even like to put it in salad. Yesterday I bought a cauliflower, grown locally in Melbourne, South Derbyshire, at artisan food store Brown and Green, in Little Eaton.
I chopped it up, covered it with extra virgin olive oil, parsley and a good squeeze of lemon, and baked it for about 40 minutes.
Allowed to cool, cauli baked in lemon is a really tasty addition to the salad I've made for my lunch at work today.
So don't overlook the humble British cauli!
Monday 5 August 2013
On the hunt for Hendos
Horror. The pure, cold feeling of dread creeping down my spine.
That was how I felt this morning when I made myself scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast and then reached for the cupboard, only to suddenly realise that I'd forgotten one crucial, critical detail when moving in with Anna recently.
I forgot to bring a bottle of Hendos.
As anyone from Yorkshire will know, this represents a very very severe emergency situation... akin perhaps to accidentally leaving the house without any clothes on, or forgetting an important anniversary.
It's just not cricket.
And clearly, now I'm in Derby, Henderson's Relish is not readily available.
So I ate a miserable and depressing Hendos-free breakfast and resolved to spend my day off working doing something to rectify the situation.
Luckily my plan for the day involved going to the stables, and as I've decided not to move the horse, this involved going to Chesterfield.... which is close enough to the Yorkshire border for several of the shops to stock the hallowed sauce, including my favourite greengrocer Hasland Fruit and Flowers.
And while I was there, I picked up some veggies too. And then, because I figured by this point I might as well, I swung via Meringue bakery to pick up some decent bread, and then came home via Brown and Green, at Little Eaton near Derby, for a few other bits.
So as it turns out, I've done loads of supermarket-free shopping today - but not found any new shops close to Anna's.
Ah well.
And in other news...here's the text one of my mum's friends, Georgina, sent to her in response to yesterday's blog:
"C u ave bin annoyin Jade wiv ur txts!"
So apparently my mum isn't the only one who fancies herself as down with the kids.
That was how I felt this morning when I made myself scrambled eggs on toast for breakfast and then reached for the cupboard, only to suddenly realise that I'd forgotten one crucial, critical detail when moving in with Anna recently.
I forgot to bring a bottle of Hendos.
 |
| Phew! Got the Hendos! |
As anyone from Yorkshire will know, this represents a very very severe emergency situation... akin perhaps to accidentally leaving the house without any clothes on, or forgetting an important anniversary.
It's just not cricket.
And clearly, now I'm in Derby, Henderson's Relish is not readily available.
So I ate a miserable and depressing Hendos-free breakfast and resolved to spend my day off working doing something to rectify the situation.
Luckily my plan for the day involved going to the stables, and as I've decided not to move the horse, this involved going to Chesterfield.... which is close enough to the Yorkshire border for several of the shops to stock the hallowed sauce, including my favourite greengrocer Hasland Fruit and Flowers.
And while I was there, I picked up some veggies too. And then, because I figured by this point I might as well, I swung via Meringue bakery to pick up some decent bread, and then came home via Brown and Green, at Little Eaton near Derby, for a few other bits.
So as it turns out, I've done loads of supermarket-free shopping today - but not found any new shops close to Anna's.
Ah well.
And in other news...here's the text one of my mum's friends, Georgina, sent to her in response to yesterday's blog:
"C u ave bin annoyin Jade wiv ur txts!"
So apparently my mum isn't the only one who fancies herself as down with the kids.
Sunday 4 August 2013
I'm back! How r u?
The words (if you can even call them that) “How r u?” are always going to be upsetting to a journalist. I hate hate HATE the abomination of the English language that is text speak. It makes me shudder, and with the advent of smart phones and the abolition of character limits there’s just not excuse for it any more.
So who is it sending me these messages? A teenager perhaps? Or someone who missed out on English classes in school?
Nope, it is in fact my own mother - a well-spoken woman with neat handwriting who normally wouldn’t even allow herself a spelling mistake on her own shopping list. But put her behind a mobile phone and she reels off the “txtese” like a 13-year-old schoolgirl arranging to meet her mates outside the corner shop for a sneaky fag, telling me “c u l8r” and “thats gd”.
And unfortunately, right now, she’s texting me quite a lot. The reason being that I’ve not been blogging as much recently so she’s no longer getting her little daily diary entries telling her what I’ve been up to.
So I’m returning to the blog quick-sharp!
And joking aside (sorry mum) I do need to make a little apology, because a few people have asked me recently why I’ve not been blogging as often. I set out to do it every day and for the most part I’ve succeeded, but over the last few weeks life has been so hectic that things have run away with me a bit, I’ve not been shopping much, and My Year Without Supermarkets has taken a bit of a back seat.
I’ve still not actually been anywhere near a supermarket. I’m eight months in and doing fine. In fact I was in Baked, Derby’s brilliant bakery, the other day and owner Victoria was asking me whether I’ll continue avoiding the supermarkets once the year is done. I told her yes - to be honest I really can’t see myself going back to the likes of Tesco. There’s just no need when you can find much nicer food elsewhere and support local business owners into the bargain.
So I’ve not given up - quite the contrary. And I’m going to try to blog more often again too.
So who is it sending me these messages? A teenager perhaps? Or someone who missed out on English classes in school?
Nope, it is in fact my own mother - a well-spoken woman with neat handwriting who normally wouldn’t even allow herself a spelling mistake on her own shopping list. But put her behind a mobile phone and she reels off the “txtese” like a 13-year-old schoolgirl arranging to meet her mates outside the corner shop for a sneaky fag, telling me “c u l8r” and “thats gd”.
And unfortunately, right now, she’s texting me quite a lot. The reason being that I’ve not been blogging as much recently so she’s no longer getting her little daily diary entries telling her what I’ve been up to.
So I’m returning to the blog quick-sharp!
And joking aside (sorry mum) I do need to make a little apology, because a few people have asked me recently why I’ve not been blogging as often. I set out to do it every day and for the most part I’ve succeeded, but over the last few weeks life has been so hectic that things have run away with me a bit, I’ve not been shopping much, and My Year Without Supermarkets has taken a bit of a back seat.
I’ve still not actually been anywhere near a supermarket. I’m eight months in and doing fine. In fact I was in Baked, Derby’s brilliant bakery, the other day and owner Victoria was asking me whether I’ll continue avoiding the supermarkets once the year is done. I told her yes - to be honest I really can’t see myself going back to the likes of Tesco. There’s just no need when you can find much nicer food elsewhere and support local business owners into the bargain.
So I’ve not given up - quite the contrary. And I’m going to try to blog more often again too.
Wednesday 31 July 2013
Recipe: Mac'n'cheese
I treated Lovely Anna to her first homecooked tea tonight, with ingredients from Green and Brown at Little Eaton.
INGREDIENTS
1 pack macaroni - or if you can't find any, do what I've just done and use kids' dinosaur pasta
1 pack cherry tomatoes
40g butter - I used parsley and garlic butter from Green and Brown
40g flour
200ml single cream
200ml whole milk
100g dolcelatte or other blue cheese
100g strong cheddar
Breadcrumbs
100g Parmesan
METHOD:
Put the pasta onto boil, and then in a saucepan make a roux by melting the butter, stirring in the flour and then adding the milk and cream. Keep stirring and heating the sauce, then add the grated dolcelatte and cheddar. Heat through until melted and thick.
When the pasta is cooked, drain it and mix with the cheese sauce and cherry tomatoes, chopped in half. Put mixture into a baking dish and top with the breadcrumbs and grated Parmesan. Bake on 200C for about 30 minutes, or until golden on top.
INGREDIENTS
1 pack macaroni - or if you can't find any, do what I've just done and use kids' dinosaur pasta
1 pack cherry tomatoes
40g butter - I used parsley and garlic butter from Green and Brown
40g flour
200ml single cream
200ml whole milk
100g dolcelatte or other blue cheese
100g strong cheddar
Breadcrumbs
100g Parmesan
METHOD:
Put the pasta onto boil, and then in a saucepan make a roux by melting the butter, stirring in the flour and then adding the milk and cream. Keep stirring and heating the sauce, then add the grated dolcelatte and cheddar. Heat through until melted and thick.
When the pasta is cooked, drain it and mix with the cheese sauce and cherry tomatoes, chopped in half. Put mixture into a baking dish and top with the breadcrumbs and grated Parmesan. Bake on 200C for about 30 minutes, or until golden on top.
Monday 29 July 2013
Pegging it
Today I was faced with yet another of those little conundrums that crops up every now and then in my quest to avoid the supermarkets. After all, I am of the generation that is pretty much used to being able to buy everything anything (and I really do mean ANYTHING) from Tesco.
So where the hell do I go to buy clothes pegs?
Lovely Anna has a washing line, but no pegs, and seeing as I’ve put my first official wash in her washing machine this morning, I figured I’d better not go home without them.
I’ve blogged about this place before - it’s a gorgeous old building and all the stallholders are like one big happy family, which makes it a really lovely and welcoming place to shop.
Beat that Tesco!
So where the hell do I go to buy clothes pegs?
Lovely Anna has a washing line, but no pegs, and seeing as I’ve put my first official wash in her washing machine this morning, I figured I’d better not go home without them.
Luckily the older members of staff at the office, who remember a time before we relied on the supermarkets for everything, and pointed me in the direction of Derby’s Market Hall.
I found my pegs on a stall that seemed a bit like a mini Wilkos (and yes, I’ve just realised that Wilkos would probably have been another place to go for pegs). It had loads of useful stuff so I also came away with a pack of 20 washing up scourers for just £1. The good ones too with the really tough green scratchy bit that actually cleans the pans after I’ve burnt them!
Saturday 27 July 2013
Friday 26 July 2013
It takes two!
Two babies. Not one. Two. That’s what my lovely best mate Christina is bringing home from hospital today.
And two babies are, of course, pretty special. Hardly anyone gets a double package from the stork. But unfortunately, because not many people have them, it also makes them slightly harder to cater for.
I found this out at lunchtime when I popped out to grab a congratulations card for the new parents. In every shop I went into I found dozens of blue and pink cards with “It’s a Boy!” or “It’s a Girl!” but hardly anything catering to the plural. A couple of stores had one, sorry looking “Twins” card huddled by itself at the back of the rack.
So in the end I’ve decided to make my own. I bought a pink blank card and envelope from Paperchase, plus stick-on jewels and coloured pens. And tonight I’m going to get crafty.
Results tomorrow….
And two babies are, of course, pretty special. Hardly anyone gets a double package from the stork. But unfortunately, because not many people have them, it also makes them slightly harder to cater for.
I found this out at lunchtime when I popped out to grab a congratulations card for the new parents. In every shop I went into I found dozens of blue and pink cards with “It’s a Boy!” or “It’s a Girl!” but hardly anything catering to the plural. A couple of stores had one, sorry looking “Twins” card huddled by itself at the back of the rack.
So in the end I’ve decided to make my own. I bought a pink blank card and envelope from Paperchase, plus stick-on jewels and coloured pens. And tonight I’m going to get crafty.
Results tomorrow….
Wednesday 24 July 2013
Not cloud ants... or poos!
Lovely lovely long-suffering Anna almost found herself on the receiving end of quite a disturbing message yesterday.
“I put a bag of what looks like poos into your freezer,” I typed. “But don’t worry, it’s not poos, it’s ready-to-bake cloud ants.”
Not the sort of thing you expect to receive on your lunch break. Bloody predictive text!
What I’d actually put into her freezer were ready-to-bake frozen croissants. Although they do indeed look a bit like tiny anemic turds.
It was part of a little shopping trip to stock up her kitchen with a few of my favourite essentials. I’ve pretty much moved in with her now, although I’m still shuttling back and forth with car-loads of stuff this week. So I popped to Brown and Green, the amazing artisan food store in nearby Little Eaton, to stock up.
Lovely Anna is an Aldi and Morrisons girl, so she’s going to find living with me quite an education. And I’m hoping to get loads of blog fodder from her supermarket shopping trips! Delights that now grace her fridge include milk from Duffield Dairy, a homemade quiche and cheese from a Derbyshire creamery.
Luckily there are no cloud ants in her freezer though.
“I put a bag of what looks like poos into your freezer,” I typed. “But don’t worry, it’s not poos, it’s ready-to-bake cloud ants.”
Not the sort of thing you expect to receive on your lunch break. Bloody predictive text!
What I’d actually put into her freezer were ready-to-bake frozen croissants. Although they do indeed look a bit like tiny anemic turds.
It was part of a little shopping trip to stock up her kitchen with a few of my favourite essentials. I’ve pretty much moved in with her now, although I’m still shuttling back and forth with car-loads of stuff this week. So I popped to Brown and Green, the amazing artisan food store in nearby Little Eaton, to stock up.
Lovely Anna is an Aldi and Morrisons girl, so she’s going to find living with me quite an education. And I’m hoping to get loads of blog fodder from her supermarket shopping trips! Delights that now grace her fridge include milk from Duffield Dairy, a homemade quiche and cheese from a Derbyshire creamery.
Luckily there are no cloud ants in her freezer though.
Tuesday 23 July 2013
The other royal babies
While the rest of the world was urging Kate Middleton to push for England (not to mention Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Canada, Australia and the rest of the Commonwealth) yesterday, I was secretly hoping that the Duchess of Cambridge would keep her legs crossed for just a little longer.
The reason being that my gorgeous best friend Christina (who has guest-starred on this blog with her enormous bump several times over the past few months) was also due to give birth this week, and wanted to pop at the same time as our future queen to get her hands on the commemorative coins promised to all tots arriving on the day of the royal birth.
Alas, it was not to be. Kate dropped her sprog yesterday evening, while Christina worked her way through a pile of ironing at home in Huddersfield.
 |
| Amelie (in the pink hat) and Rosa |
However, while the world seemingly goes crazy today over Wills and Kate’s baby joy, I have other, much much more exciting news to report.... at 10.30am this morning Christina gave birth to her twins.
Amelie and Rosa were born by cesarean section, weighing 4lbs 11 and 5lbs 10 respectively, and the whole family are doing fine.
These are the babies who have, while still in the comfort of the womb, accompanied me to farm shops in North Yorkshire, been gifted a truck-load of baby clothes from my overly-excited mother from the Derbyshire, Leicestershire and Rutland Air Ambulance charity shop where she volunteers (not a supermarket!), and narrowly avoided a run-in with out-of-date supermarket formula milk thanks to Tesco. So I feel they have rightly earned their place on this blog.
Congratulations Christina and Matt, they are absolutely gorgeous and I can’t wait to meet them. xxxxxxxxxx
Monday 22 July 2013
Bye bye Banana Bob
It’s a sad day for me today, because I’ve had to sever ties with my brilliant vegetable delivery man Banana Bob, who has been leaving little parcels of fresh fruit and veg on my doorstep every week for the past 18 months.
Bob has been everything you’d ever want in a vegetable delivery service - always on time, always with good quality produce, always understanding when I only give him 24 hours notice that I’m going on holiday, AND with a comedy name to boot.
But all good things come to an end (apparently) and I doubt he’d take kindly to having to drive an extra 30 miles to Derby to bring me my weekly bananas and spuds.
So in the next couple of weeks I’ll be looking for a new supermarket-free veggie source in the Derby area. If anyone has any recommendations, give me a shout!
Bob has been everything you’d ever want in a vegetable delivery service - always on time, always with good quality produce, always understanding when I only give him 24 hours notice that I’m going on holiday, AND with a comedy name to boot.
But all good things come to an end (apparently) and I doubt he’d take kindly to having to drive an extra 30 miles to Derby to bring me my weekly bananas and spuds.
So in the next couple of weeks I’ll be looking for a new supermarket-free veggie source in the Derby area. If anyone has any recommendations, give me a shout!
Sunday 21 July 2013
Nothing full about this breakfast
This morning is one of those times when supermarket avoidance is not much fun.
Last night Lovely Anna and I had what was supposed to be a fairly tame night out, but in fact turned into drinking and dancing in Derby's Cuban salsa bar until 3am. So this morning (surprise surprise) I'm feeling a little delicate. Again. Which will no doubt prompt moaning from my mum later that I appear to have reverted back to my early 20s now I'm single. And to be fair, she might have a point.
In addition to the above, I'm facing a tough day today. I have a huge metal king-sized bedframe to dismantle and somehow coax into the back of my car - a feat which I suspect could reduce me to tears at some point over the next couple of hours. Or could actually just turn out to be physically impossible.
So I drove back from Anna's this morning mentally cooking a full English breakfast - only to discover when I got home that I was missing half of the ingredients. And of course the only place close enough to pop into for Lynda McCartney sausages, tomatoes and mushrooms, that opens on a Sunday, is the local Co-Op.
So below is the sad little breakfast that I've ended up with - scrambled egg and bake beans on rubbish brown sliced bread from the freezer.
Last night Lovely Anna and I had what was supposed to be a fairly tame night out, but in fact turned into drinking and dancing in Derby's Cuban salsa bar until 3am. So this morning (surprise surprise) I'm feeling a little delicate. Again. Which will no doubt prompt moaning from my mum later that I appear to have reverted back to my early 20s now I'm single. And to be fair, she might have a point.
In addition to the above, I'm facing a tough day today. I have a huge metal king-sized bedframe to dismantle and somehow coax into the back of my car - a feat which I suspect could reduce me to tears at some point over the next couple of hours. Or could actually just turn out to be physically impossible.
So I drove back from Anna's this morning mentally cooking a full English breakfast - only to discover when I got home that I was missing half of the ingredients. And of course the only place close enough to pop into for Lynda McCartney sausages, tomatoes and mushrooms, that opens on a Sunday, is the local Co-Op.
So below is the sad little breakfast that I've ended up with - scrambled egg and bake beans on rubbish brown sliced bread from the freezer.
Saturday 20 July 2013
Humourless
This is going to be a short and totally humourless blog today, for two reasons:
1 - I'm up to my neck in packing for the house move.
2 - I've just spent the morning ringing round various companies, taking my name off accounts and changing my address details. "Confirm this Miss Beecroft.... what's your DOB Miss Beecroft... let's just run through some security questions Miss Beecroft...." I've consequently completely lost my sense of humour! Even as I type, there's tinny music coming from my mobile phone as I wait on hold to speak to another bank.
To be fair, I've spoken to some quite nice people. Lovely Scottish Lucile, from O2, insisted on calling me "lovie" the whole time, which I quite liked. Christopher, from LV, sympathised with the break-up situation as he proceeded to increase my car insurance premium for being single (great - thanks for that). And Matt, from Halifax, has just wished me well with my packing.
But I still feel like my head is about to explode.
So definitely no supermarket shopping for me today - that really would tip me over the edge.
1 - I'm up to my neck in packing for the house move.
2 - I've just spent the morning ringing round various companies, taking my name off accounts and changing my address details. "Confirm this Miss Beecroft.... what's your DOB Miss Beecroft... let's just run through some security questions Miss Beecroft...." I've consequently completely lost my sense of humour! Even as I type, there's tinny music coming from my mobile phone as I wait on hold to speak to another bank.
To be fair, I've spoken to some quite nice people. Lovely Scottish Lucile, from O2, insisted on calling me "lovie" the whole time, which I quite liked. Christopher, from LV, sympathised with the break-up situation as he proceeded to increase my car insurance premium for being single (great - thanks for that). And Matt, from Halifax, has just wished me well with my packing.
But I still feel like my head is about to explode.
So definitely no supermarket shopping for me today - that really would tip me over the edge.
Friday 19 July 2013
Sunny supermarket-free Derby
It’s days (or I should probably say weeks actually) like this that make avoiding the supermarkets such a pleasure. I mean, who in their right mind would possibly want to be traipsing around Tesco right now, when the weather is so gorgeous? When you’re blundering through the aisles at Morrisons you don’t even know whether it’s day or night.
I’ve just been out on a lovely walk onto pick up a salad for lunch and some veggies from the market. And I took these shots of Derby basking in the sunshine. With a gorgeous stroll like this waiting for me just outside the office, I’m laughing at my colleagues who choose to drive to the supermarket on their break instead.
Thursday 18 July 2013
RECIPE: Christina's Asparagus Tart
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| Christina, bump and tart |
Despite now being RIDICULOUSLY pregnant with twins (and I really do mean ridiculously – they’re coming out in less than a week) my gorgeous and blooming friend Christina treated myself and Christine to an amazing tea earlier this week.
Christina is such a trooper. Most women would be lying on the sofa moaning by this point in a twin pregnancy, but Chris is still being proactive, waddling off out to meet friends (albeit slowly), shopping, cooking and organising all her photos on her laptop. She may not be able to put her own shoes on anymore, but she still cooks up a mean Asparagus Tart. Here’s the recipe….
INGREDIENTS
6tbsps mascarpone
40g grated cheddar cheese
3tbsp basil
½ lemon (Christina’s pregnancy craving has been lemons)
1 pack ready-to-roll puff pastry
1 pack asparagus spears
1 tbsp olive oil
Cherry tomatoes, chopped
METHOD
Heat oven to about 200C. Mix the mascarpone with the cheese, basil and lemon. Lay the pastry out onto a baking tray, then spread the cheese mixture over the top of it. Layer the asparagus onto the mixture, then sprinkle the tomatoes over the top. Drizzle with the oil, then bake for about 20 minutes, or until golden brown.
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