Category Archives: eating well on a budget

Roast organic chicken from Sheepdrove farm, half price!

organic Sunday lunch with roast chicken from Sheepdrove

A Merrier World inspired this blog, to raise awareness for chickens. Poor things. Prisoners on a factory-production line, they have turned into commodities. An organic chicken seems expensive in comparison because it gets to lead an ordinary life.

A cheap chicken is cheap because it does not lead a normal existence. Bred to quickly gain weight, it is sometimes too heavy to walk, and, kept indoors in a noisy shed with 40,000 other birds, it is denied its natural behaviour such as feeling the sun on its back, perching or stretching its wings.

“Poor people must have cheap healthy protein,” say the chicken-factory defenders. Hello? Cheap chicken is not exactly healthy – it is full of fat, antibiotics and is a food-poisoning risk, which is why it must be cooked so carefully. A false economy, if I’ve ever heard one.

Here are ways to eat organic chicken on a budget. Buy a whole chicken and serve it as a once-a-week treat. Use its carcass for soup and leftovers for future meals. Serve it with a plateful of other goodies as I did yesterday (see the above pic with its Better Food organic salad leaves, carrots and potatoes, kamut grain and non-organic broccoli) so a little goes a long way.

My chicken came from the Sheepdrove organic farm butcher shop in Bristol, belonging to Sheepdrove organic farm in Berkshire. Master butcher, Graham Symes, picked one out for me. “See its beautiful heart shape?” he said. “That’s the way a chicken should look with the breast falling over the legs (see pic below).”

Instead of £18 for 2.6 kilos, it was half-price because of a current surplus. You can get your half-price beauties here. Hurry while stocks last!

Sheepdrove organic farm is owned and run by the kind and visionary Peter and Juliet Kindersley. Peter has put his publishing profits to a good cause, developing top animal welfare systems. My favourite Sheepdrove fact: their chickens peck at healing herbs to self-medicate. Chickens are clever creatures when allowed to be their natural chicken-selves.

The Kindersleys have recently developed a terrific new safe way of feather-plucking on its on-farm abattoir. Usually the feathers are loosened by dunking the dead birds in a bacteria-infested hot bath. The new Sheepdrove method of steaming could dramatically reduce the number of bacteria for non-organic and organic poultry alike.

Our chicken was delicious. “It tastes like chicken should taste,” said my sister who is a regular Sheepdrove shopper.

Here’s how to roast a (preferably happy) chicken: allow 20 minutes of cooking time for every pound/500 grammes – and then 20 minutes extra. I smeared the breast and legs with olive oil, rubbed in paprika and salt, and slithered slices of garlic under the skin. I simmered the giblets in wine and water for stock, and made gravy with this and the cooking pan’s juices, thickened with my new discovery: an ounce of rolled oats.

A tip for the absent-minded cook: do not put a chicken – in a plastic bag – in the oven to get to room temperature, then forget it’s there and switch the oven on. Getting melted plastic off a hot oven is no fun. Trust me.

Sheepdrove organic chicken

Quick lettuce soup

Lettuce soup

It was buy one, get one free at the organic supermarket in Bristol.

The Better Food assistant pointed out the bargain gem lettuces, fresh from the company’s Walled Garden.

I thought: oat-thickened lettuce soup. The perfect opportunity to share the quickest healthy-soup recipe I know. You basically boil water with butter, add oats to thicken and then the lettuce which takes seconds to cook.

Boil 1 pint of water with 1 ounce (30g) of butter. Add 1 ounce of rolled oats. Bring the water, butter and oats to the boil. Simmer for five minutes to cook the oats. Add a lettuce, chopped. Season with lots of black pepper but a little salt. Turn off the heat after several minutes as lettuce cooks quickly. And will carry on cooking in the water.

I think blending this soup makes it more unctious. I blended mine (see pic).

I came across it the other day. My mother was cooking it when I got back from the Guild of Food Writers Awards. Appropriately, the recipe came from the pen of one of our best food writers, the late Jane Grigson (mother of Sophie).

I love Jane Grigson’s Vegetable Book, which has recipes for every veg from artichoke to yam. My mum made hers with spinach, but the Grigson original is Irish Nettle Pottage.

I have had this book since 1980 so why, oh why, did I not think to delve in, in my nettle-soup phase?

On the subject of mistakes, I broke one glass within ten minutes of leaving the charity shop with five (for a fiver). When I photographed the damage, it had beauty (see below).

I feel a moral coming on.

Mistakes are like jewels in the crown because we can learn from them.

Broken wine glass

Red lentil soup

My friend Sheila said, “come over,” and I said, “shall I bring something to eat?” With only an hour and a half to spare and no time to shop, soup made with split red lentils was the only answer.

Without much ado, I soaked 125g red lentils for half an hour in about 4 mugfuls of water. The little dried red things (a storecupboard-must!) absorbed some water and softened – then I applied the heat. As I brought the pan to the boil, I chopped one onion and chucked it in.

You can see the uncooked onion pieces and some lentils floating on the surface as the soup begins to boil (above).

The strange naked beast in the picture is a peeled turmeric root from Marshford organics. I have never seen turmeric’s root root before, only its powder. It is closely related to ginger, but unlike that root, turmeric stained my hand yellow as I sliced it.

I also added sliced organic carrots that had overstayed their welcome at the bottom of my fridge and quarter of a dried chilli, not enough to bite.

Once the soup had come to the boil, I simmered it for half an hour until it was a soup-y mush. To make sure of its mushiness, I gave it a quick whizz with my handheld electric blender.

I got the soup safely to Sheila’s and we ate in the garden (see below).

I first met Sheila when, pregnant, I wandered into the Birth Centre circa 1977 to find out more about natural childbirth. On impulse, Sheila offered me a job wo-manning the Birth Centre ‘phone. She was a signpost in my life, putting me on track for the start of my new career as an ante-natal teacher and writer.

Sheila is a natural pioneer. Ahead of her time, Sheila brought the French obstetrician, Frederick (birth without violence) Leboyer to the UK, and changed our views of birth forever.

I see parallels between real food and natural birth; both aim to understand and work with nature rather then supplant it with risky and often unnecessary intervention.

yellow flower in Sheila\'s gardenSheila in gardenLentil soup

Spinach soup thickened with couscous

Spinach soup

I would be useless in a post-peak oil world. What would I do without my electric blender?

My teeth are troubling me so I made this spinach soup soothing with the help of the handheld machine. Its on-grid whirls fashioned the soup into a luxury item.

Here’s how I got there. The washed organic spinach leaves, stalks and all, went in a large pan. Spinach cooks in the water it is washed in (no need to add more) but do put a lid on to retain that moisture.

Once the spinach was cooked soft and waterless (drain to make sure), I added butter and immune-boosting garlic to frazzle in the meltedness.

But how to thicken it? I could have used flour but what is life without risk? So for the first time I sprinkled a smattering of couscous (I used organic kamut) to thicken a soup. I let it cook for a while then added a mugful of water, slowly, stirring all the time.

Reader, it worked. The couscous made it creamy.

Encouraged, I snipped in organic sprouted snow peas as a garnish.

The organic produce came from Bristol’s organic supermarket, Better Food, which is well-pleased, I imagine, with Sunday’s announcement as a finalist in the Observer Ethical Awards 2008.

Fluttering in the background is the Tibetan flag. Apparently it is illegal to fly in its home country, so it’s getting a workout on my balcony.

Tamarind and green tea noodles

Green tea noodles and tamarind stir fry

Cooking is like dancing – to keep it fresh you need to learn new steps.

Thanks to Mallika’s Quick Indian Cooking, I have added curry leaves and tamarind to my repertoire.

I had to improvise with the other ingredients.

Tonight was cold and misty so instead of eating grated organic carrots as a salad, I fried them in olive oil. In this bold mood, I also fried organic alfafa sprouts, the first time ever.

At the carrot stage, I also fried ten dried curry leaves, which wilted aromatically – not scary at all. Then mustard seeds and a teaspoon of tamarind paste.

I could not resist adding a quarter of a tin of coconut milk and snippets of dried chilli for spicy creaminess.

I finished off a packet of organic cha sob green tea noodles that had been lurking in my store cupboard – they only took three minutes to cook.

It was a quick supper to make and delightful to eat, while the tamarind emparted a tart lemony-lusciousness – my new exciting dance step, definitely.

Brown rice, chives – and chewing

Brown rice and chives

When all else fails nothing beats a bowl of brown rice. It is a soothing superfood. With its husk still intact, brown rice brings strength – more vitamins and fibre than its denuded sister, white rice.

My brown rice is organic – what’s the point of eating a superfood if sprayed with chemicals?

I added chopped chives (and its mauve flower), olive oil and a tiny smattering of Atlantic salt to the cooked rice.

Organic brown rice a store cupboard-must because it’s nutritious, economical and sits there Buddha-like till needed.

It requires little attention while cooking. One mug of rice does for two, generously. Add to a pan with twice the amount of water (2 mugs of water for one of brown rice) and bring to the boil. Simmer for 30-40 minutes with the lid on. Brown rice is soft and chewy when cooked.

The macrobiotics swear by brown rice and so do I. It’s so yang, it relaxes the digestion and detoxifies.

If you really want to be macrobiotic, you stay in the moment while eating it. Spiritual warriors aim for 50 chews a mouthful to calm their mind and their digestion.

I can manage about four mouthfuls of conscious chewing before my natural impatience takes over.

How many chews do you give a mouthful?

Black bream roasted

Black bream before baking

Look at this fine fish, called black bream. What an intelligent look in its eye.

Non-flesh eaters may want to stop reading now.

Mike cut slits in the fish’s sides, right down to the bone. I then inserted dried thyme and fresh parley into the slits and its gutted cavity.

I placed it on an oiled baking sheet in a cold oven then whacked up the heat to its max. About 10-15 minutes later, it was sizzling and I turned it over to roast the other side for a few minutes.

We ate it with organically-grown potatoes from Marshford.

For some unfathomable reason, black bream is not considered trendy.

Yet black bream has a firm white sweet flesh comparable to its more expensive cousin, sea bass (but a fraction of the price).

“How much did it cost?” asked Mike, as we dined like kings in the back garden.

“Pennies,” I said.

I had bought it at the Beach House Wet Fish at Widemouth Bay for something like two pounds sterling (and it fed three of us).

I sing the shop’s praises here.

Kamut risotto with nettles and gorse flowers

Kamut wih nettles and gorse flowers

This dish is a bit like an Oscar-award winning ceremony so bear with me while I thank a few people.

Firstly Elena Renier for inspiring me to use nettle tops in a risotto. Secondly Chloë for telling me on a walk over the cliff path at Cockington in north Devon that gorse flowers are both edible – and nature’s cure for depression.

I have always loved the spiky gorse bushes’ bright yellow flowers but when I found out I could eat them – and have a mood-change into the bargain – I was ecstatic! (Or was it the gorse petals I was munching en route?).

So, back in the kitchen, I fried a sliced onion and added a mug of kamut grain (instead of rice) to the hot olive oil. Then I poured in two mugs of water, added a pinch of rock salt and let it all simmer for 30 minutes.

I washed the nettle tops that Mike had kindly helped me pick (another Oscar thank you to him) and snipped the plentiful dark green leaves (six ounces in weight) with scissors so they fitted in the pan. They took about ten minutes to wilt and add their wonderful creamy spinach-y taste.

I love nettles! I cannot believe that eight days ago I was a nettle-picking virgin. My first use in nettle soup is here.

It’s Be Nice to Nettles Week soon (14 – 25 May 2008) when we stop thinking of them as nasty weeds and realise how wonderful they are.

I know nettles sting if you forget your gloves or do not use the proper ‘folding’ procedure but I do not care. The sting is not dangerous and may even be good for me.

The world faces a rice shortage so can I do my bit by eating kamut grain instead? I have selfish reasons too for I have come to love this bursting-with-health grain.

So, oscar-thanks to the universe for providing good things to eat.

Oh, and universe, while I am in prayerful mode, please knock sense into the powers-that-be to ensure food is shared more fairly and no one goes starving.

Thank you (she says, waving her metaphorical statuette in the air and leaving the stage).

Fish from Widemouth Bay

Fish soup with fish from Widemouth Bay

On Sunday I crossed counties from Devon to Cornwall. My mission: to buy fish. On a Sunday.

As I drove westward, on my right was the grey/green Atlantic ocean. But I knew its proximity did not guarantee I could buy fish landed from its waters.

We have lost the art of buying fresh fish caught locally. Most fish nowadays is sold in supermarkets. Much comes from far away and has probably been frozen.

This is the tragedy of (so-called) developed countries. The only thing which has developed is mass industrialisation. Thus fishmongers are in danger of becoming an extinct species, swallowed up in the jaws of the supermarket.

But not in Widemouth Bay. Perched above its windswept beach is Beach House Wet Fish , probably one of the best wet fish shops around. And it’s open on a Sunday (until 5.30pm).

The lovely fish lady was apologetic the local boats were not out yet this year. So, my fish came from Looe, a bit further down the coast.

All the fish and shellfish in the bowl (pic above) was bought at Widemouth Bay: the scallops, the mussels, the little red mullets perched atop (which I roasted quickly in a hot oven and added with the fried scallops right at the end of the mussels cooking in the water flavoured with a fillet of ling, fried onion and fennel, and fresh parsley and tarragon).

Here is more detail on an earlier fish soup.

The black and white bits in the above pic are actually pasta, farfalle zebra, coloured with black squid juice (the packet has not been opened for a year but this soup was the right occasion).

I am only sorry I had to drive to get there and back (one hour and a half in total) because I consider cars to be cold mean death machines that are bad for the planet as well as my soul.

Two soups – beetroot and pea

Two soups, pea and beetroot

This two-soup soup was unplanned, a happy result of making pea soup one day, and beetroot soup the next.

Full of fibre and nutrients, it has (unusual for me) no oil or butter. Here is how I did it, food fans.

First, the pea soup. I took 200g of dried split organic peas and covered them with twice their volume with water. Then I added an onion pierced with a few cloves (thank you, queen of vegetarian cooking, Rose Elliot).

Then I cooked it for 40 minutes with a level teaspoon of untreated rock salt. And that’s it! I did not even need to blend because the obedient peas went mushy all by themselves.

As for the beetroot soup, I peeled two of the violent purple things and cut them into cubes (be careful of staining!). Thinks: as the beetroot were organic, did I need to peel? Must experiment with unpeeled next time as do not wish to shortchange myself of extra vitamins oft found in the skin.

Then I added a handful of split red lentils to thicken the soup in an innocuous way. Water to cover (about two mugsful). Plus one level teaspoon of rock salt (Do see the comments here where medical herbalist Elena Renier and I talk salt).

Still on the subject of salt: who needs a silly stock cube? Its main taste comes from salt. So why not bypass the unecessary cube – with all its weird additives – and just add a level teaspoon of sea salt instead?

The lentils and beetroot took half-an-hour to become tender to my teeth. I gave them a helping hand with my power tool, the hand-held blender. This is one kitchen device I would not be without.

Thank you, universe, for letting me have easy access to electricity, unlike the global majority. I am sure there is enough to go round if we could share resources more equally. More fairness please!