In the first of three articles, Sam Jordison accepts the challenge to survive solely upon food sourced within a 30-mile radius for a week.
My initial thought when I was asked to eat only local food for a week was 'no problem'. How hard can it be to buy food that comes from just around the corner? Especially since I live in Oxford, the heart of South-Eastern England's most rural county where over three-quarters of the land is given over to agriculture. I imagined the task wouldn't take me too far out of my daily routine.
I'm lucky enough to have a fantastic bakers just around the corner from my house, which uses locally milled flour and where I already buy most of my bread. There's also a local cheese shop in The Covered Market, a short bike ride away, not to mention several organic butchers where I can buy all manner of carefully reared farm animals, not to mention locally caught rabbits, game and even wild boar.
Further consideration, however, makes me think this could be the hardest challenge I've been posed yet by 4food. Certainly harder than keeping an eye on my waste and cooking some damn tasty steaks. I'll have my daily bread, a few choice cuts of meat and slices of gourmet cheese, but most other staples are right out of the window.
The definition of local I'll be working on is the one applied at most farmers' markets - food produced within a 30-mile radius qualifies (or 100 miles for London, for obvious reasons). It's a sensible definition and one I'll be able to work with. Oxford is bursting at the seams with middle class fuzzy liberals (like me) who have embraced the concept of farmers' markets and sustainable food supplies quicker than you can say Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. There are two markets every week within walking distance from my front door and - judging by the succulent leg of lamb I bought at one the other week for £6 -making use of them will be pleasurable and surprisingly cheap.
But this strict 30-mile definition causes me a few pangs. One of my favourite neighbourhood shops is a small Greek deli. This is a local shop for local people. The owners live nearby, have a young family and they bake most of their delicious selection of pies and honey-dripping baklava on the premises. The trouble is that being a quality organisation, most of their ingredients really do come from the Iberian peninsula, so I'm going to have to forego them.
It's not just Greek food I'll be missing out on. In fact, in terms of food miles and sustainable agriculture this (generally organic) deli, scores far better than most of my other food sources.
One of the more absurd paradoxes of modern capitalism is the fact it's easier to buy a pineapple grown in Brazil, or coffee that's passed through the Asian Palm Civet in Indonesia than it is to get a pint of milk produced within 30 miles of your doorstep.
I don't even know how to begin buying milk that doesn't come from a supermarket. I haven't seen a milkman around my local streets since I moved here five years ago and so far my Google hunts for milk that hasn't been passed along a food-mile consuming supply chain have produced no joy. I'm staring down the barrel of a milk free week.
The lack of milk might be an academic point as it turns out, since the two things I take with the white stuff - tea and cereal - aren't going to be available to me either. I also don't fancy my chances of sourcing local pasta, coffee, tomatoes and fruit (of almost any description except maybe apples and pears), fish (I'm pretty certain the fish in the Thames won't be safe), mortadella, mozzarella, Marmite, nuts, peanut butter, butter, anything with sugar in it.
There's some hope for wine. I've already heard an intriguing rumour about an Oxfordshire vineyard that I'll track down. I also have ambitious plans to turn the mint growing in my garden into a delicious tea. But I don't leave those staples behind without a pang.
A feeling of regret that is made all the more piquant by the accompanying realisation just how dependent I am on food from distant places. This exercise in buying local isn't just a gimmick after all. Sourcing food from as close to home as possible seems to me to be a sound and important ethical choice.
It ensures the money I spend will go directly to someone who lives near me. When they in turn spend it or contribute it towards taxation chances are my neighbourhood will feel some of the benefit. Less selfishly, I can also be more certain the workers on my local farm haven't been exploited and I'll be able to get the full low-down on pesticide, fertiliser and pollution policies when I buy from someone who has direct contact with the producer (or is in fact the producer in person). Finally, of course, there's the issue of food miles and reduced carbon footprints.
All of which makes me especially determined to see this project through - though I expect the caffeine withdrawal headache will be driving me crazy by day three.
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