100 miles a week

Last summer, Jonas and I went wwoofing (great thing but to that, another time) on beautiful Channel island Guernsey. A great couple hosted us and among all of the inspiring things they have spent their life with was (if I remember correctly a week of) the 100 mile diet: eat only what's been grown, reared or caught 100 miles (yes, 160 kilometres) around you. While in process, taste what your region has to offer, be surprised at what it should have to offer but does not (anymore), find out how it is to minimize food miles, eat fresh, talk to people providing your food in order to track down the way it might have travelled. Have fun hunting it down!

This summer we thought why not give it a try and see how we might emerge in this 1 week-plea. So many things are in season right now, we are in Oldenburg (close to the Northern Sea = fish!), many milkproducts are produced in this region ... Should be easy?

Today was day 1, and we decided to start after lunch time shopping. Oh the lunch hunger. We had to wait and ran right into some rueful extension of our non-100 mile diet. Canteen meal: Pikeperch from Russia, potatoes from who knows where. Aww.

But then! Monday is the worst day in Oldenburg to start a 100 mile diet, because it is the only weekday without a farmers market. This fact made us bike and bike, only to find a store that prouds itself on "quality right from the producer", in it a lady that informed us only strawberries and the long-gone asparagus are from their farm. The rest comes from wholesalers. Off to the organic supermarket besides, maybe they know something about the origin of their produce?

Nope. Only country indications. Nearly hopeless we saw ourselves eating bread and butter for dinner and were about to leave when a little label in an onion box poked my eye. Turned out nearly every veggie box has one, specifying their place of origin (if you're ever interested)! Turned out only carrots, runner beans and the very disliked fennel were regional. We chose for the former, some milk, butter and cream (local creameries in abundance, thank you region), and took some red mullet from the Northern Sea on the way back. Looked for suitable potatoes and only got as regional as the Pfalz. Quite some more kilometres than expected. But we had to eat some carbs too ... With some herbs from the balcony, plus eggs and butter made into a Hollandaise, everything turned out to be a nice little dinner: