HUNTER-GATHERING: wild & fresh food

The Treehouse diaries: Up, up and away!

 

Its amazing what you can achieve with a saw, drill, hammer, ratchet, some ladders, a couple of people to help you out and a large dose of fine British, spring sunshine. I had not been able to take my eye of the thick black lettering, scrawled across Saturday 25^th April in my diary: PUT UP TREEHOUSE FOUNDATIONS!

For the past few months my friends and family, especially Clare, have had to endure my constant rambling banter about how I’m going to build a Treehouse and live in it for six months, without seeing any tangible evidence of me holding true to my word. I suspect there have been plenty of raised eyebrows and a lot of “yeah right!” flying about. But now, it all seems so real…so real, I am a little nervous, D-day has arrived and the dream is about to become reality.

Bresaola: Home-curing for idiots.

Between making plans to live up a tree for 6 months (which you can follow on this here very blog and Twitter), I have been finishing up my city days playing about with a few preservation techniques that might come in handy in the woods, as lack of fridge/freezer will prove a problem.

As you may have guessed, Mr Fearnley-Whittingstall has proved himself a fine source of inspiration over the years; he may very well be the man responsible for many of my culinary adventures here and there. He is a good fellow and even let me into his kitchen once, in my drunken state, to help make crème brulees for all his other guests. Trusting to say the least…

The Treehouse diaries: Bertha comes Alive!

 

I hate working with metal, it’s cold and impersonal. I much prefer wood: its warm and friendly and gives off the air that it is content with being shaped when you draw a blade or saw to it. Metal on the other hand gets pissed off as soon as you go near it with a power tool,it screams out in a most aggressive way. I knew that making Bertha a reality was going to be difficult for me.

 

To turn a steel drum into something useful takes a lot of noise and a lot of graft. Once I had stolen Bertha away from her life as an oil skivvy, she had to be ritually cleansed. To achieve this I had to light a fire in her belly to remove all the oil from her past life. 

 

When I first stuck the newspaper and kindling into my future best friend, I felt content that this was the rehab that she needed to become the ultimate wood-burning stove. The paper caught fire, the wood went up and flames coughed out of the top as if they had shot out of a dragons nostril. The oil began to crackle and spit and the flames shooting out the top were getting bigger. It was at this point that I began to think: "Bugger! Something’s not right here". The sheer ferocity of the burning oil was a tad scary. It was like seeing a mini power station, screwing over the ozone in my back yard.

Alexanders: Urban foraging for Roman Veggies...

 

As the Britannic tribes stood on the coast ogling the arrival of Julius Caesar in 55BC, they probably weren’t under the impression that this band of invaders would be a good thing. Although the first recce was short and sweet it wouldn’t be for another 100 years till the Roman presence was truly felt in Britain.

The Romans did plenty for Britain and the rest of the empire, as pointed out by the People’s front of Judea in Life of Brian. Big pimpin’ Villas sprawled across the South Downs with swanky mosaics, baths and hypocaust systems (that’s under floor heating to you and me). Along with the latest in swanky household installations from I-Claudius (before the Scandinavians renamed it IKEA), the Romans were also responsible for some new culinary sensations that our ancestors would never have seen, let alone tasted, before.

Easter Eggs.

 

“What the hell have rabbits got to do with eggs and Easter?”

“Not sure…” Clare was obviously as perplexed as me by the strange choice of characters for Easter advertising campaigns.

“Why do Rabbits deliver eggs when they don’t even lay them? Do they steal them from chickens?”

 This conversation was going nowhere clearly…

Easter traditions state that Fish should be eaten on good Friday and Lamb on Sunday. I can’t help but think that the new lease of life in spring, all the lambs leaping about in the fields, are then being eaten as a classic Easter dish is a bit tight. Personally, I believe that eating Rabbit would be more appropriate, but maybe not if you have children eagerly awaiting a visit from the Easter bunny.

Home smoked Garlic & Salt.

 

When man first realised the benefits of smoking, an entirely new sect of food preservation and flavouring suddenly hit the gastronomic world, little did primitive man know just how important the discovery was…he was probably still excited over the invention of the wheel.

None the less, early man was clearly partial to a smoky flavour; otherwise the discipline wouldn’t have survived (although the use of smoke in preserving was way more important). How could bacon ever be as good without a little smoke blown up its backside? The Scottish economy would suffer without it’s most famous export- both of the above are products of cold smoking, but what of hot smoking? A small hot smoker may cook a couple of trout to perfection in 10-15 minutes but it isn’t a tool for preservation. This useful bit of kit is great for cooking meat and fish to scoff immediately, but what else can you do with it?