Panic buying... Hendo's!

Apparently supermarket shelves up and down the country have been stripped bare over the past few days due to wallies panic buying bread, milk and soup (sorry but unless you live in the Shetland Islands or somewhere equally remote, panic buying at the hint of snow makes you a wally). 

Neil and I have been doing some panic buying of a different sort after getting up this morning to discover we'd nearly run out of Hendo's.

The hallowed sauce

Now, to anyone from South Yorkshire, this represents a very serious emergency. In fact, when we win the Lottery and get round to designing our fantasy kitchen we may well install a big red panic button that when depressed activates a siren, flashing red lights and a speaker that blasts out "WARNING, WARNING, HENDO'S LEVEL CRITICAL" in a computerised female monotone. 

For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, Henderson's Relish is a bit like Worcestershire sauce, but ten million billion squillion trillion zillion times tastier. There is quite literally nothing edible in this world that cannot be improved with a liberal splash of Hendo's. And unlike other sauces which have fish bits in them (yuk) Hendo's is veggie and vegan friendly too.

Henry Henderson first began making his relish in Sheffield in the late 19th century at 35 Broad Lane. Today it's still produced within half a mile of the site where the first bottle was filled, in a tiny factory near the city's university.

Over the years Hendo's has achieved cult-like status, no doubt partly because it's still hard to obtain outside South Yorkshire or North Derbyshire unless you order online. The company's website is full of poems and celebrity endorsements, tales of people taking their treasured bottle of the good stuff to exotic locations and even using it in their wedding cake.

Sheffield sons Sean Bean and David Blunkett like a splash on their fish'n'chips and Peter Stringfellow is reportedly a fan, although it might be best not to think about where he likes to put it! It's even been imortalised in a song by Sheffield band The Everly Pregnant Brothers. The chorus lyrics are at the bottom of this blog - not to be read if you're of a sensitive disposition.

Growing up in the area, we always had a bottle of Hendo's in the cupboard or on the table. The other "W" relish variety was a dirty word in my household. 

Venturing out into the world I usually took a bottle of Hendo's with me and made it my business to spread the legend. I spent a year working in Edinburgh at Deadline Scotland and used to take it back up north for my colleagues after every home visit. On one memorable journey I sent 18 bottles of limited edition Sheffield Wednesday Hendo's bouncing down an escalator at Manchester Airport when a carrier bag split.

I currently supply a handful of people in the Derby Telegraph office because it's easily obtainable in Chesterfield but not quite so easy 30 miles further south. When friends say "bring a bottle" they're not necessarily talking about wine!

Use the sauce!

And Neil and I have a modest shrine to the relish in our kitchen - a graphic print by Sheffield artist Jim Connolly with the mantra "use the sauce".

Things get very tense when we get to the bottom of the bottle. It's actually stocked in most major supermarkets in our area so we used to get it with our weekly shop. But this morning we ventured on in the snow to the row of shops round the corner from our house and were delighted to find it at Hasland Fruit and Flowers. 

Phew, crisis averted. We can spice up any store cupboard basics with a splash of Hendo's, so let it snow!













Hendo's by The Everly Pregnant Brothers (to be sung to the tune of Coldplay's Yellow):

F*** Worcester sauce, that s***'s no good for you...
It tastes like f***ing glue...
And it's just not Hendo's

In the market for romance

It’s amazing what you can find at a farmers’ market – cheese, meat, pies, vegetables and bread – and yesterday I even stumbled across a little bit of romance.

I was out on my lunchtime walk with a shopping list of lasagne ingredients and I ended up at the monthly Derby Farmers Market.

Derby Farmers' Market

It was a smaller affair than usual, no doubt due to the time of year and freezing weather, but there were still a few stallholders out braving the cold in impressive layers of rustic knits and fingerless gloves. 

I immediately got chatting to Mary Button, from The Really Good Cheese Company, who was really excited to hear about My Year Without Supermarkets and offered some lovely words of encouragement.

I asked her where her business was based and she nodded to the man selling pork products at the next stall along.

“With him!” she said.

It turns out Mary and the sausage seller Ashley Hedges are an item and they live together at Smith Hall farm in Hulland Ward, in Derbyshire, where they rear pigs and also have an organic field kitchen. 

“Please tell me you met at a farmers’ market?” I asked.

“We did!” she laughed. “We met here actually, at Derby Farmers’ Market, three years ago.”

And is it all romance down on the farm?

“Oh yes, very romantic,” she quipped. “Getting up at 5am to feed the pigs together!”

I bought cheddar from Mary and some organic pork and leek sausages from Ashley, who had been up since 4am to do his chores on the farm before heading down to Derby for the market. It's inspiring how much effort these farmers put into getting their produce out there and I really do think we, as consumers, should support them rather than just flocking to Tesco.

With the promise of a visit out to the farm in the spring to see the organic pigs, I moved onto another brilliant stall selling Lincolnshire Poacher Cheese.

The stallholder frankly looked freezing, but he still managed to muster enthusiasm as I told him about my challenge. I needed a block of Parmasan, which he hadn't got, but instead he gave me a taste of the next best thing - a strong cheese that his wife uses on her lasagne. When did you last have an interaction like that in a supermarket?

I finished my little shopping trip with a visit to Jack Rabbits, a brilliant cafe/deli/food store in Queen Street that offers loads of different cheeses, pickles, locally-produced jams, artisan breads, a few veggies, eggs and other bits besides.

I bought mozzarella and butter, which Julie, one of the owners, described as "really creamy", but unfortunately they didn't have any creme freiche. I was really impressed by how helpful the staff were though. After checking that there wasn't any left in the shop next door, I was told that a delivery was expected and I could ring the shop at any time and they would happily set something aside or order something or me.

Fast forward to this lunchtime and I took them up on the offer, and telephoned to see if the ellusive CF had arrived (lazy I know but it's a 20 minute walk from my office and it's snowing!). Julie called me back to say that it had so I've just been to collect it, and bought some nice sourdough bread in case we really do get hit by snowmageddon this weekend and I can't get out. It's panic buying non-supermarket-stylee!

Produce from the farmers' market

It’s the little interactions like this that make avoiding the supermarkets so worthwhile and enjoyable. I'm now back in the office with a very cold nose, but filled with warmth thanks to all the lovely people I’ve met. Forget 2013 - this challenge is good for the soul. It may be a resolution for life!