Let us tempt you to our ‘kraut-funder’ – check out our wares :)

Octopus Alchemy are crowdfunding ‘kraut-funding’.
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Fermented ‘Night-Shade Free’ Salsa.

We launched on November 15th and are running the campaign right through until December 13th. The drive is to support an exciting new collaborative project between Octopus Alchemy, Silo and The Real Junk Food Project, Brighton – as well as to boost our workshop experiences with some new kitchen bling and to fund the development of a new online portal for awareness raising and resources.  We want to raise around 4K.

The project is to ‘Transform the City’s Food Waste into Superfood’ for sale. We’re basically going to hoover up surplus veg in the city and engage the community through our current workshops on food / health politics and fermentation in turning it into a lovely fermented product for sale. The proceeds of which will help nourish our mutual projects to continue making an impact on the local food and health culture of Brighton – and beyond.

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Darren fermentin’ up a storm at Silo with a lovely bunch of supporters.

This blog post will be a platform for the developments of the campaign and a one-stop shop to find out about our supporters, sponsors and incentives to help get you in the mood for supporting us in getting this project off the ground.

You can get directly to our crowdfunding page here.

Otherwise, check out this video where I tell you all about the project before you have a gander at the incentives on offer.

Sponsors and incentives:

Drop in. Let go. Regain flow. Gift vouchers for thai-massage with Octopus Alchemy, to treat a loved one (of yourself!) this Christmas. You can get vouchers for 1, 2 or 4 treatments and £35, £60 and £100 consecutively – click on the individual prices to be redirected to the pledge page.

001Thanks to Sandor Katz and his publisher Chelsea Green for donating a copy of ‘The Art of Fermentation’ and ‘Wild Fermentation’ to the crowdfunding drive. All life is in these books! They are foundational texts for anyone interested in fermentation. Get ‘The Art of Fermentation’ here and ‘Wild Fermentation’ here.

 

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Octopus Alchemy are very pleased to be supported in our crowdfunding campaign by Wild Nutrition who have donated a super-rich, nutrient-dense hamper of their Food-Grown® supplements to the drive.

Wild Nutrition are a local company (Lewes), producing pioneering supplements: which through some biochemical wizadry, binds extra minerals and nutrients to food-stuff by harnessing the power of the glycoprotein.

Introducing the glycoprotein to an already nutrient dense substrate encourages it to metabolize and re-naturalise the extra vitamins and minerals – and then, give it a blow and voila! – a super nourishing and bioavailable product.

Wild Nutrition have gifted us their Food-Grown® Magnesium, Food-Grown® B Complex Plus and Food-Grown® Immune Support. And we’re passing them on for a very healthy £25.

The Marlborough Theatre, Brighton have donated two tickets to their incredible ‘Camp as Christmas’, to take place on the 8th December. Just £15 here.

The delightful Egg & Spoon in Kemptown have donated one of their delectable breakfasts and a cuppa (or any other drink) as an incentive to the crowdfunder. Two of these babies on offer. Get ’em quickly for a tenner here.

good-karma-card

About Balance, Brighton gave us one of their ‘Karma Cards’ to give away – this entitles you to a reduction on all classes and treatments at the centre for one month. They also threw in a free yoga class with Effie of Hannah. Click here to claim for £20.

Big Cat Bodywork aka Tom Cowan who has a profile on our site here in the bodywork section – has donated SIX one to one yoga classes in the Vajrasati style to the cause. This guy is a phenomenal teacher – prepare to blissed out by his wise and heartfelt tutorship. Stretch out and grab a ticket to some hot, sweaty contentedness here. And for £20, this is a steal.

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Temple Chocolate.

Temple Chocolate, Brighton have donated some of their super sensual chocolate to the drive. This stuff is crazy good folks – so support us with a fiver and grab one whilst you can here.

Octopus Alchemy is putting up five vouchers for a free entrance to one of workshops ‘An Archaic Revival Food’ in the near future. A whopping / OA Workshop - 15.11.15-12mind expanding Christmas gift if ever there was one. Grab them here, whilst you can for £20.

Numan from The Body Shop has donated two of their Christmas hampers; one ‘Strawberry Festive Picks’ and the other, ‘Shea Butter Festive Picks’. Click on each individual hamper to pamper yourself or a loved one for Christmas. Both are just £15.

Small Batch Coffee, Brighton have donated ten cups of their darkest brew to keep you perky this winter. Claim one here.

Winner of the 2013 BP portait award, Susanne Du Toit, has donated a copy of a book containing a wonderful selection of her portfolio. Get this and a bar of raw choc from Brighton’s Temple Chocolate for £20.

HummingbirdHawkmoth, a local craft worker who makes stunning jewellery has contributed one of her exquisite brass or copper bangles to the campaign. Mesmerize with this lovely little gift-box by following the link here. Just £25. Worth £35!

Thanks also to:

Infinity Food’s Cooperative, who were kind enough to donate £60 of vouchers to the drive – they were snapped up quickly. Obviously.

The UK’s first zero-waste eatery, Silo, who donated a slap up lunch with drinks to the drive. Of which some lucky supporter will be enjoying very soon. And who contribute so much to our work besides.61njIZBJpqL._SX258_BO1,204,203,200_

‘Fermentistas’ L & C Shockey who donated a signed copy of their beautiful and innovative book ‘Fermented Vegetables’ to the drive – someone is in for a wonderful education in the fermentation arts.

Curry Leaf Cafe of Ship St, Brighton who pledged a £50 voucher to the campaign for a night of some authentic Indian nosh.

Christian De Sousa – who donated a copy of ‘Postcards from Babylon’. A high-octane trip through the worlds most intense urban environments via the medium of story telling, autobiography and photo-documentary. It’s a signed copy and will make someone very happy.

The dedicated fermentivist Amanda Feifer, who donated a copy of her 51F1T4v7j0L._SX258_BO1,204,203,200_hot-off-the-press ‘Ferment Your Vegetables’ – set to make waves in the fermentation community.

Thanks to Bend Fit Mend, Brighton who donated one of their Aroma30 bespoke bodywork sessions as an incentive to the campaign.

Thanks to Sarah at Pure People, Brighton who donated 30mins of biofeedback testing as an incentive to the campaign.

Thanks to Barra Organics in Sheffield who donated a beechwood muddler (aka ‘kraut-pounder’) and a cabbage slicer to the drive.

Thanks to Eat Naked who donated a stunning free raw-food lunch at their eatery in East Street Arcade, Brighton.

 

 

 

 

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Recipes spun from the ‘brown gold’.

The motivation behind this blog was never to showcase particular recipes as such – but it just feels selfish to keep these two hidden away from the rest of the world. You can only post so many pictures of raw chocolate creations to your facebook feed before friends get impatient for a few guidelines.

I’m definitely a fan of raw chocolate – I like its ‘buzz’, its clarity, distinctiveness and purity. For the past few years I’ve been very lucky to live above a popular health food store in Brighton and a fair chunk of my food budget has been spent sampling the delights that the world of raw chocolate has to offer: from bigger operations such as the raw chocolate company, raw living & raw pie – to more recently, local artisanal produce courtesy of ‘Temple’ chocolate (highly recommended); with flavours such as ‘goji and mulberries’ and ‘rose and lavender’.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s no doubt that the shelves downstairs provide a wonderful selection of ‘quick fixes’ – but I prefer to make my own from time to time. Despite the good quality of ingredients contained in many raw chocolate products, producers still tend to fill their products with improperly prepared nuts (phytate nightmate) and sweeteners that some of us on stricter protocols and regimes would rather avoid. Anyway, I reckon I’ve conjured a few recipes here that many of us can enjoy and they’re a proper marvel in the mouth – but it wouldn’t be an OA post without a bit of background on the good stuff, first.

The origins and spread of the divine ‘Theobroma Cacao‘. 

Chocolate has its genesis as a fruit bestowed upon humanity by an act of divine will – according to the mythology of the Mayan people that is. Discovered by gods in the mountains of the Mexican plains, cacao was gifted to the Maya shortly after humans were deftly crafted from maize plants by the divine grandmother, goddess Xmucane [1]. 

Theobroma Cacao‘, literally meaning the ‘food of the gods’ has been revered by Native American cultures for generations – being used as both medicine and in ritual. In fact, the ritualistic, spiritual and political significance of this plant in these early cultures is a vast and complex affair. The earliest references suggest it was a celebrated crop of the ancient inhabiting members of the lowland regions of the Mexican gulf coast, the Olmecs. Afterward being adapted and enjoyed by the Mayans and then assimilated by the Aztecs (later arrivals to the central valley of Mexico) as food and medicine. In these cultures, cacao was gorged upon by the elites and used in ceremony – with the Mayan’s offering it up in ritual to celebrate the cacao god itself, Ek Chuah, along with the sacrifice of cacao coloured dogs and the blood of warriors [1]. 

Medicinally, cacao was used to carry other medicines too bitter in taste on their own, but also prescribed independently, on account of its own diverse and unique therapeutic qualities. Dillinger et al (2000) provide a very useful (if extensive) analysis of the historical medicinal application of cacao, through an excavation of ancient Mexica culture and later European colonial medical documents. These early texts delineate three general therapeutic applications for cacao: treating emaciated patients to inhibit further decline, to stimulate the nervous system of those feeling fatigued or weak, to aid elimination and to treat a variety of GI conditions.

The colonisation and terrorism of the ancient Mexica cultures severed cacao from its history and sacred and ritualistic basis – with Hernán Cortés, Spanish conquistador, presenting cacao as a form of ‘brown gold’ to King Charles of Spain in 1528 [2]. Cacao’s unappealing taste to the colonisers was adapted to suit the palettes of the raiding elite by adulterating it with cane sugar – and wham, confectionery was born. This surge of interest in cacao in the West, medical or otherwise, was very much resisted by the Christian church, who poured scorn and suspicion on the substance for its ‘exhilarating effects’. However, gradually, cacao, once only prepared as a beverage to anoint the elite of the old Mexica cultures and to be used as medicine, after 1880 became a very popular foodstuff, fashioned into all kinds of fancies and coveted by Western elites [1].

Modern analysis confirms that the therapeutic qualities of chocolate are significant and diverse [2], with cacao’s nutritional profile weighing it in as a very potent ‘superfood’  – which in comparison to other foods, seems to pack a far denser punch of nutrition per ounce. Its ‘richness in carbohydrates, fat and phytonutrient flavonoids’ and a wide-spectrum antioxidant profile, make it a very nourishing, sustaining and anti-inflammatory food: indicated as effecting a broad range of conditions such as ‘cardiovascular diseases, gastrointestinal and respiratory disorders and mental health conditions’ [2]. The consumption of cacao is also said to confer enhanced cognition.

These days we are saturated in chocolate – with the global chocolate market value being set at £98.3BN by 2016. The UK chocolate industry alone is worth £3.96BN with a projected 35% increase in sales over the next five years.

But it seems insane to talk about medicine in the context of the confusing array of bags and bars of the stuff on display today – rather than serve the elite, there are temples dedicated to a particular kind of chocolate on every street corner of our towns and cities. Indeed, where food poverty festers, the mars bar reigns king. The chocolate that lines the aisles of our ubiquitous corner shop is a high-sugar, high additive sludge; more brown crack than brown gold – and our communities are hooked. Dark chocolate of varying quality is still popular no doubt but pales in contrast to its highly processed milky cousin.

Of course, all chocolate originates from the cacao bean. However, the different processing methods of cacao churn our very different results. Cocoa, which is produced from cacao via processing and heat treatment, has been shown to be more impoverished nutritionally compared to its comparably unprocessed mother-bean (check out this wicked and friendly analysis by nourishmylife). This claim is rubbished by a number of folk – a main contention being that the definition around what constitutes ‘raw chocolate’ is spurious and unregulated. But further, a number point to the high risk of contamination of cacao that hasn’t been properly heat treated – one study cited frequently points to how naturally occurring ‘mycobiota’ in raw batches of cacao, produce potentially poisonous byproducts such as ‘aflatoxins (AFs) B1, B2, G1 and G2, cyclopiazonic acid (CPA ) and ochratoxin A (OTA)’ [3]. There’s also a big hoo-haa about the contamination of cacao because of the insanitary environments it is produced and stored in. It seems a fair point that many are cashing in on a niche market without a proper architecture of scrutiny and regulation in place – but let’s hope that whatever does arise as an antidote, does not put undue or unfair expectations on constraints on already poor, overworked and undervalued producers.

It’s worth bearing in mind that exploitation and abuses inherent to the export and trade of chocolate were not unique to colonialism. Producers are still given an offensive deal on their labour and produce, with big corporations creaming off the real profit at the end of the process when it’s sold to privileged consumers (Check out ‘Stuffed & Starved’ by Raj Patel for a good analysis). A recent article on takepart explores the issue of child labor in chocolate production too – for example, there has been a 46% increase in the number of children working in ‘hazardous conditions [on cocoa farms] between 2009 and 2014 in the Ivory Coast alone’. Of course, the study was commissioned by the US Department of Labor – it’s unclear what the political motivations of that kind of inquiry are. Nevertheless, it says something important about an economy whereby parents are forced to put their children to work, because of the pittance they are paid for their toil.

Overall, cacao definitely has a colourful (dark?) history (and an uncertain future, given climate change) and disputes around its proper preparation and uses persist even today. If you indulge in cocoa or cacao, try and remember its complex and sacred legacy and to honour it as much as possible by putting your money where it counts; supporting ethical sources and products, that treat their workers and the environment that holds and supports them, with respect. 

 

How to make some good stuff:

Here is the recipe for ‘medjool date and mulberry bites’ – you’ll have to wait for the ‘chocolate pecan fudge’, I’ll make that batch in the next few days.

 

Equipment list:

  1. A pan of water.
  2. A heat-resistant bowl that fits snuggly inside the pan (ceramic or stainless steel).
  3. A wooden spoon.
  4. Scales.
  5. A blender.
  6. A tablespoon.
  7. A teaspoon.
  8. A measuring jug.
  9. A mold of some description to decant your mixture into.

Ingredient list:

  1. 125G of raw cacao butter.
  2. 4 TBSP of raw cacao powder.
  3. 1 TBSP of maca.
  4. 1 TBSP of lacuma (enirely optional – sweet enough).
  5. 6-9 medjool dates.
  6. Large TBSP of coconut oil.
  7. 1 TSP of vanilla essence.
  8. Handful of mulberries.
  9. 1/2 TSP of spirulina (optional – nutritional enough!).
  10. Cap full of maple syrup (entirely option – sweet enough!)
Ingredients (some of them).

Ingredients (some of them).

 

Process:

  1. Bring your water to a boil and turn down to simmer, nestle your bowl into the pan.
  2. Weigh out 125G of raw cacao butter and add to the bowl.
  3. Wait until the cacao butter has melted.
  4. Blend your dates into a smooth paste.
  5. Add the paste to the cacao butter.
  6. Add 4TBSP of raw cacao powder.
  7. Add 1TBSP of coconut oil.
  8. Stir the mixture slowly, pressing the mixture firmly to the side of the bowl so that the fruit slowly dissolves (don’t be tempted to blend – it disturbs the end product).
  9. Add 1TSP of vanilla essence.
  10. Add 1TBSP of Maca (if no lacuma, add 1/2TBSP more).
  11. Add 1TBSP of Lacuma (optional).
  12. Add 1/2TSP of spirulina (entirely optional – nutritious enough without).
  13. Add a small cap full of maple syrup (entirely optional – sweet enough without).
  14. Stir the mixture gently, still gently pressing out the fruit.
  15. Transfer the mixture to a measuring jug.
  16. Add 1 to 2 mulberries to each of the mold sections.
  17. Use a teaspoon to take the thicker mixture from the bottom of the jug and spread evenly across your mold.
  18. Top the rest up with the remaining liquified mixture.
  19. Refrigerate until solid.
  20. Enjoy.
Weigh out your cacao butter.

Weigh out your cacao butter.

Melt your cacao butter.

Melt your cacao butter.

Blend your dates into a paste.

Blend your dates into a paste.

Prepare your trays with mulberries.

Prepare your trays with mulberries.

Add your dates and other ingredients to the cacao butter, squash out the dates gently.

Add your dates and other ingredients to the cacao butter, squash out the dates gently.

Once suitable consistency. Transfer to jug.

Once suitable consistency. Transfer to jug.

Spoon out the thick date mixture into the tray first.

Spoon out the thick date mixture into the tray first.

Top off with the liquid chocolate.

Top off with the liquid chocolate.

 

Stay tuned for ‘chocolate pecan fudge’ =D

 

 

References:

[1] Dillinger et al (2006). Food of the Gods: Cure for Humanity? A Cultural History of the Medicinal and Ritual Use of Chocolate. The American Society for Nutritional Sciences. 130:(8) 20575-20725

[2] Lippi, D. (2013). Chocolate in History: Food, Medicine, Medi-Food. Nutrients. 5:(5) 1573-1584

[3] Sánchez-Hervás, M et al. (2008). Mycobiota and mycotoxin producing fungi from cocoa beans. International Journal of Food Microbiology. 125: 336 – 340

 

 

 

 

 

 

An archaic revival of food; introduction to sourdough and other techniques. Workshop at Silo, Brighton 9TH August.

On Sunday, August 9th @ 6.30pm, Silo, Octopus Alchemy and Infinity Foods Bakery are teaming up to deliver a food-fermentation workshop. Come along and seize your chance to gain loads of great practical knowledge on fermentation and the incredible healing properties of live food, and also learn some about the history and politics of fermentation.

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Sauerkraut making with Octopus Alchemy @ The Foodshed, Brighton.

You’ll get the opportunity to do some creative hands-on fermenting at the restaurant, with ingredients sourced by us depending on their season and availability. You get to take home a batch of whatever is made too, with the rest being served up at Silo once it’s fizzing suitably some weeks later.

This month, we are hosting Infinity Foods Bakery for an introduction to sourdough! Come and see Simon Parker demonstrate the art of sourdough baking and talk some about his philosophy around fermentation and his passion for this ancient art.

In other demonstrations, we’ll be looking at sauerkraut and fermented nut cheese – with a specific focus on an authentic recipe for kimchi: the potent Korean staple that has become a global fascination (check out an amazing introduction to kimchi, here). True to the principles of localism and sustainability, we’ll also look at adapting the recipe to fit what ingredients are in season and more readily available to us. Away from fermentation, but still very much in the vein of traditional foods, we’ll also have a short introduction and demonstration of how to make ‘ghee’ or clarified butter – a real tonic for your gut and overall immunity and metabolism. 

Kombucha & Kefir Interactive

Kombucha & Kefir Interactive

The event runs for approximately three hours and is priced at £25 which should be paid in advance. There are some concessions available. The workshop is limited to twenty people, so please remember to book.

To book, please email octopusalchemy@gmail.com

Confirm your attendance via facebook, here.

If you have any spare jars knocking around at home, bring them in and make sure you get to take some of your creation home with you (small jars please)! Otherwise, any spare jars knocking around at home will be very welcome by the restaurant.

What to expect:

  • 40min introduction to the politics of fermented foods and their health benefits.
  • A short introduction and demonstration of sourdough baking by Simon Parker from Infinity Foods Bakery.
  • Demonstration of three different ferments.
  • Introduction and demonstration of ‘ghee’ or clarified butter.
  • A chance to experiment with different versions of sauerkraut and kimchi in a practical exercise.
  • Take a portion home with you!
  • A chance to taste and buy some pre-made kimchi.
  • A bloody good time.

VERS2OAA little bit about your host: Octopus Alchemy is a social venture in Brighton that talks food-politics and traditional foods. It is run by Darren Ollerton: a food-activist, blogger and bodyworker living in Brighton. You can see testimonials about OA workshops here.

‘Vessels of Dissent’ – Fermentation as politics from below.

It’s easy to misinterpret fermentation as some unremarkable practice, carried out by fuzzy old ladies in farmhouse kitchens in the back of beyond – and of course it is, but that’s not all of it. In fact, the potency of those few fizzing mason jars and cobwebbed crocks hanging out in your nan’s cupboard goes far beyond taste and an old wives remedy: they symbolise a kind of politics from below; a lively critique of the way we live our lives and how we understand our bodies and their place in nature.

It’s no secret that fermentation is making a comeback in the West or that knowledge(s) about the importance of the microbiome are resurfacing again (contrary to the arrogance and imperialism of biomedicine, this is not a new discovery or even particular to the West). Katz’s revivalist efforts are now complimented by a landslide of interest in the techniques of wild fermentation, of culturing and preserving. Every other week, peculiar and inventive little projects crop up in urban centres and beyond, preaching the lacto-gospel: fermentation on wheels, fermentation installations, fermentation festivals, blogs, podcasts and potlucks. In my home town of Brighton, fermented products now appear on swanky restaurant menus, with gourmet chef’s the world over crafting taste-experiences from this age old tradition. Sourdough bread, a novelty only years ago in the face of its cheap, white and easily processed rival, is (for the reasonably well heeled) becoming a staple once again.

An ‘archaic revival’ in food is occurring; less of us now blink uncritically at the waves of corporate propaganda of ‘tasty’ and ‘convenient’ food. A generation of medical refugees, sick and fatigued by denatured and contaminated food and the biased and mechanical prescriptions of their biomedical Doctors, are reaching into the past to reclaim life affirming knowledge and skills. Fermentation is one of those skills, with each dry-salt or brine having a cascade of effects beyond its container – they are ‘vessels of dissent’, the web of relations and effects extending from them into cultural, environmental and political realms.

Challenging contemporary food culture:

There are now endless texts rallying against our contemporary food culture, all with the same underpinning message, which is that the commodification of our food and the profit motive in food production has run amok and the system that prevails undermines the well being of our animals, the health of our people and communities and ultimately, the ecological balance of our planet too.

Every so often, (usually) independent media gives us a glimpse of the horrors of the industrialised method applied to food production: animals are treated like objects, workers no better and the 41k+yYzyf4L._UY250_food itself is engineered and adapted to predictable outcomes (usually lucrative ones) with no thought for the human, animal and environmental costs and consequences.

Curiously, just as globalisation encourages the spread of different cuisines and our experiential access of different cultures and their foodways, the homogenisation of our food: its taste, texture, appearance and content in Pollan’s words: rolls out like a ‘great undifferentiated lawn across the globe’.

Food has become a ‘private transnational commodity’, subjected to the whims and fancies of our market economy. The communities once built up around food have dissolved as ‘buyers’ interact with ‘producers’ and alienated ‘consumers’ attend brightly lit and sanitary halls, stocked with food-commodities – their origins, histories and stories of human / nature co-creation muffled and obscured by cellophane packaging and garish labeling; designed to say as little about the product as possible and c990dd4941eabdb4d49e7a2ec0f9f745everything about the dream of sunshine, clucking hens and the ‘good life’ that most of us rarely get to experience, never mind the food.

This violent separation of the urban consumer from food production and producers, means that (massively exploited) producers, no longer tied or responsible to their communities, shell out denatured food using all manner of toxic inputs and processes to please ever more stringent targets set by buyers. And consumers, distracted from the ‘non-economic attributes’ of food, approach it in the most objectifying way as to be almost apathetic about it beyond its superficial qualities.

Perhaps it is this disconnection from and appreciation of our food in its totality (as beyond just food; embodying a sacred web of relations and connections) that makes for such depression in our Foodcommunities, such listlessness and dissatisfaction at what should be a simple joy. The commodification of our food has created an artificial scarcity and exclusive hierarchy, where only the privileged eat and eat well – ‘routine hunger, malnutrition, premature deaths, famine’ and noxious amounts of waste are the byproducts of this system.

Fermentation then, is an ‘eloquent protest’ in the face of these circumstances, a reconnection with food-as-nutrition, which in turn encourages a respect for the nature of food itself and the people, animals and land that make it possible. The complexity of any one ferment, its inherent ecology of bacteria and enzymes, their innumerable interactions and bubbling byproducts puts us in touch with the wonder of food again. There’s nothing plastic, artificial or detached about sourdough, kefir, miso or kimchi – they are literally frothing with life and overflowing with life-force; ecologies of such spectacular diversity that our previous food-programming perishes under a radical remembering of the life and magic of our food.

The experimentation and play that accompanies fermentation represents a rejection of the predictable, affected and meaningless products churned out by the market – it is a celebration of distinctiveness, the peculiar, of artisanship and taste. The communities that thrive around Commodity-Tradingfermentation, mirroring the excitement of the ferment itself, branch out and swell – spreading knowledge, practices, skills and wisdom. Old food-economies are transformed by new energy and insights and new and alternative economies are born; where small producers and hobbyists deliver innovations and operate on different principles, such as the pioneers of the ‘sacred’ or ‘gift’ economies. Time and energy is reclaimed from the current ecocidal economy and trajectory to stage a revolution from our kitchens – ultimately, food is de-commodified and becomes meaningful again.

The biomedical monopoly and the mechanistic worldview.

Chronic disease have become a remarkably persistent feature of our contemporary medical landscape. Indeed, over 60% of deaths worldwide are now reported as resulting from a variety of chronic conditions. This phenomena goes someway to framing the explosion of interest in fermentation, as more and more people engage with the health benefits of these sour and whiffy creations.

Beyond their alleviation of various ailments and maladies, this popular engagement with fermentation as a healing modality shifts the way we relate to our bodies and how we perceive The biomedical approach.their place in nature, challenges the current biomedical orthodoxy on what illness is and how health can be attained and asks serious questions about what legitimate knowledge is when it comes to health and disease.

‘Biomedicine’ is another way, in anthropological parlance, of talking about the kind of clinical medicine, grounded in the scientific worldview, that has been the dominant mainstay of our medical landscape since the scientific revolution of the 19th century. Early on, biomedicine’s legitimacy was derived from its handle on bacteriology and the control of serious infections (no joke in the squalor of the sprawling and insanitary urbanism of the time). Its dominant position in the field of health the world over is in most cases underwritten by the State.

Biomedicine is founded on certain principles, which defines health by the absence of symptoms and which focuses chiefly on the biological and physiological causes of illness and disease – to the detriment of social / cultural / political and environmental factors which are themselves significant determinants of health and which, notably, are considered in the more holistic modalities that biomedicine has spent most of its career trying to repress, humiliate and appropriate. In many ways, medicine should be one of the most robust forms of social critique we have – after all, where inequality, oppression, deprivation, isolation or a lack of social cohesion or personal fulfillment fester, disease will too.

In essence, the biomedical worldview is reductive as opposed to expansive – medical problems are observed as stemming from some biological pathology and treatment is usually oriented at particular malfunctioning cells or systems in isolation, via surgery or pharmacology – and more holistic interpretations of illness and disease are discounted as ‘quackery’.

Popular dissatisfaction with biomedicine is not a new phenomenon, the wave of lay disillusionment with the discipline began in the 1970’s with the rise of a medical counter-culture in San Francisco that saw a surge of interest in new magical and holistic approaches to health, as well as in ancient systems of health care from the East such as traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) and Ayurveda.

Apart from biomedicine’s obvious biological determinism, people were and are fatigued at the iatrogenic effects of its interventions and medicines, its excessive medicalisation of all areas of life, the invasive nature of its procedures, its bureaucratic and high tech nature and its complete failure in the realm of chronic disease.  Nevertheless, its formidable material base, its legal / political protections and affinity with the capitalist outlook have allowed it to sweep any dissent under the carpet and appropriate any useful aspects of alternative medical models or systems.

Credit: Stephen Jeffrey.

The antibiotic has been one of the main modes of pharmaceutical intervention in the biomedical arsenal over the last 70 years. In 1940, antibiotics were heralded as a revolution in medicine and they have no doubt helped us to bring some very serious infections under control. But their abuse, both in human and in animals, has led to aggressive and drug resistant pathogens becoming a persistent feature of our microbial landscape. The consequence of this biomedical worldview is a cultural paranoia around microbes which equates to what Sandor Katz calls ‘the war on bacteria’; from ‘pseudo-medical’ practices like antibacterial hand washing to chlorine in our water supply, we have become almost neurotic about nuking these vital unseen ecologies.

Away from the proliferation of drug-resistant pathogens, no longer kept in check via the natural competitive environment of healthy microbial ecologies, there are even more sinister and pernicious consequences. The biodiversity and integrity of our internal microbiome (our resident ecologies of bacteria and microbes which ‘interact to form complex webs of mutual support’ and which promote optimum metabolic, immune and cognitive function) suffers irrevocably, with the consequences of this destabilisation only now becoming apparent. As Martin Blaser describes in his book “Missing Microbes’, the disappearance or extinction of a ‘keystone species’ of bacteria in the human microbiome means the overall ‘ecology suffers and can even collapse’.

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Check out: ‘Your microbiome may hold keys to cancer treatment’.

This is the context to the ‘modern plagues’ that are now a common feature of everyday life – obesity, diabetes, asthma, oesophageal reflux, hayfever, eczema and other skin conditions; inflammatory bowel disease, ulcerative colitis and Chrohn’s as well as various types of cancer have all been linked in some way to disturbances in the microbiome. Heart disease, hypertension, arthritis, multiple sclerosis, fibromyalgia, osteoporosis and chronic fatigue have too become persistent features of the modern medical landscape – many no doubt accompanied by conditions of the gut, usually denied or at least rarely investigated by biomedical doctors, such as ‘leaky gut syndrome’, ‘gut dysbiosis’ or ‘small intestinal bacterial overgrowth’. Not to mention the increased frequency of all kinds of cognitive ailments such as anxiety, depression, dyslexia and autism – the book Gut & Psychology Syndrome by Natasha McBride will be a revealing read for anyone interested in the gut/brain axis here. Finally, food allergies, almost undetectable in indigenous communities engaged in pre-modern lifestyles, are at epidemic levels. It’s clear that something has gone badly wrong.

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Check out Blaser’s book!

The research on probiotic therapy is encouraging and many of the conditions above are indicated as improving and sometimes being wholly resolved by bolstering and enhancing our internal flora with particular focused strains. However, ideas about the appropriate composition of the human microbiome is yet more biomedical conjecture, with studies borne out in indigenous communities turning up strains of bacteria identified as potentially harmful in Western hosts. Reliance on commercial probiotics for healing, whilst definitely appropriate in some instances, also support the very same system and corporations that have a chequered history as regards to human health and the environment; Monsanto, Nestle, Pepsico and General Mills have all funded studies on the gut and the microbiome and the probiotic industry is set to become a $45BN market by 2018.

Fermentation and the new medical paradigm.

Fermentation then, comes into its own here too – of course, little official research has been done on nanna’s crocks in terms of their therapeutic application and effects: testing is a tightly controlled industry (with big pharma the usual benefactors) and no one is likely to earn money from age old techniques we can all have a bash at! But there is no reason why bacteria growing in home ferments cannot be as beneficial and resilient as commercially produced strains. Indeed, indexwhat is more important is ‘variety, diversity and incorporating the bacteria native to different raw ingredients’ and I would add, the local environment. In a world where the ‘randomised control trial’ has become the oracle of truth and legitimacy, through fermentation, subjective knowledge and experiences of healing becomes important once again. Nanna’s arthritic knee eased by her daily kombucha stays eased, irrespective of whether the result has been validated by a biased trial or not.

Fundamentally, dabbling in the fermentation arts is to challenge the biomedical monopoly. Whereas biomedicine prefers itself as the sole arbiter of medical knowledge, our fermentivist communities know differently – our lacto-adventures encourage new understandings of the body, of health and disease and ultimately our relation to nature.

When we consider that the reality of our bodies is that we are just 10% human (bacteria outweigh human cells in the body 10 to 1), it dawns on us that we are not so much mechanical, individuated microbiome-title-890x395and self-contained as ecological, expansive and interdependent. We begin to approach the body as an ecology in and of itself, a vibrant system where all parts are interdependent: an ecology situated within a larger ecology, which is our environment, the planet and its lifeforms. We begin to realise that our symptoms are not genetically dictated but are epigenetic phenomena, which mirrors to some extent a rupture or impropriety in the way we relate, biologically or consciously, to our environment at large.

To take a case in point: recently a bit of research was released that showed how social anxiety in adults was relieved through regular consumption of fermented foods. What are the consequences for understanding social anxiety here? Is social anxiety purely a relational phenomenon between humans, born of some personal and internal imbalance or neurosis? Or does social anxiety have a more holistic foundation – does it stem also from a disruption in our unseen connection to nature: dependent on our internal mirroring of the microbial biodiversity external to us?

Fermentation and replenishing the microbiome is of course not a panacea – health involves a truly holistic perspective (social, political, environmental, biological, emotional and spiritual), not a limited one. But its practice and enjoyment raise important questions about humanity, culture, biopsychsocial-modelecology and healing. The revival of this ancient practice has significant consequences for the biomedical worldview, as it does for our economy and culture at large – lay interest in alternative approaches and systems of health creates a critical mass difficult to ignore by biomedicine, which in an attempt to diffuse the revolt is necessarily changed itself through its natural impulse to monitor, marginalize, control and appropriate. The emergence of the biopsychosocial approach to health from within biomedicine, or pyschoneuroimmunology is a product of this very same process.

The ‘gut as centre’ and beyond.

By now, I hope we’ve established that our fizzy concoctions are potent beyond their basic utility. Each forkful of our tangy treats is a kindly gesture of homage toward the unseen ecology and lifeforms with whom we live so interdependently. The recognition of this symbiosis does not just reverberate change into our food economy and conceptions of health, disease and approaches to healing – the circle expands to effect our politics, environment and communities too.

The art of fermentation is in many ways a way of placing the ‘gut as centre’ to our philosophy to life and healing – which may hold great transformational potential for our societies. The gut in eastern philosophy is understood as a store of great power and potential. Zen Monk’s will always motion at IMG_4794the gut if one asks, ‘from where do you think’? And this makes perfect sense, given that we know the gut, or ‘second brain’, boasts around 100 million neurons, uses more than 30 neurotransmitters (the same amount found in the brain), and harbours around 95% of the body’s serotonin (serotonin plays an important part in the regulation of learning, mood, sleep and other essential regulatory processes). It enjoys a unique communicative relationship with the brain and is a primary (and incredibly sensitive) interface with our external environment. It is also home to the largest colony of microbes in our bodies, totaling some 500-600 different species and weighing in at around 1.5-2KG – the harmonious balance and biodiversity of which is our best line of defence to the onset of the many ‘modern plagues’ that now ail us.

Looking after the gut as a source of vitality, health and well-being is paramount. Whether that’s limiting the amount of damaging foods you’re exposing yourself too, or attempting to support or re-establish a good flora via fermented foods. Indeed, nurturing your microbiome is a true recognition and practice of holism: it requires that we have a proper relationship with the external, germswith the ability to nourish our gut in particular ways – to bring that reality into alignment has ramifications beyond the individual, into wider social, political and environmental realms. A change in the way we relate to external structures, effectively impacts and transforms those structures in terms of what they do and are able to provide.

Ultimately then, along with other traditional forms of food prep and knowledge, fermentation is one of our key tools in honouring the gut as centre – and in this respect is a radical act: a form of activism on the margins, a DIY warfare of the unseen against the life-inimical forces of our ecocidal economy. Our cupboards don’t contain innocuous jars of mere pickled veg, they contain ‘vessels of dissent’, which symbolise a re-awakening to an ecological consciousness counter to the mechanical and toxic drudgery of the pharma-military-industrial complex.

Octopus Alchemy RJFP - Source Thom Novi-2

Octopus Alchemy in action.

Through the art of fermentation, the body is disassembled conceptually and we become infinitely complex and profoundly connected to nature; we rely less on biomedicine or biomedical knowledge, seeking to improve and nurture microbial ecologies rather than decimate them; pharmaceutical use declines; our individual relationship to food changes and so does the organisation of our communities around food, their connection to producers are changed and monopolies are shaken; alternative economies flourish and communities too; food waste declines and organic produce is sought; better land management occurs and biodiversity improves; soils enrich and carbon is captured; we enjoy better connection with each other and the land, more meaning and more truth; stress declines, happiness increases, cognition, immunity and health improve overall.

After an afternoon of scribbling out the web of relations that extend from the art of fermentation, I can say there seems hardly an area left untouched. If there’s ever been a more persuasive reason to get alchemical, surely this is it.

Milk No Sugar – Pho-licious.

I’m not a fan of cringeworthy double barreled words – but for ‘Milk No Sugar’, the quirky little Viet-styled cafe on Trafalgar Street, I’ll put up with the discomfort. Pho-licious is the word.

After lamenting only a few weeks ago about how ‘Pho’, the chain of Vietnamese street food restaurants, had the monopoly on Viet-cuisine in Brighton – on my way to the train station I noticed a sign outside of ‘Milk No Sugar’ (which has a pretty unassuming shop front) declaring their sale of Pho – how had I missed this? I ventured in a few days later and have since eaten there four times and thought it was time to put a few words to their operation.

If you’ve eaten at ‘Pho’ on Black Lion Street, you’ll know how consistent their taste is and how uniform their dishes (and don’t get me wrong, that’s not always such a bad thing at the level of taste and expectation), as is the nature of any chain where only homogenisation will do. You’ll also probably notice the tired character of their staff. Put it one way, I wouldn’t venture into that kitchen uninvited.

But at Milk No Sugar there’s a different vibe and that’s all through the smiles of Hugo, who I’m assuming is the cafe’s proprietor. He’s bouncy, chatty, says awesome a lot and falls over himself to tell you about their food.

The first time I dined there, just recovering from a few days of feeling under the weather, I demolished two bowls of their Pho: large, meat stock but with tofu (£5.50 a piece). I also sat for Milk No Sugar, Brighton.a few hours writing, soaking it all up: the little cafe has a wicked style – quirky signage hangs from a ceiling that resembles a chalky upside down ice-cube tray, like the interior of some cafeteria chiseled into a starship hangar on some hollowed out moon somewhere. Plumen light-bulbs float over the counter and low-lying sun-scorched metal chairs, characteristic of the smoggy road side tuck-shops in the East, host bums from every walk of life. The eyes glance over the curious beverages and treats on sale – like the ‘nutella-latte’ for instance: sure to make your teeth ache.

My Pho brings all the boys to the yard.. Okay, I'll stop it now.

My Pho brings all the boys to the yard.. Okay, I’ll stop it now.

But the grub is pleasing. The stock of the Pho is well rounded and warm, with tones of cinnamon, roasted ginger and star anise brought out from a well tended stove. Garnished simply, but maybe with not quite enough fresh roughage, it’s nevertheless a dish you’ll return for and a taste you’ll want to share with friends. Hugo took great pride in boasting about the vigour of his vegetarian stock next to the meat and after trying both I agree, they’ve put some thought into getting the tastes right.

Pho @ Milk No Sugar

The rice paper rolls are everything a rice paper roll should be: sticky and crisp for all the right reasons, and shot through with fresh mint and fresh leaves – and not served in bloody cellophane, which is nice. The accompanying condiment, a syrup of heat and tang to drench the dinky rolls in is a treat and Hugo’s obvious pride and joy, as he stood encouraging us to dunk, saying ‘yes, homemade – awesome, yeah?’.

At the end of my meal I turned to my other half and speculated about the ingredients and their quality – for a food-politico, good food means food with Rice Paper Rolls @ Milk No Sugarintegrity at every level, not just in the mouth. But I have to say I don’t think I could bear a reveal of some MSG additive, or some questionable supply chain – which undoubtedly exists: it’s a high street munchery trading at killer prices after all. On leaving, one of my friends muttered along the lines of: well, there’s a lot of love there innit – that makes the food okay, even at the molecular level. He’s woo. I was wooed.

I think for now it’s got to be my guilty little pleasure, my little starship hangar of smiles – coz if it’s sci-fi, it’s okay isn’t it?

Don’t answer that.

Itsu: Food oasis or dangerous mirage?

Itsu

Eat, beautiful.

Some months ago, Itsu opened in Brighton. Apparently, the opening was a red carpet affair, inviting food writers and local businesses from around town to gorge upon their novel food stuffs and to mingle, network and whatnot. Of most reviews of Itsu I can find, they are mostly reproductions of the menu on offer (which for a fast food store, is undoubtedly impressive) – but other substantive reflections on the venture are noticeably omitted. In fact, the trend of reporting on Itsu borders on the sensational – whether celebrating the entrepreneurship of Julian Metcalfe, CEO and co-founder of the ubiquitous ‘Pret’’ or applauding the array and craft of exotic treats on offer. Itsu has fast become a veritable takeaway Eden in a nexus of otherwise stale, dull and redundant alternatives.

I nipped in to Itsu quite unconsciously a few months back. Not really taking the experience in I ordered a ‘detox miso’ and slurped it whilst jogging on to the next event. I mean, I definitely wasn’t expecting anything too robust, with any kind of live ecology or anything – but I do remember a kind of treasure-hunt glee, digging past my fragrant soggy dumplings into its misty depths to reveal a sparkling wormery of glass noodles and seaweed entrails. Obviously, I didn’t touch the soybeans – that’s like dropping marbles into the gut. But nevertheless, much like Will Self’s first time – I felt soothed and satisfied. Like I’d stumbled on a little food oasis in the middle of dessert-storm.

Afterward, I was determined to do a little reading around Itsu. Despite the mirage of rhetoric around health and complete overkill of the phrase ‘eat beautiful’, I resisted its manicure and allure to remember some politics. Health in the context of chain stores is a complete misnomer after all: whether that’s about individual health, health of the producers that support it, the staff that work it, the animals that stock it or the environment that sustains it.

Armed with a litany of reasons why Itsu was just another corporate monster, set to gobble up the planet, I ventured out once again to sample its Asiatic delights. Doing so, in full knowledge that my resolve could crumble at any moment, faced with what equates to my soul-food: Sushi.

The day had been a testing one by all accounts, so wondering into Itsu off the damp and raucous North Street was disarming – you’re suddenly propelled into a sharp, glassy, neon cube; ‘world music’ spinning in the background and hanging bamboo-style lamps down-light smooth wooden islands, topped with familiar Asian-eatery condiments. Looking around at the clientele, young hipsters with over-sized specs and pale complexions, I felt suddenly transported into a kind of sci-fi sushi shop – living out the strange feeling of reading my own experience in a copy of ‘all tomorrows parties’.

After cruising the brightly lit cooler spanning the left hand wall of the shop, and the array of uniform and very deliberately looking nutritious treats, I went for an ‘Itsu Best’. I approached the counter and the beleaguered looking serving person with my prize, and almost automatically, splurted out: ‘oh, and a detox miso too’. I asked the person on the counter about pasteurization; whether the miso had its proper ecology of bacteria live and present (the sachets of powdered miso on sale at the counter suggested otherwise). They didn’t know – neither did the ‘expert’ chef behind the McDonald’s style servery.

I tried hard to maintain a critical gaze when sat down, eyes scanning suspiciously: an inner snort at Itsu’s ‘raw smoothie’ machine cashing in on the middle class obsession with ‘toxin busting’. But I began to soften. I cracked open the dead(?) ‘miso’ which was a basic clone of my one before it – nothing astray, nothing different. My plate of sushi too, was tasty: surprisingly so. Not a grain of rice out of place: a white and fleshy rainbow manufactured with precision. At under a tenner, the toasted sesame infusion on that rice just shouldn’t be so good. Neither should the tastes be so clean and present, the experience so ready and fresh. The salmon of course was a translucent pink perhaps too feeble to pass Itsu’s own panetone colour test – but dipped in the salty single serving of soy and sharp wasabi, it can be easy not to care.

And that’s the alarming significance of eating at Itsu – the ease at which the entrancing charm of a well styled brand, the infallible (violent?) uniformity and the call to health can fuse to create an impenetrable mirage. Eat now, ask no questions later. But there are questions to be asked of Itsu’s model – it’s cheap (too cheap) and fast paced, but still keeps up an appearance of grace, beauty and the extraordinary. Essentially it’s a metaphor for the food economy at large – bright, booming and plentiful on the surface, but without mention of the vast externalities it creates. Not a hint to the cascade of effects on workers, producers, our health and the environment at large.

To take just one example – Itsu’s salmon is farmed in Scotland. Scotland is the world’s second largest salmon producer, and exports have grown 500% in the past 20 years – making up 40% of Scottish food exports overall. The industry, set to serve the plates of an expanding middle class in China, is to expand 50% by 2020. Itsu imports 9 tonnes of salmon a week – determined in their literature that this makes more ecological sense than depleting wild fish stocks. However, the implications on wild fish stocks and the ocean ecology in general are astounding – wild Atlantic Salmon in particular are facing extinction because of diseases and parasites leached into the ocean from intensive farming operations. Farmed salmon themselves experience dire conditions: infectious diseases, sea lice infestation and mass mortality abound – conditions which are only set to worsen, with sea lice threatening to spiral out of control. It’s like the ocean equivalent of the plague of flesh eating zombies – but everyone would much sooner deny any problem exists. Itsu won’t even declare what these sea creatures eat. Apparently it’s legitimate and safe according to some bureaucrat. I’ve heard that before, haven’t you?

Intensive Salmon farming - destroying our oceans.

Intensive Salmon farming – destroying our oceans.

The nature of a business model like Itsu’s is both to expand, and buff up their bottom line – already they are set to conquer the American high-street. Their success will depend on a dictatorial line with producers and staff to ensure peak-performance and output at low-cost – totally out of touch with what human and animal resources, or the environment can afford. Indeed, for all its chiqué exterior and futuristic charm, it’s merely McDonald’s with a wasabi-coating – intent on fluffing the externalitiies of their trade and with a keen and predatory sense of their target audience.

Will Self, in typically acetone style, got the problem of Itsu in just a few lines: ‘that food should be subject to the most ruthless commoditisation under late capitalism is only to be expected, but that we should for one second allow ourselves to enjoy it is a miserable and gut-wrenching experience’ – And yes, I’m inclined to agree. But even critically loaded the mirage can be hard to deconstruct. This is about more than better informed consumer choices. Reducing the reliance on convenience means restoring our right to freedom and time – time to re-engage with our personal nourishment and its nuances, from plant to plate. In short, a new way of life for us all.

The question is, do Self’s ‘keyboard riflers’ and quick fix health connoisseurs, in fact any of us, have the appetite for this yet? My view is that it will take a collective interest in a menu for change much more subversive, one that offers potential beyond the lunch hour limits of ‘Itsu’s Best’ before we’re all ready to put our throwaway chopsticks down.

Helmston: A tiny tuck-shop packing a punch of taste.

Helmston is a small vegetarian eatery on the boundary of the North Laine in Brighton – an unassuming little place on the outside, you’ll miss it for some of the more superficially chique, but predictable cafes on Trafalgar Street if you’re not careful.

Tiny Tuck Shop Packing A Punch.

Tiny Tuck Shop Packing A Punch.

This bountiful little trove has been trading for around 7 months now – growing from its humble beginnings as a food stall on Gardner Street’s Saturday market, it’s now tightly packed into a decorative sandwich-bar-style venue, and doing what looks like a good business. The punters who drifted in off the street seemed to know Jazz, the lovely counter man by name – which is always reassuring. Good eats make good community. My mate was already sat munching in the corner – she’s Israeli, knows life and gets food. It was a good sign.

The charming but pokey little venue is dripping in beautiful little oddities: hanging faux-wall lamps made of kitchen utensils, a rolling pin fixed as the door handle and hyper-colour menus draping the limited wall space promote a multitude of vegan / vegetarian fare that seems almost impossibly diverse and plentiful in a space so small. A small shelf in the corner boasts a wonderful selection of raw honey – some sourced in and around Sussex. With spices on sale such as sumac from Palestine: a fizz of a herb, that is tart, zesty and invigorating – apparently good for chicken dishes. In the background ‘chef Andy’, the progenitor of this exotic little tuck shop whistles cheerfully along to the radio as he tends to each meal by order in what looks like an immaculately polished kitchen.

Fun food and novel window displays. Very Brighton.

Fun food and novel window displays. Very Brighton.

But what about the food and beverage? On recommendation as a first-timer, I went with the ‘gado-gado’ (yum-yum) described as ‘hot saute potatoes with spinach, beansprouts, peanut-sauce, broccoli, coriander, tamarind, lime, chilli and more’. And what a recommendation! Served in a quaint little wooden-bowl, it was an opulence of flavour, perfume, colour and texture. Every mouthful was a variation on the one before: a literal firework display of sweet banana and pomegranate, complimenting the more earthy accompaniments of sprouts, spinach, brocolli and peanut – all carried by a kind of dark and rusty undertone of tamarind and pepper and excited by a bite of lime and popping of sumac. It made me sweat pleasingly – not so much from the heat, but from the startling complexity of flavours and texture that made me think ‘how the bloody hell can I put words to this?’.

Indonesian Lushness. Taste Explosion. Legendary Eats.

Indonesian Lushness. Taste Explosion. Legendary Eats.

Then on to the cakes – Jazz on the counter gave me a brief run down of the cakes and pastries on offer before I chose (most of them dairy and gluten free and some savoury too!). I’d reiterate the options, but was so lost in the visuals that I’ve forgotten the body of what he put across. Eventually, I decided on a spelt tart of rhubarb and custard and a raspberry, coconut and chocolate ‘bon-bon’.

Now you know what to do with your redundant kitchen bits. Very Marwood-esque (insider observation).

Now you know what to do with your redundant kitchen bits. Very Marwood-esque (insider observation).

For me, a more traditional grain used in baking shows consciousness and artisanship that encourages my trust as a wary participant in sweet and baked goods (damn food sensitivities). So I was pleased to see spelt used for the tart pastry – and the result was a predictably light, gentle but texture-ful case boasting a buttery summer-glow. The spelt basket was filled with a light custard that to be any more potent would have suggested some artificiality, and topped with a few delicate slithers of pert and cheeky rhubarb that had me sucking my teeth. The little bon-bon was encrusted in a jewelled-pink coconut coat, which when crisped open revealed a sunny yellow center – taste wise: sweet coconut with a hint of rose, which the silk and bitterness of the chocolate tempered well.

Drinks? I had a wheatgrass shot with ginger to begin with – great combination which softened the harshness of the wheatgrass and made me feel super-green. And in the end I finished with a coffee, with hemp milk (God I love Brighton), which was a pleasing finish and sent me well on my way.

Only pink shards remain. We hope Helmston will let us show you some food photos soon - but visit their facebook page in the meantime, it's all there!

Only pink shards remain. We hope the Helmston will let us show you some food photos soon – but visit their facebook page in the meantime, it’s all there!

Overall, smashing little place, intoxicating food and priced well for its location (you can eat well for £5.50 and if you have a tenner, you’re living the dream). Chef Andy wishes to maintain an “air of mystery” around the delights flowing from his kitchen and was a bit sensitive about pictures. To feast your eyes, you’ll have to feast in person. And we reckon that all things considered, that’s not such a bloody bad thing 😉

I asked Jazz about their supply chain ethics and organic considerations before leaving – he gave me his email! I’ll report back.

Overall Octopus Alchemy rating: 9/10

Visit the Helmston’s facebook page here.