The fun of frugality
Saturday, 26 January 2008
A combination of the need to be slightly more budget-conscious in the month following Christmas, a New Year's Resolution or two and a recent TV programme which alerted the nation to the hidden and horrid ingredients in all manner of foodstuffs has led me, during this past few weeks, to reassess how much I spend and on what I spend it. And a very interesting and though-provoking exercise it has been too.
Friends who work at Traidcraft , plus Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his ilk, have totally convinced me that I should be buying organic and free-range meat and eggs wherever possible, and given that I'd rather eat better and more ethical produce less often, it hasn't made a huge difference in the weekly shopping bill although it is undoubtedly (and understandably) more expensive than the 'Value' equivalent (I use both terms loosely). Having been given a dinnertime seminar, by someone who knows her stuff, on the subject of how unethically most of the world's chocolate is produced, I've more or less broken my cheap chocolate habit as well; I formerly used it with gay abandon in my weekly baking sessions, and have now switched to Divine (it is!) and Green & Black's. Again, the net effect has been that better ingredients are used less often, so the bank balance hasn't gone down but my waist measurement has. How pleasing! But there is far, far more to be done before my kitchen can be called truly green, despite the recycling tub (our council hasn't seen fit to provide us with an official bin, so we bought a large green one with handles from B&Q) and Ecover washing-up liquid I've started buying.
The fabulous Good Housekeeping magazine, to which I am an enthusiastic subscriber (I'm currently loving Country Living as well) regularly publishes articles on such helpful subjects as ecologically sound washing machines and compost heaps. As our flat is finally in the process of selling, we may soon be living somewhere with a delightful little garden when I can deposit used teabags and carrot peelings, and I've filed away the column for future use. But the article which really got me thinking recently was about waste, and how much of it goes on in the average kitchen. A few housewives were interviewed and asked to keep track of how much they threw away in the average week, so I joined in with the fun, albeit less publicly. My results were poorer than hoped, however, when I realised how many half-loaves of bread had been allowed to go thoroughly mouldy rather than just a bit stale (we have a lovely bread-bin given to us by a friend, and out of sight often = out of mind), how many apples lingering at the bottom of the fruit bowl had gone completely rotten, taking the rest down with them more often than not (I dropped just such a specimen on the floor recently and was wiping mushy apple puree off the walls and cupboard doors for quite some time afterwards), and how many limp and unappetising half-bags of salad were to be found lingering in the plastic tray at the bottom of the fridge.
The other influencing factor over my revised Favourites list on www.asda.co.uk is a programme we watched recently; I forget its name but the gist was that two families (predictably, one was addicted to junk or "luxury" food and one was keen to eat healthily or economically - isn't it always the way with such shows?) swapped shopping for a week, had it delivered to their door and had to make the best of what they were given. Comparisons were then made between economy muesli and "The Best", organic sausages and ones that contained little more than floor sweepings and ground pigs' trotters, and economy hot chocolate and a delicious beverage boasting Belgian chocolate shavings and a creamy texture. The results were surprising, for whilst there is no getting away from the fact that something which was never very tasty in the first place because it was made or bred on a shoestring is going to be laden with sugar, salt and other nasty additives just to make it edible, the "luxury" version is often similarly augmented with secret and sinister ingredients in order to make it taste as marvellous as the name suggests. Have a peek at a "Finest" muesli packet next time you're in the cereal aisle, and marvel at the enormous sugar content! I've just scrutinised the tin holding my Twinings Luxury Chocolate Indulgence, and the amount of sugar has been carefully disguised because someone has cunningly spread it throughout a number of ingredients, but it's still there in fairly vast amounts. Having recently learned that white sugar is the crack cocaine of the food world, this does not fill me with delight.
Furthermore, when I was tidying the kitchen this morning, I happened upon a semi-empty bag of "Half Spoon", which is a compound of sugar and sweetener. The idea is that you have half a teaspoon of this clever substance, instead of one teaspoonful of regular sugar, but will notice no difference in your morning coffee; the implication follows that you are consuming less sugar as a result. This is all well and good until you realise that you're actually tipping aspartame down your throat along with the reduced amount of sugar, and that this is an evil chemical which causes cancer in rats. I'm pretty sure we bought it by accident rather than because we had been seduced by its promise of healthier teeth, but needless to say it went straight in the bin. And after reading India Knight and Neris Thomas's Idiot-Proof Diet, I'm learning that low-fat almost always means high-sugar. I know most people probably cottoned on to this a long while ago, but it really is true, and it's probably partly responsible for the weight problems of today.
The realisation that I have been both wasting good food and permitting bad in my kitchen prompted a thorough clean-out of the cupboards today, which doesn't sound like much of a fun thing to do with your Saturday; however, I have a nasty cold and it's raining profusely, and although I really wanted to go for a nice long walk, I have far much to do at school to risk catching pneumonia. It was surprisingly and deeply satisfying to throw out unhealthy items that had wormed their way into our lives, and also to discover tins of haricot beans and apricots that had been lurking at the back for months (and, in some cases, years) which can be used this week before a massive Asda order arrives on Thursday, thus freeing up a bit of room for the new intake of foodstuffs. The great thing about tinned food is it lasts for decades, and is always marked "best before" rather than "use by". Father Muir is always discovering ancient canned goods at the back of the cupboard at home and merrily using them in recipes; my parents are never a whit the worse, even if they have just eaten something a good five years out of date. A friend of mine has a similarly frugal father who was environmentally conscious long before David Cameron was even thought of, bicycling everywhere and eating jars of mincemeat that were three years past their best-before date but still scrumptious. It's so easy to sit at the laptop ordering things that you already have in stock, and replacing things that don't need replacing. I've been really lazy about this up until now, and in consequence have a kitchen overflowing with packets of cereal which won't fit in any of the cupboards because they're crammed full with the seven bags of open flour, eleven tins of kidney beans, sixty-three boxes of tea bags in varying flavours and a hundred and thirteen half-empty bags of pasta and rice among the different items I discovered this morning during my mammoth clearing session. And after Father Muir presented me with a couple of Tupperwares full of his delicious and healthy home-made muesli when we were home for Christmas, I've chucked out the aforementioned cereal boxes (which were virtually empty anyway, and getting a bit dusty) and followed his excellent example by making my own. And - guess what - the majority of the ingredients were helpfully to be found in the kitchen cupboards! It's far cheaper and far healthier, and I know exactly what has gone into it.
I'm the sort of person who always gets to crisis point before I deal with such things; at any given time, my wardrobe will be full of clothes but many will have fallen out of use and need to go to Oxfam, yet it's only when I can't see over the top of the ironing pile that I actually get into gear and sort through them in order to give some away. My intentions are good but I'm too forgetful and easily distracted by the details of life to actually do these important things. The recycling bin overflows for days, but it takes the threat of someone coming to stay, and the ensuing shame about my domestic failings, for one of us to take it all down to Sainsbury's Recycling Point. And the temptation to give myself an easy life and buy ready-made food seems useful and time-efficient for a while, until I remember precisely what it is I've just eaten and the effect it has had upon myself, the chicken or the Third World coffee-plantation owner from whence it came.
It feels so good to take the right, ethical and healthy route, and it's so worthwhile to devote a bit of extra time to searching for the best possible version of an item when shopping online, or to whizzing that stale half-loaf up in the blender so it can be converted into a herby crust for a salmon fillet, or to giving some thought to how I might best use those leftovers from dinner rather than slinging them wastefully into the bin and taking something new out of the freezer. Ben has spent years buying sandwiches that are both expensive and laden with mystery ingredients in the middle of the working day, and has now started making more dinner than we need and reheating the remains the following lunchtime. The thought that he is saving money and eating something wholesome into the bargain pleases me enormously. I know someone who makes the most delicious peach crumble using economy tinned peaches (cost: about 25p per tin) and homemade crumble topping (which provides a very good use for all those open bags of flour, so cost: very little extra). So why would I spend £3.99 on a ready-made version from Sainsbury's, which may be equally tasty but probably contains at least a couple of evil ingredients?
We're conned nowadays into thinking that we have to spend vast amounts of money in order to have a good quality of life. But usually the very opposite is true. A lovely (and completely free) run in the park with your dog is always going to be far better than forking out for gym membership. Buying secondhand books on Amazon means you almost always get something in great condition for a fraction of the original price, and also gives you a warm glow at the thought that you've just helped someone recycle something. How nice is it when someone bakes instead of buys you a birthday cake? Very! And it feels great to be able to turn off Jamie or Hugh's latest guilt-fest on the TV because it is no longer aimed at me, a former-but-no-longer buyer of gruesomely-farmed meat. At the end of the day, it's so much better to spend the majority of your money wisely and pass on or recycle what you no longer need, whether that's an empty milk bottle or a size 8 top from years ago that will never fit you again. I'm pretty sure that if I stand for an extra moment in front of every item I order or buy and ask myself "Is this worth it?", the result will be improved health and a clear conscience. Sounds worth it to me!
