Some years ago there was a farm shop in Worcestershire I loved to visit. It was run by a Mr and Mrs Orchard — yes, really! — and operated out of a tiny wooden hut, next to the barns where they milked their herd of Guernseys.
Beyond were the fields where they grew their carrots, cabbages, potatoes, turnips and so on, whatever was in season — and all of them sold at such stupidly low prices that my jaw used to drop every time I got the bill which, of course, Mr Orchard would tot up in his head from a handwritten list.
The Orchards could afford to do this because, by selling direct to the consumer, they were cutting out the middleman and avoiding those iniquitous deals that supermarket buyers tend to impose on farmers. It was a win-win situation for buyer and seller.
And though they weren’t organic, those vegetables were as crisp and delicious as any I’ve ever eaten.
Read the rest at the Daily Mail.
