The African Chef, the Next Big Thing!

Today I had the pleasure of meeting Malcolm Riley and his wife Sophie. They are perhaps the most food passionate people I have ever met. Their motto is ‘Inspired by Africa produced locally’ and Malcolm’s company is The African Chef. I was drawn towards their stand by the unusual sight – in Devon at least of a Baobab fruit and then the product labels caught my eye. BAOBAB JAM, of course I just had to taste the sampler, on cheese, the spicy version had all my taste buds zinging. I loitered, with plans to sample as many as I could get away with, all the same one of course – then I would move on to the next variety! Malcolm and Sophie are very friendly and keen to chat about their food. He is Zambian and grew up with a fusion of food because his mum worked at a Chinese restaurant, then had a catering business and a butchers. Apparently she was the best cook in Lusaka and his biggest influence.

I once spent a day in Zambia but ate in the home of an English woman so I was keen to learn about real Zambian food. They only season with salt, relying on the true flavour of the food rather than spice. We compared the traditional ‘Pap’, a maize meal with the West African Fufu that I’ve tried, a staple carbohydrate used as we use rice, pasta or potatoes.

Once Malcolm moved to London and was exposed to the vast array of food available he knew where his future lay. He spent six years working as a produce manager at Planet Organic. This must have been a huge learning curve, but he was hooked and with Sophie, moved to Devon and worked at Riverfood Farm. Here in Devon we produce some of the finest cheeses, wine and organic vegetables you can buy; Malcolm made some great contacts and moved forward.

I was mesmerised by the flavours to test and he asked if I like pepper flavours. Now, I can do without salt but pepperiness – no way. He showed me a jar of condiment made from Scotch Bonnets and I was tempted, but knowing my limitations, I opted instead for the African Gold, a divine mix of red kidney beans, chillies and garlic. I went in for seconds, just a tiny bit on bread and the flavour hit different parts of my mouth with different effects, zingy, hot and rich, it continued with an internal warmth, but not an over the top heat.

Next I tried the Carrot and Ginger Jam, mild and fruity and delicious on cheese. Malcolm had more delights to offer. A lovely little jar of buttery stuff, which he melted in a fondue to become a garlic dip, I tried it with bread and can imagine lots of ways to use it.

Of course I bought the Spicy African Gold and the hotter Scotch Bonnet for a gift, I sent my friend along and she couldn’t resist either. Malcolm gave me a free recipe card to showing how to use the condiment with steak. I said I wouldn’t be trying that as I don’t eat meat. He said that he had been veggie in the past and there was a recipe for tempura nettles, interesting, and I never say never, but because he added that it was good just stirred into potatoes, I’ve just had it with sweet potato mash – try it Malcolm if you haven’t already – it was wonderful. I look forward to trying it with fish, but perhaps not the cat fish or tilapia we talked about, I’m not sure it’s available here yet.

I wish I had tried more; there is a cordial and Baobab powder, which I didn’t even find out about. I’m certain that I’ll be buying more in the future, Malcolm’s products have already won awards. He grows some of his ingredients right here in Devon on his allotment, and he is dedicated to fair trade. As if this isn’t enough, 20 pence from every jar sold is donated to the David Shepherd Wildlife Foundation, supporting anti-poaching and conservation projects in Africa.

When you see ‘The African Chef’ for sale – and you will, give it a try, this is really good food, 100% natural and I give it a huge thumbs up!

Read more at http://www.theafricanchef.com/

100 Words for Grown Ups – Week# 67

Julia decided that as the recent challenges have been sombre, this week she would try to lighten things up. The prompt . . . I really tried not to laugh . . . made me think of my afternoon.

Hysterical Boredom

 Doodling. That’s what kept me awake through a two hour VAT seminar. I wondered what the senior manager sitting behind me, thought of the back of my head, and then wondered if other people think about such things.

The doodle began as high pressure straight lines, and slowly became a gentle floral design, based on the PowerPoint presenting auditor’s dress.

I smiled sleepily when she joked about VAT on Tulisa’s autobiography and a war game for X Box  When she talked about contraceptive products and autopsy fees, without drawing breath, I really tried not to laugh but it was a tax too far.

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups Week# 66

THE SILENCE WAS DEAFENING. Ah Julia I like this prompt, I always observe the silence. Those who have followed me for a long time, will know how moved I was when I visited Gallipoli, and may have read my poem.

11 am November 11th

The silence was deafening. But I heard the first whisperings in my head as I stepped out of the car; Anzac was like an echo chamber full of young men.

Tell my wife I love her, kiss my little girl, tell mum my savings are in a box under the floor, dad I’m sorry, Mary forgive me? I didn’t confess Padre.

Yes, I’ll do my best. One at a time, I’ll make a list.

They always laughed when I said I hear voices, keep taking the medication, they said. Now, finally, I’ve found my vocation. Spirit messenger.

Come and join in  with the challenge here,

http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/11/12/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week66/

100 Word Challenge forGrown Ups Week# 63

100WCGU (7)

 

Julia has gone for a seasonal prompt this week with ‘and winter will bring . . .’

I didn’t think I would make it, but as I’m babysitting this evening, the late night is an opportunity, so here is

Winter’s Gifts

And winter will bring enduring moon

regal rotund shining for hours through the six a.m. alarm

through sharp ice sky rolling to the west

as  dawn ripples from the east.

And winter will bring ice

crunching crystals on grass shooting veneer onto pond

silvered birch a forest of icycled chandeliers.

And winter will bring

spiralling north wind on street corners

whipping around limbs and petrifying ears.

And winter will bring light precious from low sky sun

concentrated through window an illusion of warmth

no substance and stunted shadows.

And winter will bring thrust from the underworld

Galanthus to herald the spring.

Join in with Julia at http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/10/22/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week63/

100 Word Challenge For Grown ups Week# 62

You know sometimes I think that I can’t get any dafter and then I surpass myself! Julia’s prompt this week is …it can’t be that time…. and as usual we can add another 100 words , making 105 this week.

Out of the dark

I feel squashed. I’ve tried pushing those hard bits, but they don’t seem to move now. It’s even difficult to stretch my legs and kick properly. We’ve both got hiccups, and I’ve been upside down for ages with my head in a vice, perhaps she’s been drinking?

Wait a minute.

Oy, I do the shoving, stop pushing on my behind! Agh, I don’t bend that way, let me just . . . put . . . my . . . arm . . . down.

That’s better.

What’s that now? Surely it can’t be that time already. It’s bright out there. I’ll need some sunglasses.

 

Join in and read more at http://jfb57.wordpress.com/2012/10/15/100-word-challenge-for-grown-ups-week62/

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups Week# 61

I missed Julia’s challenge last week – she wanted humour and I couldn’t think of anything 🙂 but I was determined to join in this week. The prompt is ‘I woke with another headache’  and my story is based on a dream I had way back, when Shakespears Sister were in the charts, do you remember them?

Shakespears Sister 

‘Come on here’s your costume’, Marcella Detroit handed me a regulation black swimsuit and cap, just like when I was at school. I hesitated, but she shoved me into a cubicle to change. She indicated that I should follow her up a metal ladder, leading to a high diving board, where Siobhan Fahey, the other Shakespears Sister was waiting.

‘We’re not diving from there’ I said panicking. ‘Course we are, it’s perfectly safe’ Marcella replied. I knew it was suicidal, at the bottom there was only a foot of water. We looked like sleek black seals as we jumped.

I woke with another headache.

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups Week# 59

Julia has chosen this picture for her challenge this week. A photo I have seen before and wondered, whatever would make someone walk to the edge, never mind sit there? How would you get back up again?

So I think it would have to be a very desperate reason.

Long Drop

That morning he’d found her cowering in the barn, her face turned eggplant purple, and an ugly gash to the back of her head. His brother-in-law had stirred when Ray took the gun from his belt, and pulled a blade, as he used the hay bales to push himself up. He crumpled instantly, blood sprayed from his mouth, it took just one of his own bullets, shot from Ray’s steady hand.

He listened until he had heard both a heavy thud and an empty metallic clatter. That’s taken care of it. I’ve covered my tracks and she’ll come to no harm again. 

100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups Week# 58

I’ve missed a couple of weeks lately but I made it this time and early too. Julia’s prompt is ‘As the apple fell’ and I’m hoping she won’t mind that I’m adding a photo.

 

Repair Job

‘And this is our newest sculpture, perfect placing eh? We were lucky to get lottery funding,’ he said, puffed with pride, to the journalist who squinted as someone dashed towards them.

‘Ah, here comes the artist now.’

‘It’s striking,’ the woman from Gardeners Globe said, ‘I like the way the Raku makes it look, uh, well a bit rotten.’

‘Raku, I don’t make Raku, what the . . .?

‘Jim?’

‘I tried to glue it’

‘Jim?’

‘Thought I’d caught it but ‘twas wet see? Wet clay soil and I slipped as the apple fell off me wheelbarrow.’

The artist and gardener were equally flushed.

We Go Out After Dark

I’m finally having a go at Maggie Elizabeth’ prompt, this week she said it could be  a photo, art, writing or a song. 

So I’m using a photo you may have seen before  and have just scrawled this to go with it. You may need to live in Britain to get it, I don’t know?

We go out after dark

Freshness of face hidden

Under identical masks

Displaying our individuality

Our dress sense unique

Only five thousand made

For a top shops 440 branches

Glittered American nails

Rhinestoned sweep of lashes

Scaffolding to access

Gold heeled sparkling platforms

Break our legs on Jagerbombs

When we go out after dark

Very rare huntresses

Maggie would be thrilled to see you if you would like to join in!

Tis the season for Arachnids

Yes, it’s that time of year again. I leave the house in the morning and as I walk down the front steps I’m trapped, wrapped up in the finest silk, mobbed by a gang of speckled monsters who to me are giants. They cross a metre of path to stretch their tightrope from plant to tree and back a dozen times and each morning I have to be the first to break through. I grab a section checking that the beast is as far away as possible, too close and they rebound back and in a blink they are up your arm. They clearly think I’m one of them because they head for my hair given half a chance. But how do they make those long ropes? If a spider is three inches wide – believe me these are – then to make a strand across my path they have to leap twelve times their own width, all the time spinning and  releasing the strand. Or, perhaps they dangle their way slowly to the ground, spinning on the way and when they reach land they run across it and climb back up the next bush or wall to the opposite side? I know, I know but have you got any better ideas? 

This one was between me and the raspberries, I swear its a conspiracy, someone is plotting to scare me away from my favourite fruit. I have to self administer CBT to pick them. 

and this one was settling in the Rosemary for the night. I know their plans, it can’t be much longer before they want to sleep in my room. They want a warm, dark corner to lurk in until spring and then they will lay their tiny eggs. They will wrap them in a cocoon of white  silk, go and die in one of my shoes, and then as soon as its warm enough outside, three million horrid albino spiderlings will emerge. I’ll spend winter in fear. You think I’m crazy, irrational? Well when I was young, I was bitten on the back of my neck by a big, black, hairy spider and ever since I can’t bear the little horrors. I’m not alone am I?