Mushrooms and ducks

Nonie — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 05:31:05 PDT

Mushrooms and Ducks

It would be a mistake to have assumed that at the River Cottage Duck Fair on Sunday that, as one of the chefs, I would be dealing with trays piled high with malards and Pekings. No, no. While Mark, on work experience with us from Jamie Oliver's Fifteen, was faced with carving that mountainous delight, and Dan our bread man made pancake after pancake to wrap said duck, I was set to work on the 'Beetroot Bazaar'. With over 400 people to feed at the Duck Fair, it was a surprise I have to admit, to have my hands stained red for three days from beetroot!

It turned out to be a fortunate position. In the tent we were giving away samples of beetroot humous, beetroot, blue cheese and poached pear tasters, chocolate and beetroot brownies, beetroot crumble, beetroot soup and, believe it or not, beetroot ice-cream. Everything seemed to go down well, although there were mixed reviews on the ice-cream (although one man tried to run off with the tub!). The all out winner, however, was the chocolate and beetroot brownies. I was inundated with requests for the recipe and said I would get it on the website as soon as possible. So here it is...

(I have to admit, I also wrote down the recipe for a few particularly keen people and after looking back over the recipe I did get one of the quantities wrong - so my apologies for anyone who tried it out and broke copious eggs into their mix.. maybe it was even an improvement...?)

Chocolate and Beetroot Brownies

275g good, dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids), broken into pieces

275g unsalted butter, cut into cubes, plus more for greasing

275g caster sugar

3 free-range eggs

150g self-raising flour (we used wholemeal self-raising)

250g beetroot, boiled until al dente then peeled and grated

Preheat oven to 160C/320F/Gas Mark 3. Grease a baking tin of approximately 20x30x3cm and line the bottom with baking parchemtn. Place the chocolate and butter in a heatproof bowl and melt over a bain marie. Allow to cool slightly. Whisk the eggs and sugar together in a bowl until combined. Pour in the melted chocolate and butter and stir until smooth and creamy. Gentlyfold in the flour then stir in the beetroot - be careful not to overmix or it will make the brownies tough. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and smooth over the top with a spatula. Bake for 20-25 minutes approximately. A knife inserted into the middle should come out with a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Be careful not to overcook them or they will lose their delicious fudgy texture. Remove the tin from the oven and leave on a wire rack to cool before cutting into squares.

I was fortunate enough to have met some lovely people while working in the tent. Many who already grew beetroot and hadn't really known what to do with it, and others who were converted to grow it. One man who regularly makes his own ice-cream for his family headed home to try out a beetroot ice-cream of his own.

After the excitment of the weekend, we have been running Mushroom foraging events with our mycologist and forager and extraordinare in general, John Wright. These have been some of the first of the year and unfortunately the weather on Monday and Tuesday was not the most encouraging for a mornings forage. However, our guests carried on quite gallantly and to even to their own surprise came back with great hauls. Guests yesterday had a special treat as Tim and Angela who were on the course brought along a black truffle for the group to try. I made up a batch of creamy scrambled eggs and we simply sliced the truffle on the table in front of everyone and served it with the eggs and bread. Today the weather was greatly improved, although unfortunately the bounty was less. Still, 38 different species were found.

Hilary and Chris Wicking from Lyme Regis, John Wright and Phil Guest (pictured above) who between them found jelly ear, stinkhorn, oyster mushroom, plums and custard, birh bolete, shaggy ink caps, earth balls and puffball mushrooms.

So between beetroot at duck fairs and mushrooms on courses, it's been a rather vegetarian week. Who said River Cottage was all about meat?

Nonie x

October recipes - Haw-Sin sauce

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 05:52:42 PDT

Haw-Sin Sauce

Ingredients:

500g haw berries
250ml organic cider vinegar
250ml water
250g organic, unrefined caster sugar
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Method:

1. Clean and de-stalk the haw berries then rinse in cold water.
2. Place in large pan with the vinegar and water and bring to boil. Simmer for approximately 30 to 45 minutes until the skins start to split.
3. Remove from the heat and rub the mixture through a sieve, leaving largish stones and the skins behind.
4. Return the mixture to a clean pan, add the sugar and heat gently, stirring frequently, until the sugar dissolves.
5. Bring to the boil and cook for a further 5 to10 minutes, until the sauce reduces and becomes slightly syrupy.
6. Season with salt and pepper to taste then pour into warm, sterilised bottles.

October recipes - Chocolate and beetroot brownies

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 03:47:16 PDT

Chocolate and beetroot brownies

Ingredients

250g/10oz good, dark chocolate (70% cocoa solids), broken into pieces
250g/ 10oz unsalted butter, cut into cubes, plus more for greasing
250g/10oz caster sugar
3 free-range eggs
150g self-raising flour (we used wholemeal self-raising)
250g of beetroot, boiled until tender, peeled and grated

Method: How to make chocolate and beetroot brownies

1. Preheat oven to 180C/350F/Gas Mark 4. Grease a baking tin of approximately 20x30x3cm and line the bottom with baking parchment.
2. Break up the chocolate into pieces, cut the butter into cubes then mix them up a bit in a heatproof bowl. As the oven begins to warm up, put the bowl onto one of the shelves for a few minutes until the chocolate and butter starts to melt. Stir, and put back into the oven for a few more minutes to melt completely.
3. Whisk the eggs and sugar together in a bowl until combined, then beat in the melted chocolate and butter until smooth. Gently fold in the flour then the beetroot - be careful not to overmix or it will make the brownies tough.
4. Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and smooth over the top with a spatula. Bake for about 20 minutes. A knife or skewer pushed into the middle should come out with a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Don't be tempted to overcook them! Remove the tin from the oven and leave on wire rack to cool before cutting into squares.

Perfect preserve competition

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Mon, 18 Aug 2008 04:48:46 PDT

Have you been making your own jams and chutneys for years, and have a fantastic recipe that you want us to know about? Then why not enter our Perfect Preserve competition?

All you need to do is send in your favourite preserve recipe and Pam Corbin, author of our Preserves Handbook, will pick her top 30 from the entries. If you are one of the successful entrants we will ask you to send in a sample jar of the recipe chosen. And as a special thank you for polishing up your jam pan we will send you a signed copy of Pam's new book.

Pam and her judging panel, including her co-host of our Preserved course, Liz Neville, will then do a grand tasting of the top 30 preserves, at our Store and Canteen in Axminster. Of that 30, they will select their favourite 3 who will win the top prize...

The unique and exciting chance to make their preserve in the River Cottage Kitchen under Pam's expert supervision. Following a well earnt lunch with Pam in the Canteen the three winning preserves will be launched as limited editions to be available to buy from our store that same afternoon

Example entry

Jon Haley's Chutney Jam

I don't know if this is the perfect preserve but it is perfectly simple! You end up with a beautiful chutney-like jam which is a great accompaniment to cold meats, cheese and pies.

Ingredients:

120ml olive oil
700g red onions, sliced thinly
170g caster sugar
150ml red wine vinegar
200ml port or red wine
1 salt and pepper to taste

Finely slice the onions and fry them off in the oil. Add the sugar, salt and pepper and boil for 30 minutes. Add the vinegar and red wine and boil for a further 30 to 40 minutes until you have a think jam-like mixture. Pour into in sterilised jars and seal.

A less sweet, more vintage taste can be achieved by using balsamic vinegar but you will lose some of the beautiful purple colouring. At Christmas time, add a few cloves and a small amount of cinnamon for an additional festive flavour.

Timeline of the Competition

All recipes must be submitted by Friday 29th August to events@rivercottage.net or by post to the address below
In our September (2nd) newsletter we will announce the 30 chosen recipes and contact the finalists directly
The finalists must submit their homemade preserve by Friday 26th September
The Grand Tasting will take place during the week of September 29th by Pam Corbin, Liz Neville and Tim Maddams, Head Chef at the River Cottage Canteen in Axminster
The winners will then be contacted at the beginning of October and officially announced in our October (7th) newsletter. They will be invited to join Pam on their prize day to be confirmed as one day during the week of 13th October.

Perfect Preserve Competition

River Cottage HQ

Park Farm

Musbury

EX13 8TB

Terms & Conditions

We will cover the costs of producing and selling the 3 winning jams in our stores. Any profit made will be donated to our current charity, Rural Revival
We must ask you to submit your entries by the above timelines, and any entry received after the dates will unfortunately not be submitted in to the competition
If asked to submit a sample of your preserve, it must be homemade, your own recipe, dated and all the ingredients listed
River Cottage reserve the right to change dates for unforseeable reasons
Travel, accomodation and alchohol is not included in the prize
The judges decision is final
The prize cannot be exchanged for an alternative prize or sold on

What's good in August

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Wed, 06 Aug 2008 04:28:15 PDT

We are spoiled by nature, and spoiled by Nature. July's abundance is thrilling, but within a few weeks we may be swamped by the sheer fecundity of the harvest. We have perhaps already forgotten the tremulous excitement with which individual seeds rolled off our fingertips into a loving cup of lightly tamped compost back in the polytunnel in February.

And the child-like thrill with which we cracked the first pea pod and devoured a row of tiny green peas has given way to the glutton's nonchalance. Instead of continuing to savour these little miracles, we have begun stomping about the garden, cursing the thigh-sized marrows that were meant to be courgettes and the rusty broad bean pods now fat enough to serve as sleeping bags for plump field mice. "What the hell am I supposed to do with all this stuff?" we ask. But we shouldn't whinge. This is the kind of problem that half the world dreams of. So we must avoid these negative vibrations and get on top of our crop without delay. Make the harvest daily, of at least three different kinds of vegetable, and try to ring the changes. Pick double quantities - one for dinner and one for the freezer.

Don't despair at the cannonball peas with whitening, wrinkled pods - suckling babes turned OAPs in a matter of weeks. Don't scorn the overgrown lettuces either, even if they have almost gone to seed. Put these two together and even in old age they are, with the support of a trusty old onion, still capable of romance. Pea and lettuce soup is as much a pleasure to defrost and heat up for a warming winter supper as it is to chill down and sip at on a stifling August evening. And more crudely, a coarse pea purée, with a bit of ham or bacon, makes one of my all-time favourite suppers.

There will be casualties. I thought my romanesco cauliflower was meant to be an autumn staple, but much of it had bolted by mid August. It is certainly a little easier to forgive yourself for squandering such richness if you keep a couple of pigs. Last July, August and September our pigs ate almost as well as we did. The first of the three went to slaughter in mid August for a spit-roast - the centrepiece of a memorable camping weekend for our friends and Oscar's. Before she died, she feasted on the pods of our almost-daily crop of peas and broad beans. I think it was the finest roast pork I have ever tasted, and I credit the high-summer vegetable garden diet as much as the wood fire and the spit.

There's certainly a lot to get your head around this month. Last year potatoes and tomatoes seemed to occupy more than their fair share of my gardening brain. The gardener has a love-hate relationship with these two, and August is often the month where both emotions are most intensely felt. Throughout July they seem like the most vigorous and indestructible of plants. But a few musty days in August can release the spores of blight that weaken them fatally. Here in Dorset, potato blight seems to be not an occasional disease but an annual inevitability, earlier and worse in some years than others. Blight management is the name of the game. I'll share my understanding of it with you because I only really got the hang of it last year. When the first browning starts to appear on the leaves of one plant, you can kid yourself it's just a little scarring or scorching. When it begins to spread to the surrounding plants at a steady and even rate, you know what's happening. But there's no need to panic. There is a merciful lag between the infection of leaves by airborne spores and the blighting and rotting of the tubers below. Even as the green leaves wither and die, the potatoes will continue to thrive and grow. But you really don't want to miss the crossing point. As soon as the majority of plants in a given row (some varieties will succumb faster than others) are showing more withered and brown leaves than fresh and green ones, you should cut down the whole row, just an inch or two above the ground. Drastic, I know, but the idea is to kill off the blight before it infects and rots the tubers. Remove all the cut foliage from the area. You can compost it, but it should be buried under a thick layer of existing compost or grass cuttings.

You should then leave the potatoes in the ground, harvesting as you need them, for at least ten days but no more than 20 (fewer if the ground is wet). In this time frame any residual blight spores should die off, yet the tubers in the ground will not have time to rot. Whatever is left must then be lifted and stored. Lift on a dry day if you can, and leave the tubers for a few hours on the surface. If the weather thwarts you, transfer them to a warm kitchen on newspaper. The point is that they are best stored ‘dirty but dry' - in wooden or cardboard boxes, covered, in a cool place. Exclude from storage any potatoes that are cut, damaged or infected in any way (use these up in the kitchen instead).

Tomato blight is less inevitable. Indeed, look after your plants well and with a bit of luck you may never be troubled by it. But when the blight comes, it is faster and more devastating than when it hits the potatoes. I'm afraid I messed up again last summer, for the second time in four years. Delighted with my new polytunnel, I was greedy for a heavy crop, and keen to try a whole bunch of new varieties, too. I grew a ridiculous number of plants in pots from seed, and although I gave a lot away I still tried to cram in too many and I planted them out, I now realise, far too close together. Had I been more ruthless with my pinching out and stripping, I might have got away with it. Instead I revelled in the rude health and magnificent foliage of my tomato plants throughout May, June and July, and was delighted to see so many flowers, which quickly turned into trusses of embryonic fruit. July was humid and often windless. My Dad, a very successful tomato grower, came to see us one weekend and was appalled by the scenes of lushness in the polytunnel - pride waiting for a fall. We did a radical panic prune, reducing the foliage on the vines by about half. The discarded matter included, to my dismay, quite a lot of flowering and fruiting stems. But even such harsh measures proved too little too late. By the first week in August, blight was appearing on the leaves before a single fruit had even started to colour. And by the time the first tomatoes were ripe a couple of weeks later, much of the green fruit was already scarred with brown blighting.

In such circumstances, an exercise in cutting one's losses is all that is left to try. You can delay the inevitable, and give a few more tomatoes the chance to ripen before they succumb, by stripping all the foliage (yes, every single leaf and stem that isn't a fruit-bearing vine) off all the plants. You can also do a massive pick of your biggest, unblighted green tomatoes and derive some comfort from a huge batch of chutney. We did both these things, and managed to salvage enough of a crop for our immediate gratification. In the end we ate most of our tomatoes as fresh fruit, in August. By the middle of September it was all over, and we'd probably only been able to harvest a third of our potential crop. There's no luscious tomato purée in the freezer this winter. Lesson learned. Next year I'm going to be super-cautious Mr Conscientious tomato grower. Am I capable of such discipline? Marie points out that I've already acquired about 20 different varieties of tomato seeds for the coming year. Get a grip, Hugh, get a grip...

Why grow vegetables?

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 02:52:44 PDT

The way to know most about the vegetables you cook and eat is, of course, to grow them yourself. In all honesty, I am hardly a leading authority on the art of growing vegetables (though by plundering the knowledge of others and reading the back of a few seed packets I have attained a level of competence that serves me well). Nevertheless, I am an unremitting, if recently converted, enthusiast, and I have probably given more thought than most to the question, 'Why bother?' So what can I say to the enthusiastic cook who is vaguely interested in the idea of growing his or her own vegetables but is still teetering on the brink of action? Realistically, for most of us these days there are no persuasive economic arguments for growing your own vegetables - at least, not if you cost out your time. (During summer gluts, my father used to pay me pocket money to pick and freeze peas, beans and soft fruits from his vegetable garden. He once calculated that the resulting frozen produce cost him three or four times what it would in the supermarket. And that was without factoring in his own time).

But there is still an important sense in which the vegetables you grow yourself really are free. When your time is given freely, what you make with it is free in the best sense of the word. When you buy your vegetables, you are a slave - to the car that takes you to the shops; to the methods, good or bad, by which the vegetables are produced; to market forces, and the big bosses who fix the prices; to the shelf-stacking policies that determine the freshness, or otherwise, of the produce you buy. You have no say whatsoever in the means of production, no role in the quality of what becomes yours only when you hand over the cash.

Grow your own vegetables and all that changes. Choose the seeds, the growing site, the time to plant, to weed, to water, to feed, to harvest. What you then take to the kitchen is not just a vegetable. It's a form of self-expression, an assertion of personal liberty. It's a kind of opting out of the world as you're told it must be in favour of the world as you'd like it to be. You may doubt the wisdom of loading something as ordinary as a carrot with such deep personal meaning. But try growing them yourself and you will find that carrots are far from ordinary. They are sleek, pointed orange miracles that come from nowhere to populate a bare patch of earth. And, almost astonishingly, you can eat them! The fact is, those who already grow their own vegetables for the kitchen need no converting to the cause. I have yet to meet a vegetable gardener who complained that 'It's hardly worth it, what with the choice available in the supermarket these days', or 'It's too much time for too little reward, or 'What's the point, you can hardly taste the difference anyway?' These quotations are the clichés of the uninitiated - those who do not yet know the prickly heat of a fat radish, freshly drawn from the earth, washed with a wipe on a dewy tuft of grass, and eaten without further ado; those who have not tasted the extra sugar dose in a pile of self-podded peas plunged into boiling water within an hour of being picked; those who have not marvelled at the unrepentant earthiness of freshly dug potatoes...

If you are still wavering, let me offer you another, almost glib, answer to the question, 'Why grow vegetables?' Because you can. I mean, anyone can. Growing vegetables is easy: all you need is earth and seeds. Sunshine and water are important too, but in a reasonable year both should come in plentiful supply, courtesy of the man upstairs. A relaxed, laissez-faire attitude to growing vegetables will stand the beginner in good stead. While there is plenty of scope for fussing and fretting about your vegetable patch, you will probably find that obsessive attention to detail either does or doesn't evolve as the years go by, according to your personality. In other words, if you want to become the manic overseer of a manicured vegetable plot, you can; but it doesn't have to start off that way.

Deep-fried Stuffed Courgette Flowers

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 08:03:58 PDT

Don't miss the treat of deep-fried courgette flowers in batter - best with a tiny baby courgette attached.

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 garlic clove, finely chopped
500g small courgettes, finely sliced
2 tablespoons cream
50g Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

salt and freshly ground black pepper
8-10 fresh courgette flowers
oil for deep-frying
salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the batter: 250g plain flour 1 large or 2 small egg yolks 350ml water a pinch of salt

Heat the oil in a large saucepan, then add the garlic, courgettes and a little salt. Cook the courgettes gently, on what I like to call a ‘slow sizzle', so that they soften without browning. Continue cooking, stirring frequently, until they are completely soft and almost all their water has evaporated (this may take 20 minutes or more). Then bash to a pulpy consistency (a rough purée) with a wooden spoon or potato masher. Stir in the cream and Parmesan and allow to bubble for just a minute so that the cream is incorporated and reduced a little. Season to taste and leave to cool.

To make the batter, quickly mix all the ingredients together, adding more water if necessary to bring it to the consistency of thick paint. Don't overmix the batter, or it won't have the light texture you want - don't worry if it has a few lumps in it.

Check your courgette flowers for insects (especially if some of your guests are vegetarian), then carefully scoop the cooked courgette mixture inside them with a teaspoon. You should get 2-4 good teaspoons in each one, depending on the size of the courgette flowers (any leftover stuffing can be used as a sauce for pasta).

Heat some oil in a saucepan or a deep-fat fryer until a small piece of bread thrown in takes about 1 minute to turn deep golden brown. Dip the stuffed flowers in the batter and lower them carefully into the hot oil. Do not crowd the pan; cook 2-4 at a time, depending on their size and the size of the pan. Deep-fry for 1-2 minutes, until puffed up, crisp and golden brown, Then drain on kitchen paper and serve sprinkled with flaky salt.

If you are interested in gardening, you might like to try one of our garden courses here at Park Farm. Alternatively, if you like to take life at a more leisurely pace what about a gentle stroll around our kitchen garden after lunch at River Cottage HQ on on of our Sundays at River Cottage events?

Meat and right

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 02:35:02 PDT

'I believe our attitude to meat requires radical reform - both an alternative approach to meat production and a return to some of the older, more holistic values of meat cookery. But ultimately the only person who is going to effect any significant change in the way meat is produced, sold and cooked, is you, the consumer. So it's you I'm after, and your habits I hope to change.'

I believe our attitude to meat requires radical reform. I'm delighted to say I am not the only one championing an alternative approach to meat production and a return to some of the older, more holistic values of meat cookery. There are a good number of chefs, writers and commentators, plus hundreds of farmers and meat producers, committed to a similar set of ideas. But ultimately the only person who is going to effect any significant change in the way meat is produced, sold and cooked, is you - the consumer. So it's you I'm after, and your habits I hope to change.

Already thousands of people are beginning to shop for meat in a more thoughtful way. If you are one of them, I hope I can add a little to your commitment to and enjoyment of good meat. But if I may be unabashedly honest about my ambitions, what I really want to do is help to change those thousands into millions. And The River Cottage Meat Book, due out later this year, is, alongside my journalism and television work, one gesture towards that ambition.

Cooking is a daily drama, still staged to some degree in almost every home. One of my jobs as a cookery writer is to make sure that every episode has a happy ending - and, with a bit of luck, a happy beginning and middle as well. I want you to enjoy cooking, eating, and feeding your friends because I believe these are among the higher pleasures and privileges of our short time on the planet. And I believe that meat, at its splendid best, helps us achieve this sense of shared contentment better perhaps than any other food. But another reason I've written about meat is because of my alarm at what meat eating can be at its worst: an ignominious expression of greed, indifference and heartlessness.

After eating badly produced, badly butchered and badly cooked meat, you may be left thinking, if you are prone to such thoughts, ‘You mean an animal died, for that.' I hope that if you read my book on meat you will have such thoughts rarely, if at all.

I like to argue, and I like to digress, and I like to take some time in cajoling my readers to consider and, I hope, embrace my theories about food. But what I'm saying in the new book is not really very complicated. As an exercise for my own benefit, I tried to summarise it all in a few bullet points. When I did so, it seemed to make sense, and even to be worth reproducing. So here it is - my ‘meat manifesto', if you like, expressed as a series of questions and exhortations to you, a visitor at rivercottage.net.

Do feel free to answer back ...

MY MEAT MANIFESTO

Consider how much meat you eat. Is it, perhaps, too much? Too much for your good health? Do you imagine that your personal meat-eating habit, extrapolated to a national level, might put undue pressure on farmers to produce mountains of cheap meat of dubious quality, by dubious means?
Think about the meat that you eat. Is it good enough? Good enough to bring you pleasure every time you eat it? Could it, should it, be better? Perhaps it would make sense to spend a little more on it, a little less often. Or to buy cheaper cuts of better meat.
Think about the animals that the meat you eat comes from. Are you at all concerned about how they have been treated? Have they lived well? Have they been fed on safe, appropriate foods? Have they been cared for by someone who respects them and enjoys contact with them? Would you like to be sure of that? Perhaps it's time to find out a bit more about where the meat you eat comes from. Or to buy from a source that reassures you about these points.
There might be a different way of buying meat that works well for you, that could guarantee better quality and give you a cleaner conscience. Could you shop more locally, buying direct from the people who actually farm the animals that produce the meat? Or could you use a butcher who can tell you where all his meat comes from, and get special things for you when you want them?
Think about the way you cook meat. Do it justice. Respect it. Understand a little (or even a lot) about what happens when you roast a joint or bird in a very hot oven, or when you simmer meat slowly for hours, with subtle flavours. Discover the remarkable difference that resting roast meat, for 15 minutes or more, before carving it, will make to its texture, and therefore its taste. A few small adjustments to your kitchen habits could bring big benefits.
Are you adventurous with meat? Do you explore the tastes and textures of different cuts, particularly the cheaper cuts and offal? Could you save money and eat better by doing so? There may be all kinds of recipes, not complicated, not expensive, that could breathe new life into your meat cookery and bring more excitement and satisfaction at mealtimes to you, your family and the friends you entertain.
Are you thrifty with meat? That's not the same as mean. In fact, it's practically the opposite. Being creative with leftover meat means getting more from it. You're making it more generous to you and, in so doing, paying greater tribute to the animal that has died to provide it.
Finally, if you accept that there is any moral content at all in the way we treat animals, then you must accept that there is a moral dimension in your dealings with meat. Please think about it, don't shirk it.

Your questions answered

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 11:26:26 PDT

[To finish his stint as Yahoo! UK & Ireland guest editor, Hugh was kind enough to answer some of your questions.]

I keep hearing about certain types of fish being 'overfished' and at risk from extinction - which species are safe to eat and which type should be avoided to preserve stock levels? - Helen Dobson

There's no question we have a problem with fish stocks, both in UK waters and globally.

Cod is the classic story of a fish where stocks were once thought to be inexhaustible, and is now on the brink of collapse. Of course there is still plenty of cod which can be caught, but it's reaching a critical point, which could result in a total collapse.

So cod is one to be avoided, but there are many other fish which substitute well of cod in recipes such as pollock and pouting, which many chefs are starting to champion.

It's also as much about methods as species, so you should try to avoid fish which are being trawled (this damages the sea bottom) and go for fish which have been line-caught or caught on static nets.

I have just moved from a flat with no garden to a house with a garden, I want to try growing some food, but am a complete novice. What would you recommend I start with, suitable to plant now? - Sam Clue

The key to starting growing your own vegetables is simple: grow vegetables which you know you'll enjoy eating. There are no rules- whatever takes your fancy.

Most vegetables are quite easy to grow, so whether it's potatoes, carrots, peas, beans or cabbages, if you like eating them, try growing them.

Do you have any pets, or have you eaten them all? - Emma Bourne

A springer-spaniel pointer cross-breed called Dolly who has been with us for nearly seven years and has given us two litters of lovely puppies. So far she and all her puppies have managed to dodge the pot!

I often endeavour to make my own stocks, and to my understanding, it's the bone marrow that adds flavour to the stocks. Why is it then that I've never found a recipe for pork stock? Is there such a thing? Do you have a good recipe using pork bone marrow? - Roy Francis Huemer

It's good fresh meat bones which make good stock, and you can definitely make a good pork stock. I like to use a mixture of rib bones and leg bones - some roasted, some fresh - with plenty of stock vegetables.

The key is a long, slow simmer - at least three to four hours. Pork stock, like chicken stock, is very versatile and well worth making.

We love your shows and books and try to live the life. We should probably be more imaginative with adults' and kid's lunchboxes, but ham is a favourite. It seems impossible to get ham from 'happy pigs' though. A bit more pressure on the supermarkets may be needed. I also think posh packaging on bacon in supermarkets is possibly trying to fool us that the meat is free range when it isn't if you read carefully. What do you think? - Dominic Foy

If you're looking for higher welfare pork products then look for the labels 'free range' or 'outdoor reared'. Best of all, go for organic. It costs a little more, but if you care about animal welfare, it makes a difference. Soil Association-certified organic pork is rated as the highest welfare standard.

The space given for free range chickens at my local supermarket is minuscule, and the price is extortionate. I feel they are making it as difficult as they possibly can for people to buy free-range. Do you think thinks will change? - Hilary Hutchinson

Things are changing. Not as fast as we like, but they're changing for the better. Most supermarkets are selling twice as much free range chicken as they did at the beginning of the year. There is a problem now with demand outstripping supply, and this can lead to empty shelves in some supermarkets.

Our campaign continues, and we hope to keep the pressure up on supermarkets to make more free range chicken available. Free range chicken will, however, always cost a little more. My view is not that free range is too expensive, it's that intensively farmed chicken is horrendously, artificially cheap.

I think a possible alternative to totally organic farms or to legislation regarding animal welfare would be open farming. In this, farms that participate would not promise no cruelty or pesticides, etc. Rather they would promise to be open to inspection by anyone who pays an inspection fee. Just the naming and shaming would help to make the animal process more humane. Obviously farms that already have nothing to hide would sign up first as there would be no cost involved. If sufficient market share was created, or sufficient publicity, the alternative question would arise in peoples minds: what am I eating that is so shameful/dirty that it has to be hidden? I realise this is a topic, not exactly a question but I was wondering about the feasibility of this project? - John

I like your idea about open farming. There's no doubt it's a controversial topic, and I think this is a great issue to take to the River Cottage forum. Why not post a message there and see what kind of response you get? It's definitely the kind of thing our River Cottage regulars like to debate.

We have a small vegetable patch at home, however this year we have struggled to grow much due to the seeds being eaten by moles etc. What is your top tip for stopping this happening? - James Wilson

I've never really had problems with moles. The bugbear of my life is slugs - we have to go on night patrol to remove them, particularly from cabbages and lettuce. I believe, however, you can get electronic mole repellents that create vibrations in the soil which moles don't like.

We all know that beef will have more flavour if it has been properly matured. We all know that most supermarket beef has only been aged a few days, if at all. Is it possible to age supermarket beef at home, and if so, under what conditions? - Chi Wong

It's very difficult to age small joints of boneless beef which have already been packaged for sale. Aging is much more effective with larger joints and meat which is still on the bone.

About the smallest joint you could successfully age at home would be a four rib of beef still on the bone. It's something you may find in some supermarkets but, frankly, you'd be better off buying from a local butcher or farmers' market where it will have been matured properly.

I would love to taste samphire, the poor man's version of asparagus, but you never see it in supermarkets. Any idea why? Can you start a campaign? - Jane C

The traditional place to get samphire is from a fishmongers - they used to give you a handful for free. These days, you almost certainly have to pay for it, but it is worth it as it's a very unusual vegetable.

If you go to marshy tidal flats around Britain you may be able to pick your own, but it's coming to the end of the samphire season

Given the fact that the production of meat uses a vast amount of the earth's natural and dwindling resources, plus contributes significantly to global warming - should we be encouraging people to adopt more of a vegetarian diet? - Laiyan Man

People know that I'm an enthusiastic carnivore. Having said that, I definitely think we need to be eating less meat on this planet, not more. Meat is a precious food which we should never take for granted. We should all aim to use it more wisely and more 'sustainably'.

Thanks for your questions everyone. Sorry I haven't been able to answer all of them. You could try posting on the River Cottage forum where you'll find our enthusiastic band of smallholders and 'grow your own' enthusiasts are filling to help. Bye!

Everything but the oink!

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 09:14:38 PDT

[You can watch an excerpt from River Cottage Pig & Pork online course on Yahoo! Video. Or visit the website River Cottage for more information.]

With our Pig & Pork (or 'Pig In A Day') course the underlying philosophy is to show respect for a pig. You really have to use every part of it - nothing should go to waste. You might have heard the old butcher's saying, 'Everything but the oink!'

We teach the basic principles of pig husbandry, the process of butchering a pig, plus how to make your own air-dried hams, brine-cured hams, brawn, bacon, sausages, chorizos and salamis.

The course isn't just for pig keepers - you'll find the advice invaluable when buying pork from a butcher. And, aside from the video tutorials featuring myself and our pig expert Ray, there's a wide range recipes, of course. You can watch an example here on Yahoo!.