f o o dwhen

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

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 garden-ing 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, innova-tive, high-quality arts projects.

food when Involved Artists

Shirley MayPoet 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 WilliamsReece 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 WilsonFlo 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 BolognaiseTo 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 BasilCurry 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 FrenzyBy David Hertzog

Set Forks and SpoonsSpaghetti, twirling frenzy

Hungry faces, happy placesChatter fills the air, I wouldn’t rather be anywhere.

My Spare RibsBy Micheal Jackson

On my way to the ChippyI hear noisy car enginesChildren play, dog barking, mothers shoutingIts dinner time.

I step into the ChippySmelling the sweet and sour aroma of Chinese food.A mixture of languages, English and Chinese.

Before I place my order, I seeCrispy fish, Holland piesSausages, Fish cakesScallops, bags of prawn crackersA 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

Roasted Stuffed PeppersBy Rachel - Petrus project Keyworker

Cous CousVegetable stock cubesSpring onionsRed chilliesRed peppersRocketSpinachFeta CheeseCashew Nuts (Salted)Sunflower seedsOlive oil (For roasting)

Making SconesBy David Hertzog

Table covered, weights and scalesIngredients all at the readyMixing, stirring, making a messNobody could care less.Into the tins the whole thing goes.

I hope they rise, I really hope soThe smell makes the time lingerIm 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 comeHot, steamy, golden toppedWhat 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 CarbonaraSpaghetti (Generous palmful)Bacon (ninja chopped)2x eggsButter (a slither)Garlic (2 cloves)Olive oil (splash)Parmesan cheese (be generous ;)

ChickenA collective poem

My Chicken came from a farm down the roadI support local businesses and market stalls

Unfortunately, for poor people cost ultimately outweighs ethical principlesCheap is not always cheerful

Im not bothered where it comes fromIt needs to be slaughtered according to religious guidelines.

Food that speaks your own language.

PorridgeBy 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

Never EverBy Dave Bamford

I have never tried,Tripe, Pasta, Oysters, and most green vegetablesAnd I never will!

A combination of smells and textures, and occasionally how it looks is all I needPut 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.

Fancy a CuppaBy Dennis Chadwick

Fancy a cuppa darling?

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

Fancy a cuppa darling?

I go to ASDA’s,

Whoop Whoop!

love the taste, love the price.

Micheal Jackson

Black Pea HeavenBy Sophie Russel

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

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 supperDad 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

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

If you want to remind yourself what food used to taste like visit France, Italy and SpainBut stay away from the force fed Goose

Take moderation in moderationThe soporific state of the well fed soul, is the closest thing to heavenApart from a George Best goal!

The Low Christmas StoolBy Katrina

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.

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.

For the Love of LasagneBy 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.

Good Morning Mrs MorganBy Sophie Russel

Woken by a church bell inviting worship of a stoic pan.It reminds me of another pan that beckons me over the backyard fence.

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

Nothing could ever taste as good as that smellCrunchy 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.

Now I can concentrate on my upcoming delightOnly minutes from satisfying my melt in the mouth zest laden desire

Epicuras and Bacchus doff their caps, everything changes.

Paratha and TeaBy Arshad

The dough was battered and squashed like a sponge ball.

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.

Just add WaterBy Aliyah

Yes, of course I can bake!Well thats what I told everyone, packet food is baking right?just add water, nice and easy.

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.

We went through the recipe step by step, into the oven they went.Anxiously waiting to see if they would riseTwenty minutes later, they were done.

Soft and golden, they looked delicious.I was so pleased, I’d done it!

We decorated them with cream and icingGreens 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

Hot PotBy Mark Ascough

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.

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.

“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.

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.

Sunday MashBy Michael Larkin

Mums Sunday mash in a big bowl in the middle of the tableWe have it every Sunday without fail.Milk, Butter, made with a masher but it still had lumps in it!

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.

Hopes FadingBy Becci - Petrus project worker

Dinners burning

I can smell the erupting potatoesWater everywhere, simmering over the stewing veg

That crispy Chicken skin is getting a bit too crispyIt feels like a ticking time bomb

I hope its served before its too late.

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

Black Pepper Sauce and Points of ViewBy Sophie Russel

Sick when I bit into an OnionI 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 tastesIn control of me, pretty grey around the edgespretty sure I exist.

I will eat Goat curry in Sabina park with a coconut and rum based drinkReturn 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.

The Last SupperA collective poem

A Christmas breakfast, bacon butties, perfect start

Rabbit skin gloves for heated hands and lucky charmsPleasantry on Sunday, roast chicken blues

Acid Burning throatGolden red apple, watch the black crow

Cabbage insides taste better than sweetsCarrots in cake are good for you

A new plate for supper timeMedium, 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 bor-oughs of Rochdale, Bury and Oldham to deliver work in communities considered to be hard to reach.

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www.tellusanotherone.org / www.cartwheelarts.org.uk

Text Copyright © Individual writersPhotography: Cerys Rebecca

Published and distributed by:Tell Us Another One at Cartwheel Arts,110 Manchester St, Heywood, OL10 1DW

For more information contact:Danny Fahey01706 361 300danny@cartwheelarts.org.uk

design & print : tymedesign.com

Petrus Community Craig Lee House 25 Church Lane Rochdale OL16 1NR

www.petrus.org.uk 01706 345844