Meat, Monty Python and Islington Farmer’s Market
July 16, 2006
The veg box blues now seem a distant memory. Joy has returned to a tiny north London kitchen. And what is the cause of this new delight in life? Meat. Real MEAT. Fatty, boney, skin-wrapped meat. The torsos and limbs of animals that were running around a day or two ago are now safely ensconced in the shadowy recesses of my fridge.
I snuck out the house this morning with a pony or two in the household purse to check out Islington Farmer’s Market for the first time. And the good folk of Islington were out in force. Yummy mummies, designer-hippies, old-timers and wannabe-chefs all eagerly snapping up produce brought in from Essex and Bucks by ruddy-faced farmer’s wives. Even Terry Jones of Monty Python fame was there.
Here’s what I brought home in my ragged old rucksack:
- A whole chicken (18 weeks old at death, spent all day in a field during it’s short life, scared of hot-air balloons according to the farmer) – £12.50 with giblets!
- A shoulder of lamb – not vacuum-packed and therefore nice, dry meat – £7
- A whole wild rabbit – a bit dubious about this because it was marinating in it’s own blood in plastic wrapping. But I couldn’t resist the thought of a creamy rabbit fricasee – £3.50
- A small square of belly pork. Fat, unctious and great for roasting – about £4
- A bacon hock. This little beauty is going to be boiled with lentils and served with whole boiled carrots and parsley sauce. If I get my way. £4
- A bag of bacon misshapes. The possibilities are endless. About £3.
Not cheap at all. But why count the pennies when you’re on a quest for meat heaven?
Altogether now…. He’s not the messiah, he’s a VERY NAUGHTY BOY!