Outdoor food

I go to a lot of outdoor events in the summer so I end up eating a lot of food that's been prepared in vans or caravans.  I'm a fair-weather camper with the bare minimum of kit, and I've never been tempted into spending money on mobile stoves and refrigeration which will only be used a few times a year.  I like cooking in my kitchen, where I can wash up as I go along, and I suspect that the limited features of campsite cooking would soon frustrate me and I'd only ever eat bacon sandwiches - which rather defeats the object of spending the money on equipment to cook for yourself, because there's bound to be a van nearby selling them.

You can expect to spend between £4.50 and £8 on a portion of food from a catering van at an outdoor event, which is very reasonable for a plate of food that will keep you going for half a day, but what really distresses me is the incredible variation of quality that you get for that.

Here goes with a bit of a rant.  Links to particular companies and organisations where I can find them, but food vans seem to be a bit of an internet-shy industry so there will be gaps.

I've been going to Fairport Convention's fantastic Cropredy Festival since 2000, and I've never had a bad meal there.  I don't know if the band are all foodies, or if it's just part of how very well-organised the festival is, but it's all first-rate.  The vendors have changed down the years (to my recollection the only constant is the Goan Fish Curry stand) and I never get to try them all!  River Cottage had a brilliant concession there in 2010 which was sorely missed this year.  The buffalo meat people with their choice of chilli-con-carne, burgers or chilli wraps are such lovely people that they let me shelter from the apocalyptic rain of 2010 without any fear of a smelly, skinheaded beard-wearer in a Morris dancing t-shirt damaging their business, then not only recognised me but welcomed me back with beaming smiles when I came back the next day to sample another one of their dishes.

There are a couple of stands selling organic, traceable, field-to-plate sausages, burgers and the like which I tend to skip because I'm lucky enough to have a farmers' market selling the same sort of thing at home.  It makes me happy to see them though.

Cropredy has even been good enough to turn me on to food that I'd probably otherwise avoid.  This year, queuing for autographs from the almighty Home Service, I was almost reduced to salivating by the curry smells wafting up on the wind.  The second my CD had been signed this confirmed carnivore ran, not walked, to Leon's Vegetarian Cuisine and broke a couple of firsts by willingly ordering the veggie option and eating plantain, in a fantastic curry served with rice and as much chutney and pickle as I wanted.  It was bloody delicious - and a bargain at a fiver.

I remember having my first prawn tempura made by an actual Japanese person at Cropredy, as well as one of very, very few pizzas I've had outside of Italy that stood comparison with the real thing.

The other nice thing about Cropredy is that a couple of local institutions set up shop selling fantastic breakfasts each morning, with the profits going to that institution.  If you're going to turn up in a small Oxfordshire village along with 14,999 other hippies, take over the whole place and get drunk, it makes you feel much better to give something back to the local primary school or Scout Troop.

So, if the folk music world (or at least the country occupied by Fairport Convention) can get it so right, why do the more blokey outdoor events still get it so wrong?  I'm still outraged by the £3.50 I paid for a bacon sandwich ten years ago at the sadly defunct Air Cool show at Brooklands to be given two slices of bread with a rasher of bacon in between - no butter, no mayo, no choice, no other food on offer.  I'm happy to report that Brooklands is much improved since.

Not all venues are though.  I stopped in at Thruxton on the way home from Cropredy to take in some truck racing and was disappointed by the Moroccan lamb burger I had for lunch.  At £4 it was the cheapest option there, the caravan looked snazzy and the girls serving were both pretty and friendly, but the final product was a sad disappointment.  A really nice, spicy lamb burger, served in a dry, mass-produced bun, with no salad or sauce available, even for extra cost?  That's how you ruin a nice burger.

 My girlfriend and I went to Wings and Wheels the other weekend and decided to be lazy and buy food there rather than take sandwiches.  More blokey even than Air Cool or truck racing, this one features ridiculously fast cars and jet aircraft.  I loved the testosterone stuff and dreamed of learning to fly (safely inside the aircraft), my girlfriend wanted to join the parachute display team or the wing walkers.  Women are strange.

Despite my girlfriend showing herself to be significantly braver than I am, this was clearly a blokes' event because the food was terrible.

There were a couple of eating areas set out in the main arena, which appeared to be all run by the same company.  I didn't take photos, but imagine a semi-circle of stalls all with signs looking remarkably similar and bearing similar names: Gourmet Fish&Chips - Gourmet Burgers - Gourmet Hot Dogs - Gourmet Bacon Sandwiches and so on.

We had fish & chips.  We paid six whole pounds each.  We were horrified to be given what was clearly factory-prepared battered fish - the sort of thing you can buy in Iceland for pennies - and limp oven chips.  It wasn't bad, exactly...  but it wasn't worth £12.  We could have gone to the local Iceland and recreated it at home for about £2.

If you're not British and you have no idea why I'm so upset about this, just know that fish & chips is one of those very simple dishes that's sublime when cooked well, and utterly disappointing if not.  It should never be too expensive, but sit really well done at the bottom of any menu.  Think pizza, think chilli-con-carne, think stew, think spaghetti bolognese.

Coming full circle, I'm just back from Weyfest, a newish music festival which hasn't really found its feet yet but punches above its weight in the fight to prove that Prog Rock is not dead.  I eventually got through all the photos of Hammond organs on my hard drive to bring you this one of Arthur Brown.

Oh, all right, if you inshist.  Here'sh Focus.

Anyway, back to food.  There were moments of excellence at Weyfest but clearly no quality control.  The Southern Fried Chicken van, apparently staffed by 12-year-olds, looked like it had been there since Life on Mars.  I'm ashamed to admit that I couldn't resist it after a few too many ciders and it was a disaster - the vinegar that I poured on the chips went straight through the cardboard box it was served in and I discovered why my chicken portion had been put in the box upside-down when I righted it and discovered that the southern-fry coating had drifted off in the fryer.  A disastrous meal, not worth a fiver anywhere, but I was drunk enough to enjoy it (and sober enough to find hot running water to wash my hands in afterwards).

I didn't sample the hot dog stand, but I don't think anyone else did either - £4.50 for a bockwurst in a bun that the local Lidl could provide you with for less than a quid isn't exactly tempting in these slightly enlightened times.

I was confused by the massive difference in quality between the different food vendors at Weyfest.  There were those above that could barely have scraped by at a race meeting.  Then there was some really inspired excellence.

Thank you to The Furnace for selling me a delicious dhal with salad and rice and as much chutney as I wanted for a fiver when I was hungover and craving something wholesome.  Thank you to the unnamed Fish and Chips caravan for selling me a portion of sustainable cod-and-chips with tartar sauce for £6 - the same price as the abomination at Wings and Wheels - that was just as good as my local chippy and engaging me in intelligent conversation while it cooked.  Thank you to the kebab man who thoughtfully encouraged me to have a try of the hot chilli sauce rather than being macho and  automatically slapping it on, then made me the best kebab I've had since leaving Brighton, all for a fiver.

Thanks again to Chorizo Express, who I had the delight of seeing set up for the first time at Weyfest last year.  You guys have got the right idea: genuine charm, a tiny menu of three items, one of them vegetarian and all of them spicy and filling.  I loved my chorizo in a ciabatta just as much this year as I did last year.  Bread, chorizo, pepper and rocket - carbs, protein and veg - all in your hand, tasting fantastic, and for less than five quid.  You need to work on your signage if you want to grow, though: I only saw you because I was looking for you.

I know this is unlikely, because the food-out-of-vans industry is a bit web-shy.  But the organisations who hire vans-with-food-in aren't web-shy at all.  Let this be a call to arms.  Raise your game, vans-with-food-in! Give us delicious new food that we wouldn't have eaten otherwise!  Deliver us food that we know in perfect form!  Don't even try to rip us off!  Give us the holy triangle of protein, veg and carbs in an easily hand-held package!  And do it all for about a fiver, maybe up to eight if it's really, really good!

I know you can do it.  I've seen it.