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!

Meet your meat (or at least your butcher)

So the supermarkets have hit the headlines today for all the wrong reasons, with reports that traces of horse meat have been found in low-cost beef burgers.

I was chatting to my pal Bill the butcher this morning and he said the stories hadn’t surprised him; the only way you can really know where you meat is coming from (and indeed - what it is!) is to find a reputable local butcher and ask questions about the produce. The supermarkets and their suppliers now operate on a scale so large that accountability is difficult.

But hang on a sec, how can a person who doesn’t eat meat weigh into this debate? And just what is a vegetarian doing being on friendly terms with a butcher?

The answer to the first point is that there are both carnivores and herbivores in my household – with myself and the rabbit representing the veggies, and my boyfriend, cat and snake flying the flag for the meat eaters. So I’m well-used to buying chicken, sausages and mince alongside my Quorn.

And I’ve known Bill the butcher for almost 20 years because he and his wife Christine, son Phillip and Phil's wife Sonia run Dunston Park Farm in Derbyshire – a business that includes a farm shop and equestrian centre offering livery and dressage training. My elderly horse is one of the pampered equine residents, which adds a nice irony to the situation. While some suppliers are allegedly putting bits of horse into their burgers, I’m relying on a butcher to look after mine!

But perhaps this is what makes Bill such a good butcher – he and his family are massive animal lovers and welfare is at the top of their agenda.

Despite this though I hang my head in shame as I confess that before I started my challenge to avoid the supermarkets I was not a regular customer at the farm shop. Instead I bought most of our meat at Tesco.

Why? Well the usual reasons really.... price, convenience, and I suppose a natural vegetarian aversion to the meat counter. I wanted my meat to be cheap, cheerful and handily packaged so I didn’t have to think too much about where it came from.

Clearly this has to change.

Dunston Farm Shop

Dunston's farm shop, it has to be said, is every vegetarian’s worst nightmare. There’s a huge counter piled high with glistening bits of animal.

But Bill has been delightedly welcoming me into the shop since my resolution started and loudly telling other customers that he’s going to be the man to get me eating meat again.

During this morning’s visit we start chatting about today's news and he is adamant that strict regulations mean any business selling meat SHOULD know exactly where it comes from.

Records are kept from the time an animal is born. Tags are put into the animal's ears and paperwork has to be filled out when that animal changes hands or goes for slaughter.

I ask Bill if he knows where his meat is from and he nods emphatically, opens his arms wide and gestures towards his counter.

“Every bit,” he says. “Every single bit.”

“We used to rear our own cows and sheep here, but when the equestrian side of the business took over we stopped doing that. Now we use a local farm just a few miles away.

“This means I know where the animals were born, how they were reared, what they were fed and where they were slaughtered. I know the history behind every bit of meat we sell.”

And what about the price? Bill’s meat is certainly more expensive than Tesco's cheaper offerings.

He asks me to think about the work involved in rearing an animal and running a farm in the UK, and compare this to the prices supermarkets charge for budget meats.

He also asks me to consider the other ingredients, or “fillers” such as pasta that can be used to bulk out cheaper meat products. Even without the alleged horse DNA it still doesn’t sound appetising or healthy.

I know from first hand experience that Bill’s meat really is just that – meat. I was in the shop a week ago to get some mince for my other half and was a bit taken aback when Bill literally took a lump of flesh and put it through his mincing machine while I watched. Not particularly entertaining viewing for a veggie, but at least it meant I knew exactly what was in the mince that I took home and that it had been made from a single piece of meat.

And although it costs more, you do also get more for your money at Dunston. A couple of days ago I walked away with a steak the size of a house brick and today’s chicken breast puts the shriveled little supermarket offerings to shame.

Bill admits that some of his customers are wealthy, but we also discussed the merits of putting quality over quantity and experimenting with cheaper cuts, more economical recipes and using leftovers to get the most from your meat.

And from my veggie standpoint, I’d also like to add that having a couple of vegetarian days and experimenting with meat-free cooking might be another way that a family on a tighter budget could afford to buy better quality meat from a butcher and use it more sparingly.

I guess the moral of this story is that all those who feel queasy after reading today’s headlines should think carefully about the meat they buy and ask plenty of questions. Any good butcher should be happy to talk about where their meat is from.

But I fear Bill might be in for a disappointment regarding in his vow to change my meat-free ways - this veggie ain’t for turning!