Artisan, hand-made and local – when is it true and when not?

Artisan implies made by hand by a skilled craftsperson, artisan implies a small outfit with dedicated people producing good food, crafts or art. Artisan is also one of the most abused terms of our time as anyone and everyone in the advertising industry clambers on the band wagon of “local”, “artisan”, “hand made”, “hand cut”, “hand roasted” and “hand everything”. So be a bit alert out there and find and support your real small, local  producers. You don’t have to, of course, you can buy and eat whatever you like but just be aware that not everything with Glen in the title and with a friendly face on the picture is actually real. 

Summer is the time for  food festivals and shows, the time when small producers try and get more sales space, more advertising and more exposure and every year it is the time we find we cannot compete with the larger companies that have jumped on the wagon and that can so easily afford the inflated stall fees which for us quite often turn an expected increased profit into an advertising venture. 

Before I became a small food producers, I used to organize small craft fairs. When the celtic tiger roared, fees for festivals could be exorbitant and the small artists and crafts people could barely afford to attend. As one of the crafter came back after 3 days in Waterford, he coined the now famous quote: “ I should have been selling f***** rice balloons”. As so often, everyone paid the same stall fee and good, Irish made crafts found themselves beside cheap imports- unable to compete and unable to sell to the -  sometimes so sadly - undiscerning consumer. 

We still don’t sell rice balloons but try and sell bread and somehow deal with the costs of doing so, especially this year where for no known reason stall fees have gone up across the board. Like many other producers, we do not buy in any of our breads. We make what we sell that morning and therefore what we can sell on any given day is limited. Because we do make everything by hand we need at least two bakers, sometimes three. Because we start at 1 am, we also need sellers that are more awake and can relieve us by lunchtime when even the most upbeat and enthusiastic baker is getting tired. So, when we are faced with stall fees of well over  €100 per day or €365 for two days – plus staff costs, transport and ingredients, a sales day very soon does not make any sense at all. And that would be the good days where you actually sell what you make, when many of you good customers come out and buy and appreciate the bread. Other days, when the weather turns Irish and the customers fickle, you’re looking at a full days work ( after, in our case, a full nights work) and a loss in the bargain. Some days you not only get cold and wet and disheartened, you also take a gust of wind to the gazebo that can cost you €50 in replacement parts or at  worst €500 for a new one. 

We all know these days and we cater for them. We know they are part of market trading and we factor them in. All I ask it that you don’t forget them either and that you know how much we appreciate a kind word and how much a good sales day has to factor in bad sales days 

Without wanting to blow our own trumpet – too much - we are good. Every city, every town has its own amazing food producers, some tiny, some a little bit bigger and some getting into a league where things finally begin to make sense. Every town could set up its own unique style of market, support it’s own producers and supply its own people with these really local, really handmade, really good crafts and foods. That is what food festivals and markets are for and if you price us off the market and instead open your spaces to the big guys than each food festival becomes a copy of the next as the same celebrity chefs do the same demonstrations and the same stalls sell the same produce as they travel the country. It is a very sad day when so many local Kilkenny producers are debating whether they can afford to take a stall at SAVOUR and when the Iverk show loses old established stalls for the same reason. The Iverk show is the first market we ever did – only four years ago. It was the most bread we ever produced in one morning and a great feeling of achievement. We won best novelty bread with our Stromboli that year and we love the Iverk show. This year there is no sense in going and our margins do not allow nostalgia just yet. 

After the bread round would suggest local producers involved in local shows, would like guidelines as to handmade, artisan and local and other ideas to bring the best of the local producers to the local shows.

All just thoughts as we trade happily in Kilkenny, Carlow and Carrick on Suir on regular weekly markets and consider joininga Dublin market in Herbert Park every Sundays. After the bread round checked it out last Sunday and already met the local cake bakery. They are called “Take a cake” and their carrot cake is divine and certainly the reason why the daughter volunteered for the first day selling. Speltbakers are looking forward to another nice market community – and might give the festivals a miss this year. 

Food, glorious food

After the bread round, I tend to think some more about food and I am profoundly grateful to share the food producers spot in shops and on markets with so many amazing producers and products. Last Sunday for example we trialed Sunday trading at the wonderful Waterford County show in Curraghmore estate. For these shows or markets getting there is always a struggle because we make everything we sell that morning. So up early, pack up and drive, get there as the last stall and set up in a hurry. Setting up is now routine and takes all of 15 min max and once we’re set up, it time to relax and grab that first cup of tea. In Curraghmore with that tea there was a choclate tart from Merci Beaucoup, two amazing French pastrychefs from Navan whose table looked stunning and who kept my sugar and energy levels nicely topped up for the day. In Kilkenny, the Truffle fairy fills that need for chocolate after set up and in Carlow there is a choice between one of Mary’s brownies or Deirdre’s crepes with chocolate sauce, roasted hazelnuts and Baileys……   

At markets time passes quickly if it is busy and if it is not, we roam around and buy off each other and the choice is sooooo good and after a long day, dinner has to be quick. In Kilkenny on Thursday it’s organic Schnitzel or fresh salmon and tuna, in Carrick, where we joined a great farmers market only two weeks ago, it is Butlers Farm chicken or pork, in Carlow on Friday the choice is even bigger with meat and fish. High quality fresh veg and eggs everywhere and beautiful pestos and sauces that say “new Ireland” like few other things. Of course desserts are never a problem either. Charley’s cheesecakes

are a Thursday tradition in our house with the only problem being to choose which one of the many, many temptations to bring home. Collette bakes in Carrick and Mary in Carlow and – at a push we can eat our own chocolate or apple tarts or withdraw a chocolate croissants from the market – there is always one that looks a bit crooked and just has to be eaten. 

The same applies in the shops we sell in , delicatessen, coffee shops,  farm shops, food stores. Everywhere, excellent old established or new food products crowd the shelves and everywhere I could easily buy more than I sell and it is extraordinarily easy to assemble a wonderful dinner and a great weekend’s array of food on that bread round to eat after the bread round. So, try it out and get out of those multinational chains and supermarkets. Go find the local shop, the deli, the farm shop, the market and see what you can get there. We are not overpriced luxury items for the well to do. We grow, produce and sell the very best food you can buy and very good value for your money. Apparently our grandparent generation spend nearly a quarter of their income on food while we have reduced that to less than an eigth, preferring to spend our money on leisure pursuits instead. If we really are what we eat, let’s eat a bit better, lets feed our families a bit better and go search out the high quality food that’s right at our door.  

One run and one election

Some things develop over night and sometimes – very rarely mind you –working at night can have its advantages. Last night, while I was putting the sourdoughs in their baskets and making the first yeast doughs, Theresa May saw her grand plan collapse. Exit polls gave way to first counts and first seats were filled while Labour resurfaced as a political force in England as the unlikely leader Corbyn brought the party back from disaster. As the first breads were baked out, the decision was a hung parliament and I reckoned, I had a future as a political tipster, having predicted him as Prime Minister.

Pulling up at the farmers market  in Carrick on Suir, I realize that my skills as a tipster are not so good after all, as the DUP has made a deal already and Theresa May looks set to continue – with not much of a mandate and probably with half her party barking at her heals. After the bread round, I decide that I much prefer the creativity, simplicity and peace of baking to the pure nastiness of politics and go back to tomorrow’s baking plan and to the miserable realization that – in a moment of madness – I have registered to take a stall at the Waterford County fair and will now have to bake this Sunday as well. After the bread round is short of sleep and that even though all that running is meant to have injected terrible amounts of oxygen and energy into the system. 

The weekend came and the weekend went and what was the big red letter day of the women’s mini marathon came and went too. The day was clear but threatening to rain and we made our way to Dublin ready to get wet but convinced it wouldn’t rain. We believe, you see, that rain is a mental attitude!!! Many, many years ago, when same daughter and I – she was being home schooled at the time and was all of 5 – went on a “school tour” to Dublin, it poured all day, except when we stepped out into it. Whether we came out of a shop, a church, a museum or a bus, we stepped out into it with an assured “ lovely sunny day today” and it would nearly immediately oblige as showers gave way to sunny spells. Ever since that day, we reckon we have the weather under control. Also back in the dark ages before the weather app, I used to ring the weather line before trips to the Zoo or the like and for years she believed I rang ahead for good weather. Oh to be still thought so powerful. 

Anyway, last Monday, I did not ring for good weather but we still did the head thing and it did not rain for a long time.  It did not rain, while we patiently waited with nearly 40 000  other women for the run to start and it did not rain when we finally got going or when we finally decided that that warm up walk was now warm enough and actually started to run. There was music, different bands, lots of lovely spectators  and lots of good fun and gossip to be had and there were countless stories to be guessed at and lots of effort and stamina and determination to be admired. There were thousands of clappy plastic hands that made wonderful noise and produced  a lovely echo under bridges. We ran more than half  of the 10km, I am a lot fitter than I was running it the last time and we came in under the 70 min required for qualification for the next level of starting. The pressure is on as we will start with the joggers – not the walkers -  next year and I have an idea that every single one of those 10km will have to be run next year to qualify for that amazing dinner in Carluccio’s – really the real reason for that trip to Dublin. Anyhow, it was a great day and the story will continue as I still run to the tree and back and still struggle with my inherent lazyness that thinks walking is perfectly fine really. I also realize that that tree is not quite far enough away but that is all for another day. For today, I have the medal and the pictures  and the knowledge that we can still sway the weather. It only started to rain when we slowed up a bit and got us on the last kilometer.

For today, we’re back to work, back to market trading and back to wondering why people vote as they vote or sell their souls to stay in power.

The dawn is a good time for baking and bird watching. Not so much for running.

One week to go to the mini marathon in Dublin, I ran 3km this morning and found a new app with a 7 min workout which talks to me, issues rewards, promises new excersises “for free” if I earn two weeks in a row awards - and which pretends 10 seconds constitutes a break. I reckon if I run half the 10km next Monday, I’ll be doing fine and am really looking forward to the day out. Doing something with 10,000 other women can only be fun. 

After the bread round  this week, I not only run and cycle and prevaricate with lots of housework but I also sit down and deal with the paperwork, the dreaded VAT returns, the VAT verification check  and the even  more dreaded other tax papers. I try and keep the papers filed, desperately try and find the purse which the bread rounder last Saturday misplaced and which held all last weeks receipts. But after all that, I also try and keep the bigger picture going. Like any other business, we need to keep going, keep growing and increase that profit margin which keeps the business alive and makes my life less scary.

We do not only bake bread but we also have to keep selling it, keep our customers happy, stand out from the crowd and be noticed. To that effect we do many odd things, like selling bread to the Duchess of Cornwall which was interesting but boring and among others also an annual dawn chorus which is anything but. If you missed it, remember it for next year. Every May, we schedule to early Sundays in a row and invite our customers for a dawn chorus walk in a Kilfane woodland. Between 5 and 7am ( in the morning, yes, but it is bright – I promise) you get to walk, listen to the birds while the husband tries to explain which bird is saying what. At 7am, everyone adjournes back to the bakehouse and we have breakfast at a long table, slightly squashed but cosy and very tasty.

There is something about early mornings,  especially in the summer when the sun shines before we are finished work. Every year at the dawn chorus, or at the darkness into Light or pretty much anywhere you go where people meet early and well before their normal day starts, you hear people promising to use the days better, to not miss “this best part of the day” so often. As with most good resolutions, we are weak on follow through but the idea remains that our energies are high in the morning – even if the rest of my family disputes this fact strenuously. 

After the bread round is planning and scheming. With only 38 days left till we close for our three week summer break, the energy is already coming through. We cracked our piggy bank of extra coins from the market money box yesterday and went to Bassett’s in Thomastown for a lunch staff meeting. They have recently opened and have a wonderful place with an excellent lunch menu ( shall have to go back and check on the dinner menu soon) and ideas were plentyfull. The bake house with a difference we will stay as we develop and change – or at least talk about it. We are actively looking for more markets – and that is not in Australia, John.  So if you know one, let me know.  Actually you could do me a favour and follow this blog and send it to your friends. I promise to be reasonably interesting and sometimes entertaining. Talk to you after the run.......... walk maybe. 

Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday – and all is well.

 I do love the wisdom of fridge magnets..... as I am sitting on the patio listening, to the bird song while not understanding a word of it and admiring the first roses which are budding in spite of being woefully neglected and am trying to focus on the laptop and the plan for the day. The weekly invoices are done, my job on  a Wednesday morning while  the bread is being baked by others and I relish my lie in till 6am. Summer is such an amazing time when we spent whatever time we can outside, when we plan the summer holidays and looking at the garden, planning that half an hour – surely that has to be there in the day – to pull some weeds, buy a new pot for the camelia and rescue the strawberries from the ever encroaching grass , brambles and sticky, windy stuff that I don’t know the name off. Summary of progress:  no dawn chorus because I was sick, no running because I was sick and first circuit again yesterday with a first run being contemplated as I write. If progress is not giving up, progress it is. By any other definition, I am not so sure.

Today, everything is coloured by thoughts of the people who wake up today to the first day without their daughter or son, the first day of their life forever changed as they try and deal with whatever injuries they got, the first day of dealing with the fact that your son did all this. Somehow because it happens in Manchester, in a place we nearly adopt as our own, it all comes closer to home. Somehow, because it involves children, it hurts more. None of this should be so. People die violently every day in some conflict in the world and lives are changed horribly every day. But even in this age of total information and easy communication, distance still matters and some things we feel much more intense than others as we settle into this new age of terrorist attacks which are aimed at us, at our lifestyle, our inherent comfort, our entertainment and security. The aim is to spread fear and panic but it will not work. It won’t work because somewhere in all of us, still lives the stubborn hero who won’t be defeated. Somewhere in our so soft culture of an easy life, still lives the instict that says we won’t be beaten. As other generations before us, who rose to wars with death and destruction, to food shortages and hunger, so will we rise to the new war which this time is targeted at us directly. We are the targets and the combatants and we do not know how to fight back because our attackers are invisible. How do we get ready for this, how do we deal with this? Do we  train up on first aid and martial art so we are able to help and kick ass should we be close enough. Do we light our candles today and stand together in strength and compassion? Maybe we’ll do both but can we please refrain from hatred and the senseless persecution of peoples and religions.

I keep coming back to the writers of the blasket islands who quoted a saying of their time which loosely translated goes “We only have our time and when that is done it does not matter whether we row the wild waters in our boats or hide in an anthill”. They lived a very tough life in the firm belief that every life had its time and that time only. I say a special prayer today for those who torture themselves with “had I not bought that ticket” and “had I not put on this gig” – for all those who think that their actions – had they only be different -  could have averted this terrible evening. There is no “if only” in life.

So I reckon, when the pathetic circuit training stops hurting and when I can hold a plank for longer than 10 seconds, I will move onto some kind of martial art and I will practise my first aid and I can’ t think of anything else that could be useful. So I light my candles, I pray and I hope that all people affected by terror will find hope and strength and support in others and I hope that we will all rise to the challenge and never give in to fear. Somehow, this week, the normal struggles and pressures of running a business and a family have become trivial and gratitude has again been returned to its rightful place. For today, for now, all is well in this life and that is enough.

The royal visit and the dawn chorus

The sun is shining, the birds are singing and another week passed – as it invariably does. Three blogs from now, after the bread round will be reporting from the Mini marathon. I’m still running but the  kids, all back for the summer, have now decided that we need to do circuit  training in the evenings and my leisurely training as been upted with “weighted squads”, stepping, skipping, push ups and the hated plank. If you don’t know what that is, don’t go and find out, just leave it!! Apparently it is a good sign that all muscles are sore and apparently I will be fit and slim by the end of the summer. I believe it when I see it and point blank refuse to try “pull ups from hanging” and readily complain that I am way too old for this lark while secretly being thrilled with having found this escape route before middle age came and claimed another lazy one for early retirement of all muscles. 

Anyway, last Thursday was the royal visit in Kilkenny. It was a good day, a sunny day and Kilkenny did look amazing and photographed really well. The Castle was looking its best and hosted, what to all accounts and purposes seemed like a royal garden party from way back when – with ball games, good food and good fun. The market was set up on the parade – inside the barriers which were set up along the road and half way down the parade. Security is of course paramount and in this case probably one big headache so we didn’ t mind coming in early, we didn’t mind the sniffer dog in the stall, we didn’t mind having to come back in through airport security – and we didn’ t mind the long wait either. What I did mind was that whoever organised this didn’t realise that our customers belong to the market. They are people who come every week, some of them coming out especially when the weather is terribly because they know we need them most on those days. We know each other and we work with each other but for this occassion not one of them was considered part of the market. Instead, 20 min before the royal visitors were due, the market was flooded with a very well dressed group of strangers – pretending to be customers. 

Then came the helicopters and the girls around us got excited. Some choppers put down – I presume in the park – and soon the cavalcade of cars appeared at the market – to the girls leaning over the barricades to find out “ What is she wearing? Can you see them? ” Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall wondered over the market, bought things, chatted and genereally did what they came to do – provide a photo op for as many people as they could. Camilla very patiently stood at our stall and chatted until the photographers told her they were happy. I don’t really like the world of photo op, reality tv and pretend but it was very nice that she made the effort and I fully realise that a visit like this is nothing but extremely hard work for her as she must know that for every minute of the day, someone has put a lot of effort into whatever they do. With the best will of the world, she – or Prince Charles cannot possible do justice to everyone but they did try so hard and that is all they can do. Once the market visit was over and the party in the Castle had started, the garda in charge somehow couldn’t find the courage to let our customers into the market and – for us anyway – the day soured a bit as €400 worth of bread sat on the table. We started to sell across the railings, walking along with our sample tray and bringing baskets down to the barrier. When the customers finally made their way in, it was too late for many, lunch was over and a loss loomed for many traders. Such an unnecessary downer after a day where everyone made a big effort. Just a suggestion for future events. We don’t only have the castle and the pretty roads, we also have very reliable, honest and well mannered citizens, real customers who can be relied upon to take part in these events without causing danger or embaressment to anyone. Sometimes, keeping things a bit more real and honest can be a good thing in these days of pretend. 

Anyhow, we have the photograph, we have the experience, we sold the bread and we recovered the sleep and all is well as we look forward to a “normal market” tomorrow.  Oh – and she was wearing a very nice green coat and yes, she paid and yes it was with Euros. I am not sure why, but those are the two most asked questions....

Oh, and if you want to sample an early morning this Sunday – or next – come and join us for our annual dawn chorus at 5am. A bird walk in the woodland of Kilfane – followed by breakfast in the bakehouse.  A free event, we take donations for the Carlow/Kilkenny homecare team. Please book in though, because we can only take 12 each morning.There’s nothing like an early morning spend outdoors, followed by a good breakfast. See you there. 

Royal visit at the market tomorrow

IAfter the bread round, I got an email yesterday from the gardai to say that all traders on Thursday’s farmers market had to be at the parade at 6.30 am. Really? 

Tomorrow Prince Charles and his wife Camilla will be a the Farmers market in Kilkenny. Apparently they are goingto walk over the market as they move from the Castle to Cartoon Saloon. We will be set up by 7.30am and the market will open to the public by 12 noon. Until then you have to be cleared for security to come and shop or be in the official party. I do hope all those setter uppers and security people will be really hungry!!!!  There will be no access to the market to the public until 12pm so we are torn between curiosity and delight to be involved and the need to actually sell our bread tomorrow. Needless to say, the safelty of the Prince of Wales and his wife are the biggest concern. Another concern is that apparently there will be thousands of people hoping to catch a glimpse of them and much as we like customers to be able to get to our stall, maybe with thousands of people there, we’ll be grateful of the barricades yet. Anyway what fun to be part of it all and facinating to see a VIP visit close up. 

We will try and be prepared as well as possible, with warm clothing, thermos flasks and a table and chairs – to get as much paper work done as possible and not waste an entire morning. We have tried to plan ahead and been terrible flexible as the garda directions changed by the day. Seeing that we bake all our product fresh, we will not have an awful lot of bread with us for 7.30am. We start at 1.30am in the morning anyway so there was no leeway to start earlier but a handtruck has been bought

( which - none of my regular readers will be surprised – holds an engine at the moment)   and we will try and bring in the remaining bread on foot to the market and to the shops in Kilkenny that normally stock and sell our bread. None of these shops know either whether any customers will come into town or not. One day loss of trading can’t be that big, you’d think – but margins are tight and if we don’t sell on Thursday, we make a loss that week and that we cannot afford. I’m sure many of the other traders and busnesses are the same. The promise of some vague advertising does not cut it for us. We haven’t had a budged for advertising in a long, long time. 

Anyhow, hold the grumbles, maybe all those royal watchers will go home with lots of street food, fresh fish, organic meet, bread, sauces and olives and organic vegetables. They might cease the day and buy pottery and baskets and a boot full of garden plants. Maybe Kilkenny will be flooded with happy day trippers all day. We’ll find out tomorrow. Until then,  a very sincere welcome to Prince Charles and the Duchess of Cornwall to Ireland and to Kilkenny.  Their visit is another big step in the ever improving realtions between our two countries and the particular history we share. I welcome these improvements and the peace we have started to take for granted and I welcome the Prince of Wales also as one of the foremost conservationists, environmentalist and supporter of organic farming in Europe. His famous garden and farm in Highgrove I would love to visit, I would love to chat to him about his ideas for food production and does he grow spelt? Who mills and bakes it for him and does he support the Real Bread movement in England. None of this is likely to happen during a “walk through” but I hope their visit goes well and achieves the many things, thousands of people are hoping that it will. I hope everyone keeps their good humour and I very much hope all our faithfull customers will find their way to the market tomorrow afternoon. Watch this space and I’ll tell you how it went next week.