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Editorial

Editorial: October 2022

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We don’t fly these days. Flying is, well, the planet you know. It’s My Fine Wife’s doing really – she’s more principled than me – but I agree with her, so we just don’t do it. But sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do, and so a few weeks ago, I found myself sitting in row 5, seat A listening to someone telling me the exits are here, here and here. In Spanish. 

I haven’t been in a plane for years, since long before Covid, and I’d been unashamedly excited. We live, objectively speaking of course, in the best place in the UK, but there’s still something exciting and romantic about travel. When I was young, I used to go to Heathrow and just hang around, watching the planes fly off, wondering where they were going, fantasing about the adventures, wondering what it was like the other side of the “Departures” sign.  

I’ve been on a few planes since then, but there’s still something curiously glam about flying, still something a bit jet set. It’s kinda like still thinking a sun tan and smoking still look cool. But then again… they do still look cool. They shouldn’t, but they do. 

There’s nothing cool about row 5, seat A. I’m not sure Danny Wilde and Lord Brett Sinclair ever travelled Economy, and even if The Terrible Thing did happen I’m not sure I could get to the exits that are aquí, aquí y aquí because, as my new best friend, the guy sitting next to me, said “It’s cosy here, isn’t it”.  

It’s quick and it’s cheap and I suppose that’s good in a sense, but really. Think about it. Anything that sells itself on being quick and cheap… it’s probably not going to be a great experience. 

“Come and eat at our restaurant – it’s really quick and cheap”. It’s not where you’re going to go on your hot first date. On the other hand, I’ve just described the global fast food industry so maybe that’s not the best example.

The whole flying experience is  a bit odd. Before squeezing yourself into row 5, seat A you spend an hour and a half wandering around a faceless soulless shopping mall full of shops selling a variety of men’s clothes, women’s clothes, posh bags, shops that don’t exist anywhere else, shops that are completely empty. I walked into a men’s clothes shop, the t-shirts were all neatly folded into squares and the shirts were hanging up. I said “Hello” to the woman behind the till. She shuffled uncomfortably, like she didn’t quite know what to do. 

“It’s quick and it’s cheap” – and as clunky links go, this is up there – made me think about this issue of Your Mighty Whistler. The reason we don’t fly isn’t because the experience is rubbish; it’s because the planet. And if you read “Gull About Town”, Feedback Special and the interview with Philip Lymbery, they’re all also because the planet. Everyone likes quick, everyone likes cheap, but we’re a little bit past that now. We’ve got to really start being a bit more careful and if Philip Lymbery is right and there are only 60 harvests left… quick and cheap won’t cut it anymore. As mother used to say, you get what you pay for. Maybe it’s time to stop doing quick and cheap. Maybe it’s time to take a bit more care, to take a bit more time and if it costs a bit more, well do it less often.   

Food & Drink

Gull About Town: October 2022

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As we head into an autumn of change, the double whammy of cost of living and climate crises means fewer take away pizza boxes strewn across the city streets (Ed: you wish) and less in the bins behind the back of our favourite restaurants as they pare back their waste. And that is not a good look for the birds of Brighton.

But ‘eat less, but better’, is what Great Uncle Gull has always told us, reminding us what happened to our favourite childhood treat, the earthworm, when animals were put in cages in vast factory farms. So, your gull has taken flight to check out the latest plant-based kitchens and chefs who care about where their meat, fish and dairy comes from.

This Gull loves little more than good pub food, and particularly when it’s a pop up like Kokedama at the Roundhill with glamorous plant-based small plates. 

A peck at the leftover Gochujang Panko Cauliflower Wing and the skin-on Fries topped with Apple & Fennel Kimchi, Spring Onions, Gochujang Drizzle, Cashew Parmesan, Wasabi Mayo and Furikake sent your bird’s spirit soaring onto a passing thermal to check out its other locations in East Street and Lewes. But not before clocking that Sunday lunch roast is a feather light £15. 

Portland Road may seem a long old flight for a hungry bird, but the word on the wing is that Ciaran’s is a properly sourced treat for a Sunday lunch. Its crispy belly of pork with sage stuffing, roasted duck fat potatoes, glazed carrots, sautéed cabbage and apple cider gravy all comes from within a 40-mile radius. 

The pigs come from Calcot Farm in West Sussex where this bird has witnessed them larking in fields, playing with their siblings and pals until their time comes. She’s also spotted the Ciaran-mobile buying fish from Brighton and Newhaven Fish Supplies, the preferred fishmonger of the most responsible of Brighton eateries. 

His dairy is delivered from Bristol’s Estate Dairy which Cousin Gus from Southville, Bristol’s grooviest neighbourhood, says is the work of a collective of young passionate individuals dedicated to producing and bottling the highest quality milk and cream from the Chew Valley. He’s been very picky about tahe ethics behind his dairy since he developed a taste for ice cream on a brief visit to Brighton as a chick. 

It was Cousin Gus who spotted a cool young eco-warrior at Veg Fest back in 2013, feeding a Bristol crowd vegan sushi burrito and environmental activism like they were baby birds. Anna told them that they couldn’t love the ocean if they ate fish, and well, you can imagine how that’s gone down in the gull world. 

But when Anna moved to Brighton, set up Happy Maki in Pool Valley, the gulls were all over it, as were festival goers throughout the country as word got out about the fake fish that tastes so delicious. 

Let them eat fake if it helps them give up junk food. As the tractors harvest the fields of Sussex, this gull is up, up and away to pick at the worms coming back to the cow-mown farms, and breathe in the beauty of animals on the land. 

For more information, see Gilly Smith’s feature with Philip Lymbery

Features

Too late to do nothing

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Philip Lymbery, global CEO of Compassion in World Farming is busy on his laptop as I gaze out of the Eurostar window at the blur of green farmland between Calais and Brussels. “Where are the cows?” I ask idly. “I haven’t seen any cows for hours.” 

It’s 2017 and Philip and I are on the way to the European Parliament where he’ll host a conference about the impact of factory farming on the planet, which I’ll record for an episode of his podcast that I produce called Stop the Machine. Philip sighs and tells me a story of where the cows have gone, about the gradual and largely hidden industrialisation of some of Europe’s most famous foods including Parmegiano Reggiano and Grana Padana which is produced by cows who never see the light of day. 

Five years later, we’re chatting again about his new book, Sixty Harvests Left “a warning from the United Nations”, a clarion call to get animals back on the land before it’s too late.  I ask him about the outcome of the report, Hard Cheese that Compassion in World Farming published about that trip of his through the Po Valley to investigate the real story behind our most popular cheeses.

“It was about raising the issue that cows belong in fields rather than spending a lifetime in barns, sometimes even tethered”, he told me. “Some of them can’t even walk around the barns. We have started a dialogue with the producers in the consortium behind Parmesan and Grana Padana cheeses, but progress is slow. We need to keep up the pressure.” 

It’s more than just the massively important welfare issue; “I believe they’re misleading consumers who believe that the cows are living more bucolic lives. But it’s also that this intensification of farming practice is causing wider harms to the countryside. So things need to change.” 

Philip has painted an apocalyptic vision of the impact of food production on the planet in his books Farmageddon and Dead Zone: Where The Wild Things Were. In Sixty Harvests Left, he picks up the soil where farmed animals once grazed, naturally fertilising the land and providing rich pickings for the bugs and worms, and shows us what our junk food culture has done to it.  

“Our soil has been disappearing at such a rate that the UN has warned if we carry on like we are, then we have just 60 years left before our soils are gone,” Philip tells me for my podcast Cooking the Books with Gilly Smith. “No soil, no food. Game over.’

Philip is one of the most important campaigners against factory farming. He and I have worked together on his podcasts Stop the Machine and The Big Table, and he’s appeared with me on the delicious. podcast and Right2Food, the voice of the Food Foundation in a bid to change the food system. He’s clear about the relationship between buying supermarket BOGOF chicken in shrink wrapped trays, burgers from junk food outlets that contribute to the destruction of rain forests, the lungs of the earth as Philip calls them, to grow grain to feed cattle that should be naturally fertilising our soils. 

“It’s all inherently connected and not in a good way through factory farming. Animals like pigs, chickens and hens have been taken out of pastures and woodlands and kept in cages. And that industrial production of animals is usually accompanied by the industrial production of crops using chemical pesticides and fertilisers and monocultures of cereals and soya and similar crops. 

And in that transaction, what happens is that intensive production drives out biodiversity. It means that the bees that are needed for the pollination of our crops see their numbers plummet. It means that while birds and other animals disappear, the forests are wiped away. And as soils go into decline, so does the future of our food system.’

But Philip’s book is hopeful; if we change the way we eat and stop buying factory farmed meat, get the animals back on the land to naturally fertilise the soil, nature will do the rest, bringing the bugs and insects, the worms that aerate it and bring the life back.  

“I do think that there is a portfolio of solutions. Eating more plants, eating less but better meat, milk and eggs making sure by better making sure it comes from pasture fed free range organic. So broadly speaking, regenerative food sources, I think that’s really important.” 

Buying better sourced food, eating 30% less meat or going vegan or vegetarian – there will be enough meat eaters to support the high welfare farmers – is a no-brainer and reduces the weekly food bill. But it’s not enough; we need to be asking every restaurant waiter or chef where they source their meat, fish and dairy. At a particularly sparkly launch this summer, I asked the chefs where their ingredients came from. They hadn’t a clue. I wrote to the PR company. No reply. 

We’re blessed with great restaurants in Brighton, and most of them shout loud on their menus and their social about their ethical sourcing. 

Brighton Life, Uncategorized

The proposed Co-op development

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So a few days ago, I was floating through Facebook and there, in among all the really important stuff about Neal Maupay and arguments about what’s The Fall’s best album (you really want my Facebook feed now, don’t you), I saw this:

A VERY IMPORTANT NOTICE CONCERNING THE FUTURE OF THE DIALS

Hello Everyone

Some of you will be aware that the ‘small’ Co-op has obtained the lease to the block which contains Seven Cellars and Latina. As sad for the area as this obviously is, it seems like a done-deal and the Co-op will be taking over those two premises in 2025. It does not take too much understanding of 21st century business practice to guess that the Co-op will want to extend into the two shops and continue their takeover of the Dials and the pushing-out of independent traders that make ‘The Village’ what it is – a unique and precious part of Brighton & Hove.

Turns out the post was from Louise Oliver, owner of Seven Cellars (and shared by Tim Mortimer)

So yes. It seems there’s a proposal – application number no BH2021/03856 – to expand the Co-op, lose the Cellars and Latina, build some flats… A familiar story. But not one that’s written in stone.

We can change it. We can fight it. We can do stuff. The West Hill Hall was saved. There was the story of the Elm. This is no different. We can make our voices heard, we can fight back the forces of capitalism, we can cast off the yoke of oppression (OK, thank you, Wolfie).

No, really. We can. We love it here because of its independent spirit, because of its individuality. Because we can go in a local shop and have a chat. Because it’s our community.  

There’s nothing wrong with having a Co-op. I’ve been in there, and I’m sure you have too. But we’ve got a Co-op. Actually we’ve got two. How much Co-op do we need?

What can we do? It would be possibly legally unwise to advocate a boycott of the Co-op, and we can all make our own decisions about those things. So, we can stop shopping there. (Not advocating a boycott, your honour). We can be a bit more conscious about where we spend our hard earned. (Still not advocating).

And we can write. The planning register can be found on the council website at

https://planningapps.brighton-hove.gov.uk/online-applications/

The Application no is BH2021/03856 – which must be quoted in any correspondence. (see pic 1)

There’s a tab called “Make A Comment” – so log in and make a comment. (see pic 2)

Write to the planning people. Write to the council. Write to your MP. Make your voice heard. That’s what it’s for.

Brighton Life, Editorial, Features, Uncategorized

A Biba-esque emporium

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An Aladdin’s Cave where Frida Kahlo sits next to beautiful vintage kimonos while Tintin and Buddha look on. Jed Novick goes in search of the Objet D’ials

I want people to feel that they’ve disconnected with the outside world and engaged with the shop when they’ve walked through the door.”

Karin Pratt is putting the finishing touches to Objet D’ials, her new art emporium. She’s at that lovely point – halfway between excited and exhausted, and I just asked her the stupidest question. What are you selling here? It all looks like Aladdin’s Cave here. Look around and… there’s Mexican the window, a row of beautiful Japanese kimonos, a Buddha, a bit of Frida Kahlo, vintage books, art, Tintin, a red velvet sofa… Everywhere your eye lands, there’s something for it to feast on.   

“When people walk in and look around, I want them to feel like they’ve gone on a journey,” says Karin. “I want people to engage with the shop. You know how many shops you walk in and then walk out, as an experience it leaves you empty. I want people to come in here – even if they don’t buy anything – I want them to feel they’ve disconnected with the outside world.”

Pushed for a description, Karin says “I want it to be an all-encompassing Biba-esque experience.” And if you’re going to have an aspiration, that’s not a bad one. 

“You just browse. There’s a café – but only a small percentage of our life is as a café. We’re going down the cafetiere or pot of tea route. We’re not doing takeaway or trying to be a café. The shop is artisan and in the summer there’ll be tables and chairs outside.” 

So let’s go back to the beginning. Who are you and how did you get here? “We live next door and this shop used to be the garage for the house. My husband has looked into the history of the house and has always wanted to put it back together, to bring it back. I’ve worked in shops (and the oil industry, and tourism and hotels…) but I’d never had a shop. I had a feeling it was going to come on the market and one day we were sitting in the garden and a friend said ‘Come here, there’s a guy in the street with a clipboard outside the shop.’ 

And you ran outside and said “Stop!”? 

“More or less.”

To anyone opening a shop in 2020, it’s the obvious question to ask, so let’s just ask it. You’re setting up a new shop from scratch, how much of a nuisance has lockdown been? “Not really that much of a problem because I knew it was coming. We’ve had a four-week turnaround – we bought it at the end of November and…” 

Hang about. Stop. You only got hold of this at the end of October? 

“Yes, the 23rd. We came straight in after getting the key and started with the paint…” 

That’s just… That’s amazing. 

“Was it longer? I’m so tired… It’s gone really quickly, I know that.” 

While it’s Karin’s shop, Karin’s idea, Karin’s dream, she’s very keen to support Sussex based suppliers for my local goods. “The idea of helping and promoting local produce and business is really important. We’re very lucky to have a shop and while it’s OK to be online, if you can have somewhere to show your goods, that can make all the difference.”

So you’ve got? 

“Well, we sell Craft House Coffee, which is based in Wivelsfield. There’s Katie’s Nuttery, who do all sorts of organic nut butters and they’re based in Henfield. We’ve got Park Farm honey, from just up the road.  J.Cocoa, the chocolatier from Hassocks, and Slice, the local Seven Dials bakery and sweetmaker.”  

And it’s not just about the small producers; there’s a place at the table for shops, too. “We’ve got stuff from ‘And More Again’ in Upper Gardener Street because they –  Penny –goes to India a lot and she’s going to have a permanent feature in the shop because she fits what I like, the vibe.”  

So are you going to expand into things like local cheeses? “My core is art, that’s what the vibe is. The heart of the shop is community, but my core is art. If we can bring those things together…”

We hear so much about the death of the high street, about big stores closing, about how people only shop online. But maybe this is what the future will look like, post-Covid when big high street shopping has recalibrated. Community-based shops that work together, that help each other, that support other local businesses. 

“There are so many lovely people here and if we can all work together we can only make everyone stronger, and have more fun while we’re doing it”