Practice What You Preach

I recently went to an event through work in support of Green & Blacks, British born organic chocolate brand and fair trade advocate the world over, to hear founder Craig Sams speak. Amongst tastings of their chocolate range (personally, their vanilla bean flecked white was my favourite) Craig shared his story. A charismatic man, yet humble of his achievements, Craig’s idea in the early 90s for a wholly organic range of chocolates has since grown into a 20 million dollar business. Yet it’s his sustainable practices and his dedication to this cause (and, may I add, way before the bandwagon had even pulled into the station) that speaks louder than his since acquired zeros. In fact, Green & Black’s was the first product in the UK to obtain Fair Trade seal of approval, and his work with local communities in Belize spearheaded the way for organic farming throughout the world. And boy, does that chocolate of his taste good!

I found myself sitting next to the editor of another magazine here in Sydney, who had equally, and shamelessly, scoffed himself silly with chocolate. Or maybe he hadn’t and it was just me who had, for when he left he wrapped up his remaining chocolate (mine was long since gone) and told us he was trying to practice what he preached. “We have a new reminder in one our columns suggesting to readers ways to minimise food wastage.” He had a mischievous look in his eyes, and looked maybe just a tad guilty when he shoved, ever so quickly, his chocolate takeaway into his bag, but the truth of his words rang true.

I have always been a pro-environmentalist and in favour of sustainable living. But in our day to day lives, how much of what’s in our heart remains in theory? Do we practice what we preach?

I’d like to think I do my fair bit. But while I still have a fair way to go (my showers of a winter morning are debatable), I think I do (the water, at least, is funneled off to water our backyard lawn). It’s not possible for anyone to do absolutely everything, or indeed necessary, without going mad, and with time, what were once commonplace habits now turned bad, are replaced with new habits deemed good.

Comparing carbon footprints to calories works well for me (it’s a singular mind I tell you) - you don’t need to give up everything (say your peach tart for example), just balance it out (less sour cream and wedges perhaps).

When it comes to food, and baking in particular, one thing I try to do is never waste my leftovers. If I make a cake, and only half gets eaten, I pop the other half in the freezer. You’ll be hugging yourself late when night when a sugar craving hits. And for the not-so sugar fiendish, when unexpected guests drop by. Same goes for maturing fruit - stew them, freeze and save for later. They’ll probably make a great friend to that cake that’s sitting there awaiting.

This post all came about as I noticed a sign left by my housemate on a bag of oranges. “Eat me!” it screamed (it actually did say that, just so you don’t think I pilfered the poor girl’s oranges). Looking a little worse for ware, I decided to act fast with the oranges, before it was too late. And hence began my orange zest supply…

Orange zest, or the zest of any citrus fruit, can be stored for months in the freezer. And as a concentrate, ready to go, it’s a perfect thing to have on hand when a sugar craving hits (and you don’t have a cake awaiting in the freezer). It’s also easier than having to zest an orange each time a recipe calls for it and, it might even inspire you to be more creative with your cakes - yes, throw a smidgen in there if you feel like it!

For the best zest concentrate, I find a microplane the best tool to use. The zest is fine, rather than thick, and you’ll get those wonderful aromatic acids out of the skin, as well as the natural colourants, which can add such a beautiful look to your baked treat. Personally, I like to zest my way around the fruit, collect the fine little specimens on a plastic chopping and then smush the bejesus out of them. Apart from being therapeutic, it helps to further release those acids and colourants. But the therapeutic action is really reason enough.

Once you’re done, scrape up the zest, pop into a zip lock bag or wrap up in glad wrap, and place safely in the freezer.

As Editor X eats his chocolate and I my orange zest caramelized hazelnuts, we can both, at least when it comes to food, rest assured we practiced what we preach. Well, trying at least.