MY WEEK OF EATING BRITISH
this week that’s offside. Fiery Colman’s mustard steps in instead. Absolutely marvellous. All my convenience foods seem to contain some sort of non-UK kryptonite – pizzas and curries are out for a start. And I’m absolutely clucking for sugar.
Just as I find a British chocolatier, my hopes are dashed when I read the dreaded words, “beans from South America”.
Thankfully, Silver Spoon is made entirely from Norfolk sugar beet, which means I can tip a spoonful in my mint tea, porridge or Weetabix. Plus Ambrosia custard – made in Devon since 1917 – has also been approved.
I feel a bit ridiculous drinking it from the can at work though. The office has laid on a free Christmas dinner but the only thing I can have is a turkey stuffing sandwich with dipping gravy, which is a lot more epic than it sounds.
COST: £1.60 FOR A CAN OF CUSTARD AND A BAG OF SILVER SPOON
Fed up with cheese, and I’ve eaten 20 Weetabix in three days. I inhale a Celebrations Malteser I’m offered without thinking. Catastrophic own goal – they’re verboten because the chocolate is made from foreign cocoa beans and sugars.
With soup now gone, lunch choices are disastrous – the only British thing I can find in a mad dash is a Taw Valley cheese and celery sandwich in M&S. I make a bacon hash – fried egg on top – with the rest of my ingredients. I feel healthier – I’ve lost 2lb – and after an expensive start my costs have vanished. I’m also saving cash by cutting out fresh coffees, storebought sandwiches and everything I’m making is fresh.
I worry how much craft beer I’ve drunk though and I’m not enjoying seeing pictures of my mates on social media in restaurants I can’t eat anything in, while I’m making soup in a blender. Time for some socialising. Eating out in most places is hopeless if you’re confined to British fodder but The Old China Hand in London’s Clerkenwell stocks only British beers and snacks.
Rowena Smith has been the landlady for 14 years and stocks an incredible range of homespun drinks: Cotswold vodka, British vermouth and also a Cornish sambuca. There’s even a “meloncello” straight from East London and – hallelujah – a chorizo from Manchester.
If Rowena ever finds any of her beers in the supermarket she stops selling them. “If you only offer what people can buy in the supermarket, the pub loses its specialness,” she explains. “If people ask for a Stella, we offer them something else or we offer them the door.”
Resisting the urge to start downing shots, I enjoy a beautifully cleantasting Malt Coast Pale Ale, 4.2 per cent, for £4.20. My friend has a Tynt Meadow ale, 7.4 per cent, for £4.50.
Rowena says such was the derision she endured when opening the pub, locals had bets on how long her hostelry would last. Now it’s just had its best ever year, showing people love British goods. After a week of homemade lunches, I’m off to treat myself: Parliament Hill Farmers’ Market, one of London Farmers’ Markets’ 22 events in the capital, which only sell items made from produce grown or reared within 100 miles of London.
“All of our stall holders are vetted to stock the best UK-produced goods,” says chairman Stephen Hargrave. “You’ll be amazed what you find. Partridge and venison ravioli, exotic pastries and macaroons, delicious curries and glorious fruit and vegetables.”
On arrival, I wince when I see someone buying a £120 turkey. How will I ever afford this? But regular market-goer Julian Barnes – yes, it’s the Booker Prize-winning novelist himself – tells me I can haggle for bargains.
“It’s ridiculous flying fruit and veg from all over the world when we have such wonderful produce here,” he says. “I’ve just bought a kilo each of carrots and potatoes, a cauliflower and some beetroot for £4.20. Bargain.”
I buy a rucksack full of veg – celery, spring onions, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, sprouts – all in wonderfully crooked shapes and sizes.
But I’m craving something spicy. Thankfully, Mumbai Mix, run by Deshna Samali, 29, of East London, is selling delicious samosas for £1.50 each, good for weekday snacks, all from veg grown near London.
She says: “All our potatoes, coriander, onion, carrots, red peppers, peas and carrots are sourced from near London from other market traders.”
Alexander Heathcote, 32, is selling his own Ping chutneys and Wobbly Bottom cheese, made only from Hitchin goats for the last 20 years. I buy some garlic goat’s cheese for midweek salads and sandwiches for £2.60.
I like the challenge of bartering and getting 50p off here and there and find it enjoyable learning where everything comes from. Miles better than the supermarket, but obviously more pricey. I consider splashing out on a giant game pie, £45, from Galileo Farms in Warwickshire, but think I probably should be buying some Christmas presents instead. Or can you give granny a giant pie instead of a sweater? THE VERDICT...
With a little imagination, it’s entirely possible to not only survive on a British-only diet but actually prosper.