Latest news with #Worcestershire
Telegraph
2 hours ago
- General
- Telegraph
‘Jeremy Clarkson is telling people the truth about abattoirs – I applaud him'
Slaughterman David Partridge can't answer when I ask what his abattoir smells like. 'I can't smell anything,' he explains, suggesting, slightly irritably, that once I get in there, I should tell him. He gives short shrift. He started hosing blood and skinning carcasses aged nine, working here in his teens. The business was first opened by his grandfather Frederick in 1880, then run by his father Charles, although older generations ran another abattoir with a butcher's shop on the nearby high street. So the smell to him is simply undetectable; it's the air he has always breathed, it's part of him – and he doesn't have much patience with newcomers who don't understand that. I've asked because smell is what you brace for, perhaps more than the sight of carcasses, when you walk through the plastic strip curtains into the closed world of a slaughterhouse for the first time. Partridge, 72, has allowed The Telegraph to visit his, adjoining his farm in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, on a Thursday morning about half an hour after the killing of a 300kg ('dead weight') 18-month-old bullock, and an hour after the killing of eight lambs, which now all sway on hooks, their heads and organs removed. Yet the odour is not the metallic tang of flesh and blood I had expected. It is something more earthy, a faintly warm, manure-like smell of animal. Partridge seems happy that I'm surprised. He is a prickly man, but proud; pride is broadcast unspoken by the crisp, short-sleeved shirt and blue and yellow striped tie under his blue overalls, and his neatly combed grey curls. He brings out photographs of his ancestors, including grandfather Frederick at his gas lamp-lit butcher's shop in the late 19th century. 'It was taken to show off,' Partridge chuckles. 'Look at the fat,' he says, pointing excitedly to the bounty of carcasses. Partridge, whose own son, Andrew, 48, with his dad's blue eyes and quick smile, now runs their butcher's shop, Partridge CE & Son, down the road, nods that he feels the hefty legacy of all this sepia. The expectation to uphold 'the reputation we have always had for good quality'. Now it is at risk of being lost forever. Despite continuing to toil from 6am to 6pm as his dad did, as his grandfather did, at risk of regular injury – he has broken his ribs twice when livestock kicked out – Partridge is continually in his overdraft, assailed by a storm of rising costs. These shoot from all directions: rising utility bills and official Food Standards Agency (FSA) vet and inspector fees; bureaucracy; and chancellor Rachel Reeves' national insurance employer contribution and minimum wage hikes. These come on top of the discontinuation of a small abattoir fund introduced by the last government for capital grants, and an FSA discount scheme for vets' fees for small abattoirs hanging in the balance. A reluctant young workforce also adds to the difficulties; the average age of a slaughterman (slaughterwomen do seem rare) is in the 60s. This is by no means Partridge's individual battle. He's actually a survivor, one of fewer and fewer small abattoirs in Britain (classified as processing under 5,000 animals annually). It has been reported that the number of small abattoirs in England fell from 64 in 2019 to just 49 in 2023, with five closing in 2024. A 2022 FSA report claimed small abattoirs closing at the rate of 10 per cent per year – set to vanish completely by 2030. Partridge says there used to be seven local to him – now he's alone. It took Jeremy Clarkson to bring the issue to public attention in the latest series of Clarkson's Farm. His own local abattoir, Long Compton in Shipston-On-Stour, Warwickshire, just 13 miles from his farm, has closed. This leaves him to travel further to get his livestock slaughtered at greater cost and stress to the animals. He has been forced to liftshare to make it viable. Once there, large abattoirs do not usually accept rare breeds. 'The legislation from the Government makes it virtually impossible to run an abattoir,' a flummoxed Clarkson complained. Partridge is uncharacteristically exuberant when it comes to Clarkson. 'Jeremy is telling people what the truth is and I'm all for it,' he says. ' Countryfile just talks about silly birds… [but] people listen to Jeremy, I applaud him. He tells it as it is.' Another of Clarkson's neighbours, first generation farmer John Weaver, 38, now travels 40 miles to use Partridge's abattoir after the closure of Long Compton. Partridge says some 200 farmers come to him now from as far afield as Ludlow, and he averages the slaughter of 60 to 70 animals a week. Weaver, who has diversified to sell direct from his farm shop, lobbied a collection of local shareholders – including, he says, a vegetarian – to save Long Compton (to no avail, the owner sold elsewhere). He is now exploring further fundraising to try and build a new one. Clarkson came to his first meeting. 'Jeremy's concerns were the same as everyone else, of welfare and viability,' he says. 'He was one of us in the room… it's adding masses of food miles on to his production. 'Everyone is being pushed further away, where is that going to stop? If we don't do something now it will be too late.' He's eloquent, but you can hear the panic. 'You stack up time, mileage, fuel, the margins selling meat directly from your farm are shrinking considerably,' he says. 'We are trying to do anything to secure ourselves, we would have to rethink big style (if the farm shop closed).' David Bean of The Countryside Alliance is equally passionate. He explains that for farmers, selling meat locally is 'one of the ways they're adapting to a harsh business environment to survive'. He says: 'Every time a small abattoir closes, local farmers have to travel further to bring their animals to slaughter and the provenance of their products frays a little more. Many of us are rightly enthusiastic about buying local… but abattoirs are essential to our ability to do that.' Weaver's hope to 'buck the trend' is admirable, but he says his group badly needs the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA) to support them financially. 'They have acknowledged there is an issue and they are willing to assist but they haven't got any funding. It is essential [they offer support],' he says. DEFRA declined to comment specifically. It did acknowledge the closure of the small abattoir fund last September but gave no reason, only agreeing: 'small abattoirs provide a competitive route to market for producers of rare and native breeds and we're committed to working with the meat processing sector in tackling the challenges they face', while reiterating a £5 billion investment in the farming sector. David Barton, the livestock board chairman of the National Farmers Union (NFU) is clear. 'It is important DEFRA recognises their role in the rural economy and ensures the right support and investment is available. As a start, we'd like to see a review into the way official controls are applied, as well as maintaining the discount scheme for regulatory checks for small and medium sized abattoirs.' Back at his abattoir, Partridge badly needs the help. His electricity bill is around £1,200 a month. The fridges are vast, you can feel the cold through the 12ft slate-grey door. Water, of which he uses some 140,000 litres a month (largely to hose down), is £500 to £600 a month. The cost of disposing of waste – such as carcass heads – is around £200 a week. He says they have all risen. Fees for FSA vets and meat hygiene inspectors (who must be present for killings) have increased too, by nearly 18 per cent for vets and over 11 per cent for inspectors. Small abattoirs are charged the same as large operations. 'It costs £600 for four days,' says Partridge. He points out a silent man in a white coat in the slaughterhouse inspecting the carcasses in the hanging room under the deafening whirr of the chillers. 'He's checking the kidneys for infection,' says Partridge, as the vet stamps them. The FSA doesn't shy from these upped costs. Dr James Cooper, the deputy director of Food Policy says: 'While we understand concerns about rising charges, the reality of global vet shortages and wider pressures being felt across the economy mean these checks now cost more to carry out.' Nonetheless, after a meeting in June, FSA chair Susan Jebb acknowledged both that 'smaller businesses face a disproportionately greater cost of regulation' and noted 'the importance of the discount [scheme] to their viability'. She added that the board would 'develop proposals for a potential new scheme' but that the decision would ultimately rest with the government. Partridge has had to install eight CCTV cameras at the cost of around £4,000. But the employer national insurance hike was the final nail. 'To save money we no longer trade in the abattoir or shop on Mondays,' he says. Do they make a profit? He grunts. 'Barely,' he says. 'What saves us is we own the property. If we rented we wouldn't be here.' Whatever your views on the reality of a slaughterhouse's work, it is sad to think of this historic business falling silent. Partridge and his team are passionate about what they do. They work intently in the chill, surrounded by metal pulleys and hooks silently butchering hanging carcasses which gleam under the strip lights. There is a kind of reverence around the vast swaying bullock as it is heaved from the slaughter hall where beasts are shot after being stunned, and lambs and pigs are electrocuted. The butcher's shop, 'carnivore diet' sign outside, is teeming with produce, all meat from the farm with no mileage; marbled, ruby red cuts, plump sausages, homemade pies. Andrew mixes faggots in the kitchen. This could all be at risk if the abattoir closes. They would need to source their meat elsewhere as there isn't an abattoir near enough to travel to. 'And people come to us for quality,' says Partridge. You can tell he's thinking about that black and white photograph. Perhaps his most moving words are spoken about his livestock. 'I really care about my animals,' he explains. 'We don't love them,' he corrects me, 'we respect them.' The animal rights protesters who have shown up at the farm might not agree. Yet he is adamant the animals should not travel long distances for slaughter. 'The stress levels are not good for them,' he says. He grapples to find the words for the business which has been his life. 'I just want to keep it going,' he says. 'I don't want it to finish.'
Daily Maverick
3 hours ago
- General
- Daily Maverick
Cottage Pie, Shepherd's Pie: what's in a name?
Once upon a time, there was only Cottage Pie, no matter what meat was used in it. The term 'Shepherd's Pie' would only surface six decades later. So, when next an uppity food snob corrects you for calling a lamb version 'Cottage Pie', correct them right back. Cottage Pie dates to early 1790s England and had been around for six decades before Shepherd's Pie came along, the latter only appearing in the 1850s. For a very long time both were called Cottage Pie, because regardless of what we call it, it really is the same thing, whether the meat is beef or mutton. Cottagers in Britain in the late 18th century made potatoes a key part of their diet, so it made its way into various dishes, not least 'Cottage Pie', and whether the meat in it was beef or lamb, or for that matter venison nabbed in the wilds for the pot, it was simply the name of a 'pie' the cottagers made and ate. 'Pie' being a broader definition, for the British, than merely a description of a dish with a pastry crust; just as 'pudding' in the land of Blighty could be savoury or sweet. By the 1850s people began making a distinction if the meat in its making was lamb/mutton, which explains why even now many people are happy to call either of them 'cottage pie', given that the name does not indicate any type of meat. The 'Shepherd's Pie' entry in Wikipedia makes the puzzling claim that 'since the 21st century' (like, right now), 'the term shepherd's pie is used more commonly when the meat is lamb'. In the UK, that is. Honestly, does it really matter? Either way, it's the same thing: A layered 'pie' (we would say 'bake' in our time) of savoury minced/ground meat below, containing onions, other vegetables and aromatics, almost always including Worcestershire sauce, and creamy mashed potato on top, with or without cheese added. Some of the better recipes today call for Cheddar cheese to be grated and stirred into the mash before covering the top, and for beaten egg yolk to be brushed over to give it a pleasing golden glow. But it wasn't always layered in this way. Wikipedia explains that in earlier forms it was a way to use up leftover roasted meats, which were ground (after having been cooked, obviously). Mashed potato was used to line the bottom and sides of a dish, the meat was spooned in the middle, and it was topped with more mashed potatoes. Meanwhile, a Cumberland Pie can be either lamb or beef, with vegetables, but there's an extra topping of breadcrumbs mixed with grated cheese. Here's how I made a Cottage Pie this week: Ingredients 800 g beef mince/ ground beef 3 Tbsp olive oil 2 medium onions 2 or 3 garlic cloves 1 stick celery 2 carrots 2 lemon leaves (or bay) Zest of 1 lemon, grated finely 1 x 400 g can chopped tomatoes 2 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce Salt and pepper to taste For the topping: 700 g potatoes, peeled 2 heaped Tbsp butter 4 Tbsp cream 1 cup/ 225 g grated Cheddar Salt and pepper to taste 2 egg yolks Method Peel the potatoes and cut into smaller chunks. Boil them in plenty of salted water until al dente. Drain and reserve. Preheat the oven to 220℃ or a little higher. Chop and dice the onions, garlic, carrots and celery and sauté in olive oil until softened. Add the lemon leaves (or bay) and grated lemon zest and cook, stirring, for a minute. Add the tomatoes and Worcestershire sauce, season with salt and pepper, then add the minced beef and work it with a wooden spoon so that it does not form clumps. Simmer on a low heat for about half an hour for the meat to cook through and tenderise. Stir now and then to ensure it does not catch at the bottom of the pot. Mash the potatoes on a low heat, adding the butter and stirring until it melts and is absorbed, then adding cream and cooking until that has melted into the mash. Season to taste with salt and pepper; it's important to taste the mash while adding the salt until the right level of saltiness is achieved, so add only a little at a time, taste, add more, and so on, until you're happy with it. Grate the Cheddar and stir it into the mashed potato. Grease a suitable oven dish. Spoon in the meat mixture. Spoon the mash over the top and work it to all edges and corners, as evenly as possible. Beat the egg yolks with a fork and brush it all over the topping. Use a fork to make patterns on top of the mash. Bake until the topping turns golden. For me it took about 40 minutes, but all ovens are different so just check it every five minutes until it looks perfect. It doesn't need an accompaniment. DM
BBC News
11 hours ago
- Business
- BBC News
Worcester land flagged for student housing up for sale
Land earmarked for a controversial student housing scheme has been put up for sale, sparking suggestions it may not go to demolish St Clement's Church Hall, off Henwick Road in Worcester, and build 54 student flats were approved by the city council in 2023 despite local church hall and land around it is now up for sale with Savills, which is advertising the plot as a "consented student development opportunity".The estate agent is asking for offers for the freehold of the site by 31 July. Before the initial plans were approved, people living nearby and local councillors had described the scheme as a "substantial overdevelopment" which would overshadow existing sheltered housing schemes in the also raised concerns about "generational conflict" between students and elderly residents. Richard Udall, a local Labour councillor, said he was not surprised the plot was up for sale."The proposal was going to be very difficult for anyone to achieve," he said. "The area is very tight and the restrictions imposed would make construction very difficult."The planning conditions also required the developer to fund a pedestrian crossing on Henwick Road and to ensure the building is staffed 24 hours, seven days a week."The developers have clearly decided the scheme is not viable."He added that "virtually the entire local community" was against the plans and suggested the site would be better suited to community said the 54 student beds in the development would be in clusters of three, four and five-bedroom apartments, with facilities such as an indoor cycle store, laundry, bin store and reception on the ground attached to the planning approval mean the developer would need to pay Worcester City Council £87,500 in Section 106 contributions, which would help fund infrastructure and community projects. This news was gathered by the Local Democracy Reporting Service, which covers councils and other public service organisations. Follow BBC Hereford & Worcester on BBC Sounds, Facebook, X and Instagram.
New York Post
a day ago
- Entertainment
- New York Post
Influencer shocks fans by revealing the controversial ingredient in Worcestershire sauce
Worcestershire sauce is a condiment often used to add flavor to dishes such as pasta, casseroles, pies, and even Bloody Mary cocktails. But it's only recently that people have discovered its key ingredient, and it's completely blowing their minds. Advertisement The tangy sauce is typically made with water, vinegar, brown sugar, golden syrup, salt, tamarind, spices, onion powder, and garlic powder. However, people have been left stunned to find out that the sauce also contains a rather polarizing ingredient – anchovies. 3 Worcestershire sauce is typically made with water, vinegar, brown sugar, golden syrup, salt, tamarind, spices, onion powder, and garlic powder. Tiktok/@dianakonfederat The revelation came to light after a mom and home cook shared her take on a Caesar salad, which she declared was 'picky child approved' as it contained no anchovy fillets, unlike a typical Caesar salad. Advertisement Diana Konfederat instead added a dash of the brown condiment to the salad's dressing, saying, 'this has anchovies in it'. 3 Diana Konfederat added a dash of the condiment to her Caesar salad dressing, saying, 'this has anchovies in it.' Tiktok/@dianakonfederat 'Please don't come for me for not using fresh anchovies,' she added. 'I don't like them, my kids don't like them.' Although thousands were keen to recreate her version of Caesar salad dressing, many were shocked to discover that anchovies were hiding in the sauce. Advertisement 'Wait a second. I had no idea Worcestershire sauce had anchovies in it,' said one user. 3 'Please don't come for me for not using fresh anchovies,' she added. 'I don't like them, my kids don't like them,' as viewers were shocked about the ingredient in Worcestershire sauce. Tiktok/@dianakonfederat 'I just ran to check my sauce – and yes. I haven't eaten Caesar dressing since I've learned it's in there and all along I've been eating this. I'm dead,' admitted a second. 'My mind is blown, Worcestershire sauce has anchovies?!' yet another commenter exclaimed. Advertisement 'Never knew that Worcestershire sauce contained anchovies,' a fourth added. Start and end your day informed with our newsletters Morning Report and Evening Update: Your source for today's top stories Thanks for signing up! Enter your email address Please provide a valid email address. By clicking above you agree to the Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. Never miss a story. Check out more newsletters However, several admitted they'd always steered clear of Caesar salad because of the fish, but were pleased to discover that Worcestershire sauce could be used to recreate that delicate, salty, fishy taste. 'YAY I've always wanted a non-fishy Caesar recipe,' one user wrote. 'This looks bomb – I hate anchovies, so this I could do,' someone else said. Anchovies are included in Worcestershire sauce to impart a deep, savory, and umami flavor. This umami, frequently characterized as a 'meaty' or 'brothy' taste, arises from the fermentation process and the natural compounds present in the anchovies. Advertisement The anchovies are matured in vinegar, which helps in breaking them down and releasing these flavor compounds and contributing to the sauce's distinctive character. As a result, many Worcestershire sauces aren't vegan. However, if you are vegan or simply don't like anchovies, plenty of fish-free Worcestershire sauce brands exist. Advertisement Vegan Worcestershire sauces include ingredients like molasses, tamarind, and vinegar to give the same complex, delicious flavor without the fish. For example, the home brand Woolworths Worcestershire sauce contains no anchovies, nor does the Coles home brand version. Popular brand Lea & Perrins does, however, contain anchovies.
BBC News
a day ago
- Politics
- BBC News
Stoke Prior residents criticise green belt housebuilding plans
"We're a countryside village - we're not a town, we're not a city."People living in Bromsgrove, Worcestershire, have spoken out against plans to build 9,000 new homes in the coming years, many of which will go on green belt land - which makes up 90% of the are due to meet on Thursday to discuss the blueprint for the new homes, which has been drawn up to meet government housebuilding Bright, a parish councillor in Stoke Prior, said plans to build 500 homes in the village, on the Ryelands Farm site, were "ridiculous". "The infrastructure that we have in this village is just not going to take it at obviously the school... I couldn't get my children in there, so they've had to go to Hanbury First School [three miles away], which is now at its capacity as well."Mr Bright added that he was also concerned about the ability of the roads to handle the extra traffic. In order to meet government housebuilding targets, Bromsgrove district council has put forward a draft plan of potential sites for more than 9,000 houses, for between now and the criticism from residents - as well as Liberal Democrat councillors, the council's Tory-Independent administration warned of the risk of Whitehall intervention if the draft is not put out to public consultation for 12 weeks from 30 June."I absolutely accept that we need to build more houses, but concreting fields is not the answer," said Dr David Nicholl, the Lib Dem councillor for Nicholl would rather see a range of options for building presented to residents."[Stoke Prior] will no longer be a village, it'll be a town," he Tolley's home backs directly onto Ryelands Farm."Every morning I wake up, I open my curtains, you've got people walking their dogs, you've got people chatting," she said. "Cows come up to the fence."Ms Tolley said some of her neighbours had already talked about moving away, and she struggled to get GP appointments at the local surgery."How are we supposed to take on another 500 houses worth of people?" she asked. "We all know that houses do need to be built," said Mr Bright. "But our infrastructure here cannot handle it."And actually, Bromsgrove as a whole can't handle the extra houses that are already being built now, down on Whitford Road, Perryfields Road. It can't handle it."So, a village taking another 500 houses - it'll just be absolute carnage."Besides Stoke Prior, the plans would also see 1,800 homes built to the northeast of Bromsgrove itself, 1,200 in Wythall, 600 in Catshill and 500 in both Alvechurch and Hagley. Follow BBC Hereford & Worcester on BBC Sounds, Facebook, X, and Instagram.
