When flaws aren't

I felt I had more to say, to share with others, with you; maybe to help switch on an interest in nature or food, to encourage time outside and simplify making things yourself. Sometimes when the news is very intense or overwhelming I need to rant but often it can simply just be the emptying of my brain, the freeing of those thoughts that swirl around with nowhere else to go. This has been my three years of Substack.

I am a community driven, food forward, passionate nature lover. I write about what I know; my north coast, the paths, beaches and trails I’ve walked all my life, I talk about wildlife, the seasons, observing the tiny changes weekly and try and wrap it all up with a central idea or ideal, there’s usually food, sometimes there’s analogy, nostalgia or facts. I really love to write and I hope you feel some kind of connection, as we all try and make our way through this messy world together.

Very often things don’t turn out the way I had planned or expected, a distracted baker has a long list of failures, don’t get me started on parenthood. This inconsistency is surely what keeps our lives interesting; it can be positive or negative or both at once. Finding the good, learning from the bad, an annoying yet useful challenge. We trudge on, skipping through the happy times, the easy times and then wade through the bleakness of grief and sadness or dangerously close our eyes and hearts in rage. I’ve felt this strange push pull of life’s tide these past few weeks as I wonder where best to focus. I withdraw to the quiet of our hillsides and woods for near silent contemplation then feel drawn back down to the shore for the quickened pace of the waves and the beautiful energy that nature gifts us. I’m captivated momentarily by the oyster catcher suspended in the wind, engrossed picking the first hawthorn leaves and delighted to be squinting in the windy sunshine. This is a great time to feel that lively inspirational pull. Spring energy is very special.

My first ever post was about being better not best and it is still something I feel strongly about, I mention it often. I’d rather be part of an encouraging, supportive and inspiring food scene rather than one that is competitive, arrogant and exclusionary. I think we should all be focussing on better rather than best, we all have our flaws, we can’t be perfect and there’s beauty in that. The wonderful Cassie Stokes is naturally skilled about creating a feeling of best without ego and her infectious positivity and love of our island makes me beam with pride. She promotes inclusivity and equality and the news of her new book thankfully obliterates spending any time thinking about the dramatic fall from grace of a certain restaurant and chef this past couple of weeks.

As I watch the sunlight coming in the window at the bakery, lighting up the chard that Robert picked this frosty morning, the stunning purple sprouting broccoli from Charlie and Becky down the road and the beautiful wild garlic, nature’s gift, grabbed from the hedgerow on my way here I feel contented. Happy to be able to use such incredible ingredients, happy to share it with others, happy to write about it and happy to enjoy eating it. What privilege.

But not all produce is viewed the same. A common comment you might hear about tomatoes is that you’ve never truly tasted one until you’ve eaten it straight off the sun warmed vine. I love to hear that and I totally agree but what about real bread straight from the oven, raw courgette snapped off its stem, spuds cooked straight from the muddy ground and an apple off the tree. I worry I’ve never eaten an aubergine within hours of picking or a peach bathed in heat from the brick wall it grows on (espaliered, what a word). I will however source the best produce I can for my community and my family so we can bask in the wonderful glow of sharing food and sharing stories together.

Since I last wrote here I’ve had an exceptionally busy couple of weeks; full of wonderful things but with a whole heap of negativity too, we all wobble. Always remember the heavily tipped scales of social media versus reality. Even so the lightness of the end of the week comes bizarrely from the cold swim with my girlfriends and we tiptoe slowly through the freezing incoming tide, there’s a strong pull, the current hides the uneven sand and slippery stones. A biting north westerly makes it feel fiercely chilly but the sun bursts out suddenly and the peeps of the sandpipers make me smile, there’s three eider in the rockpool they swim off in a hurried huff as we shriek our way in.

Beyond this part of the shore over on the high cliffs the birds are now starting to nest, jostling for space on the cliffs, manoeuvring, bullying each other. With them there’s an element of survivial, life and death but I wonder how much of that is still part of our animal psyche. To be the best, the top, many still jostle for that space. On Saturday morning I noticed all the glorious imperfections in my baking and I laughed to myself. It doesn’t worry me that the choux look different to one another, that the batons of rhubarb aren’t exactly the same size, that the pieces of cake vary hugely because I know Mary will specifically ask for a small slice and if Greg comes in, he’ll give a cheeky smile pointing to the biggest wedge.

Knowing your community and how to feed them is a privilege. Excellent produce prepared with love and care is the best food surely? And maybe I’m not destined for greatness or to be the best but I’m endlessly interested in people (in love with), the stories we share when we eat together, the camaraderie of companionship.

Some Things I Like

Lemn Sissay

I like wrecks, I like ex-junkies,
I like flunks and ex-flunkies,
I like the way the career-less career,
I like flat beer,
I like people who tell half stories and forget the rest,
I like people who make doodles in important written tests,
I like being late. I like fate. I like the way teeth grate,
I like laceless shoes cordless blues,
I like the one-bar blues,
I like buttonless coats and leaky boats,
I like rubbish tips and bitten lips,
I like yesterday’s toast,
I like cold tea, I like reality,
I like ashtrays, I write and like crap plays.

I like curtains that don’t quite shut,
I like bread knives that don’t quite cut,
I like rips in blue jeans,
I like people who can’t say what they mean,
I like spiders with no legs, pencils with no lead,
Ants with no heads, worms that are half dead.
I like holes, I like coffee cold. I like creases in neat folds.
I like signs that just don’t know where they’re going,
I like angry poems,
I like the way you can’t pin down the sea.
See.