Storms and Food Stories

The last few days have been unsettled; stormy, wet, cold, then calm and filled with sunshine, then a snow shower and more rain and heavy cloud. When the sun disappears behind clouds the wind is cold, as if the air cannot yet hold the heat, as if the year is too young to know how to retain warmth. Last night we had a series of tall heavy thunderclouds building up over the Welsh hills, vast, boiling grey mountains, higher and higher up the sky, until dissipated by the cold wind. At last the stars appeared and it was calm and cold; but ten minutes later it was raining. This is how Spring should be. The hedgerows are full of wild daffodils and primroses, tiny creamy-yellow stars highlighting the dead blond grasses and grey-blond road mud.

This morning I had local honey for breakfast and we bought cider from the organic cider-mill near Pembridge. This reminded me that a woman in Leominster - our nearest big town - is spending a year eating and drinking nothing (apart from tea and coffee) that isn't grown or raised in Herefordshire. She even thinks that people could live comfortably eating NOTHING that wasn't produced within ten miles of Leominster. Honey, milk, eggs, cheese, beef and lamb/mutton, strawberries, pears and apples, damsons, vegetables; beer from any number of local breweries, cider from huge orchards, apple-brandy and even wine from two or three local vineyards. Agriculture - viniculture - is ancient here; there is a vineyard near Wroxeter (admittedly in Shropshire) which was originally planted by the Romans. Our nearest Roman road is about six miles away, a strange thought to imagine Wroxeter wines being carted along it to the larger town at Kenchester two thousand years ago.