Showing posts with label local shops. Show all posts
Showing posts with label local shops. Show all posts

Friday, 8 May 2020

Meat

It is no doubt that our consumption of it has, and is having, terrible consequences on this sphere we inhabit.
I'm not a vegetarian, but have never eaten much meat seeing it as an occasional treat and more recently an occasional necessity - I have a low lying tendency to Trigeminal Neuralgia (sometimes affectionately (not) referred to as the worst pain known to man) - and feel that a from-time-to-time chunk of meat protein does keep my body stocked with B12 (vital in this case) and other vitamins. Having experienced the real full on TG thing I can honestly say I would eat a whole goat at that point if it would stop the attack, therefore chewing on the odd small steak feels warranted.
Mark (husband) would be totally happy as a vegetarian and often has been throughout his life, although travelling for music research in some countries required him to lapse - tricky to rebuff a host's kindness in refusing a meat dish.
He's now probably 90 percent vegetarian at home but accepts meat or fish if other options are not readily available when eating out - mostly the case in Southern France. My son is a true omnivore but happy to eat a mostly vegetable/pulses diet.
When I do buy meat I choose something locally slaughtered and usually from our town's bio-coop; just a small amount, maybe once a week. It might be a bit of minced beef to add to a pasta dish or a guinea fowl which will do for several meals - roast, curry, soup and two lots of dog meal scraps.
The word omnivore derives from the Latin omnis (all) and vora, from vorare, (to eat or devour), therefore we could conclude this means we eat everything, although many people would argue that we could but should we.

                            

I don't know. Probably no one, as with just about everything else, has a finite answer. We have canine incisor teeth for tearing flesh, big square molars for chewing . . . would seem logical that humans are designed to eat whatever they encounter depending on the situation. We who live in countries where a massive food choice is easily available do have many options but certainly where I live in France meat is top of the shopping list, tofu something alien and mysterious.
Lockdown for us has partly meant going back to shop in town. We'd got lazy, driving to the supermarket to do everything in one go. We did always use the local bio shop for staple goods but now it, the town's veg shop and occasionally one of the butchers has become of prime importance.
A meat-based lunch planned yesterday (Mark the vegetarian makes a mean traditional lasagna) I cycled to town and joined the queue outside 'Jose's'.
We've been being buying occasional bits of meat from this shop for over fifteen years and part of the joy (if there joy involved in peering at animal carcasses) is engaging with the lovely couple who run the place. However overworked they are they always stop and chat, suggest the best way of cooking whatever it is you are purchasing, faces bright with enthusiasm over garlic sauce, accompanying vegetables, secret methods handed down, etc.
It's never a quick shop. All the clients receive the same treatment whether it's, in our case, buying a small packet of fresh steak mince, or two carrier bags bulging with carefully cut and wrapt flesh. I stood and listened to old Madame Whoever ordering an enormous and varied quantity of meats, each one discussed, advice given, choice of cuts offered. She was a small elderly woman who must have had a voracious carnivore appetite, or maybe she was shopping for ten people; I suspect not. Probably just her and Mr Whoever for a few days. But meat was obviously the central dish of every day: lamb cutlets, pork something, various sausages, paté, a chicken and two thick steaks . . . I watched Jose lovingly slice the steaks with a knife so sharp it literally melted through the flesh while they talked about pan heat and garlic.
My eyes wandered up to the old framed photographs that adorn the brown tiled walls and studied them as I have so many times while waiting. They have pride of place here, family members caught in sepia arrest, proudly holding splayed cow/horse? carcasses; the local abattoir, and a particularly fascinating photo which I must ask to look at in detail one day: a group picture, a family or small business perhaps. One man holding a large cut of meat, a dog grinning in the foreground, a man grasping the nose ring of a bull and another man holding - in demonstrative position - a huge lump hammer over the head of the bull, his job, presumably the 'knocker'. I don't know what the equivalent is in French, I just recall the name from reading Upton Sinclair's 1906 book The Jungle, a terrifying portrayal of (mainly) the American meat-packing industry.
Is there a safe point between the barbaric meat industry and no meat? Possibly, but it requires a complete rethink and education about meat generally. We have become used to anything being available whenever we want it; plastic wrapped, no preparation, no thought needed about where a pork chop or chicken leg actually comes from, the conditions the beast lived in before meeting its end.
As with so many other elements of how we live today, (which is being severely questioned at the moment as we attempt to deal with Covid), I think the answer is less. A lot less. Local. Small scale. Better quality. Occasional. Up the vegetable intake drastically, educate about real food, love the lentil, and seriously think about how and why this virus has come about. What nature might be telling us.

I've just found two of the mentioned photos, including the 'knocker'.




  














Friday, 4 April 2014

Town planning

After looking at some incredible images of Detroit (as is now) in The Guardian this morning, I started thinking about our own small town and how it has changed over the years.




One of the smaller factors of Detroit's demise (the vast one being the decline in industry) was people moving out to nice new housing estates, away from the urban angst. This is happening (on a minuscule comparative scale) in our small French town; and probably many others.
People want somewhere to sit outside and eat, tinker with plant pots, etc; therefore when small villas on the outskirts of the town with terraces or small gardens are offered at cheap prices, they are snapped up, leaving the town centre more and more depleted.
'Bâtiment du France' or 'buildings and structures police' - sort of, are mega-strict about people building roof terraces, even part covered ones in most 'historical' French towns. If you live anywhere near a church - forget it. It's something to do with the arial view of the town - history in tact and no stripy parasols, merci bien . . . but, what about all the nasty plastic shop signs blazoned everywhere, even in the central square with its fountain and arches. What about the plastic doors and shutters? Why aren't they concerned with banning such items? Why the policing of a few roof terraces?
I'm no town planner, but common sense would suggest that if people had their sitting out area on the roof of their town house, they would be less likely to crave a new villa, and have to drive to the out of town 'malls' for those 'oops, forgot the cat food' moments.
Maths.
Populated town houses = keeps the town centre alive: shops, restaurants etc.
Busy, well-kept town = tourism.
Bigger population in town = less driving everywhere, increased need for local shops; more taxes for the Marie, etc, etc.
No doubt there is some bigger motive for the construction of all the yellow and pink boxes, to do with local politics and bigger taxes coming from all the supermarkets now clustering around this town like ugly, square battleships; but there just seems to be a total lack of future thinking.
When I lived near Matlock, Derbyshire, the same thing was happening then, with regard to 'out of town' shopping, and on a huge scale with the terrifyingly huge Meadow Hall complex that apparently cleaned out most of the independent shops in Sheffield.
Anyway . . . where was I? No idea. But here's a picture of the balcony attached to our old town house to demonstrate how much greenery, flowers and thus insects and birds one 3m x 1m space can hold. It was just enough space to take tea on, listen to the swallows wheezing in the summer skies and sit gazing up the road at Madame cat-hater planning her next death attack. Enough to feel you could experience 'the great outside', and be able to walk up the road for a fresh baguette.
The balcony would have been added in the 1950s (highly unlikely to be allowed now) before the town planners had really woken up and Bâtiment du France were probably more embroiled in after-war re-construction, if they even existed then.