Motoring Editor MICHAEL McALEERdoesn't have a "sustainable lifestyle" – but can a visit to an organic centre change his ways?
WE’RE ALL after the elusive good life. That’s why thousands of us joined the corporate rat race over the past decade. Now that the realities of recessionary Ireland are setting in, the disillusioned among us are seeking an alternative lifestyle. That’s where Leitrim’s Organic Centre hopes to reap some rewards with its five-day course on how to “break out, drop out and live a more sustainable life”.
My previous experience with people who pursue the “sustainable lifestyle” is that they quickly evolve from proud potato growers into fundamentalist bores. Their new lifestyles generally involve abstaining from razor blades, living on lettuce leaves, and hectoring anyone who even glances at the golden arches of a McDonald’s.
The idea of a training course aimed at disillusioned Celtic Tiger cubs seemed like the organic version of the retreats run by religious orders to inculcate the weak and vulnerable. Before you know it you’re hairy, muddy, hungry and driving a 1970s van loaded with chickens to a farmers’ market in Boyle.
That perhaps explains my apprehension as I drove to the centre’s eight-hectare site in the wilds of Leitrim. Given that my average week entails at least two flights and many hours behind the wheel, I probably have a carbon footprint the size of Connacht. I also suspect I’m typical of many Irish males in that I cower from conversations about feelings. I don’t do group hugs.
Arriving in a 2009 3-litre Audi, which guzzled 50 litres of unleaded on the run up from Dublin, was probably not the most subtle calling card to deliver to my new eco-friends. I half-suspected I would be beaten to death with organic cauliflower.
Thankfully, the softly spoken German who co-runs the centre welcomed me with all the warmth of a rehab manager greeting a newly arrived addict. Hans Wieland first came to the northwest from the Black Forest region in 1985 to pursue the “alternative lifestyle”. Several years of cheese-making later, he now organises the annual Good Life course. The most striking first impression is his cheery demeanour: remarkable for someone who has spent three decades trying to grow his own food in Leitrim.
My eight fellow novices seeking organic enlightenment are equally charming. Far from the hemp-wearing hippies I had expected, our group comprises several middle-aged part-time farmers, a soft-spoken lady from Omagh, and two couples hoping to get a feel for what a self-sustaining life might entail. There’s not a joss stick within sniffing distance.
First up is a short lesson in making quark, a type of soft cheese that even I might be able to manage. From this we move on to preserving food. Again, the methods are so simple it seems silly not to take them on board.
My particular favourite is the hot-fill method. It involves heating pickled or pureed vegetables or fruit and putting the end-result in a twist-cap glass jar. As it cools, a vacuum is created and, if left unopened, it can keep for up to 10 years. So instead of discovering peas in the back of the freezer from 1992, you can look forward to finding a jar of beet in the back of the cupboard in 2029.
Next up is jam-making. Despite childhood memories of this being a semi-industrial operation, Wieland’s version of jam- without-sugar is a five-minute affair. The end result is delicious, although I’m still not sure where pureed fruit ends and jam begins.
Then it’s on with the wellies and out to the gardens, where we meet Phil Wheal, a Welsh-born Johnny Appleseed, who seems capable of getting an abundant crop of fruit from water-logged marshlands. Even for the green-fingered farmers among our group, his horticultural knowledge is incredible. He begins positively by telling us how easy it is to keep fruit, before we learn of the litany of diseases and problems you will encounter along the way. And I never imagined pruning was such a complex affair.
The day wraps up with a lesson from yet another German “good lifer” living in Leitrim, poultry keeper Sabine Waniek. Again we’re told of how much fun it is to keep hens, after which we learn that just about every other animal in Ireland will have a go at killing your flock. Poultry keepers must be prepared for the inevitable morning when their coop is a feathered bloodbath.
Over dinner, the fun of growing your own vegetables also takes a knock as I’m told that keeping a decent polytunnel full of vegetables takes about two hours a day in maintenance. Then there are the chickens to feed, food to preserve, fruit to pick and cheese to make. The good life seems like a full-time job of hard labour.
My prejudices about the organic crusaders may have been groundless, but I’m unconvinced that this is the “good life” some might believe. A nation of families growing their own food seems a sure-fire route to famine.
There comes a time when you should leave the food supply chain to the experts and economies of scale. After all, you could build your own car. It’s possible, but a stupid waste of time.
The Organic Centre, Rossinver, Co Leitrim, 071-9854338, www.theorganiccentre.ie
