Category Archives: rant

Photo-shoot me

Me taking a pic of strange sleek me

I am interrupting this food blog to talk about my photo shoot. Here I am (see pic) looking strangely sleek with straightened hair and make-up. Even my mother did not recognise me when she saw me.

The backstory: I gave my ‘how I recovered from a slipped disc with the help of the Alexander technique‘ to a journo-friend for a woman’s magazine.

Next thing, the magazine rung me. Would I take part in a photo shoot with the two other female interviewees who’d survived injury? “Yes,” I said eagerly. It sounded relaxing and glamorous to be passive and preened for a change.

Everyone was a darling and on one level it was fun to play dressing-up; highly seductive to be a nano-star for a few hours for a Condé Nast publication…

But once the excitement was over, and I watched my unfamiliar shadow on the lamplit winter streets of west London, I kept thinking: “They straightened my hair” in a disbelieving way.

Pre-1967, everyone had to have straight hair. Everyone. My elder sister used to iron hers.  Then along came the musical Hair and overnight it became acceptable – indeed groovy – to have springy, wiry, untamed, natural hair.

I have always been grateful that my formative years were spent in Swinging London. I could embrace my ethnic curls, unmade-up face, hairy legs etc. No one made me feel bad about them. In fact they made me feel good!

But the status-quo soon reasserted itself and woe betide a female star with hairy armpits. Because, the thing is, girls, there is a multi-billion industry at stake: the beauty industry.

At my photo-shoot, more time was spent on on make-up and hair than the actual photographs. That meant an awful lot of Products; I have never had so many applied in one go. I became a walking chemical factory, as I fell in with some unwritten plan to look like ‘a woman’. I looked more sophisticated but I felt like a man in drag. (My mum said I looked harder and – note – older.)

Like an apple in a supermarket, I had to be sprayed with hundreds of chemicals before anyone would buy me.

Oh dear. Do I sound ungracious and ungrateful? In other words, unwomanly?

elisabeth-by-dan-stevens-cropped-again elisabeth-winkler-twitter-crop

March 2009 – and here is the article in this month’s Easy Living

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Bread to breast

Breastfeeding an infant

Image via Wikipedia

My first blog competition yielded two entrants and both were stunners.

I asked: “food bloggers, what is your favourite real food? Its tastes are enticing but not from a laboratory and it nourishes as nature intended.”

The prize? A DVD of the Austrian documentary, Our Daily Bread. I had organised its London premiere in October 2006 at the Institut Français on behalf of the Soil Association and the Guild of Food Writers. My brilliant colleague, Craig Sams, kindly introduced it. Our Daily Bread records the drama of industrial food production, without comment and with a keen eye for beauty in the wierdest places.

I am sending this DVD to Helen who wrote a superb winning post at her food blog, Haddock in the Kitchen. She brought all the issues in the film to life but with a hopeful spin.

Choosing bread as her favourite real food, Helen, who lives in rural France, explained how the local boulangeries are in danger of dying out and how “the ubiquitous sliced loaf is enjoying an increasingly high profile on supermarket shelves”.

However the country’s lively food culture won’t take this lying down and the French (who have hung on their flour mills unlike the Brits) are taking home-baking to heart: “There are literally mountains of bread machines for sale in every supermarket – with a price to suit every pocket,” writes Helen.

Helen explains how best to use a bread machine; she uses hers to mix and prove the dough, and her beloved Aga to bake it in.

My second entrant is Kate from A Merrier World whose post takes us on an info-packed journey, starting with the importance of play. This is how children learn: with touch and smell and feeling free to be creative. (My favourite way to learn too!).

Kate describes how home-baking provides those early sensory impressions hopefully laying the firm foundation for adult confidence in the kitchen.

I am sending Kate mix. by James McIntosh, the home economist on a mission to get us all cooking again by giving the quantities and instructions needed for everyday recipes.

Taking up my theme of how processed food is laced with cheap additives, Kate tells the story of the dangerous misuse of melamine to make food seem more protein-filled. She ends by reporting on the return to breastfeeding to avoid such contaminants.

Breastfeeding is a powerful example of a natural, real and healthy food that has been replaced by a money-making alternative.

Women are under great pressure not to breastfeed and those complex reasons are analysed in one of my top-favourite book, The Politics of Breastfeeding – when breasts are bad for business, by Gabrielle Palmer.

But then women can also feel under pressure if they want to  breastfeed and it did not work out. So this is no guilt-trip!

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Schadenfreude at the Sunshine café

There was a huge outcry when BBC entertainers, Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand, went too far with their overgrown-schoolboy humour.

I confess, I am finding their hubris more entertaining than their shows, hence my schadenfreude-shiver. Why am I so lacking in compassion for these two?

I’ll tell you why: because Ross and Brand are paid huge salaries from taxpayers’ money.

A ridiculous pyramid structure rewards the very few at the very top with obscene amounts of money. Meanwhile many performers of equal talent get overlooked and underpaid.

The BBC turns out excellent programmes that – true to the corporation’s original mission – educate, inform and entertain. Yet over the last few years, their budgets have been slashed.

I drown my sorrows at the Sunshine cafe in Westward Ho! which has a Gaggia coffee machine, is open until 10pm and serves eggs are from a local farmer.

Think how many wonderful performers we could pay with the sums saved from Ross and Brand’s salaries!

Let’s hope the BBC has the guts to do so.

Do you think there’s fresh talent is out there?

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Blog08 and the importance of self-expression

http://www.annehelmond.nl/2008/10/24/the-crowd-interviews-and-the-endless-debate-of-journalism-versus-blogging

That’s me in the spotlight, holding the mike. How did I end up on stage at Blog08?

Great conference, lively, entertaining and informative – but why were all the speakers, except for one, male?

It’s a fair question and one I could not help voicing. So, when charismatic compere, Patrick de Laive, introduced the afternoon panel, I asked from the floor (front row): “More guys?”

And got me a spontaneous invite to join the boys on stage.

It was a blogging moment. Express yourself – you never know who is listening and where it will lead.

Jamie Oliver – the real thing

I once sat in a room with Jamie Oliver for two and a half hours as he gave five interviews on the trot to the Scottish media. Whether explaining his passion for organic food to a reporter, or pacing the small room in-between bouts, Jamie seemed comfortably himself.

It was 2004, and Jamie hinted his next step was to do something with school meals. I escorted him through the university building where the Soil Association was holding its annual conference (stop press: our next conference is in Bristol this coming November). As he passed the book stall, Jamie bought twenty pounds worth of books on organic farming. We shook hands and I have to report – this guy is for real. He exudes natural warmth and spontaneity.

Now he is on television teaching Rotherham how to cook. And I love him.

The TV show tonight could not have packed-in more touching scenes. Julie used to live on crisps and chocolate – now she cooks healthy fresh dinners. The miner who found food teaches fellow miners how to stir-fry. Stereotypes fall away. So-called feckless single mothers and ‘real’ men, the stuff of tabloid headlines, absorb Jamie’s lessons – eager to learn, brimming with untapped talents.

Jamie takes his inspiration from the wartime Ministry of Food – Marguerite Patten reminds Jamie “the Ministry never lectured…cooking has to be pleasurable.” Wise advice but pity we have to wait for a disaster to get people changing their behaviour.

Such as the obesity crisis that Jamie graphically illustrates when he drops by the hospital to see Julie’s scan (and the baby she might call after him). There is a hoist and equipment that costs £60,000 to help care for extremely obese people. Clinically-fat people who do not need to suffer if – as the NHS medics insist – they had learnt to cook from scratch from the start.

Jamie gets a thousand people together in one go for a mass cook-in. He is working on the theory of passing it on. If I learn a recipe and pass it on to five people then – do the maths. I marvel at the cheffy dishes he chooses for people who have never cooked before: flattening chicken breasts pressed with parma ham.  His chief ingredients are chilli, ginger and garlic to get everything tasty – top tips to pass on.

His Rotherham experiment is part of revolution, with cooks as guerilla fighters in the war against junk food.

[I changed ‘part of’ from ‘beginning of’ following Sarah Beattie‘s comment because she‘s right: there’s unseen work going on, which is precariously-funded.]

My recipe: I put flat mushrooms with slivered garlic under a grill, brushed them with olive oil top and bottom so they would not burn. When they had softened, I added a slice or two of camembert cheese that took five minutes to melt. I piled the mushrooms on wholemeal toast and served them with grated carrots and mustard leaves snipped from my potted salad plants.

I hope Jamie would be proud of me.

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Meeting Gordon Brown

Last week I left my cosy brown rice world (centre) for that of Gordon Brown’s (right pic). An invite from the prime minister was hard to resist. I was not alone. A hundred other members of the British Society of Magazine Editors turned up at number 10 Downing Street for the reception.

The prime minister’s short talk featured self-deprecating anecdotes.

I’d heard him tell some before at a previous reception also organised by the society.

April 2007. After his talk, Gordon Brown, then-chancellor, went on a fifteen-minute steered-mingle round the packed reception room. I introduced myself.

“Elisabeth Winkler from the Soil Association. We were disappointed you did not include agriculture in your green budget.”

I explained how organic farming reduces farming’s carbon footprint because it bans the use of oil-guzzling artificial fertiliser.

He changed the subject by commenting on the growth of farmers’ markets. I furnished him with a figure: farmers’ markets now number over 500. He nodded, echoing the stat.

The trick in these conversations is not to wait for Gordon to give encouraging nods and smiles. You have to deliver your message regardless.

Fast forward to last week – I failed to listen to my own advice. I only got to press his flesh and give my name and rank.

I really wanted to say: if you want an easy win, Gordon, forget GM. It’s uneconomical for farmers and unpopular with the British public.

But I fell under his spell and let him pass.  Listen, I can’t be superwoman all the time.

In his talk, Gordon Brown’s only mention of the current financial crisis was to tell us to blame the Treasury if we did not like the wine (joke). Despite the prime minister’s unwillingness to engage in the topic – and William Green, editor of Time Europe, tried hard enough – the credit crunch cropped up in every other conversation I had.

Several editors asked me if the recession would affect organic farming’s future.

I said organic farming sales had not faltered in the last recession; indeed Green & Black’s organic chocolate launched during that dire time.

And another thing, I continued, food prices are linked to oil. The price of organic food has the potential to become lower than non-organic food because organic farming uses less energy than non-organic farming.

Then I skedaddled down the road to Central Hall, Westminster, where the Soil Association’s new president, Monty Don, was giving the charity’s annual lecture in memory of its 1946 founder, Lady Eve Balfour.

Lady Eve was a cool cat who believed in caring for Mother Earth. She set about proving organic farming is better for the soil than agrichemicals. Food should be eaten as close to its source as possible, she said. Way to go.

Monty Don encouraged us to become organic vegetable gardeners. You can’t get more local than that.

Afterwards, in the Soil Association reception (organic wine, this time) several growers expressed concern that Monty’s message undervalues their skills. It’s the opposite for me: trying (failing) to grow veg has made me value the farmers more than ever.

Monty Don has reservations about the word organic, calling it “an albatross”. He is good with words (I headhunted him for Living Earth, the Soil Association magazine). Later I found myself at the bar with Monty and his wife Sarah. I said: “It’s not the word that’s the problem but the bad press associated with it. Like feminism,” I added (as a feminist).

Monty said the word ‘organic’ can make people feel guilty.

Is organic a good or bad word?

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GM? No way, no thanks

First, an advert for healthy eating brought to you by Earthmother productions. Worried about your health? Eat organic and for colour! Nature has kindly colour-coordinated its plant nutrients so you can mix-and-match. Step forward orange carotenoids for vitamin A production and purple and deeply-green antioxidants for cell-restoration.

If the veg is organic you get more antioxidants for your money. Here’s why: if you spray a plant with pesticides (which is how most western food is grown), then its ability to produce antioxidants is decreased. Antioxidants are the fighting army that protect a plant from pests and there are more in organic food because the organic plant gets to keep its antioxidant army. Fade on ad.

And the UK government wants to re-open the GM debate! Crikey, as if we don’t have enough to contend with just trying to grow a few unsprayed organic veg.

GM crops are modified in a lab to tolerate a herbicide (weed killer) or produce an insecticide (insect killer). Farmers have to buy the GM seed and the proprietary pesticide (umbrella term for herbicide, insecticide and fungicide).

If GM seeds or pollen arrive accidentally on a field, GM companies can sue farmers for patent-infringement. California voted to protect farmers against such lawsuits in August. It’s more fair if the polluter-company pays for GM contamination, as the Welsh Assembly government proposes – and not the hapless farmer.

The pro-GM marketing spin says GM can feed the world – how selfish of me to stop a technology that saves the hungry! But it’s a lie. There are no GM crops designed to help the poor. The current GM crops are engineered for insect and weed-spraying – not to improve yields, vitamin A, drought-prevention or any of the other mythical scenarios dreamed up by well-meaning but misguided press officers.

The (so-called) environment minister, Phil Woolas, said people like me have a year to prove GM is unsafe.

A body of evidence is growing; the ill-health effects on animals is well-documented. But the fact is the science has not been done. Commercial planting of GM especially in the US has pushed ahead regardless.  Listen, there has only been one trial published worldwide on humans eating GM food. And that showed worrying results.

I think we need more science on the health effects of GM.

And, Woolas – it’s not up to me to provide it.

On a gentler note: the ingredients for supper came from Better Food organic supermarket, which also grew the organic veg 12 miles away. The chard was steamed, the carrots grated and the beetroot, cut very small, was – new discovery – pan-fried in olive oil for 20 minutes with sliced onion. Served on a bed of brown rice; 1 mug of rice to 2 mugs of water, simmered for 30 minutes – enough for two, and a rice salad the next day.

Starhawk and pot luck

It’s not every day you meet a witch. The American pagan peace activist and writer Starhawk was giving a workshop on a nearby farm. We all bought a vegetarian offering for the shared lunch (see above).

Food brings people together and if everyone brings a dish, it’s not hard work to feed 30. The tastes may be pot luck but they miraculously get on well.

Starhawk shared with us some magical methods for keeping our spirits up while saving the world. She said, try to be in nature every day for fifteen minutes. Take time to wonder at how that leaf falls or green shoots burst out of a cracked pavement, and use your physical senses to ground you.

Radford Mill Farm was the perfect setting. We closed our eyes and heard the wind in the trees and the birds, calling. We opened them and walked barefoot on the wet grass. We felt the sun on our backs and saw the sky. I felt like a cooped-up chicken allowed to go free range.

Green activists live with the doom-reality of an impending environmental crisis but they are remarkably upbeat, probably because they are doing something to make the world a better place.

Starhawk’s talk was organised by Sarah Pugh, the Transition Bristol maven. Transition Culture is about getting self-sufficient so when supermarket shelves are empty and petrol pumps are dry, we have by this time learnt to grow our own veg (and guard our allotments from the marauding hordes?).

Our vegetables will have to be organic when oil is scarce. Non-organic farming relies on oil to make chemical fertiliser in factories. As oil prices rise, so does the cost of food. Organic farming has no need for gallons of oil. It makes its fertiliser on the farm, courtesy of the sun.

Radford Mill Farm is converting to organic and is set on making it a community affair. The official term is Community Supported Agriculture (CSA for those in the know). Originally from the US, it’s about sharing a farm’s responsibilities – and rewards. You commit in advance, with cash or in kind, and in return get a share of the harvest.

When the going gets tough, we will need our family farms more than ever. Adopt one now!

Below is a picture of Starhawk listening to Siobhan, a co-founder of Tribe of Doris, the UK’s most prestigious cultural festival. Here’s a tip for keeping cheerful: if you want to learn to dance or play music and can live under canvas for a convivial few days over the Bank Holiday weekend, then that’s the festival for you. (And don’t forget Climate Camp next week).

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

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