Seedy soda bread with a secret ingredient: Cricket Flour

If you hadn't noticed, I've got into entomophagy - the practice of eating insects - recently.

The trio - myself, Annie and Charlotte - have had a growing amount of media attention and are now hosting workshops at festivals (and hopefully elsewhere soon!) talking to people about entomophagy and conducting culinary workshops. This is all absolutely fantastic, and I am so excited to continue down this route of research and taste exploration.

However, there is one thing to note: we are not attempting to market insects. Each of us have reasons for being interested; psychology, culture, environment, policy... For me, it is not about forcing people to eat insects nor framing them as a universal solution to diet or environmental-related crises affecting our food system.

Instead, insects are a lens through which I can explore fundamental issues such as a) consumer disconnect with the way our food is produced, b) the increasing jeopardisation of traditional, artisan and diverse foods at the expense of Western highly processed diets, and c) what might happen to entomophagy and its diversity if incorporated within global, capitalist food systems that rely on food being a commodity.

What is interesting is that I have been exploring these issues for a while now, with this blog aiming to tell the stories behind our food and provide alternatives to a 'business as usual' intensive and disconnected mode of agricultural and food production. However, I have found that entomophagy has been the most successful in terms of captivating audiences and challenging peoples' culinary comfort zones.

Why? Perhaps it is because of the 'ick factor', or because - compared to other novel foods - it truly is 'unusual' to us in the West. What is clear, however, is that this curiosity is something to capitalise on rather than dispel. We need to create platforms that engage people with entomophagy and other food cultures from around the world so that, even if eating insects does become 'normalised' and mainstreamed within global food systems, the diversity of insects and the associated cultures, nutrition, environments and gastronomical heritage is preserved.

My own culinary explorations: Soda bread with cricket flour 

I recently went on a weekend away in Wales, aiming to relax and go hiking in the beautiful Snowdonia National Park. The relaxation element was there, however a persistent cold meant I was physically unable to gallivant up hills, so instead I chose to bake. A lot. I started at 6am on the first day and had made two loaves of bread by 9am. Boy I know how to have fun.

Wales - a salmon stream flowing by our cottage.

To make this even more exciting, Charlotte provided me with some cricket flour. Cricket flour is increasingly popular, with restaurants and start-ups (i.e. 'entopreneurs') using it within muffins, cakes and bars. While these are great treats, I wanted to go down a very simple route and make soda bread - a staple, nutritious product using four basic ingredients; flour, bicarbonate of soda, water and salt.

I adapted Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall's seedy rye soda bread from his Light and Easy: Healthy Recipes for Every Day. When I say 'adapt', it wasn't solely because we had cricket flour to use, but because Welsh stores are limited when it comes to artisan bread ingredients. In fact, they seem to be limited to everything but random herbs, liquor and tattoo pens; all of which came in very handy over the weekend.

Tattoo fun! Thanks to Charlotte

Moving swiftly on, here are the ingredients for seeded cricket flour soda bread: 

• 40g sunflower seeds
  (Hugh also uses sesame seeds, poppy seeds, linseeds but Welsh food markets didn't allow for this, so I doubled the amount of sunflower seeds). 
• 200g strong white bread flour 
• 50g cricket flour 
• 1/2 tsp salt 
• 1 1/2 tsps bicarbonate of soda
• 100ml apple juice
• 40g honey 
• 1 tbsp sunflower oil
• 100ml of tepid water

Method

1. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C. Line a baking tray with baking parchment.
2. Combine most of the seeds (leave aside around 1tbsp for sprinking on top) with the white bread flour and cricket flour. Add salt and bicarbonate of soda.
3. In a jug, combine the apple juice, 100ml of water, honey and oil. Stir until the honey is dissolved.
4. Pour onto dry ingredients and mix quickly until it forms a sticky (very sticky) dough with no lumps. Be careful not to over mix.
5. Scrape the dough onto a floured surface and form into a round loaf shape (coat your hands with flour first, it's very sticky). Transfer onto a baking tray and sprinkle with the remaining seeds.
6. Cut a pretty, relatively deep cross shape in the dough (Hugh suggests going at least half way down, I did around 1/3).
7. Bake for 30 minutes until it is a rich brown all over - this is an indication for the rye bread, but it works with the cricket flour bread too.
8. Transfer to a cooling rack and then keep in an air tight container for 3 days. 

Apologies for my Nokia's poor camera...but look how nutritious it looks...

The resultant loaf was moist, dense and has a nutty flavour. Great as Hugh's original recipe achieves this too, described as 'quick to make and full of nutty flavours'. It would be interesting to know whether, if made with rye flour, the cricket flour would be overpowering - the neutral tasting white flour helped to balance out the flavours and aromas. 

Here are some suggestions of what to combine this delicious bread with: 

• Fresh out of oven with butter
• With smoked fish of any kind - e.g. salmon, trout. In this sense, it is very much like rye, working well with Nordic foods. 
• Cream cheese and chives, black pepper and lemon juice. 

I also tried it with honey which was good, but a bit too sticky. Marmite, unfortunately for me, was not a winner. The acidity of the Marmite didn't work very well with the rich taste. What is clear is that I will have to bake it again and test it out with other flavours...perhaps even add in a few more ingredients to the dry mix (walnuts seem enticing...). 

Look Down: Edible Insects Workshop

"Jade, you copy? Nina speaking. The insect girls have arrived. Repeat, the insect girls have arrived. Over" 

On 21st June, Annie, Charlotte and myself arrived at Tandem Festival. Located at Hill End outdoors centre, Oxford, Tandem is a weekend celebrating arts, culture and environment. This year, they themed part of the festival on soil, aligning with the United Nation's International Year of the Soil. And what better way to celebrate soil than to give a workshop on edible insects..!

In a stroke of genius, Charlotte decided our workshop should be called Look Down: Edible Insects. 

Down to the soil. with an Open mind. connect with people Worldwide. and try something New

Our workshop was to take place just before lunch; the perfect time to get your insect protein fix for the day. The location - The Willows building and outside picnic benches, with the former being a space for presentations and debates and the latter a platform for culinary exploration.

At 11am, the room started to be filled with eager (and slightly anticipatory) attendees. The best thing was that around 40% of the group were children under the age of 10. As Annie reflected in her talk on the psychology of eating insects, it is this demographic that are most important; they are curious and they have not yet developed stubborn habits towards particular food groups - particularly 'risky' or 'unknown' foods.

Initial tastings 

Silk worm pupae, grasshoppers and wasp larvae were laid out on black, intricately designed Japanese plates. Next to them were test tubes filled with grubs from Zimbabwe, silk worm cocoons and wasp nests. This panoply of insect cuisine and specimens was approached with caution by most; some even ran away after poking a silk worm. "They just look so shiny and..plump..." said one spectator. 

People arriving!!

After introducing the session, we handed round the banquet of insects. We then asked people to fill out a questionnaire about their reactions [results coming soon!]

First mistake: we gave silk worm pupae first. For those who have tried silk worms, they are an acquired taste. Domesticated and farmed for their silk production, silk worms feed only on mulberry leaves which have a distinctive, strong taste. Compared to the grasshoppers and wasp larvae, they are also slightly less 'meaty' and drier, and are less overpowered by the taste of soy and sugar. 

The reactions ranged from absolute disgust and 'ick factor' rejections to one little boy even asking for more silk worm. Like Charlotte, he 'craved that silk worm'.

She was not impressed by the silk worms

Curiouser and curiouser 

"Can I have some more silk worm please?"

The adrenaline from eating unknown foods and experiencing new tastes and textures gave rise to great discussions on insect gastronomy, all complemented by Charlotte's fantastic photos of insect sushi and other delights. Questions were asked both by Charlotte and the audience, with a constant feed of curiosity and particularly insatiable interest in learning about how to feed and kill grasshoppers. 

With people suitably hooked, we decided to get properly hands on...with an insect cooking class. 

Taste investigation! Cooking with insects 

In Japan, Charlotte and I had the pleasure of meeting with Tsukahara, a charismatic man with a large smile and a small dog named Sweetie. Tsukahara owns a family-run speciality foods shop, and is well known for his delicious array of insects. Using an old workhouse nestled in the foothills of rural Japan, Tsukahara uses large aluminium pots to gently cook a range of wild caught insects in soy sauce and mirin, a sweet Japanese wine. 

Charlotte, Tsukuhara and I 

His charisma is matched with generosity and he kindly donated 3kg of silk worms, wasps and grasshoppers for our workshop. The fact we had to take these all the way back to England in our suitcases was just a triviality - I would have pitied the staff member who found my suitcase filled to the brim with insects, hornet liquor and stuffed anime toys. 

These insects, plus a tonne of roasted vegetables, cheeses and sourdough bread, provided the basis of our taste investigation workshop. 

Taste investigation is a concept encouraged by Slow Food's Ark of Taste, a campaign towards the preservation and celebration of endangered or traditional foods around the world. With globalisation of Western diets and lifestyles, the diversity of traditional foods and the cultures and environments that underpin them are in jeopardy. As consumers, this undermining risks further detaching us from the enjoyment, tastes, textures, aromas and fascinating stories behind our foods. 

We wanted to use taste investigation to explore the world of edible insects. By letting people actually prepare a meal in a social setting, tasting and testing out different flavour and texture combinations, and incorporating insects (something novel and potentially scary) with 'normal' foods, we hoped to shift people's initial disgust or detachment from entomophagy into feelings of enjoyment. 

Huddled around three tables filled with insects and vegetables galore, people set to work. Here are some of the lessons learned: 

• Silk worm pupae go particularly well with roquefort cheese
• Avocado on toast with salsa and crunchy grasshoppers is a treat 
• Stuffed mushrooms with wasp larvae, avocado and salsa is delicious
• Basically stuffing every single food item into one tortilla is the best way to go

The taste workshop starts...

Silk worm and smelly cheese? 

Contemplating their next move...

Avocado on toast with grasshopper 

Wasp larvae, butternut squash, mushroom and tomato tortilla

This is the same girl who hated silk worms! Look at her go!

More food for thought: Psychology and policy 

After the taste investigation, everyone piled back into the Willows building to listen to the final presentations. 

With over 1900 species of edible insect, and over 30% of the world's population already eating insects as part of a traditional diet, there is an impetus to really understand the reasons behind entomophagy and what role it could play in the future of our food and agricultural systems. 

Consumer preference and cultural barriers are incredibly important when determining whether or not insects will become a 'mainstream' food choice in the West. Annie spoke about the psychological barriers to eating insects, primarily disgust and how sensitising yourself to a new food over time is one key way to overcome initial repulsion. 

Go Annie go!

Insects as 'climate friendly'? 

Captivated audience!

A great discussion was sparked amongst the audience, including points of: 

• It is the fact you eat the insect whole that makes it 'icky': "You wouldn't shove a pig, trotters and all, into your mouth"
• The importance of machoism ("I'll eat that grub 'cos I'm macho") when it comes to eating unusual/potentially unsafe foods
• Farming insects and welfare issues were also important in determining whether or not they would eat them

Moving away from the individual mindset level, I looked at edible insects in the wider policy sphere, especially in relation to their potential in healthy and sustainable diets and shifting away from a land, water and greenhouse gas intensive livestock farming system. 

Linking the culture, the individual, the food and the policy together was a great finishing point: The individual focus and hands-on workshop gave people agency and a voice in the debates and exploration of entomophagy, which can then be grounded in global perspectives and policy change. 

This workshop was truly inspiring. In just an hour and a half, people went from poking at silk worms in disgust to being involved emotionally, gastronomically and intellectually with entomophagy as a concept and practice. 

"I literally just came along to look at the bugs...and now I've gone away with a tin foil take-away of them to give to my friends in the pub"

We just hope that this provides a platform for more inspiring educational workshops like this, encouraging people to go outside their culinary comfort zones, ask questions and gorge on tortillas stuffed with insect delights.

We shall update you soon on what progress we have made... 

Amazing Amazake: Sake Breweries and Cupcakes

This post is the second instalment in a Japanese travel series, telling stories from my recent trip to Japan to explore the wonderful world of edible insects and other culinary delights.

After spending five days in Tokyo, Charlotte and I travelled on an overnight bus to Kushihara, located in the rural prefecture of Gifu. The next five days were packed with hot springs, foraging, drums and guitars, more hot springs, a lot of hornet liquor and fermented food.

On the second day there, Charlotte invited me along to a sake tasting with brewery owner Watarai George Misuteru. Packing ourselves into a lumberjack's truck along with an Irish backpacker named Rowan, we set off for the Lady of the Castle brewery, Iwamura.

Sake!

Rowan, 'George', Charlotte and I 

Once we arrived, Charlotte was kind enough to give us an informal tour of the place. The sake brewery was so cold that my numb hands were unable to write much down other than a few exceptional quotes and highlights (i.e. I was too busy sampling sake). Thankfully, it seems like Charlotte has a habit of taking curious Westerners around sake breweries and so you can read all about the ins and outs of sake history and production here.

After the tour, Watarai George Misuteru offered us samples of various sakes, including traditional and sweeter blends, a lemon sake and....amazake.

"Oh, this is sweet, sweet heaven in a glass" 

My response to trying amazake for the first time is reflected in the comment above, It is glorious. After witnessing my pure delight, Watarai George Misuteru was generous enough to present me with a whole bottle of amazake to take home and enjoy. You might be asking - what is this 'sweet sweet heaven' and where can I get it? Well, let me tell you:

Amazake is a traditional, sweet, low (1%) or non-alcohol drink made from fermented rice. It is essentially a by-product of sake. While sake tastes quite similar to wine, it essentially is brewed in the same way as beer, with the starch converted to sugars and then alcohol.

To make amazake, you need to add koji to whole grain rice, helping to break down rice carbohydrates into sugar molecules. The result is a sweet, milky drink. It smells of those Haribo 'milk bottle' sweets, tastes like agave nectar mixed with milk, and has a texture similar to bitty coconut milk.

Amazake in all its milky glory 

As long as you have a lazy day at hand, it is very easy to make yourself:

• You need 3 cups of rice (or other grains such as millet, quinoa) and 3 cups of koji. 
• Make the rice/grain into a 'porridge' in a saucepan, using a 5:1 ratio of water to grain. 
• Let it cool to around 43 degrees C
• Add the 3 cups of koji and stir well
• Leave in a rice cooker/yoghurt maker/oven (at a temperature of approx 50-60 degrees C) for 10 - 14 hours
• Check on your amazake every few hours if you can, adding water if it looks too clumpy. 
• You can continue after 14 hours if you want it even sweeter than it already is - the longer it breaks down the grain, the sweeter it will be. 

Now you have your amazake. What do you do with it? 

Along with being low in sugar and a natural sweetener, it is supposedly great for hangovers, can be drunk hot or cold as a comforting beverage, or incorporated into various sweet recipes.
For just a few, check out: Clearspring, Coconut and Berries and Japanese Cooking Class.

I decided to use up some dessicated coconut and fresh rhubarb and make some coconut cupcakes with honey & lime-infused rhubarb. 

The recipe, adapted from Martha Stewart's basic cupcake recipe, is as follows:

Ingredients

1 3/4 cups of self-raising flour

1/2 tsp of salt 

1/2 cup of dessicated coconut (I used unsweetened)

170g unsalted butter 

1/3 cup of brown sugar 

2 large eggs and 1 egg white

3/4 cup of amazake 

1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract 

Method

For the cupcakes:

1. Pre-heat oven to 160 degrees C
2. Mix all the dry ingredients together in a bowl and leave to one side
3. Cream the butter and (teeny tiny amount of) sugar in a bowl and then add the eggs one at a time
4. Add the amazake and vanilla extract to the wet ingredients
   
   *Right now, it will look horrific. Mine looked like curdled baby sick. It is not a delicious look. But, have faith in the amazake*
   
5. Add the dry ingredients, a bit at a time, into the wet ingredients and fold. Not too much. 
6. Divide the batter into little muffin cups - I was able to make about 12. 
7. Bake until golden brown. It took about 20 minutes for mine.
   *They are very moist cupcakes - don't be fooled by this as they are probably cooked. Check using a fork/skewer and see if it comes out clean*
8. Cool on a wire rack and get going with the candied rhubarb... 

For the candied lime and honey rhubarb: 

1. Cut your rhubarb into 6cm strips and place in a baking tray (don't let them touch one another) 
2. In a saucepan, heat honey with hot water at a ratio of 2:1 and bring to the boil. 
3. Once boiled, bring off the heat and let it cool for a moment.
4. Add lime juice to taste
5. Either drizzle over the rhubarb or brush them with the honey-lime syrup. 
6. Bake in the oven (ideally at around 180 degrees C but if in same oven as cupcakes, just bake for slightly longer) until they are tender and caramelised. 

I also added a bit of 'candied coconut'. In other words, I mixed lime juice with icing sugar and dessicated coconut. Oh and a bit of amazake, just for kicks. It didn't work out too great, but waste not want not; I ended up brushing little chunks of sugary coconut and the syrup over the cooled cupcakes to give a sugary glaze. 

So, yeah...that whole 'sugar-free' healthy cupcake thing didn't really work out, but they tasted amazing. 

Now I have a tiny bit of amazake left which I will experiment with over the next week...be warned. 

Tsukiji Fish Market: So long and thanks for all the fish

It was 3.35am, Monday 18th May.

The air was cool, saturated from a recent burst of rain.  Forklift trucks, carrying white polystyrene crates stuffed with bounties of fresh fish and produce, momentarily lit up puddles with their yellow headlights before ripping through them as they darted into the concrete cavern that is Tsukiji Market.

Amidst this organised chaos were two bewildered tourists. Of course, it was Shoji and I. 

We had a sleep-deprived yet adrenaline-fuelled demeanour about us; a combination that can only evolve from a night spent singing Taylor Swift in a local kareoke bar, drinking Japanese alcopops and dressing as a penguin and French maid.

Grapefruit Slat: it packs a citrusy punch

Taylor Swift didn't know what hit her

The vastness of Tsukiji Market had swallowed us; we were utterly lost. Our mission was to get to the Visitor's Centre where we could sign up to see the world-famous tuna fish auction.

Despite its growing popularity, the auction itself remains an authentic and professional event rather than one geared towards the camera flashes and guide books of visiting tourists. The down side to this is there isn't much help in terms of signs, so we were faced with navigating our way through one of the largest wholefood markets in the world, stuffed with inner markets offering fresh seafood and produce and outer markets selling specialised goods. Tsukiji Market is called the 'kitchen of the nation's capital' for a good reason. 

Only 120 visitors are permitted to watch the world famous tuna fish auction each day - the maximum number the site can accommodate. The auction starts at 5.30am, and according to online sources, arriving between 3.30 and 3.45am was ideal - any later than that and you were going to struggle to get a spot. 

Time was of the essence. 

In an attempt to regain control of the situation, we decided to run. Clutching a rucksack filled with salted cashews and cans of 'Slat', Shoji and I sped in the general direction of the Tsukiji Market visitors centre, only to find ourselves at a dead end once again. 

The Slat's had gone from fizzy alcoholic refreshments to flat, luke-warm slush; a reflection of our moods. 

Thankfully, at that very moment, a forklift driver took an interest in us. Whether out of pity or simply the goodness of his heart, this generous man offered us a ride. Stepping onto the bare forklift platform, we were carted towards the Visitor's Centre, probably resembling the glistening, gaping fish he had recently delivered. 

Forklift fun!

The Visitor's Centre in sight..

Five minutes later, at 3.40am, we arrived at our destination. 

A short, stocky man dressed in a tight pebble-coloured suit and regimental hat stood between us and the warm Visitor's Centre. He looked at us - two ragged and damp individuals who had just arrived on the back of a forklift - and encouraged us to follow his eyes to a sign. It read: 

"No more visitors allowed. Maximum capacity reached". 

Not only were we in the 'struggle' demographic, but in the 'absolutely no f'ing chance' demographic.

At this point, my initiative kicked in. Rummaging through the rucksack, I found my purse. Unzipping it as fast as possible, I whipped out my crisp white business card and offered it to the guard with both hands. I encouraged Shoji to tell the guard that I was a food journalist, and would love to cover the tuna fish auction.

This story was not emotive enough for Shoji, so he took it into his own hands: Not only was I a journalist, but I had flown to Japan solely to witness the auction on that specific day. As my 'assistant', he sacrificed his own chance of seeing the tuna fish, suggesting that if there was only one space made available, I - the devoted journalist - should take it.

The guard looked at us. His expression was unreadable. He turned round and entered his office, then emerged a nail-biting minute later with not one but two green vests.

They were the ugliest garments I had ever seen, made from smooth, neon green fabric punctured with rows of holes, giving them the resemblance of a hybrid football bib/fishing net. But, as the gateway to the Tsukiji tuna fish auction, Shoji and I accepted our slimy green bibs with pride, seeing them as an emblem of power, success and celebration.

We were in.

Everyone looks so happy to be there.

Once we stepped inside the Visitor's Centre, we were met with a mass of blue and green coloured bibs and gormless faces. Individuals wearing green bibs were in the first time slot, entering the tuna fish auction at 5.20am, with the blue group following lead at 5.50am.

The baseball caps of American tourists floated amidst a sea of other nationalities, like pasta shells in minestrone soup. A guard who had been working at Tsukiji for three years said that this demographic was normal for May: Tourists flock to Japan in the warm summer months, and a string of Japanese national holidays results in a higher proportion of national citizens visiting the Market at this time too.

Speaking to several visitors, it was clear that the determination to wake up at 3am was not to do with a long-lived interest in Tsukiji Market history nor the international bluefin tuna trade, but more as a 'tick box' exercise in the 'Top 10 things to do in Tokyo'. As one Californian couple put it, "we're just about the Japanese food, there's not much more to say". 

This is exemplary of a wider Western culinary trend - that of a shift away from red meats towards an Asian/Mediterranean inspired diet of rice, fish and vegetables. In this, sushi has gone from 'trash to treasure', becoming a global sensation demanded particularly by American and European consumers. An article, summarising Bestor's 'How Sushi Went Global' (2000), reflects on this:

"It has gone from a traditional element of Japanese custom and cuisine to a far-reaching status cuisine...In fact, the success of sushi fishing has come to influence how fishing around the world is done. Its rise as a status symbol and its overwhelming demand has shifted even America's fishing focus toward tuna...[something that] was barely suitable for cat food a few decades earlier" 

The question is, has Tsukiji Market's tuna fish auction adapted to this growing sushi sensation and shift in the international seafood commodity trade? We were about to find out.

The slimy green bibbed people being carted to the auction

At 5.20am, several guards led our slimy green mass to the entrance of the tuna fish auction. One by one, we stepped out of the fresh morning air and through a small door that led to the auction place. The air temperature was noticeably lower, thanks to the liquid nitrogen used to fuel its cooling system, keeping the frozen tuna turgid and plump for inspection. 

Our group of 60 tourists bundled like sardines into a small spectators area. Standing in puddles of melting ice, smelling the subtle aroma of tuna fish, you are slap bang in the middle of the room.

On one side, the fish lie frozen in tidy rows along the cold, grey floor. They have a thin sheet of frost over them, resembling blue-grey torpedoes. Here, you can witness several dozen men using pick-axes and bright torches to scrutinise the fish.

The tail is cleanly cut off, exposing the vertebrae surrounded by dark red flesh. The men use their pick-axes to poke small holes into the thawing tuna fish.

Some are bold enough to use their axe to scrape off a small chunk of meat. Placing it in their palm, they rub it between their forefingers, some lift it to their nose (or maybe mouth) and inhale before discarding the fish on the floor to be trodden on by the next inquisitive trader.

This inspection seems so regimental and unemotional at first, treating the tuna simply as blocks of flesh in a morgue. However, if you look closer, it is clear that every action is done with care. The marketplace is not just a commodities trading platform, but a complex playground of social hierarchies and cultural exchanges between buyers, wholesalers, buyers, auctioneers and, above all, their relationship to the tuna fish. 

Behind you, the auction itself takes place.

As a spectator, understanding this is impossible; all you can see is a man standing on a little wooden stool, shouting 'Ho ho ho' and 'Hey hey hey' in response to seemingly invisible nods and glances from buyers. It was utterly perplexing, going against 'classical economic' ideas of commodity exchange and auctions, and doubly so when you remind yourself that these 'ho ho ho's and 'hey hey hey's are the basis of selling tuna fish for as much as $1.7 million for 222kg.

The auction taking place

Witnessing this makes you realise that the whole experience is very different to what it says on the tin. The fact that it is a 'tuna fish auction' suggests that formal financial deliberations are the main event, but I would say otherwise: it is about the cultural exchange.

Bestor (2000) also reflects on this: "It becomes a platform for producers and consumers to interact and create new relationships across economic, geographic and political boundaries". Despite the globalisation of the sushi industry and the international trade of bluefin tuna, the Tsukiji Market combines strict environmental regulation and trade norms from the West with traditional bartering and cultural practice. "Globalisation doesn't necessarily homogenise cultural differences nor erase the salience of cultural labels. Quite the contrary, it grows the franchise". 

With Tsukiji Market being relocated in 2016 to a new site, making space for the 2020 Tokyo Olympics, it will be interesting to see whether this new, modern 'shopping mall' structure will impact this wonderful blurring of tradition and the global fisheries trade. The new site will include more infrastructure, including an express way for more visitors, cleaner facilities and sanitary control. 

All I can say is that I am glad to have seen the original site, despite its chaotic labyrinth of market stalls and damp interior, and would choose a spontaneous journey in a forklift truck over an express way any day.

Tsukiji Market over time...a blend of chaos and structure, culture and markets

Ground Yourself: The Story of Soil Eating

This is an article I wrote for InTandem, the magazine for Tandem Festival, in celebration of soil and its role in our environment and culinary culture. Find out more about Tandem here

You can have it baked, fried, sun-dried, smoked or raw. Some have described it as ‘ripe for the eating’. What is this food that I am referring to? 

Soil. Obviously.

Would you like a side of dirt with that?
Source: scientificamerican.com

Patrick Holden of the Sustainable Food Trust referred to soil as the land’s ‘internalised gut’, drawing parallels between the role of microbial activity in promoting a healthy topsoil and a healthy digestive system in our own bodies. However, let’s move beyond simply drawing parallels - what about the evidence of eating soil for stomach health?

The deliberate ingestion of soil, or ‘geophagia’, is a practice that is jeopardised by our increasing detachment from the land and our reliance on processed foods and big retail, eradicating all crumbs and dirty smears from our foods. It is also subject to exoticism. Even within academic literature, geophagia is framed as odd, perverted and strange; clustering it within a psychological banner of pica, or the conscious act of eating non-edible things such as ice, metal and glass.

With a history that dates back 2 million years to our ancestors Homo Habilis, and a geography that stretches from southern United States to southern Asia, the rich stories behind geophagia need to be told.

Rather than stigmatise it, we need to socialise soil eating in all its muddy glory.

 “They crave that mineral”

Initially, the main accounts of eating soil were linked to slavery and extreme malnutrition; eating dirt was simply a means to fill your stomach and stave off hunger. This practice, while rare, still occurs in acutely impoverished communities. For example, in 2009, the National Geographic reported that Haitian slum dwellers resorted to eating “cookies made of dried yellow dirt...salt and vegetable shortening”.

Even outside of acutely food impoverished communities, accounts of geophagia exist, suggesting that eating dirt is not simply a means to fill one’s stomach, but could have nutritional or cultural significance.  

Daphne Lambert recently published a book Living Food: A Feast of Soil and Soul, documenting the benefits of eating soil for health. In particular, clay-based soils can provide minerals such as calcium, sodium and iron, helping alleviate anaemia and support energy production.

One example is ‘white dirt’, or kaolin. Now predominantly used to make paper and paint, kaolin was introduced to the American South during the trans-Atlantic slave trade. Despite the slave trade being abolished, geophagia lives on, with the documentary ‘Eat White Dirt’ depicting local communities selling kaolin in ziplock bags at flea markets for medicinal and weight loss purposes.

White Dirt in all its dirty glory
Source: munchies.vice.com

A ‘mud mask’ for your gut?

Another reason for eating soil is linked to its role in immunity. Early records from Mesopotamia and ancient Egypt describe ingesting soil for medicinal purposes, including soothing chronic gastroentinal and dermatological conditions.

Research has found three dominant soil eaters, or at least those who crave soil: young children, pregnant women and individuals living in humid environments.  Context matters, however, and factors such as climate, culture and tradition interplay throughout. For example, only 0.01% of pregnant women in Denmark crave dirt when they are pregnant, compared to 30-60% of women in Tanzania. Soil cravings are so prolific amongst pregnant women in the Tiv Tribe, Nigeria, that it is seen as a sure sign of early pregnancy.

But, there are common strands throughout. All three demographics are more susceptible to pathogens; whether it’s through playing in the dirt, having a supressed immune system, or living in climate conditions that are more prone to airborne and waterborne disease.

What has soil, containing over ten billion bacteria per tablespoon, got to do with this? Clay-like soils in particular could help protect you against harmful pathogens.

The reason for this is that the negative charge of clay molecules binds to positively charged pathogens such as E Coli and Vibro cholerae. In the same way putting soil on oil spills helps to soak up the oil, a similar ‘mopping up’ of toxins occurs in our gut. Clay is also sticky, forming a layer over the mucus lining between our gut and the blood stream, preventing pathogens from entering the latter.

However, this ‘mud mask’ also can prevent the absorption of beneficial minerals such as iron, zinc, potassium and mercury, leading to deficiency. There is also evidence of environmental contaminants and toxins, both from natural and anthropogenic origin, resulting in health risks such as tetanus, cancer and hookworm disease.  Ultimately, the link between soil eating and human health is one riddled with trade-offs and complexity.

My treat: Soil as a side dish

So, while gorging ourselves on copious amounts of dirt may not be the best idea, what about leaving crumbs of soil on our fresh fruit and vegetables? Is there any evidence to suggest that soil adds to our foods?

Adding to our vegetables?
Source: topsoilshop.co.uk

This is the question Sabrina Krief and colleagues posed when investigating geophagia amongst chimps, our closest animal relative. They found that chimps frequently ate soil alongside plants with anti-malarial properties. Without the ingestion of soil, these plants would be toxic and rejected by the digestive system; the soil essentially acts as a gateway to accessing the anti-malarial benefits. The same has been seen amongst Australian aboriginals, using clay-like soils when cooking with carbohydrate rich tubers which, if eaten alone, would cause severe diarrhoea.

While medicinal benefits may be enough of a reason to incorporate soil into culinary practice, taste and locality also play a role in its acceptance. For example, in the Americas, indigenous cultures used clay to neutralise bitter foods such as acorns and potatoes; it is simply an additional benefit that clay also helped to remove toxins such as glycoalkaloids, commonly found in potatoes. 

Similar findings were found by Sera Young, a member of the Division of Nutritional Sciences at Cornell University. Analysing 480 records of geophagia, she noted that 98% prefer clay soils, with an affinity for the taste of soils close to their homes. One excerpt from the American South states:

“Williams’ mother and father only eat clay harvested from their childhood homes. They don’t have the right type of dirt in Laurel…so today her parents hold out for the red dirt of their hometowns and indulge in the treat when visiting their families”

This notion of soil being a ‘treat’ is something to reflect on. 

It takes 500 years to create just one inch of topsoil; a precious resource that provides a nexus between culinary culture, environment, health and tradition. Next time you walk through the fields, remember the parallels between your own digestive system and the soil underneath your feet; say thank you to the crumbs clinging to your seasonal produce; and by all means, just go eat dirt.

Tandem Festival: Soil, Tickets and Insect Workshops!

"Man - despite his artistic pretensions, his sophistication, and his many accomplishments - owes his existence to a six inch layer of topsoil and the fact it rains". 

Running from 19-21st June 2015 in Hillend, Oxfordshire, Tandem Festival aims to bring about eco-friendliness and the arts to new audiences, while celebrating vibrant cultures from across Europe.

In essence, it grounds man's artistic achievements and dynamic forms of of creativity (music, poetry, workshops, dance...) by combining it with an appreciation of nature, sustainability and culture. 

There is still time to buy tickets either just for a day or for the whole festival, so check out the events and music schedule and get booking :) 

Soil! 

They also write an InTandem magazine, soon to be published on the 20th June, which gathers art, poetry, photography and music celebrating a particular theme together in both a printed and online magazine. This year the theme is soil, aptly reflecting the quote above and relating to the wider United Nations' International Year of the Soil. 

For this, I wrote a piece on the practice of eating soil, or geophagy, setting out to socialise rather than stigmatise this intriguing culinary tradition. You can read the article here. 

Insects! 

As part of the Tandem Festival, I have teamed up with two lovely ladies, Annie and Charlotte, to deliver a workshop on edible insects. The description is as follows: 

Entomophagy, or the practice of eating insects, is a tradition steeped in environmental diversity, cultural and culinary heritage. It is also one linked to particular emotive reactions, ranging from revulsion to reverence. Increasingly, edible insects are framed as part of a solution to addressing health and sustainability, climate and natural resource challenges in our globalised world. 

We want to reflect on this in our own unique way, telling an interactive story behind these delicious critters. The 1.5 hour workshop will explore the above themes, along with offer the opportunity to experiment with some hands-on insect cuisine – sponsored by Tsukahara, a small Japanese family enterprise specializing in wild foods – and the chance to win a unique insect product.

The workshop will take place on Sunday 21st June from 11am - 12.30pm. If you would like to come and see us speak, please do so! 

The talk itself is open to everyone, and there are 20 spaces for the tasting session (sign up on the day). I am sure the excitement of watching these twenty lucky people get to grips with insect cooking will be enough to make your Sunday morning :)