UK 2012 Issue 3

It's a drippy sort of a day. We made it out first thing to take a walk over to Glenfield, the next village over, and agreed to meet Dad at the hairdressers where he was going for a haircut. For us a trip across the fields is never a simple affair. Mick has to say hello to every dog that comes his way and I just dawdle. You must understand, you really need to stop and smell the roses or in my case the cool crisp air. We made a stop at the local butcher in Glenfield for a chat. His shop isn't quite as picturesque as the Groby butcher, but he has a lot more on offer and a much better rating from the local health authorities. They post their scores in their window along with where they source their meat. Should you want pheasant pie or lamb sausages (house made), this is apparently the place to go locally.  He had some interesting lamb

 burgers that I quite fancied but we weren't really thinking of shopping just walking so he's on our list for next time.

Mind you if you want a Sunday joint (read that as roast, which is your typical Sunday dinner this side of the pond) we found a local farmer who raises beef, pork and lamb and sells it direct out of the farm yard. It took a bit to find them. We had seen an "advert" (advertisement) in a local magazine with a crude map and a phone number. Having checked to see if they were in we set off and almost immediately went wrong by missing the turning for the village of Markfield. Seeing as how the directions said go through the village past the Red Bull (a pub) we needed an alternate route. Now that first turning we missed, it was off a narrow little farm lane and when we had another opportunity to turn it was down an even narrower, ill paved farm road that appeared to go off in to nowhere. Naturally enough we took it, we're always up for a magical mystery tour, though I'm quite sure Dad thinks we are just ever so slightly insane. As we made the turn I made out the street sign, Steep Hill Road.   Sometimes the naming of places is not especially imaginative but you can't fault them for lacking in information, there was most explicitly a very steep hill. To carry this thought just a little further did you know that most town names with the word “ford” in them, were originally places where there was a ford of a river.   Frisby on The Wreake (I'm still fascinated with all the strange place names) is on the River Wreake, while Waltham 0n the Wolds is perched at the top of the wolds, wolds being a hilly district.  Then there is of course the Groby Road in Leicester which goes from Leicester to Groby. At the Groby end it is called the Leicester Road (it does after all go from Groby to Leicester) and after it leaves Groby it is probably called the Coalville Road or some such. So it is we are off down Steep Hill Road and across the fields of western Leicester. As we cruise along some one spots a small sign attached to a fence announcing “Little Markfield Farm”. A quick right and down a potholed farm track and we are quite literally in the farm yard. Old brick buildings, sagging fences and a definitely agricultural aroma.

Little Markfield Farm

As these pictures show even cattle stalls are brick in this part of England.  There was no attempt to dress things up or make it presentable, what you see is what you get, manure and animals under foot, troughs of slightly mucky water and a distinctive smell of dung, which made it seem more than a little real.  Our first time there we came away with a shoulder of lamb which we roasted with garlic and lemon, can you say yum. This place seems to be a for real working farm, although not on a particularly large scale. They send their livestock off site to be butchered and then store it in about a dozen or so big chest freezers. When we were there they were making preparation to send some of their hogs on a "little trip". They make their own sausage, but as yet we have not sampled any of them. There were chickens and guinea hens in the yard, a pair of big smelly farm dogs and a very needy cat rounded out the menagerie. 
 

We had a nice visit, met the newest arrival, a lamb with a black mask on it's face and several piglets who were more intent on eating than anything else. We didn't get to meet Sid, the “Red Ruby North Devon Bull” or Kev the boar. All their livestock are put out to grass, lots of pasture land here abouts, where they are guarded by Caspian, Chestnut and Woody the alpacas. Don't ask, I only know what I am told. We will put Little Markfield Farm on our rota of places to “buy local”. 

 I hadn't really thought much about  the meat here, but it has a different taste than what we get at home.  I'm assuming it's because the local stuff is probably grass fed.  There is no good reason to feed livestock corn in Great Britain, it doesn't even grow here and would have to be imported. 

Buying local is not what you do when shopping at the local supermarket, Tesco. It is enormous and even has a second level where they sell clothes, electronics and shoes.  I like going up to the second level, they have an escalator like walking sidewalk sort of thing which takes you and your trolley (shopping cart) up simultaneously.  there's none of this parking your cart on its on separate escalator like in the TJ's in SF.  Anyway, when thinking Tesco at Beaumont Leys, think Super Walmart. 

The fresh produce section is a geography lesson in and of itself. We have been consuming mass quantities of strawberries which have come from Morocco, Spain and Jordan with "Greek Yogurt" from Wales. Cucumber are from Holland, while Butternut Squash comes from South Africa.  I saw grapefruit from Turkey and oranges from Israel and soft fruit from Chile.  A quick examination of some of the packages in the cupboard revealed roasted salted cashews  processed in Poland, the Sticky Toffee Pudding came from New Zealand, the peanut butter was packaged in the Netherlands and the jam comes from France. Most everything is labelled in multiple languages with the exception of the  walnuts, raisins and cranberry juice which came from the good old US of A.  I  remember getting corned beef from Argentina which came out of a tin (can) and lamb from New Zealand which had been a British colony. The only thing I came across specifically labelled UK were the root veggies at which the English excel. There were beets, swedes, parsnips, potatoes, turnips, carrots and radishes.  

Shopping is an adventure, I wanted tapioca to make a strawberry rhubarb pie and explored the aisles of both Budgens (our local small market) and Tesco.  Unfortunately,  the only tapioca I found was in a tin (aka can) and already made up as pudding. I'm given to understand that it is available but I will have to shop at a more upscale market.  Not only was there tapioca in a tin you could also get prepared rice pudding also in a can rather than in the refrigerator case.  Pudding as we know it does not exist although there is something called Blanc Mange which bears a resemblance to bad instant pudding.   In the same section as rice pudding etc you will find the British classic Birds Custard or in Church family terms Dessert Gravy.  It is necessary in the creation of trifle, it is eaten over fruit pies, crumbles and crisps.  You get lashing of it with steamed puddings (Sticky Toffee, Spotted Dick) and some unfrosted cakes.  It is eaten over fruit salad or stewed fruit , think plums and custard, prunes and custard, or rhubarb and custard.  You eat it hot, preferably over a dessert that is itself hot, this is after all a rather cold place to live.  It comes in a powdered form that you make up with milk and sugar or already prepared, once again in a tin or individual foil packets.   I have not begun on desserts, biscuits, cakes and other assorted pastries

Dessert Gravy

Real Gravy

Butter, which tastes wonderful, comes in ½ lb blocks and butter dishes are the size of sponges. Every yogurt I have tried has been runny and prepared salad dressing are a rare commodity that come in really small bottles. However should you want prepared food, you are in pig heaven. You could live here and never do more than turn on your microwave to prepare a meal.  Every market has multiple ready meals in refrigerator cases but our customary frozen meals (TV dinners) with the exception of pizza are in short supply, but then most of the ready meals are packaged to be frozen. There are pies and pastry wrapped savouries for days. Cornish pasties, steak and kidney pie, pukka pies (Micks says these are mystery meat pies . . . “you know when all the neighbourhood cats go missing”) sausage rolls, chicken and mushroom slices,  pork pie, scotch eggs, and chicken pie.  If you can put it in a pastry case the Brits will do it,  Pieminster Moo Pie, (don't ask cuz I don't know) cheese and onion pie, chicken and bacon pie, garlic and mushroom  pudding, ham hock and leek pie and I have no doubt there are fish pies that would make your head spin.

This will have to end for now, more at a later time . . . in the meantime here's dinner.  Fresh salmon, boiled new potatoes, fresh asparagus and a mix of cauliflower, carrots and broccoli. oh and I think there will be apple crumble with custard for dessert.  

Dinner