The Muse

I now only write for the Purbeck Gazette, a monthly free magazine from Swanage. I had written for several years in the Blackmore Vale Magazine on a weekly basis, but the editor decided that she would prefer articles about half the length about local producers, not me rambling on. I decided that I didn't want to do that, for one thing there aren't enough producers, and for another it means I am giving free publicity to people without the benefit of me enjoying my weakly (!) rant. I also think that this stuff becomes bland and boring, and there are plenty of paid hacks to do it.

So, this may well become more of a blog and a news spot. Having now mastered - sort of - getting this site updated I will try to find more of the old pieces (I lost a lot recently when my hard drive stopped working after just six months - I will learn to back up properly eventually) publish the new and add comments as may be required.

We shall now see if I can get new links in place. And with a bit of help we have!

Below are links to the latest Muse....

Local - the new organic ...  January 07

Losing it ... 10 July 06

Neophilia ... 03 July 06

Could do better ... 26 June 06

Lies, Damned Lies ... 19 June 06

Prize Piggies ... 29 May 06

A Compote of Compost ... 22 May 06

SORRY ... 15 May 06

Two Back, More out ..... 08 May 06

What Goes on....01 May 06

Local, the new organic

We hear an awful lot about food miles, usually by the thousand, and carbon emissions by the tonne, and how we should all be eating organic instead of junk food. As an organiser of farmers’ markets I obviously cannot claim to be impartial, but what I want out of food are basically three things. Firstly, wholesome - free from noxious chemicals, free from unnecessary additives, flavour enhancers, colourings and preservatives. Secondly, I want the producer to be paid at least a living wage, preferably sufficient to be able to set something aside for their retirement. Thirdly, I want fresh food with good flavour. Curiously the last two don’t always go together. Meat in particular, when fresh is virtually inedible, it needs to hang to develop flavour and tenderness, but on the other hand vegetables really do taste better the fresher they are.

You’ll notice I haven’t said local. Local is the new organic, yes it’s one of the silly phrases like red is the new black, but in fact now that many people are aware of organic and more people are buying it, the leaders of the pack have decided to move on to local. Truth is we can’t all eat local food, there simply isn’t enough of it. And it is also another form of protectionism.

In the weekly shopping basket that gives us the retail price index you will always find tomatoes. Should you buy English or Spanish? Given that the variety and the chemicals used will be similar, which gives least carbon emissions? Well, you’re wrong. By the time you have taken into account the amount of artificial heat and light required to grow a tomato in this country, a forty two tonne lorry driving from Spain emits less carbon. And don’t forget that the English tomato also has to be loaded onto a lorry, driven to a distribution depot and then to the retailer. Fresher? Very doubtful, and only by a couple of hours at best.

Should they be organic? If all of us want to eat organic food then the area of land under cultivation will have to increase by a factor of three. So we’ll get rid of all the woods and the forests, and we’ll have to irrigate a lot of desert. You’re already worried about rain forest destruction I’m sure; by the way, how’s the new hardwood patio furniture? Oh, and they shouldn’t be genetically modified either. Well, of course you don’t eat that stuff anyway. Umm… look at the labels of whatever you buy and if it says soya, in any form, then you are eating GM food – guaranteed GM free soya simply doesn’t exist, and a lot of livestock eat GM foodstuffs before you eat them, does that make a difference? Is there in fact anything wrong with GM foods, after all half the world eat them. The problem is that you cannot prove a negative. You cannot say that the bogey man out there in the dark doesn’t exist because everyone knows that as soon as you put the light on you can’t see him. And there are tremendous benefits, not least feeding the world’s population. Take rice in Bangladesh. They have a lot of floods, and rice doesn’t like being totally immersed in water. But taking the genes from a wild rice that likes to be immersed and combining them with a modern strain, not only do you get rice which will stand a flood, but it doubles its yield afterwards. Win win, is that bad for you? Ask a hungry Bangladeshi.

So why not organic?

I’m fairly convinced that if produce is labelled organic and Great Britain, UK, or something similar then there is a good chance that it is genuinely organic. If it comes from anywhere else I should treat it with great circumspection. But organic is an odd sort of thing. You, quite naturally, think that it is just that, natural, and would that this were so. Some practices are allowed in organic production because they are traditional, but not necessarily a good thing. Take spraying with copper. Of course it was done for years for pest control, but is copper good for you? No, is the short answer. Next they’ll be telling us that organic cider makers can use lead pipes, because that was traditional, yes really.

And finally money. Fairtrade is the cry I often hear. My reply is free trade. Fairtrade distorts the markets that it is applied to, encouraging the production of crops that simply are not needed, and helping to depress the market for those not in on the deal. If we allow free farm trade throughout the world then farmers in, say, Africa would be much better off, and so would our own farmers, and they’d be free to produce food for the local market, at better prices than the supermarkets pay.

If you want the sort of choices that I do then you’ll come along to a farmers’ market.

Losing it

“You wrote about me in your article.”

A bold statement of fact by the lady with the penchant for dog biscuits. Apparently pet foods are sampled by human testers, and one must assume that this is to ensure that they are acceptable to Phydeaux, Moggums or whoever. Even the rat bait that I have is said to be ‘palatable’ by the manufacturers; how do they know that? So when I told you about my friend and her penchant for dog biscuits it seems that they are perfectly safe for humans. She went on to say that I really ought to try them; does she think I’m barking?

Now, it was just a thought. A few weeks ago, à propos what I cannot remember, I said that Rolls Royce had always regarded their name as an adjective because it described a motor car (in the factory they are always referred to as ‘Royces’) They have never objected to the use of their name as a superlative, but their actions have always been to protect their trade mark, a tradition that continues today because when I wanted to get a copy of their logo I had finally to use a hand drawn version – you can’t even download it from their website. Curiously, since I was doing a presentation on the subject, I also wanted a copy of the Coca Cola logo. Could I take their website apart? No. Was I going to buy their product to get a logo? No. Then I discovered a section of the website that simply said here are our logos, download them if you want. I was amazed, but when I thought about it, I realised that being able to use the logos is a form of advertising. Possibly brainwashing.

If you refer to a Rolls Royce it is unambiguous, you are talking about a specific motorcar. If you ask for a coke, you will very often be given a glass of brown fizzy liquid of very uncertain provenance. And I’ll bet that when a lot of you ‘Hoover’ the carpet you use a Dyson, or whatever, and do you really use Kleenex, and when did you last write with a Biro? Do you really have a Fridgidaire in you kitchen? Our fridge is something completely different. Theses are brands that were the first in their field, either timewise or in market share. And they lost it. They lost control of their name. In a recent episode of Dr Who, Rose Tyler (his sidekick for non Whovians) said that a particular place didn’t have a list of things and ended up with “…it doesn’t even have a Tesco.” And I have noticed this with other people, I have even done it myself. Rather than say supermarket, superstore, or shopping centre, they just say ‘a Tesco’. And it means any of the foregoing but not necessarily one owned by the eponymous company. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing depends on your point of view. Will we ever achieve this with farmers’ markets? We’ll keep trying.

Cancelling it

On my way to Weymouth last Sunday morning, driving along the Dorchester bypass I was heading into wind and rain thinking that we would very likely have to cancel the market. But we pressed on, and as usual there was a distinct change in the weather when we reached the Ridgeway. Up into cloud for starters. As we dropped into Weymouth the weather seemed better and by the time we were in town the wind was not too bad and the rain reduced to the occasional fine splatter. With the weather plus tennis on television later in the day I was not anticipating a very good market. I also felt sorry for the guys with their annual model boat regatta that was being held there. As it turned out, during the morning the cloud cleared, and we had bright sunshine although the wind was fairly strong. I know that the model boats attract a number of people, but I can’t remember when the bridge was so crowded. There were several comments from stallholders to the effect of having had a very good day, and I think that if they had a good day then the public did too. It does show that our policy of waiting until we get to the market site before taking a decision is the right one. I remember on one occasion when another organiser cancelled a market in Bournemouth, whilst I was able to run one in a ‘weather window’ in Christchurch. If there is one thing the hardened farmers’ market shopper dislikes it is cancellation.

We have our Winton market this Saturday. We have been moved to the recreation ground because they are holding a carnival, so I hope all our regulars find us.

Martin Pook

Last weekend wasn’t a good time for any markets. Between the hot weather and the football, plus tennis and a Grand Prix I reckon just about everyone was provided with an excuse not to go shopping. Of course the hardcore of enthusiastic shoppers were still out. Our markets were not too bad, but others seem to have suffered particularly badly. The one at Burley, in the New Forest was reported at one point – wonderful things mobile phones – to have five producers and two donkeys. I should point out that the donkeys were nothing to do with the market. I was glad to get home on Sunday, and happily there was a message on the answering machine to say that a five month quest was at an end. One of the wheel arches on the caravan got smashed last year and in February I finally got around to doing something about it.

“It’ll take at least four weeks to get a price from the manufacturers,” the local agent told me. He was right, so as soon as the price came through I placed an order. Six weeks later nothing had happened, so we started chasing. Well, HL said I ought to, so I did. A fortnight later it was time to slip the rottweiler herself off the leash to try to find out what was going on. Eventually we found out the part was no longer available, and that the manufacturer did not provide parts for vans over eight years old. I wouldn’t have been happy if they had told me this in February, but at least I could then have done something about it, as it is I have a second hand one that the man says ‘should fit’. It will. But not with the help of my new jigsaw – electric, not thousands of pieces – that I had delivered this week. No longer being a professional user I thought I would order one that appeared highly recommended and reasonably priced at £60. But of course when you are used to the best anything that doesn’t perform to the highest standard is just unacceptable. So back it has gone, and would they please send me the £150 one. The suppliers call centre simply accepted that I, as customer, wasn’t happy and made the exchange. On the other hand, at the same time I ordered some castors to make a trolley to move the umbrella weights, and I bought the best -  eight inch wheels capable of carrying 200 pounds each. The weights weigh 30 pounds each and walking any distance with them does my shoulders no good at all. I have in the past tried all sorts of cheap solutions to this problem, but this time I reckon I have found the answer; the trolley works superbly. Neophilia is what you suffer from if you are tempted to buy something new when the one you already have just has the newness worn off. OK perhaps suffering is putting it a bit strongly, but you all know people, usually younger people, and probably your kids, who are like this. It isn’t just fashion, but the need to have the latest, bright shiny whatever gadget. HL reckons that this is me, but truth to tell I only buy what I need, but I do prefer to buy new. She, on the other hand, believes that once you have bought something it should last forever. I wish. Then I wouldn’t be crawling under the caravan once again intent on further repairs, and testing the electrical circuits to find out what problems we have there. She almost threatened to replace it next year, but when I mentioned money she decided that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. Further wishes on my part.

Brain food

I only caught a bit of ‘The Black Farmer’ on TV, but HL had been watching it.

“He has just been saying the same as us,” she told me. “A lot of producers are not very good at selling.” It is an interesting exercise in political correctness. He trades as ‘The Black Farmer’ which is OK because he is both of these things, but if I called him a black farmer, someone would no doubt claim that I was hurling an insult. Nevertheless, he is quite right, but how many producers would I get to attend courses on sales or presentation? And we do have access to the money to provide this sort of thing, but invariably people say they don’t have the time. With better sales, of course they would have the time. One man who is a good salesman is Tom Robinson. He brought his daughter to Wareham to help on Saturday. During a quiet spell she said that she often had a minute steak for breakfast.

“No wonder I’ve never got any to sell,” he said.

“Brain food,” I said. “So you should get straight ‘A’s.”

“Well, I get some ‘B’s,” she said.

An expensive way of ensuring that your children get a good start to the day, but you really do need a good breakfast, something you can get at Weymouth farmers’ market on Sunday.

Martin Pook

It was a bit like my old school reports really.

“I had someone say to me that you hadn’t been very funny lately,” Her Loveliness said.

And I thought, “huh, there it is again, could do better.”

I know that people are said to grow to look like their pets (and no, I don’t keep one of whatever you’re thinking of) but I came across a very strange similarity the other day. I had stopped off at my friends house on the way home from Verwood, and I was sat under the pergola enjoying a glass of French chardonnay – not so in your face as the new world ones, I was told – When their dog, an elderly border collie, came out to greet me. Now most dogs are only too happy to eat everything that you do. Except brussels sprouts of course. His wife told me that the dog had sorted out which was her favourite biscuit, and she, my friend’s wife, had decided after trying them, that they were particularly good. Cheese and ham flavour, she said. So there’s another place I shall have to be careful when it comes to eating. This evening’s spaghetti sauce is particularly interesting…

Should have known better

Nectarines that Nelson could have used as ammunition, grapes that make green gooseberries seem sweet, and a pineapple that went from iron hard to brown mush in less time than it has taken to write about it. Sorry, but I went into a supermarket and I was tempted. Sorry, too, if I misled you last week. I said that there was an aeroplane carrying beans… well there isn’t; there are hundreds of them. Not all carrying beans of course, we’d be awash with them. But 70% of aircraft movements are freight, and a lot of it is perishables. We do seem to have developed what is really a ‘cargo cult’, the world runs on cargo, we all worship cargo – there’s a subject for this week’s sermon vicar. What happens in America (named incidentally, not after Amerigo Vespucci – it would have been Vespuccia – but after a Bristol customs officer called John Americk) usually happens here sooner or later. At the end of the nineteenth century they had built several railroads to California, and they had found that the climate was excellent for growing fruit. How to get it to the markets in the East? Refrigerated wagons, usually called reefers. Not, as you might suppose using something like the fridge in your kitchen, no, they shovelled ice into the wagons at icing stations, usually no more than one hundred and fifty miles apart. Proper refrigeration had to wait for the development of the small diesel generator to operate each wagon. In Britain we didn’t have the same logistical problems, or the same variety of fruit, until the advent of the refrigerated truck and the Common Market, and easy access to southern Europe. Now we go at it with a vengeance.

Psychiatrists always seem to blame your parents for anything that is wrong with you. Mentally that is. And they may have a point, but since there is nothing we can do to change whatever it is, we might just as well face life and get on with it. But this is definitely down to my mother. Mother was a seeker after perfection – missed out with me, I know. She hated old things and always wanted things to be just right. As far as she was concerned Chippendale made old furniture, and she didn’t want it in the house. The same applied to fruit. You always selected the most perfect specimens, and I am afraid that this was passed on to me. I should have known better when I went into the supermarket, but even at my age the old childhood training takes over – I still feel guilty if I am enjoying myself – and I picked fruit that looked good. But even with chilled distribution you cannot pick fruit ripe. It needs to look ripe, but it has to be a few days away from edible. With bananas this doesn’t seem to be a problem, and the trade of banana ripening is highly skilled. Mind you, I do like them with a bit of black on them. The nectarines, it has to be said, did start to ripen, but by the time they were ripe to the stone the outside was beyond eating. The pineapple went brown from the inside and was consigned to the compost bin without further ado. With good local fruit at our farmers’ markets there is even less excuse for my lapse. I’ll just put it down to old age. And being conned by a supermarket again, it wasn’t cheap food in the finish.

With Wareham on Saturday, and Boscombe on Sunday, we shall be very busy bringing the very best food to you again this weekend.

Martin Pook

Yes, I am sure that I have used that one before, but everyone seems to enjoy statistics, particularly if they support your own point of view. Me? Well, I just happen to have a big wide streak of cynicism; heaven knows where I acquired it, but there we are. The one that has irritated me for a long time is that air travel is the safest way to go. No, it isn’t. When an aeroplane is cruising at thirty thousand feet, unlike almost any other form of transport, nothing happens. They add all these nothing happening miles in, and quote you per passenger mile. But it’s the take off and landing bits where things go wrong. If you compare like with like, then you are marginally safer than travelling by motorcycle. Some people have said to me that the take-off and landing are the bits they enjoy. Yes, a bit like a roller coaster ride. With no rails. I can identify with Pope John Paul, I get out and kiss the tarmac. Well, metaphorically anyway; and for a different reason maybe. It’s much the same when it comes to pollution. The Airbus A380, they say, has the power of three thousand five hundred family cars (model not specified) That’s more than six per passenger. And then they say that the fuel consumption per passenger mile is about the same as a car. Well, yes, if the plane is full and the car has only a driver – often the case, I know. But cars are only in use on average for an hour a day, whereas an aircraft is in use at least ten hours. When the aeroplane in question is a freighter carrying 150 tonnes of green beans and other vegetables from South America to your supermarket, flying at night (almost 12 times the contribution to global warming from contrails) and using untaxed fuel, you do begin to wonder what we are up to. Well, I do anyway. It puts the whole food miles thing into a sort of perspective. London (and the figures are probably similar for the rest of the country) imports 80% of its food, a typical meal has travelled 2000 miles. Vegetables from Africa, meat from Brazil – a bit more rain forest destroyed – and apples from New Zealand. Now, if you eat an in-flight meal then you expect it to have travelled a fair distance, but if you are flying south then it is probably going back where it came from. Why do we want out of season vegetables? Well, understandably, if you only have seasonal ones it can get a bit boring, and in the old walled gardens of the big houses a lot of effort was directed to extending seasons, and growing fruit that would never grow here naturally. Alas the nutrients in the food diminish quite rapidly once they are picked, so the few days it takes to get halfway across the world and onto your table does make a difference. But if you buy your vegetables at a supermarket, even if they are grown in this country they are unlikely to have got there much quicker.

Where is everyone

If you want to cut down on food miles, if you want fresher food, and if you want to buy locally, what should you do? There are a lot of minds working on this, and I for one am eagerly waiting the emergence of a brilliant idea, because I haven’t come up with one. We have expanded, and continue to expand, the number of our markets, but this merely scratches the surface. It also stretches our producers further, and we are desperately seeking more. This problem isn’t just ours; even the US supermarket chain that is dedicated to organic and natural foods struggles to maintain supplies throughout the year.

One of the biggest problems is that small scale production is labour intensive and jolly hard work. Add to that having markets at weekends, when most people want to spend time with their families. Me too.

I feel sure though, that there are many more small businesses, small and medium sized farms, that need an outlet for their products. We could also do with the odd active pensioner who could learn about these with a view to selling them at our markets; provided that we know the product, and that the sales person can answer the customer’s questions we are happy with this. It is never going to be possible to produce all our food locally, but we will do as much as we can.

So, this weekend you can see us at Verwood, where the car park is as convenient and free as your local supermarket, and the food will definitely be fresher and better for you. If you can get there by bus, that’s the least polluting way.

Martin Pook

Prize Piggies ... 29 May 06

When I read the BVM on a Friday I invariably think how lucky Maria Timperley from The Greenhouse is. Why? Oh well, I have to think of a headline every week, sometimes with editorial assistance, whereas she always uses the same one, which is very clever. And on the subject of luck (and probably cleverness), I often say how lucky we are in Dorset with all the excellent locally produced food that we have. Not all of this is available at farmers’ markets, you often have to search it out, sometimes placing an order to be fulfilled at some time in the future, and sometimes you can’t even get on to the waiting list. But if you care about what you eat then a little effort to find it will pay dividends for your tastebuds. As examples of local excellence you can’t do better than farmers Andy and Maureen Case. At the recent Devon County Show their sow Cynthia, was the Supreme Interbreed Champion. Cynthia is a five and a half year old Oxford Sandy and Black and this is the first time that the breed has ever won this supreme accolade. I shall resist the temptation to make any tasteless jokes about Cindy and the Barbie, which I am sure you can work out for yourselves, and pass on to prize winners a little closer to home.

David and Jenny Norman have kept Oxford Sandy and Blacks for some years, showing them and winning many prizes, as well as supplying friends and neighbours with prime pork. More recently their production has increased and they are looking to supply further afield. At the Devon County Show their sausages won second and third prizes against all comers. Since Her Loveliness has won awards for her preserves, I can tell you that when you are up against commercial operations you have a decided advantage, because your product is hand made and you are going to look after every aspect of your production with great care. That is why these sausages are so good. My dear mother would never buy hand made sausages from the butcher. “You never know what goes into them,” she would say. “All the scraggy bits and loads of fat.”Some years ago I watched HL’s dad, who was a butcher, make sausages, and I can assure you that what went into them was good quality meat; yes, some fat of course, but you need that to help cook and give flavour. What he said to me was, as the meat and rusk sat on the scales, that the water he added to bind it all together was in fact his profit, and it was carefully measured to be within the legally allowable limit. So I know what goes into a handmade sausage, and unfortunately I also know what goes into mass produced ones too. Having had the pleasure of eating David’s sausages, I will assure you that they are superb. We are hoping that we can get him to come to our markets to sell them in the near future.

Martin Pook

A Compote of Compost ... 22 May 06

“That look’s good enough to eat. You should spread it on bread and butter.”

Now, I have heard some strange things, but this was going beyond. Way beyond. I had decided to take a few hours off, and continue with the raised vegetable beds. To do this it was necessary to sort out what I usually refer to as ‘Rat condo’, but is better known as the compost heap. Well, I did disturb a few of the little critters, but I also found my bait box buried in the heap so we shall deal with them. In any case they headed for next door. Which is where the voice making the very strange remark had come from. I have always thought that my next door neighbour is lovely lady, but when she continued, “I’m really turned on by compost.” I began to have doubts. I mean this stuff was black and smelly, full of horrid insects and enough slimy creepy crawly slithering things to keep the ancient mariner well satisfied. But you do wonder, don’t you? I mean, her husband is a pillar of the community; sort of chap who signs your new passport photos. But is there a touch of Fungus the Bogeyman about him? No, no, of course not. Still, next time I am in their house and invited to nibble something with a glass of wine… well, you can’t be too careful can you?

Locality

Some markets are more pleasurable than others, enjoyable even, others not so enjoyable. I suppose it depends on the people. I was talking to one of our guys who had done some markets up on the outskirts of London.

“I wanted to get it out of my system,” he told me, “and now I have. The people there were really quite unpleasant, pushy, and really nothing like Dorset folk.”

Yes, I know what he means, but another aspect is whether the local traders want you there. Down in Winton some of them don’t. We have to close a street that is a rat run. It is much used by taxis, and they really don’t like us inconveniencing them. Strange, because I see a business opportunity; people carrying heavy bags who need to be taken home, but there y’go, not every one sees it as I do. And at the end of the market as soon as you take down a barrier then the cars fight their way in - even if it has only been taken down to let our people out. We have had a little of that in Weymouth, but it really is a much nicer place, and Verwood is almost a delight; everyone welcomes us. Boscombe is very different, and we are left much to our own devices. It is though an area where opportunistic crime takes place - HL has had her pocket picked - so you have to watch out.

I had a newsletter from Common Ground, an organisation based in Shaftesbury whose aims are to encourage people to enjoy and take responsibility for their own locality. Everyone, I am sure, will have noticed that it really doesn’t matter which town you are in because most of the shops you see will be the same, as will the banks and building societies. I suppose this provides people with the certainty that they can always get what they want, but it also means that there is little point or pleasure in going shopping in another town. The Common Market seems intent on the same sort of thing, producing lots of regulations to ensure that all countries end up the same. Supermarkets are even worse. No need to go to France to buy your croissants or stumpy bottles of beer, they are all staples at your local supermarket. Curiously, our own locally produced food isn’t, and when it is stocked it is in an out of the way shelf unit with a sign saying ‘Local Food - we stock this as a sop to a few media savvy (loud mouthed) fanatics’. Oh alright, it doesn’t say that, but it might just as well.

Common Ground on the other hand want to encourage local production and local markets and producers selling directly to the public. One of the things this does mean is that consumers have to take more interest in local issues. It amazes me that so few people vote at local elections, and yet more people object when local taxes increase than when the chancellor increases taxes.

A good start is to support your local farmers’ market. Have I said that before?

Verwood is on Saturday and on Sunday we have the Weymouth Oyster Festival which is a great day out for everyone.

Martin Pook

SORRY ... 15 May 06

In the BVM dated the 14^th April 2006 on the page devoted to the Shaftesbury Food Festival I wrote a piece for Mrs Pook’s farmers markets in which I said that they had been ‘accepted by FARMA’ - the National Farmers’ Retail and Markets Association. FARMA have pointed out that this is not the case, and that although Mrs Pook has applied for membership this has not yet been fully processed and her markets are not ‘accepted’.

Too much is… Too much

We were very fortunate in the timing of our trip to Portugal. The spring flowers this year were apparently the best they have been for some years and well worth seeing. Mind you, there was a point at which the gardeners discussed cistus, which were growing all over the hills, ad nauseam, until I enquired as to whether that was as in ‘Cistus, cistus, there were never such devoted cistus.’ at which there was silence. Yes, you can please yourselves too. We ventured as far as Cape St Vincent, which is the most westerly point and where you turn left if you are going to the Gibraltar, and there we found a market. Can you imagine taking a trip to Portland Bill and finding people selling local knitwear, souvenirs, lumps of polished rock and a row of burger vans? Since I haven’t been there for a year or two they may well do, but I doubt it. The Portugese are our oldest ally, and share the same patron saint, dear old George, but their culinary traditions are a little different. I mean, fish without chips? Sardines without tomato sauce? I did find some of their traditional gaily painted fishing boats and I shall look forward to doing a painting of these - it’s a bit difficult even to sketch when you have other people to consider.

And talking of spring flowers, I have to say that we too have a good crop this year, late, but very welcome. When I put out the roadside signs for Weymouth the grass was not very long, but by the end of the week they were almost obscured. That market, last Sunday, was held in almost perfect weather, and we had crowds of buyers. The first of the English strawberries were very well received, and everyone else seemed very happy. I was talking to Tom Robinson of New Forest Flavoursome Foods who sells meat from traditional breeds. He told me the rather sad tale of the farmers’ market at Beaulieu. Apparently this is sponsored by EC grants and if you qualify then you can go and sell there. Sounds all well and good, but he tells me that without any control over the number of sellers of any one product it has become a meat market, and the public are now staying away. It seems that the public can be swamped by too much. It is interesting because our own philosophy is towards a free market economy, but you cannot have a free for all. Our Verwood market has sufficient meat sellers, and we have had to turn cake makers away from others. We would like more vegetable growers, and we would be happy if these were banded together as a co-operative, but they have no difficulty in selling their produce without coming to market, and who can blame them for that?

Local

I was delighted to read the piece in the BVM last week about the launch of a food miles campaign. Appalled though to read that 19% thought that oranges could grow naturally in this country. I suppose that when they go to Spain they never get off the beach or out of the clubs. I was pleased to see that 77% thought that local food tastes better. But I am just a little concerned on one or two points. When people said that they would like to buy more local food were they told it would cost more? Why should it? Well, it is all small scale production, particularly in this county, which costs more, and few producers are big enough to be able to supply at the scale that supermarkets require. Add to that the increase in distribution costs, picking up a little bit here and there, and you can see the difficulty. And local vegetables? Again, not in Dorset. One of my friends joined a scheme to promote regional food in supermarkets. They allocated an area of their stores for local food and he ended up selling less than when he negotiated his own deals; a lot less too.

So what it comes down to, in my opinion, is that if you want local food then the best way to get it is to come along to a farmer’s market. Yes, I know that it is less convenient, you can’t park right there, and we don’t have trolleys, but it is good food.

Martin Pook

Two Back, More out ..... 08 May 06

Last Thursday we winged our way back from Portugal in time to get ready for our new market in Wareham, and then Boscombe on Sunday - no time to recover from the holiday. Whilst I was away I see they have restarted live animal exports. I have no doubt that I shall get some stick from saying that I disagree with this, but then since we run farmers’ markets we are clearly in favour of local food. Animals were traditionally taken long distances to be slaughtered, but driven along drove roads at their own pace; obviously you had to get them into a city before you could do the deed because transport was so slow that the meat would have been off by the time it got to the consumer. I know that the way in which they are transported is as humane as possible, and probably in better conditions than the flying cattle truck that we enjoyed, but when they get to their continental destination what happens? Calves are crated for veal production, something that is illegal in this country. We don’t send immigrants back to their own countries if they are likely to be badly treated - no letters about Zimbabwe please - so why are we sending animals overseas for similar treatment? I’m not an animal rights activist but this does seem somewhat hypocritical. No, it’s pure hypocrisy. The cure might be for us to eat more veal; calves in Britain are reasonably treated, and although the meat is not as pale as the continentals like it, it does have a good flavour. Lots of people say they won’t eat veal as a matter of principle, but I reckon this is a good principle for eating it.

Yet another… 

Food scare. As regular readers will know, I don’t really believe that there is very much substance to these, they generally seem to revolve around unsubstantiated or unscientific claims and hype, often based around feeding rats on a thousand times what the average human intake would be and then saying ‘Oh look, one or two have developed tumours’. And often carried out by people with vested interests. A bit like aspartame, which is the widely used artificial sweetener used in low calorie food, and can often find its way into other foods as well - look for E951. There have been many allegations against it but nothing has ever been substantiated.

On my way home I read a fairly typical food scare regarding the vogue for oven roasted vegetables. Researchers at the University of Dundee found that when you roasted onions, courgettes and peppers in the oven their acidity was increased as compared with stewing or boiling. Another study (carried out by Glaxo SmithKline Consumer Healthcare) has suggested (note the italics - here will be more) that tooth erosion caused by acidic food is becoming as big a threat to teeth as sugar. At the School of Dentistry at the University of Dundee they made up a typical ratatouille recipe in two lots, one of which they oven roasted, and one they stewed. The acidity of the oven roasted version was said to be the same as some carbonated drinks that, when consumed to excess, are believed to cause tooth erosion.

No doubt in due course there will be either a new tooth coating for dentists to apply to your teeth, a special toothpaste, or perhaps a condom for your teeth, to be used when eating suspect foods.

Well really, if you look at my italics you will see that there is almost no substance to this at all, and as usual, nothing to worry about.

And the markets

There is, of course, plenty of substance to my claims that you cannot buy better food than you get at farmers’ markets. I will say that if you grow your own vegetables they may be better, because it is straight from the garden and into the pot, but this is not an option for a lot of people - not to mention that growing them takes time, and many people don’t enjoy gardening; me too, but HL does, and despite what you may think I do like a quiet life.

Wareham was a successful market and will grow, but you can put up six metre high banners and people still come in and say ‘I didn’t know you were here, why don’t you put up some banners.’ At Boscombe, where we have had a market for a year, a chap asked how often we were there. “I only live around the corner,” he told me. “This is the first time I have been.” What do we do? Well, we have to look at our advertising, I will make sure that everyone knows we are there, like it or not!

Martin Pook

What Goes on....01 May 06

“May I take a photograph of our chest?”

Let’s be honest the lady was somewhat taken aback. She really didn’t know what to make of this request, made as it was in front of other people, one of whom was Her Loveliness.

“Well,” she responded after a moment. “Only if I can hold the balloons in front of me.” She had a bunch of balloons for the kids. But we’ll come to that.

That wasn’t any good, because, as I then explained, what I wanted was a photograph of her tee shirt. I’m digging a fair sized hole here aren’t I? It so happens that the lady in question works for Barclay’s Bank, and I am putting together a presentation on the subject of corporate image, and a large part of that is logos, and how they are related to heraldry, and the fact that some logos still are heraldic. Barclays is a good example, which they refer to as a ‘spread eagle’ although it is more correctly said to be ‘displayed’. With escutions - they’re the little shields across its chest that have been dropped from the latest version. OK, I’m boring you.

This exchange took place the recent Verwood farmers’ market. It is interesting to see the reaction to the market from the local businesses. In some places they would do anything to get rid of us - taking away their trade, wasting the car parking spaces that their customers use etc. In other places, the market is welcomed. I believe that this should always be the case, because there is no doubt that we bring lots of people into an area. I was chatting to the guy who runs the local electrical goods shop in Verwood.

“It’s great,” he said. “It brings in people and that means we have more sales opportunities.”

That should apply to the local butcher or baker too. It is an opportunity for them to display their skills and to acquaint people with the fact that they are there, 24/7/365 as they say. Or all the time as those of us not addicted speaking in abbreviations would say. And, of course, to tell them how good they are.

In Verwood we found that even the bank can spot a sales opportunity, as well they should. I often bemoan the fact that banks are no longer really banks, but just money shops in the high street, but that being the case then hey have to get out there and sell. And that is what this lady was doing.

“Come over and have a cup of coffee and see our products,” was her message. And that tee shirt? Well, she popped back across the road and came back with it in her hand. Oh yes, she had changed into another one, but without the eagle.

She held up the original tee shirt for me. At this point I discovered that my camera batteries were flat. Oh dear.

“Can I have the tee shirt?”

“No, they’d kill me if I gave it away.”

Oh really, whatever I think of banks I am sure they wouldn’t go that far.

So off she went to canvas customers with the tee shirt tucked under her arm. My tee shirt. Difficult when you are holding the balloons too. Half an hour of this and she got fed up with it and came across and gave the shirt to me. I thanked her profusely.

“I’m afraid I shan’t fill it as beautifully as you do.” I said.

“How,” asked Anita Axe, standing next to me, “do you get away with lines like that?”

“Well,” I replied, “you’ve never slapped my face.”

Yet.

Wareham

Well, yes, a bit further south than BVM readers usually go, but we have a new market there on Saturday. Every Saturday down on the Town Quay in Wareham they have a new street market which so far appears to be working well. We will be in the Parish Hall, which is just at the back of the Quay. We will have most of our regular producers many of whom have not been seen in Wareham before. I think that this will prove to be very popular, with customers able to wander around a street market which is said to be a cut above the average. Once again I am commanded to exercise my griddle, HL commands and I obey. Yeah, right.

Martin Pook