FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD

Unexpected item in the bagging area.

Woke up this morning to find that Ana Robic had paid us a midnight visit leaving behind a brightly coloured gift in the form of a food recycling bin. Animal, vegetable or mineral? Looks like a character out of Star Wars.

I come in peace

Not another bin! Just where do the Council expect residents to keep all these recycling receptacles? At this rate I’ll be charging them ground rent for my driveway. Pssst! Keep it to yourselves but I don’t actually keep my bins on the drive due to lack of space but have positioned them on the footpath by the front gate. My view is – council bins should sit on council property, not mine.

In Spain, households do not have their own personal set of waste collection bins. Instead, huge commercial type dumpsters are dotted around a neighbourhood on the street. Residents are expected to take out their crap and sort it on arrival at the recycling station according to whether it is glass, plastic packaging, paper/card, food or general waste.

Dumpster pilgrimages regularly take place because no-one wants a bin full of smelly rubbish cluttering up the kitchen. I know this because it was my job to take out half a dozen carrier bags of pre-sorted rubbish to feed to the dumpster dinosaurs near my parents house in El Rincon each afternoon before going off for my daily walk.

Somehow, I can't see this kind of system ever succeeding in lazy Britain where even clearing a table in McDonalds after chowing down on a smorgasbord of junk food is all too much for some peeps.

I’m all for food waste collecting because we rarely have scraps. I don’t peel veggies except onions and in a household of hungry hippos every last little bit is recycled in our bellies. Food waste is minimal. Brown bananas turned into delicious ‘nana’ bread, skins can be chopped into small pieces soaked in water to create liquid fertiliser which plants love. Stale bread saved for the birds.

However, it’s all well and good getting the population at large to donate all their peelings or parings but there’s little tangible benefit to us other than that warm fuzzy feeling that comes with doing something that in theory is going to ‘save our planet’.

Chichester District Council have been given around £1.7 million quid to spaff on a food recycling scheme at the Government’s behest. I consulted their website to find out what’s going to happen to anything I pop into my spangly new bin. Here’s what it said is going to happen to my food scraps:

Food waste that’s collected will go to an anaerobic digestion plant in Horsham. That’s nice, a scenic trip through beautiful South Downs countryside. Everyone loves a day out in the country including food waste. Benefits of recycling instantly wiped out by the carbon footprint of transport emissions.

Once in Horsham, leftovers will undergo a miraculous transformation into one of two things – fertiliser to help farmers grow crops or energy to power the plant. Do these processes create emissions? Not a mention on the website of impact to the planet of this conversion process.  Methane?  Phew!

The Council then went on to say that if there’s any extra energy, it will be sent to the national grid to power homes and business.

Sounds great. So, what’s in it for me? I grow veggies in my back garden. Perhaps if I rocked up in Horsham with a wheelbarrow some of that fabulous fertiliser could be given back to the community for free. And what about all that lovely leccy going back to the grid? Any chance of some kind of recycling discount on my energy bill for contributing to the nation’s power supply? Don't be daft.

I suppose the Council will sell both the fertiliser and extra energy, pocketing the proceeds yet keeping our council tax bills at the now extortionate band D rate of £2,400 per annum.

In addition to there being zero tangible financial benefit to compensate contributors of free food waste, it appears I have to buy my own compostable bin liners for the small kitchen caddy. The cheek of it! 

When I lived in Bournemouth, the local council provided replacement rolls of liners FREE OF CHARGE. So, not only am I paying for this service out of increased council tax charges but it’s also going to cost me to keep the bin from getting skanky.

Are you calling me a skank?

Whilst it’s not compulsory to actually use the bins, I can see this being dismissed as an additional faff by the average household who certainly aren’t going to be too happy at shelling out continually for bin liners. I mean, who’s going to remember to add these to the weekly shopping list? It’s bad enough having to buy compostable poo bags for cat turds.

My name's not Mr Jinx

Saving the planet with one hand, killing it by filling the atmosphere with emissions and landscapes with non-biodegradable plastic bins. That’s the ridiculousness of green policies for you!

NANASAURUS

Now that I don’t have work to worry about, I’ve volunteered to look after my darling grandson for a week during the school holiday break.

The little munchkin is now a ‘3-nager’ as my daughter puts it. You guessed – defiant, loud, stroppy, bossy and with an appetite to rival that of a giant panda so I’ve already come up with a cunning plan to make sure the little monster is properly worn out at the end of each day.

This miniature dynamo switches from boy to dinosaur, notably T-Rex, when you least expect it. I’ve been warned not to be shocked by loud roaring, stomping or attempts to ‘eat me’ as that’s what apex prehistoric predators do even to their grandparents.

I may be long in the tooth but I can still do Jurassic. Nanasaurus has bought herself a few silicone moulds in the shape of dinosaurs to make some yummy treats for visiting toddlers.

First stop – Lakeland. Silicone mould featuring 12 mini dino-sized creatures costing £2.99. Perfect for making mini chocolate monsters.

Lakeland silicone dinosaur mould

Here’s how to rustle up the perfect Jurassic treat for your little darlings:

Place your silicone mould on a metal baking tray.

Prepare everything before melting the chocolate

Melt around 150g of chocolate in a bowl over a pan of boiling water (or microwave in short bursts). I’ve not used any expensive fancy cooking chocolate, just a couple of bars of the cheapest supermarket stuff I could find for this experiment.

Take care not to let water get into your chocolate mix

Leave liquid chocolate to cool slightly then fill your mould either using a teaspoon or by using a plastic piping bag with the tip cut off. I found the piping bag method less messy than a spoon plus it enabled me to get right into those tiny silicone nooks and crannies.

Tala plastic piping bags.

Give the chocolate filled mould a few taps to disperse any air bubbles and level off the filling.

Fill then tap mould to disperse air bubbles

Put tray and mould in the fridge for a couple of hours to allow the chocolate to set.

Once fully set, carefully push the little dinosaurs out of their silicone settings. Don’t over handle the figures as I found these melted in your fingers quite quickly.

Pop into a plastic container to store in the fridge until needed.

Just look at how cute these little dinos are! Almost too good to eat.

These look roarsome!

Planning to have a go at making a few with white chocolate just to see how they compare to these dark choco ones.

To make our Jurassic treat even more fun, I'm going to hold our very own archaeological dig by hiding some mini chocolate or cookie dinosaurs in a small box/tray covered over with soil (grated chocolate). Won't it be great to watch your little one uncovering these tasty fossils with a small brush like a real paleontologist.  Steven Spielberg eat your heart out.

Can’t wait to try this out on my grandson later this week.  

Who says grandparents can't be roarsome!

SLICING & DICING

Five weeks have passed and there’s still a war on.

Increases in wholesale oil prices have so far only trickled down to petrol pumps but it won’t be long before those same increased fuel costs are making their way into food prices so I’m slicing and dicing my way to victory.  

Here's my super trooper cost of living tip to help you all save some wonga during these hard times.

My ears pricked up at hearing a recent radio advert for cut price veggies being offered in time for Easter celebrations. Super Scrimpers everywhere - rally the troops. Now! It’s time for a supermarket assault. Breaking news - carrots, parsnips and swedes all 4p per pack. FOUR pence. It costs more to use a public convenience!

Not quite on the same level as liberating the Strait of Hormuz I agree but my price-busting military coup costing £2.24p has resulted in a mega haul of 2 kg of carrots, 1 kg of parsnips and 2 fat swedes. My raid also included a couple of bags of tatties (spuds) at £1 per bag. Doesn’t sound like much but believe me, once frozen this little lot should be enough to feed two people for a good few months thus saving the pennies if food prices go up.

Gone mad buying veggies

Root vegetables are incredibly versatile so worth buying for storage. Think roast dinner accompaniments, wholesome soups, casseroles, mashed up or even baked into delicious cakes. Yep, you can actually make parsnip cake.

Now for the hard part – the slicing and dicing. In order to reap the long-term veggie victory benefits, everything has to be chopped, boiled, dried then frozen.

Blanching fresh root vegetables is easy peasy and doesn’t take long so not much gas used.

Top and tail the carrots and parsnips. I don’t bother peeling them just give them a good wash/scrub in the sink beforehand. Cut carrots into slices and parsnips into batons.

Blanched parsnip pieces

Heat a pan of lightly salted water until it comes to a good rolling boil then drop in your veg. Take care. Splashed hot water burns like hell. Boil only for 2 minutes then drain in a colander.

Spread the slightly boiled veg onto a tray then leave on one side until completely dry.

Two kilos of carrots is a lot of carrot

Once dry, place veg into clear plastic bags or containers and straight into the freezer. Label and date.

Same process applies to blanching swedes except that these are peeled and cubed before boiling. Swedes are tough to cut so use a large sharp knife taking care not to cube up a few digits whilst you’re at it. I’m using this lovely machete purchased from IKEA for this, cuts through anything – swedes, chicken bones, red tape. You name it.

Blimey - have you got a licence for that blade?

Spuds can be stored away in a cool, dark, dry place for a couple of months. The Ancient Mariner sticks his in his garden shed but mine are secreted away in my understairs Doomsday cupboard. Open the bags to prevent the spuds sweating or rotting. They may get rooty but don’t let that put you off. There is nothing wrong with eating rooty taters, after all you get to peel them first.

Going back to my roots

Having slaved away all morning over a steamy pan of boiling veggies, I can now relax with a cuppa and think of how many extra chocolate eggs I can buy once Easter is over with all that money saved.

One for you and six more for me

Happy Easter!

RASH DECISIONS

For the first time in my life, I haven’t had to get up at the crack of dawn to rush off to work. It’s the strangest feeling I can tell you.

So, what have I done with my first week of freedom? 

Well…. Relishing the warmth of our feathery duvet for starters whilst running through a mental ‘to do’ list to keep thoughts from turning to what I would have been doing at this very moment if I’d been back in the office. Saddo. Let it go. Now!

Utopian dreams of early retirement have been rudely scuppered by an unexpected sudden bout of shingles no doubt brought on from stress at the thought of having absolutely nothing to do. It came on rapidly, a Usain Bolt out of the blue.

The irony has not been lost on me. Here I am on my first week off work and all I’ve done is rest or dab gloopy calamine lotion on a super-itchy sore looking rash that appeared across the top of my left booby and armpit. Hardly the glamourous life of a retiree I’d imagined. I should be painting walls, digging up the garden, wild swimming or hunting capybaras not looking in the mirror every few minutes trying to figure out if my buboes are spreading.

Is this God’s punishment for idle loafers who should be spending their time in productive employment rather than dreaming of lazing around in the garden?

Having managed to get an urgent face to face appointment at the GPs, the lovely lady doctor proceeded to give my bouncing Berthas a jolly good fondle before prescribing a course of super-strength antivirals called Aciclovir. ‘Take five of these every day’ she smiled sympathetically quickly ushering me out with a barge pole to minimise risk of contagion and so she could fumigate the consulting room before the next patient.

Shingles is no fun. Awful calamine lotion aside, it’s the minor electric shocks rippling across your skin that leave you feeling frazzled. Now I know what it’s like being a fly near one of those electric bug zappers. Ouch! Itch! Dab! Not only do I look like an extra from a zombie apocalypse movie but Aciclovir gives you the stinkiest farts so I smell like a dead rat too.

Still, it’s not all bad news. I have to keep reminding myself that whilst I might not be full of the joys of spring, I have officially retired and that’s a bully bonus in itself. 

Just keep taking the tablets and try not to scratch.  Dab me!