Food in Transition: Moro East by Sam and Sam Clark

Food is one of the principle ways we can engage in creating a low-carbon culture. Cooking happens every day in our kitchens and what we buy and eat is in our own hands (or at least it needs to be!). In the following months the TN blog is going to look at some of those low-carbon food issues from home-growing veg to community orchards, from distribution hubs to fairtrade tomatoes. We'll be debating whether or not to eat meat or fish, drink orange juice or new world wine and most of all how we can be inventive with what grows locally and doesn't cost the earth. We'll also be reviewing some of the best cookbooks around. Here is one:

Sam and Sam Clark's restaurant Moro is famous for its cuisine deeply rooted in the Spanish and Muslim Mediterranean. Their third cookbook, Moro East, is set nearer home: in an East End allotment they shared with Turkish and Cypriot neighbours, exchanging recipes around kebab grills and great vegetables. The 150 Moorish recipes apppear amongst the allotments’ creative salvage and burgeoning plants - dishes spiced with rosewater, cumin, mint, pomegranate, as well as local poppy leaves, pea shoots and green tomatoes. The book is a poignant testimony as Manor Garden Allotments were later bulldozed for the Olympic Hockey Stadium.

Its essence, captured in Toby Glanville’s elegiac photographs – children playing amongst hosepipes, women making flatbread, men cooking over charcoal, fragrant dishes served on tin plates and terracotta, everyone eating together – however is not lost. It’s a picture of what a postcarbon future might look like.

Moro East by Sam and Sam Clarke (Ebury Press, £25)

On the Road (without a Car)

On World Carfree Day (Sept 22) I cycled cross-country to meet the Transition initiative, Sustainable Bungay who were celebrating the day by cycling to a pub called the Geldeston Locks on the River Waveney. Just as we set off to meet them Mark dropped his bike and buckled a wheel. “I’ll take the bus,” he called out to me as he wobbled down the lane. “How will we get back?” I yelled back. “I’ll ring Graham and Nicky!” he shouted as I pedalled on resiliently into the autumn wind.

15 miles later I met everyone by the Buttercross. It was, perhaps, the most beautiful evening of the year. The sun had been roaring all day and had gone down in a blaze of glory. The moon rose over the hill, the land lay tawny-coloured and breathing in the twilight. Warmth rose up from it as we cycled down the back road to Geldeston from Bungay, through the mill and down the track to the Locks Inn. Occasionally a car would stop in the lane startled by this sudden line of cycling people, laughing and talking, as wheels bumped over stones and veered into hedges.

At the Locks we were scheduled to meet the Zero Carbon Caravan, a group of cyclists making their way from Wales to Copenhagen for the Climate Change talks in December, entirely without fossil fuel. En route from Norwich however they heard they had lost their passage over the sea from Lowestoft and had been diverted to Dover. They had to make it in three days (“Three days!” exclaimed Margaret, one of SB’s veteran cyclists, “Do they know the hills in Kent?”). So we had our regular monthly Green Drinks and when it came to go instead of returning home we went back with Graham.

When I say went back what I mean to say is we canoed back down the river. Graham climbed skilfully into one canoe with the bike, and Mark and I climbed rather less skilfully into the other. We pushed off from the shore, there was a rushing sound as the boats entered the stream and then suddenly we were gliding out into the star-filled night. Great shapes of trees rose beside us - ashes and willow – as we moved by. The water brimmed right to the edges of the land and the stars and the branches glimmered in its dark surface that was as smooth as a stone. There was space everywhere as meadows water and sky merged together and in that space it felt as if a door opened. For a moment I didn’t know where or when I was as we paddled softly down the Waveney that could have been the Mississippi or the Amazon.

It was the moment of autumn equinox, the moment the light of summer cedes to the dark of winter. In that full-on mysterious planetary encounter I realised why all of us came out of our way to meet each other in Transition, in spite of all its difficulties and heartaches, why we took pains to cut carbon and struggled up hills to travel across the sea in a sailing boat. You give something up because you love the earth, and the earth gives you something in return. Something, if you thought about it, you were born to experience.

The next morning I helped Graham gather hazelnuts from his abundant red cobnut trees and as we patiently shifted through leaves on our hands and knees it occurred to me I would never have spent a long and (equally abundant) breakfast with him or canoed down the river had we driven our car.

So this week a month later I went entirely car-free. Being car-free in a city is not hard but in the backcountry where I live it’s tricky, especially at night. It’s one hour by foot round-trip to the Library (where I use the Internet) and four bus rides to collect my veg box and shop. Nevertheless I walked everywhere: mapped the neighbourhood for apple trees, picked the last damsons and blackberries, witnessed the gathering of starlings and jackdaws and the turning of the leaves, and met and talked with people I had not seen for months and would never have encountered had I taken the car. The discipline of a week was good, just like having that day was good. Because that way you start paying attention – paying attention to the things that really matter about being alive, right now on the earth where we all live.


Left: Chris Keene of the Zero Carbon Caravan in Ludlow

http://www.zerocarboncaravan.net/
http://www.worldcarfreeday.net/

Don't Shoot the Messenger

Or The Bad Cardigan Day
(hair is not looking too hot either).

Here I am giving a Plenary on Local Transport at the Waveney Rural Summit.

Carbon Admissions

We had our first Stranger's Circle meeting last Friday. The Transition Circles started after Tully wrote a ground-breaking paper on the need to expand and explore the work of carbon reduction. A hub group formed in July called TN2 and this has since developed into the Circles, based in different neighbourhoods. The Strangers (after Stranger's Hall in Norwich, originally a meeting house for the Hugenot weavers), are a group of us that live in the hinterland of Norwich. Our first meeting was held in Shotesham and like the other groups, Circle West and City Centre, we decided to talk about energy.

After our shared meal in the kitchen (with Angie's delicous damsons for dessert - see pic above) we talked Electricity, mostly in relation to home heating. Already we're into October and temperatures outside are falling with the leaves. Last winter Mark and I had our heating on for one hour each day and we really toughened up. "It's important to turn everything into an adventure," I declared. Everyone thought we were way too extreme (though Elena said she and Alan were thinking of cutting out heating in the mornings this winter). We decided that keeping one room warm during the evening was the most efficacious way forward. Because the Strangers live out of the city we have an easier time with wood-burning stoves and can go collecting fallen wood or trees in our own gardens and hedgerows. It's also easier to get outside and have a relationship with the earth, the wind and sky which is the best way of keeping warm. Something about shivering indoors in cold, damp houses and not moving makes you just want to reach for that switch.

We owned up to other difficulties: non-green teenage sons, a clothes habit, too many hot baths in the wintertime. Each circle has its own style. Circle West is developing into a local support group, where ours seemed to contain seeds of political and philosophical discusssion within it. Tully brought up the question of social equity in relation to our pursuit of resources. Naomi brought up the clash between a new culture of limit and the concept of endless universal energy which lies within current spiritual thinking. Can they work together? Or do we need to review the way we think about energy and how it powers our illusionary way of life? In many ways it felt like the real discussion about fossil fuel had only just begun.

If you would like to join a Transition Circle check out the TN2 page on the TN website and find out when the next meetings are and their main subject for discussion.

Low Carbon Party Cookbook

It was a great party. Unit 5 was wreathed in fairy lights and everyone joined in with the show -we watched the In Transition film, became "spect-actors" in an impromptu theatre piece, improvised by Tom Harper, danced to cycle-powered music provided by Tom Foxe, Fret 6 and The John Preston Tribute Band.

The Transition banner flew on the walls alongside Reskilling's innovative bunting made from old clothes.The Sheriff of Norwich, Tim O'Riordan opened the proceedings. Tully gave us an update of what we have all been up to in the last year.

But perhaps the star event was the ABUNDANCE of food brought by the Transition Cooking Bee who brought trays of delicious low-carb (on) snacks which we ate gleefully accompanied by Golden Ale (from The King's Head a stone's throw away), Jonty's local cider and organic apple juice - some pressed earlier at the Bluebell Allotments.

Here is the list.

Spinach tartlets with organic spinach from Mangreen garden
Pumpkin pies with organic pumpkin from Mangreen
Eggs from a couple of miles away
Plum flapjack with Mangreen plums
Apple cake with Elena's apples (from her nan)
Tomato chutney - some from Mangreen, Andy also brought in some tomatoes
Pizza with Charlotte's organic tomatoes, garlic and chilli
Onion bhajis with local onions (from Paddocks Farm Shop, Mulbarton)
Organic dried chick peas for Falafel
Homemade bread with flour - a mixture some from Essex, some organic
Pastry - very local flour - given by Tully
Honey - from Orchard Apiaries.





Many thanks to Elena, Naomi, Alex, Mick and everyone in the Mangreen Kitchens & Gardens.

This winter TN will be compiling recipes for our Low Carbon cookbook. If you have any up your floury sleeves, do get in touch infro@transitionnorwich.org.

Left: low carbon wheelbarrow grill (not from the party but a from a great community allotment cookbook, Moro East, by Sam and Sam Clark, pictures by Toby Glanville - book review to follow). Right: A "non-personality" shot of the Band from Downham Market and Villages in Transition.

More of a Party than a Protest

Tonight we are one year old and we're having a party. We're celebrating our first anniversary and showing the just released In Transition, a short inspirational documentary film about the world-wide Transition movement that began in the UK in 2005.

Transition initiatives are about facing the reality of climate change, peak oil and the economic downturn wherever you live. But they’re also about resilience, being able to share and work together and create a vibrant culture that can thrive amid the challenges of a post-fossil fuel world.

This year Transition Norwich has been meeting up to find out how we can move forward and enjoy this low-carbon future together. It’s been a busy year since we unleashed at St Andrew’s Hall last October. We’ve been appearing all around the city: at the Sustainable Living Fair at the Forum, at St Benedict’s Street Fair, in the Lord Mayor’s Procession (with Celeste, the blue Transition dragon), at the Zero Carbon Fair in Chapelfield Gardens, on a discussion panel after the screening of The Age of Stupid at Cinema City. We’ve had a midsummer party at the Ranger’s House on Mousehold Heath and shared an autumn ceilidh at the Keir Hardie Hall. Our practical projects include starting up a community-supported agriculture scheme at Postwick and a market garden at the Hewett School, a recycling project at Mile Cross and having our own Transition City Allotment at the Bluebell Allotments.

Key behind all these activities are the TN Resilience Action Plan and Transition Circles. The Resilience Plan group (one of 14 theme groups) is developing a detailed vision that sets out how Norwich could meet its needs for food, energy, transport, textiles and other goods over the next twenty years.

Transition Circles were begun by a pioneer group of Transitioners who’ve made a commitment to cut their carbon footprint to half the national average over the next year. Transition Circles are at the hub of Transition – people who are meeting up in neighbourhoods all over the city to discuss what it takes on a personal level to really downshift and create a collaborative economy and still enjoy our lives. You can read about our discoveries in our new blog, This Low-Carbon Life, or even better come to our first birthday party. As well as the film there will be local planet-friendly food and drink and cycle-powered music.

Because climate change and peak oil don’t have to mean the end of the world, just the beginning of a new low-carbon future.

Transition Norwich 1st Anniversary Event, Sunday October 4 at 7.30pm at Unit 5, Beckham Place, Edward Street (off Magdalen Street). Donations. For info and booking contact info@transitionnorwich.org or tel 01603 664928

This Low Carbon Life

Monday Oats From Garboldisham

Thinking about starting a blog today. I wanted to keep a log of everything that happens in this year of TN2, when a bunch of us decided to cut our carbon footprint by half. I wanted to write about the people I’m embarking on this journey with and the small surprising things that happen as we exchange news of our lives. At the last meeting we listed what small steps we had already made and Mark said: every morning he ate porridge made from oats from Garboldisham which is a mill just outside Diss. Later he got all the bills out over the living room floor and made the astounding discovery that our oil bill has decreased by 75% from 2003. What did we do in those blissful days before we knew about peak oil and the economic downturn? Were we eating the stuff?

Actually we were looking at plants. Wild plants, food plants, medicine plants. One thing I learned from looking at plants and plant medicine all those years. It’s the small changes that really affect the body and mind. So long as you pay attention to them.

Josiah once told me oats are the food of the future because they are native, hardy, don’t need pesticides and are very nutritious. Oats are a good medicine too. Excellent for calming you down, cutting anxiety so you see clearly what lies ahead.

It’s August and I’ve decided to take things easy myself! I’m having a zero-carbon holiday and have just put my tent up in the garden under the greengage tree. At night I lie in the dark listening to the seawind flapping in the rigging. It reminds me of being on a boat. The moon rises red from above the black trees, Jupiter shines like a beacon between the clouds. On the distance there are huge ships casting an ominous orange glare over the dark ocean. They’ve been there for months. Must be at least nineteen of them. Must find out what they are.


Wednesday Swimming in the Sea

Found out what those ships were talking to an ex-oil tanker/rig worker outside the Sailor’s Reading Rooms in Southwold. He said they were empty oil tankers and they were anchored there because it was cheaper than being in harbour. Then Josiah wrote in the log that actually the ships were not empty at all: Sole Bay is one of tthe only places in the world where you can legally (sic) transfer oil ship-to-ship and many of them were just waiting for the oil prices to rise. I don’t know which is more of an omen, full oil tankers or empty oil tankers on the horizon. I’m going swimming most days at the moment. It’s calm and the town beach is full of holiday makers. It’s odd but when you are in the sea with everyone, riding the waves like seals, sleek heads bobbing, you feel at home with your kind in a way that is quite difficult when you’re on dry land.

One week later Andy came down with his nephews and put a mighty-sized three man tent in the garden. Here I am with Ollie about to embark on a swimming-in-the-rough-sea lesson. First rule of resilience: enter the waves boldly, come what may!

Christine wrote about strip washing today in the TN2 log. Funny, when you are living in a tent you don’t feel like washing. You’ re not so prissy. You can pee in the compost, walk barefoot in the dew, eat plums without washing them, let the salt stay in your hair. You feel closer to things and yourself. Went down to the wood today and saw all the late summer flowers – skullcap, fleabane, angelica. On my way back I filled my pockets with yellow plums and hazelnuts and picked a punnet of wild cherries. It seems as if everyone is mapping the fruit trees of the neighbourhood at the moment in England – unwanted apples and pears in the back yards of Hackney, Sheffield and Beccles. We’re learning the art of gleaning, paying attention to the small things. When you’re focussed on the small things that’s when the beauty of life strikes you – the surprising sharpness of wild raspberries on your tongue.

What’s the pay-off? you might ask as we all face this low-carbon future without being able to escape in aeroplanes, without tropical fruit, without hot power showers. I’m discovering it this week: living on the earth is the pay-off. Swimming in the sea and feeling its energy and light enter your bones, feeling at home with your fellows as you run down the beach resiliently, come what may.