Tesco fiasco

Yesterday Bristol City Council appeared to give Tesco what it wanted – planning permission for its red, white and blue shop front in OUR amazing and unique Stokes Croft.

Tesco does NOT however have permission to open a shop on Stokes Croft – see clarification below. (And my post after this)

After a rally (above), free food and music, over 200 supporters of the No Tesco in Stokes Croft trooped into the Council house.

Claire, Rachel and Sam – who have been working on this campaign for seven months and were representing over 2,000 people – got 7.5 minutes each to speak. I got 3 minutes. You need Internet Explorer to watch proceedings here.

Then we descended into two hours of planning law hell where we were actually banned from asking questions, or even pointing at a document that someone held aloft (we were only trying to be helpful as councillors did not seem to know the relevant page number).

At one point, the chair shhhhhed us, as if we were naughty children.

Not responsible citizens who care enough about our community to take a whole day out of our lives to sit in Council chambers.

Here is what struck me.

Tesco power.

Its shameless abuse of power.

Tesco steamrollers local councils all over the country, according to the Daily Mail.

Yesterday I saw it with my own eyes.

The horrible thing is does Tesco not have to do anything, or even turn up.

The stick Tesco wields is the fear that Tesco might appeal against a planning decision, costing local taxpayers’ money.

Tesco can afford a legal appeal – peanuts to the mighty corporate that makes nearly £3.5 billion a year.

The councillors could have ignored their planning officer – as they did in North Norfolk.  Tesco might not have appealed – Stokes Croft is already a Tesco PR nightmare.

But our council bowed to the bully.

Yesterday we saw the unedifying site of planning officers doing Tesco’s bidding.  And councillors – despite asking all the right concerned questions – voting for it.

The other thing I saw with my very eyes was how Tesco’s underhand trick of using a third-party to apply for planning permission worked.

Let me explain.

Last September 2009  Tesco applied for the premises in Stokes Croft to be turned from a comedy club to a shop. But sneakily – using a third-party.

Thus change-of-use to a shop was granted without anyone being aware that “shop” actually meant a Tesco store.

Here is how this dreadful trick worked in Tesco’s favour:

Yesterday in Bristol City’s council house, we expressed concerns about how a Tesco would increase traffic.  At least 42 deliveries a week can be expected on a street with a cycle lane. And how will a huge lorry negotiate the one-track cobblestoned Picton Lane?

However these genuine concerns for threats to life-and-limb were not considered significant. Why?

Because they were part-and-parcel of the “change-of-use to shop” decision back in September 2009.

i.e. based on the lie that the proposed Tesco store was an ordinary local shop.

This is a Tesco planning fiasco.

Clarification: The Council granted two applications yesterday – 1) shop front and 2) illuminated signage – with conditions such as wooden lettering. So the applications must return for Council approval.

The third application re external works was postponed until a noise assessment has been done.

In other words, Tesco does NOT have planning permission to open.

I repeat: Tesco does NOT have planning permission to open.

Organic Food Festival 2010, Bristol

The Soil Association Organic Food Festival (see Demo kitchen above) now in its tenth year, lifts my spirits.

“79% of food we buy comes from just four shops,” says Real Food Festival’s Philip Lowery at the launch of Europe’s biggest organic food market.

The Organic Food Festival showcases real food producers who cannot be shoehorned into the supermarket-system, with its gargantuan requirement for uniformity.

After a week objecting to a multi-billion-backed Tesco (39th store in Bristol) in Stokes Croft, this is just what I need to revive my flagging spirits.

Somerset Organic Link displays freshly-harvested vegetables grown in carbon-rich organic soil without polluting the land with nitrate fertiliser.

And a variety of pumpkins you won’t find in a supermarket.

Better Food Company (a 20 minutes walk from the proposed Tesco) has a field outside Bristol supplying the shop with much of its seasonal local organic produce.

Better Food’s Community Farm is open to all, including helping in return for a share of the harvest.

I buy a spelt loaf from the Bertinet Bakery based in Bath.

Bertinet Bakery were exhilarated having just been awarded a Soil Association Organic Food award for Baked Goods by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall at the awards ceremony held earlier that day in At-bristol.

The theme of this year’s Organic Fortnight is Choose Organic Everyday.

According to the latest Soil Association market report on the recession-hit 2009, 33% of organic purchases are now made by shoppers including manual and casual workers, students, pensioners and people on benefits.

In other words, recession or not, people care about healthy food, where it comes from and how it was grown.

Some organic businesses in common with many non-organic ones were hurt by the recession – overall a near 13% decline in 2009 organic sales.

But  others resisted the downward trend: organic milk sales were up 1%, organic baby food up 21%. By 2010 UK farmland that is organic rises above 5% for the first time.

Junk food high in cheap fat, sugar and additives, or chickens raised in giant sheds  never seeing natural daylight – these are the product of an industrialised and centralised food system that profits shareholders – not the consumer.

Tesco and the other three supermarkets control over three-quarters of our food. They seek market-dominance and make vast profits – Tesco’s profits increased 12% in half-year profits to £1.6bn. [October 2010 figures added after blog was posted].

Supermarkets promise cheapness but it’s an illusion.

The costs are externalised – in other words, they are picked up elsewhere: rivers polluted by farm chemicals are cleaned by taxpayers’ money; obesity from eating junk food is paid for by the NHS. Farmers are squeezed; animals farmed inhumanely.

A shopping survey in Stokes Croft – the Bristol area currently fighting off a Tesco – shows food is cheaper in the local shops than Tesco Express.

Devon-based Riverford farm’s monthly price comparisons show the organic fruit and veg in its delivery box is on average 20% cheaper than supermarkets.

Can you imagine a world where the only food you can buy comes from industrialised food systems?

(Well, that is if oil supplies remain steady because if not we will be stuffed if we are relying on only four suppliers ferrying in food from afar).

Another – local organic – world is possible.

PS Thanks to Juliet Wilson for encouraging this post.

PPS Deadline for objecting to Tesco in Stokes Croft: 14 September.

Why I object to Tesco in Stokes Croft, Bristol

On Tuesday I ate (well) in Zazu’s Kitchen in the cultural quarter of Stokes Croft.

A unique area featuring street art from vintage Banksy
to up-to-the-minute street art attracting visitors from far and wide including Italian food blogger, Jasmine.

“93% of local people say NO to Tesco in Stokes Croft,” says the fresh notice on Stokes Croft’s  creative response to street drinking, Turbo Island.

How many Tescos does a city need? There are already 38 Tescos in Bristol according to Tesco – and two within five minutes of the proposed site.

Tesco picked the wrong place to wield its corporate takeover of the high street when it set its sights on the eighteenth-century building at 138-142 Cheltenham Road in Stokes Croft.

Using an intermediary (to deflect suspicion?), it bought the lease on Jesters comedy club and applied for change-of-use to shop in November 2009.

Apparently, one Bristol City councillor said: had he known it was Tesco applying, he would not have agreed. But the application got passed, unnoticed.

Thus Tesco infiltrated the heartland of Stokes Croft, as part of its taking advantage of the recession master-plan. What a double-win for Tesco: cheapness and take-over. The more shops Tesco has, the less competition.

Local shops cannot compete against a supermarket’s marketing millions. Hello supermarket means goodbye local family businesses.

Stokes Croft happens to bring together a powerful group of people: freethinkers, food activists and artists. The area’s independent shops offer a wealth of cultural diversity and quality food – including a long-established Italian delicatessen and organic farm shop – and community.

People know each other and help each other.

The local shops have an informal agreement not to sell cheap-as-dirt super-strength alcohol – the liver-rotting stuff supermarkets sell. It will be the beginning of the end if Tesco moves in.

As Joni Mitchell sung in the Sixties: “They paved Paradise and put up a parking lot… You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”

There is still time to stop the juggernaut. All Bristolians have a right to object.

It’s true that current planning laws do not allow a Council to protect its own local shops as the Channel 4 Dispatches documentary: Tesco – the supermarket eating Britain – shows.

However the formal objection process against a shop front still gives plenty of scope for voicing concerns. Tesco front store branding promises cheapness but is a lie. Our local shops are cheaper than Tesco Express, according to a local survey.

I am helping run workshops to help people write their letters. We all need encouragement. I know I did.

The No Tesco in Stokes Croft campaignwebsite has a template letter to email to Bristol City Council. Copy and paste, then top-and-tail with a list of your concerns and your postal address.

The deadline for emailing your objection is the 14 September 2010.

I have also sent my written statement asking to speak at the planning committee on 22 September at Bristol City Council on College Green.

There will be a party on College Green from 12.30 – 2.00pm to celebrate our campaign. Whatever happens, our fight for fair planning laws has just begun.

Navajo tea

Back in the UK, sipping Navajo tea from the greenthread plant.

Crystal had told me about the tea – organic greenthread tea grown near Gallup.

I could not stay for Gallup’s farmers’ market to get some but, luckily, on our way back from the Navajo nation to Flagstaff, I found greenthread tea at a gas station on Route 66.

See the packet of Yanabah tea in the pic above, a shot taken on my first day back in the UK, plus homecoming flowers.

Tonight I sit at home sipping Yanabah tea.

I love the taste, reminds me of nettle tea. Like European nettles, greenthread grow wild, its strength-giving properties still intact.

The warmth and strength of Navajo tea sipped in England connects me to my summer in the US, and two conversations I don’t want to forget.

We visited Anna Rondon on the Navajo reservation in New Mexico with my sister and her husband. Several years ago they had made a film on depleted uranium featuring Anna Rondon, the chair of the Navajo Green Economy mission.

Bear with me while I explain about depleted uranium: a by-product of refining uranium ore, which has been mined in the Navajo nation, it causes radioactive hell for the people of Iraq, Afghanistan and the US and UK military.

A green economy provides the Navajo nation with alternative employment to cancer-causing uranium ore mining.

Back to my visit: So here I am in New Mexico for the first time in my life and I have been cooped up in a car or house since leaving Flagstaff that morning.

“I need to go out for a stroll,” I say.

Anna’s daughter, Crystal, gives me directions from the residential street to nearby open land on a rock.

I feel English and befuddled.

Crystal patiently explains: “Follow the trail.”

Then she adds: “Sometimes we make our own trail.”

On the rock, I feel like a child allowed out to play.

“Sometimes we make our own trail”. Stays in my mind.

I leave the stony path feeling brave. I only take a ten-minute detour but feels like the start of a good practice.

That was the first conversation I don’t want to forget.

The next day Anna Rondon takes us to a Sun Dance in the heart of the nation.

On the way she tells me more about her work building an eco-economy for the nation. New Mexico has the resources to make solar power work all the year round.

She does not use the word “sustainable” to describe her work. On purpose.

I rejoice – I have always disliked that word because a) it has too many syllables b) no one really knows what it means.

We both agree – “sustainable” has become a meaningless word co-opted by corporations to improve their image.

Instead Anna Rondon uses the Dine (Navajo) term to describe how to make a living in harmony with the earth: lifeways.

Native American lifeways have been inspiring the green movement for decades.

So, that is the second conversation I don’t want to forget.

Top Chef DC – real-life reality food


Back in the UK.

Blog-mind filled with unwritten posts.

Like that Tuesday in Washington DC.

We’d been on the Amtrak train since 5.30am Sunday morning

– passed Gallup and our Dine (Navajo) friends (another blog to come)

– woke that morning in Kansas station where I stretched my legs in the light and sun

– ate three meals a day in the dining car and watched Amerika‘s gigantic land roll by.

Planned to do the tourist thing at Washington DC.

Its railway station heralded grandeur.

But by the time we reached our hostel, we were exhausted.

After two days of train-rocking, all we wanted was stillness.

A night-in.

What a night-in!

Turned out we were in the funkiest hostel in the funkiest part of town.

On a empty parking lot, surrounded by modern neighbours, the 19th century wood-panelled brick house with sash windows (first sash windows in six weeks of US travel!) that had belonged to the National Advancement of Colored People.

To add to the hostel’s homeliness, a shared (modern, paint-white) kitchen.

A good place for gossip: a TV journalist showed us a picture on his phone of David Cameron’s visit that day to the White House.

While cooking my staple stand-by, brown rice, I found a unopened packet of interesting Indian spices and spinach from Trader Joe’s. A previous guest had labelled it: “to share”.

I debated with myself: was it selfish or unselfish to use it?

A young Danish guest urged me to. He said I reminded him of his mother, also a brown rice ex-hippy. (And like my children would have done, encouraging me to think of myself).

Enter the hostel manager, Kevin, who turned out to be a would-be blogger for the hostel (and I about to give a social media workshop when I got back to the UK) and into real food.

So we shared the brown rice and spicy spinach, and Kevin invented a crunchy-soft topping of avocado and peanut butter. Like most home concoctions, its looks belie its taste.

Since arriving in the US, six weeks before, I had been watching reality TV show, Top Chef DC, marvelling how the US,  as mired as the UK in obesity and junk food, is as obsessed as the UK with food on TV.

Now I was in the foodie capital, eating the kind of spontaneous, messy, healthy, tasty concoction I would eat at home.

And here’s a picture of my bowl of porridge the next morning – real-life reality food, and my take on Top Chef DC.

Thank you, Capital View.

Carrot cake at the Grand Canyon

I ask the Grand Canyon rancher: “What is the trail for the scaredy-cats with no heads for heights?”

Nonplussed, she sends us to the start of the Bright Angel trail.

Looks steep and scary to me.

I do not dare take in the view. Just focus on my feet.

Try to ignore the images of pitching headlong over the edge which my mind is generously supplying.

We see a zag of lightning.

Thunder hollers in the canyon.

Anxiety about heat exhaustion (it was 100 degrees when we started) is replaced by fear of being struck by lightning.

Fat plops of rain fall.

When we reach the Mile-and-a-half shelter, I am soaked. Chilly.

Three US students and a  family from Amsterdam are also sheltering. We commiserate over Holland losing the World Cup.

The students have been hiking since early morning.

They witnessed a helicopter rescue for a hiker with a scorpion bite. The helicopter took six hours to arrive, the rancher two.

Not enough money, say the students. The Grand Canyon is feeling the recession.

The rain stops.

We set off on our return journey up the trail.

Miraculously, my mind is no longer furnishing scenes of disaster.

I am no longer hugging the side of the rock.

I am taking in the view. And stride.  A miracle.

Time for the carrot cake’s photo-shoot (see pic above).

I baked it the night before, amalgamating and adjusting several recipes found on the web for the simplest.

Here it is before I forget it.

Whisk five small eggs (or four big ones) with 1+1/4 cups of sugar and 1+1/4 of organic coconut oil

Fold in 2 cups of organic flour and 2 teaspoons of cinnamon.

Plus 3 cups of grated organic carrot and some cut-up raisins.

Bake in a greased loaf tin for 1 hour at 350 degrees.

Insert a knife to check it is not wet when withdrawn. If wet, the cake is not sufficiently cooked.

Because of the high altitude (7,000 feet) of Flagstaff, the cake took another twenty minutes.

I concocted a separate topping of whisked organic tofu, lime juice and organic agave nectar (the un-organic kind is highly processed and not worth it).

The topping did not come with us to the Grand Canyon.

Unlike the brave carrot cake, that did.

You can’t beat US home cooked food

The US Asia bus from Las Vegas (hot tip: cheaper than the Greyhound) drops me on the outskirts of Los Angeles, at Monterey Park.

I buy a new watch strap and a refreshing green tea with succulent mango seeds from one of the many local Chinese shops.

I ask directions for downtown LA, using my rudimentary Spanish as the lady I ask speaks no English.

Poor people, and workers, on the no 70 bus. I am minority White. Everyone helpful and polite.

Downtown LA with its impressive skyscrapers.

After catching another bus, stressed from travelling in a strange land, I am picked up by my Servas host.

Servas was started after the Second World War to promote peace and understanding amongst nations.

Suddenly, I am whisked to heaven – yoga in the garden, fine wines on the veranda, then supper with soul conversations.

I realise that most of the food I have been eating in the US has been ethnic: Thai, Chinese or Indian.

This is my first taste of traditional American food.

Home cooked, with ingredients from the local farmers’ markets, it is superb.

Traditional July 4 food: barbecued and succulent spare ribs, homemade watermelon rind pickle, refrigerator cucumber pickle (Midwest speciality) and – officially – the best coleslaw I have ever tasted – courtesy of Angie’s father with spicy cayenne and refreshing parsley and cilantro.

The pudding: seasonal cherries picked that day by Angie in Leona valley, a nearby microclimate defying the Californian desert. Plus apricots, a blob of creme fraiche, and the most elegantly thin wholemeal pastry (a feat as such pastry is usually cludgy).

Bless you, Angie and Hans, for giving me sanctuary.

Vardo, Venice

I walk the boardwalk from Santa Monica to Venice.

The sky is overcast (yummy, just like home in England). The locals call it June gloom.

I am hungry but nothing takes my fancy.

It looks touristy and, well, not real food.

I can’t get this restaurant out of my head that I had passed earlier.

The sign had said: ethnic, vegan, vegetarian…

I don’t like retracing my steps, or leaving the ocean.

But I am glad I did.

It is rare to find somewhere where I want to eat every dish on the menu.

This is the place for me.

An oasis. Delicate flavours, vegan and vegetarian delights, raw food desserts and all ingredients organic.

I had the aromatic gently spicy dhal and spinach curries and salad, beautifully dressed with homemade vinaigrette.

followed by this sweetheart of raw chocolate with fresh mint and coconut filling.

Vardo means gypsy in Roma.

And suited this gypsy queen down to the ground.

Food I eat in the US

Leaving Las Vegas

on the US Asia bus (tip: cheaper than Greyhound bus).

I have my bag of provisions from New Frontiers. Organic roasted cashews, plums, bananas, chocolate almonds.

I had oatmeal porridge for breakfast in the Sahara hotel and casino on the Strip.

My palatial room with en-suite was only $28 a night. I could live cheaply in Las Vegas.

The vast lobby filled with a 100 gambling machines holds no temptation.

Nor does the food.

It is plentiful alright. But nothing I want.

I am in the land of GM.

No labelling on food. No choice.

My list of food I don’t want includes:
anything with corn in it – one of the native American ‘three sisters’, it is a prime victim of genetic modification.

That cuts out a lot including, sadly, tortillas.

I don’t want to be fussy about food.

But I know too much.

I can’t unknow that cattle are pumped with grain and hormones, or shrimp is laced with antibiotics, or the gene to resist the weedkiller Roundup Ready has been inserted into the corn plant’s cells.

Plus my delicate digestion is like a canary down a mine.

I had a rice drink in my first week from a cafe. Rice sounded nice. But the next day my bowels knew it. I think it was the high-fructose corn syrup.

As the US food writer, Michael Pollan, says:

If it comes from a plant, eat it, if it was made in a plant don’t.

I am in the land of the overfed – and I am losing weight.

How ironic.

PS Just after writing this moany blog,  the bus stopped mid-desert. I eschewed McDonald’s and plumped for Chinese fast food. Joy! I rate Panda Express.

God bless farmers’ markets

So here I am in the land of fast food.

Food is not only about how it tastes when you eat it.

–  food technologists can make food taste good.

But how did the food taste before the additives were added?

And how does it feel in your gut after you have eaten?

Fast food ruins my digestion. To be avoided at all costs.

Thank god for fresh food at Flagstaff farmers’ market

Above – fresh organic beets and chard from Seacat Gardens.

And Flagstaff farmer’s market now accepts food stamps.

– thanks, Kennedy, for that hot-off-the-press info.

Praise-be for Community Shared Agriculture too.

Such as Crooked Sky Farms

where you can give your labour in exchange for a share in the harvest.

Community Shared Agriculture – like fast food – originated in the United States.

Ah, complex beautiful country, providing both the problems

and the cutting-edge solutions!