English apples are now in season but very few are on the supermarket shelves. How long will it be before they are, and how many varieties will we see, will they all be the same size and will they be fresh? Where do we find a really good, fresh, apple?

We have over one thousand varieties of apple in the UK but only 15 are grown commercially. Most, like the delicious Cox’s Orange Pippin, have been de-listed by supermarkets and as a result most of the trees have been destroyed by growers, also with the help of EEC grant aid!

Different varieties of apple are ripening on their trees between now and October. Many are now in season and should be available to us all. Most fruit and veg is most nutritious and tasty when it is fresh and ripe. Far too much of what we eat has been picked early to satisfy the needs of distribution and shelf life. As always to get the best, grow it, or buy direct.

To find your nearest fresh apple try your local farm shop by typing in your postcode here or visit our MarketPlace in the autumn to buy a tree to plant.

Last weekend, after many weeks of building myself up to it, I slaughtered one of our chickens.

It has always been my intention that our chickens would be for the table as well as for eggs but it has taken me some time to “pluck” up the courage to actually kill one.

Last Sunday was the day and after a stiff pint of homebrew, I went and picked the biggest of the hens and took her to a quiet corner of the garden out of sight of the rest of the chickens. After a little chat and a bit of a stroke to calm her down, I took her feet in one hand and her head in the other, and pulled firmly whilst twisting the neck. This broke the vertebrae in the neck and killed the hen. There was no squawking, no flapping, and none from the hen, either – it all seemed to be quite calm, so I am very confident that the deed was done as quickly and cleanly as possible.

The next step was to bleed the bird. I cut the neck along it’s length and hung the bird over a bucket to collect the blood. After half and hour or so I took the bird down and began to pluck it. This took much longer than I’d imagined – you’d be staggered how many feathers there are – but after about an hour I’d got pretty much all of them off. I then cut off the head and the feet (the French generally leave them on, and roast them with the bird), and then made a cut around the bird’s bottom which allowed me to scoop all the innards out. It is recommended that you keep the liver which can be used in other dishes or quickly fried up as a treat, but I was a bit forceful and it came out in a few bits. After a quick run under the tap I was left with a much darker coloured and slightly smaller version of what you find in every supermarket up and down the country.

If you are a non-meat eater, then I imagine the previous few paragraphs have appalled you. And that’s fine – I see where you’re coming from and I won’t argue with you about it. However, if you do eat meat and what you’ve just read troubles you, then I ask you, “Where did you think chicken came from?”

The simple fact of the matter is that most meat eaten around the world doesn’t have as pleasant a life, or as quick and efficient death as my little hen, and I’m sure that doesn’t surprise you. Let’s face it, by now we all know the facts. And death is an unavoidable and inevitable part of meat production and the quality of life of the beast and the way in which it is dispatched varies wildly from producer to producer, country to country.

If you are in the “I don’t care about all of that, I just want cheap meat” camp then I question your morals and you’re not invited to dinner. But if you do care – as I do – then please, please take an interest in the provenance of your meat. If you buy from a butcher or a game dealer, please ask about the meat and make your purchases based on what he tells you. If you must buy your meat at a supermarket, look for the labels especially Freedom Food (though this represents the bare minimum in terms of animal welfare).

And for the record, my hen tasted delicious, and despite being small I still made it stretch to a roast dinner, two chicken pies and a good few litres of the best chicken stock I’ve ever tasted.