Food When

food when A book of creative writing by participants of the Petrus Green Gym Project

Involved Artists

food when Food When is a project created by Tell Us Another One at Cartwheel Arts in partnership with Petrus. During the course of this project we have worked with men and women who participate in the Petrus Green Gym project, which covers all aspects of gardening from sowing seeds to landscaping areas out in the local community assisting those who are unable to maintain their gardens.

Food When has used creative writing to look at food and how it’s grown, cooked, sourced and prepared and also our food memory, recalling stories and anecdotes to further explore our relationship with food.

The Petrus Community is a registered charity providing residential and day support services for people in housing need throughout the Borough of Rochdale (including Heywood and Middleton), Rossendale and Oldham.

Cartwheel Arts promotes social inclusion, cohesion, diversity and regeneration through community participation in vibrant, innovative, high-quality arts projects.

Shirley May

Reece Williams

Flo Wilson

Poet Shirley May is director of Young Identity writing collective in Manchester, she has been published in several anthologies, including The Suitcase Book of Love Poems. Performing predominately in the North West, she has also performed nationally and internationally, appearing at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe in New York and the Calabash writing festival in Jamaica.

Reece has been a member of Young Identity writing collective since 2007, starting as a participant and now coming full circle as a gifted writer and facilitator. Reece has a way of work that challenges and empowers the people he works with supporting them to make brave and bold creative choices.

Flo Wilson, born and bred in Manchester, is a professional actress, who has worked in stage, television and radio for over 30 years. Her television credits include Coronation Street, Emmerdale, Waterloo Road and A Touch of Frost to name only a few.

Spaghetti Bolognaise To start our journey we need: Minced meat (500g) Spaghetti pasta (a cheeky handfull) Garlic (2 cloves sliced proper dead thin!)

Onions (x2) Fresh whole Tomatoes (x4) Tomato puree (a lil squirt) Salt (a sneaky pinch!)

Herbs / Oregano and Basil Curry powder (a sneaky pinch!)

Sugar (1 teaspoon) Cornflakes (a crunched up fist full to thicken the sauce) Butter (a quick slither) Black pepper (loads of) 11 persons contributed to cooking this meal and the total cost was £10 exactly

Twirling Frenzy

By David Hertzog Set Forks and Spoons Spaghetti, twirling frenzy Hungry faces, happy places Chatter fills the air, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere.

My Spare Ribs

By Micheal Jackson On my way to the Chippy I hear noisy car engines Children play, dog barking, mothers shouting Its dinner time.

I step into the Chippy Smelling the sweet and sour aroma of Chinese food.

A mixture of languages, English and Chinese.

Before I place my order, I see Crispy fish, Holland pies Sausages, Fish cakes Scallops, bags of prawn crackers A vast assortment of soft drinks.

I place my order and wait for the beautiful barbecue Spare Ribs.

I am full of excitement when I set my eyes on them.

I can’t wait to pick one up and peel the meat back off of the bone.

I love my Spare Ribs

Making Scones

Roasted Stuffed Peppers

By David Hertzog

By Rachel - Petrus project Keyworker

Table covered, weights and scales Ingredients all at the ready Mixing, stirring, making a mess Nobody could care less.

Into the tins the whole thing goes.

Cous Cous Vegetable stock cubes Spring onions Red chillies Red peppers Rocket Spinach Feta Cheese Cashew Nuts (Salted) Sunflower seeds Olive oil (For roasting)

I hope they rise, I really hope so The smell makes the time linger Im fed up now and I’ve licked every finger “They’ll be ready soon.” she says “Lick the spoon.” she says Ping!, done, out they come Hot, steamy, golden topped What shall I put on mine?

Butter, Jam, golden syrup Making Scones with mum is the best!!

Whats yellow and dangerous?

Shark infested custard Dave.B

Spaghetti Carbonara Spaghetti (Generous palmful) Bacon (ninja chopped) 2x eggs Butter (a slither) Garlic (2 cloves) Olive oil (splash) Parmesan cheese (be generous ;)

Never Ever

By Dave Bamford I have never tried, Tripe, Pasta, Oysters, and most green vegetables And I never will!

A combination of smells and textures, and occasionally how it looks is all I need Put off for life!

During my formative years food was not about choice but availability so taste was never criteria.

If I got some fair enough.

Chicken A collective poem My Chicken came from a farm down the road I support local businesses and market stalls Unfortunately, for poor people cost ultimately outweighs ethical principles Cheap is not always cheerful Im not bothered where it comes from It needs to be slaughtered according to religious guidelines.

Food that speaks your own language.

Porridge

By Mark Ascough I remember when I was young and a growing lad, in the morning before school my mum would make us porridge.

This was well before the advent of microwaves, it had to be done on the cooker.

She would use water and oats, not milk, and put it on the cooker.

It would take yonks to cook it!

When it was done she would dole it out in big bowls.

We were allowed then to put milk in and sugar in it.

It was a warming, wholesome start to the school day.

I once started a pudding race!

How do you start a pudding race?

Sago Dave.B

The Low Christmas Stool

Black Pea Heaven

By Katrina

By Sophie Russel

I remember sitting around a large table decorated with Christmas crackers and silver plates.

The chairs being all different styles with a mixture of buffet chairs and stools.

The dog was under the table begging for scraps, I was sat on a smaller stool.

I remember not being able to reach the table very well and had to prop myself up to reach my dinner.

Anticipation, anticipation, anticipation, a mantra to extend pleasure The eternal nationwide drawing slowly to that inexorable end

Though this is where the problem was, I focused more on sitting upright than I did on eating my dinner as I fidgeted more and more. Eventually I found a way to flip the food from my plate and in doing so covered everyone else’s dinner in my own.

That was the year my Grandma made sure that I could reach the table.

Watch which taboos you accept “Foreign food” is not to be tolerated, It needs to be loved Get the bowls ready, I can hear the bell summoning the faithful to the Black Pea supper Dad adds Daddies sauce, Mums at work, Kids add Salt Knowing with every mouthful the end of pleasure is drawing close.

Where has he gone with his Triumph motorcycle and his goggles?

Bring back my childhood on your sated horse

Fancy a Cuppa

Don’t trust a stick thin cook, little chefs are best avoided Try to find a well fed purveyor of fine foods, and drink

By Dennis Chadwick Fancy a cuppa darling?

I go to ASDA’s,

Which type, Coffee or Tea? Pop with ice and a Jam Roll slice?

Whoop Whoop! love the taste, love the price.

Fancy a cuppa darling?

Micheal Jackson

If you want to remind yourself what food used to taste like visit France, Italy and Spain But stay away from the force fed Goose Take moderation in moderation The soporific state of the well fed soul, is the closest thing to heaven Apart from a George Best goal!

Good Morning Mrs Morgan

Paratha and Tea

By Sophie Russel

By Arshad

Woken by a church bell inviting worship of a stoic pan.

It reminds me of another pan that beckons me over the backyard fence.

The dough was battered and squashed like a sponge ball.

Mrs Morgan is frying bacon, the smell would make your mouth water.

Nothing could ever taste as good as that smell Crunchy rind, sucked, so the taste would last longer.

Both in our Sunday best we would cross the fields and passing houses, With echoes of our recent feast Knelt in prayer, wishing that my performance would go without hitch.

The butter was entwined into the dough, it was then rolled into place on the pan. Sizzling and fizzing.

The smell spread everywhere, the tea brown and emanating the smell of cardamom, cinnamon, fennel seeds and cumin and Ajwain.

The cup was white and decorated with chinese patterns. mum poured it into all of the cups one by one.

The smell reminded me of family all around the table in Pakistan, all eager to have the first bite.

The bread, crispy, brown and hot slipped into the tea while dipping.

The smell is a reminder of my whole family around the dinner table with mum serving running back and forth.

Now I can concentrate on my upcoming delight Only minutes from satisfying my melt in the mouth zest laden desire Epicuras and Bacchus doff their caps, everything changes.

For the Love of Lasagne

By Abbie My favourite food is Lasagne and Garlic bread.

One day when I had enough of my mum just throwing chips and burgers or chicken nuggets into the oven I decided to go to my Nanna’s for tea and she was making homemade Lasagne with Garlic bread and I decided to help out.

Ever since that day I always go to my Nanna’s for tea because I think home made meals are better than ready meals and stuff shoved in the oven, I find it far more tasty.

Just add Water

By Aliyah

Hot Pot

By Mark Ascough

Yes, of course I can bake!

Well thats what I told everyone, packet food is baking right? just add water, nice and easy.

Waiting eagerly for the bell at 12 noon.

Feeling Hungry as a young growing five year old boy, eager to hurry home to see mum in her Kitchen.

That was until my friend Emma taught me to make buns from scratch.

I was nervous, what if I put too much sugar in? or not enough and they’re horrid.

The Long walk home seemed shorter for the promise of mums Hot Pot. I arrived home faster than I thought and opened the door to see mum busy in her Kitchen, windows steamed up on a cold winters day.

We went through the recipe step by step, into the oven they went.

Anxiously waiting to see if they would rise Twenty minutes later, they were done.

“Wash your hands Mark” says mum as she set the table.

We say grace then the oven door opens like the gates to Eden.

The smell penetrates my nose, what a smell, cant wait to eat.

Soft and golden, they looked delicious.

I was so pleased, I’d done it!

Yum, what a taste, all good and healthy.

“Slow down and enjoy your food” says mum, In a flash the plate is empty, “Thank you for a good meal, may I leave the table” I say.

Before I know it I’m off back to school, replenished.

We decorated them with cream and icing Greens and yellows, blues and pinks, I couldn’t wait to taste them.

Now I never use packets, thats just for cheats!

Skin-heads on a raft! what you don’t know what they are?

Baked beans on toast of course!

Michael Larkin

Hopes Fading

By Becci - Petrus project worker Dinners burning

Sunday Mash

I can smell the erupting potatoes Water everywhere, simmering over the stewing veg

By Michael Larkin Mums Sunday mash in a big bowl in the middle of the table We have it every Sunday without fail.

Milk, Butter, made with a masher but it still had lumps in it!

That crispy Chicken skin is getting a bit too crispy It feels like a ticking time bomb I hope its served before its too late.

We always had mash with liver and onions, carrots, swede, Onion rings, roast potatoes and red peppers and sprouts.

I will always remember my mums mash and love her with all my heart.

My Nicole always liked my Chicken Curry, she would eat it everyday if she could! I didn’t always have the time to cook it but when I did she loved it!

Dennis Chadwick

The Last Supper A collective poem

Black Pepper Sauce and Points of View

By Sophie Russel Sick when I bit into an Onion I was normally the winner in the punches game for what was left on the bone.

A black and white thinker, happy playing cards I am trying to develop my culinary tastes In control of me, pretty grey around the edges pretty sure I exist.

I will eat Goat curry in Sabina park with a coconut and rum based drink Return to the Glastonbury festival and have a beer or two with my sons.

Celebrate like Epicuras the achievements of my two boys Enjoy Duck in black pepper sauce and appreciate other peoples points of view.

I can say “no” I can perform in the public arena.

A Christmas breakfast, bacon butties, perfect start Rabbit skin gloves for heated hands and lucky charms Pleasantry on Sunday, roast chicken blues Acid Burning throat Golden red apple, watch the black crow Cabbage insides taste better than sweets Carrots in cake are good for you A new plate for supper time Medium, well done, rare Your Sunday lunch you didn’t eat.

Tell Us Another One is a three-year creative writing project, run by Cartwheel Arts. The project is funded by the Big Lottery and is also supported by local authorities in the Greater Manchester boroughs of Rochdale, Bury and Oldham to deliver work in communities considered to be hard to reach.

Find us on Facebook: Cartwheel Arts Follow us on Twitter: @cartwheelarts Watch us on youtube: Cartwheelartsonline www.tellusanotherone.org / www.cartwheelarts.org.uk Text Copyright Š Individual writers Photography: Cerys Rebecca Published and distributed by: Tell Us Another One at Cartwheel Arts, 110 Manchester St, Heywood, OL10 1DW For more information contact: Danny Fahey 01706 361 300 danny@cartwheelarts.org.uk

design & print : tymedesign.com

Petrus Community Craig Lee House 25 Church Lane Rochdale OL16 1NR www.petrus.org.uk 01706 345844