Tag Archives: food hygiene

Unpacking a Crowded Head

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At the end of the day I go to bed with far too much stuff in my head. Yes, it would have been much more elegant to use the word “thoughts” but it wouldn’t be as accurate. Much of the contents of my head are half-formed, or amorphous wafts of something, or simply daydreams. Recently, for instance, I have been instrumental in sorting out English cricket, regaining the Ashes and have refused both a  knighthood and the hand of a minor royal in marriage. Even if they were prepared to pass an Act of Parliament to allow me to be married to two people at the same time, I’m not prepared for a life of conversation relating to horses and undetectable poisons. I will say no more about the latter subject, but it would solve a few problems they are currently experiencing.

They aren’t really the sort of family I’d want to be linked to.

As I say “thoughts” would be an exaggeration.

Pendle Hill with a scattering of trees – when we lived with my Auntie Lizzie while we were between houses I used to wake up to that view every morning, only closer. It’s not often that sunny if I’m honest

I had an email today telling me about the progress of the reforestation of the Ribble Valley. That’s where my parents grew up, and are now buried, where I spent some portions of my youth, and where the bones of the Wilsons, and associated families, clutter many country churchyards. I’m quite keen on planting new trees and decided, after paying for some in various places, that I would concentrate on the Ribble Valley Trust.

I had another, earlier in the week telling me that my car’s MOT is due. They will doubtless find something wrong with it. Every year there seem to be more rigorous restrictions and more ways to fail. Normally I take it in my stride but as I use it very little and have had two big bills in the last two years I’m beginning to dread it.

Ribble valley with trees and a distant view of what may be Pendle Hill but might not be. They all look the same to me at a distance.

Hawaii, as a state of the USA is, I note from a history site that sends me reminders, is younger than I am. That’s strange – I’m sure it used to be a fully functioning independent state. Oh yes, that’s right, it did, but the USA decided that it would be better if it was occupied by the USA for defensive purposes. I’m sure that’s ringing a bell somewhere . . .

And finally, I’ve just skimmed an article about gene-splicing dogs to stop them triggering allergies in their owners. Amazing. We could get round the problem by not having dogs if we have allergies. But we decide to use science to alter dogs. We could probably use the science to help children, no, we’re going to use it to make dust-free dogs. I could go on the cover the unspeakable cruelty of breeding dogs that can’t breathe etc, but I might have to also unleash a broadside at the despicable members of the RSPCA and Kennel Club who allowed, or even encouraged it. And allowed dogs to be mutilated to meet breed standards.

You see, I used to be in the poultry industry, and we were often criticised by people like the RSPCA for “cruelty” even though we were just trying to feed people. But at the same time they were happy to see dog breeders breed all sorts of problems into dogs in the name of fashion.

Over the years bulldogs have been bred with so many faults that they can’t breathe properly, can’t breed without assistance and have a much reduced life expectancy.

Actually, when I said “finally” just above, I meant penultimately” as I’m now going on to complain about salmonella. The egg laying industry was unjustly slandered by Edwina Curry MP in the 1990s (though I’ve heard her repeat it since) who claimed egg layers were infected with salmonella. She was wrong. As an industry the egg laying side kept their stock clear of salmonella by good management, good hygiene, and testing breeding stock.

The salmonella problems that occurred at the time were all traced back to poor practices in the catering industry, and in one case, to foreign eggs. We have an outbreak now, and it also seems to trace back to the catering industry and imported eggs.

My advice is to only buy eggs that have been cooked properly (I never did like runny eggs), support British farmers and never eat in a place that doesn’t display a green food hygiene rating sticker with 4 or 5 stars. It’s very easy to get and keep a 5 Star rating, I did when we did the cafe on the farm. If a place doesn’t display its rating you can be sure it is low. The food inspector I used to work with had an app on his phone – he would eat at a place with a 4 star hygiene rating if there were no 5s around, but would never go three star.

Now that I’m on two drugs that suppress my immune system I’m quite keen on food hygiene.

Olympic Breakfast – I prefer my yolks hard but am happy not to make a fuss and will eat them as they come.

American readers, meanwhile, are suffering the same way. In the USA they treat eggs differently to us – instead of producing them cleanly, they rely on washing them after laying (thus removing their natural protection) and have to keep them in fridges when they distribute and use them. Ours are able to go on shelves in the shops and don’t need to go in the fridge at home despite what people say on the internet. Yes, it helps maintain quality a little longer, but maybe you should buy fewer or use them faster. Both systems, generally, produce a good, wholesome food, they just have different ideas about how to do it.

Anyway, in the USA they have just recalled 1.6 million dozen eggs (that’s over 19.2 million eggs) due to salmonella infection. That’s on top of the big food poisoning problem with 13,000 people falling ill after eating lettuce.  It’s not the farmers taht are the main problem, it’s governments that don’t have robust systems in place to check things. It’s nice to have an industry free of regulation, but people need a big Government stick to make them do the right thing.

I’m hoping that the current Government might do something involving threats to make our water companies clean up their acts. There is no excuse for the way they treat our waterways or waste water from leaky pipes.

Less visually appealing than the one above, this is how I do it

 

Fried Rice Leftovers

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Rice, people say, is dangerous to eat as leftovers. Fortunately I had been eating it for years without being ill, so when I was told about it I already knew it was perfectly safe. All you have to do is cool it and store it in the fridge after cooking. That’s what you should do with everything, apart from the parts of a rocket. That’s because it’s not rocket science. (Add a couple of drum beats and a clash of cymbals after the punchline.) There is no advice on what to do when your kitchen is colder than the fridge, as mine often is in winter, but I’m pretty sure all options are safe at that temperature.

I’m going to look foolish if I’m suddenly seized by a bout of intestinal Armageddon (which could start in as little as 30 minutes according to the NHS website) but I will at least look thinner by the end of it, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take. Think of it as salmonella chic, rather than pale and haggard. It’s actually Bacillus Cereus rather than Salmonella but Salmonella fits better.  One of it’s side effects, according to an article I just read, is death. This is a bit strange, as I’ve never seen death listed as a side effect before. It’s usually considered to be quite serious.

Magpie in the snow

I’ve been away with the fairies this afternoon – starting with a search for the Sitwell family and continuing with Nancy Cunard and Edward Tennant, amongst others – a fine bunch of people to pass an afternoon with.

I always wonder why some people listed as war poets are on the memorial in Westminster Abbey and some aren’t. It seems unkind, after all they went through, to suggest the quality of the poetry might be the reason, particularly as some of the poets on the memorial wrote a few clunkers. I’m particularly thinking of Rupert Brooke, who is not a favourite of mine, but there are others. Here is a selection from Tennant, who is not on the memorial. He was quite clearly a brave and efficient soldier but I’m not convinced by the poetry.

Later, I slept whilst sitting at the computer and was wakened when my leg started to make a ringing sound. It was Julia ringing to tell tell me she was on her way home. She came home with hamburgers, which was nice. As a result we had soup for tea as I have to keep my calories down. It’s hard work losing weight when your wife is determined to feed you up.

Snowdrops at Ruddington

I thought I’d put some snow pictures in, as we move ever closer to the threatened February snow. We often have our worst winter weather in February so I’m not sure why snow in February is news. The December snow never arrived. Nor has the January snow, so far. I’ll be happy to avoid it in February too, as I’m happier to see it on TV than on the ground.

A Clumsy Day and an Accidental Arsonist

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I woke in my chair just after midnight on Monday morning, feeling stiff and misshapen I’d missed the chance to post on the day I was describing so I forced myself to stay up long enough to add photos, but couldn’t be bothered with captions. Then I posted and realised, too late, that  then I I’d forgotten the title.

Fortunately Albert Schweitzer was there to supply the deficiency.

Things got worse when I started to get ready for work. My first clumsiness was to knock the sliced beef off the kitchen counter, where it landed with a slap on the floor. It probably picked up millions of bacteria despite my application of the Ten Second Rule. This, as most of you will know, states that food is still fit to eat if you pick it up less than ten seconds after it hit the floor.

I’ve also seen it described as the Five Second Rule. No way that’s going to happen. It takes me longer than that to bend these days.

Thinking sensibly, for once, I decided the risk wasn’t worth it and, regretfully, binned the meat.

Then I remembered what a doctor had once told me when I was discussing unpasteurised apple juice. According to an American website I’d read you have to pasteurise juice before drinking. We’d been happily pressing for years and feeding to all and sundry from 5 to 95 years old. He said that if you drink it immediately after juicing, the microorganisms haven’t time to multiply and cause problems, and told us there was no reason to stop doing it. So I thought. And I decided that if I ate the beef immediately I should be OK. Fortunately I’d just put a new bag in the bin so that was clean.

Anyway, with the addition of horseradish sauce I enjoyed beef sandwiches for breakfast and suffered no ill effects.

The second thing he told me was that I could safely disregard most food hygiene advice from Americans as they worry too much.

Of course, this was the same man who cut his finger tip quite badly with a power saw and tied it all back with a bandage which became quite grubby over the next few weeks. When I mentioned the possibility of gangrene he just muttered that it would either heal or drop off. And, remarkably, it did heal.

I also dropped the phone, knocked it out of Mark’s hand (twice) as we both tried to pick it up, rendered the scanner inoperative, dropped stamps all over the floor and generally had an uncoordinated sort of day.

All that was as nothing compared to the day suffered by the mother of the owner of the Chinese Takeaway between the old shop and the new shop. She was burning cardboard boxes in the back garden when the fire spread to a pile of dry conifer trimmings. It then spread to one of the dead conifers.

When the opticians on the other side noticed flames higher than their roof they decided to call the Fire Brigade.

That’s why today’s photographs show a fire engine, ash on top of my car, and some grumpy firemen. It seems they had better things to do.

Charred conifer on car roof
Firemen – Wollaton Road, Nottingham
Firemen – Wollaton Road, Nottingham