Latest news with #sustainablecooking
Zawya
22-07-2025
- Business
- Zawya
African Development Bank's Sustainable Energy Fund for Africa (SEFA) supports electric cooking expansion across three African nations
The Sustainable Energy Fund for Africa (SEFA), managed by the African Development Bank (AfDB) ( is tackling charcoal dependence in Kenya, Uganda, and Zambia with a $4 million reimbursable grant. This grant will fund the Burn Electric Cooking Expansion Program (BEEP), deploying 115,000 Burn ECOA Electric Induction Cookers to provide clean cooking solutions for low-income, grid-connected households currently relying on charcoal. Burn, a Kenya-based clean cookstove company and carbon developer with operations in over 10 African countries, will implement BEEP. This program makes clean cooking appliances more affordable and accessible by prefinancing induction cookers and recovering costs through carbon credit sales in the voluntary market. This innovative model combines carbon-backed subsidies with pay-as-you-go payment plans, significantly lowering upfront costs for end-users. Capitalised through a Special Purpose Vehicle (SPV), the Program is funded by a $5 million senior loan from the Spark+ Africa Fund, a $4 million reimbursable grant from SEFA, and $1 million in equity from Burn Manufacturing Company. This SPV will partner with Burn to manage sales, distribution, and servicing of the cookers. The appliances will generate carbon credits, owned by the SPV, with revenues shared among investors. Dr. Daniel Schroth, Director for Renewable Energy and Energy Efficiency at the African Development Bank Group, stated, 'This marks the Bank's first carbon finance transaction of its kind, with SEFA playing a critical role in mitigating carbon market risks and enhancing the Program's financial sustainability.' The program aligns with SEFA's thematic area on Energy Efficiency, catalysing private sector investments in efficient appliances and promoting scale-up of clean cooking technologies. It also supports the Mission 300 Initiative and the Bank's New Deal on Energy for Africa, which aim to deliver universal energy access through low-carbon solutions. 'We are honoured to receive this catalytic investment from the African Development Bank's Sustainable Energy Fund for Africa—their first-ever investment in carbon projects focused on electric cooking. This milestone enables BURN to rapidly scale our IoT-enabled induction stove across Kenya, Uganda, and Zambia, providing low-income households with a zero-emission, digitally monitored alternative to charcoal and wood,' said Peter Scott, Founder and CEO, BURN. 'By integrating cutting-edge technology, carbon financing, and mobile-enabled Pay-As-You-Cook models, we are demonstrating that electric cooking can be clean, affordable, and scalable across the continent.' In addition to environmental and health benefits, the program will stimulate job creation and fortify local supply chains within the three target countries, paving the way for a cleaner, more prosperous future for communities across Kenya, Uganda, and Zambia. Distributed by APO Group on behalf of African Development Bank Group (AfDB). ABOUT SEFA: SEFA is a multi-donor Special Fund that provides catalytic finance to unlock private sector investments in renewable energy and energy efficiency. SEFA offers technical assistance and concessional finance instruments to remove market barriers, build a more robust pipeline of projects and improve the risk-return profile of individual investments. The Fund's overarching goal is to contribute to universal access to affordable, reliable, sustainable, and modern energy services for all in Africa, in line with the New Deal on Energy for Africa and the M300. About the African Development Bank Group: The African Development Bank Group is Africa's leading development finance institution. It comprises three distinct entities: the African Development Bank (AfDB), the African Development Fund (ADF) and the Nigeria Trust Fund (NTF). Represented in 41 African countries, with an external office in Japan, the Bank contributes to the economic development and social progress of its 54 regional member countries. For more information:
The Guardian
09-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
How to turn broad bean pods into a refreshing summer soup – recipe
Broad bean pods are one of the most under-appreciated edible scraps, and I can't believe I haven't written about them here since way back in 2018, when I deep-fried them in spices. They're wonderfully fragrant, and yield the essence of the broad bean's familiar flavour without having to use the bean itself. This vibrant green soup is a quick, thrifty and deeply nourishing way to use an otherwise unwanted and unused ingredient. The pods offer a surprising depth of flavour, meaning you can reserve the beans themselves for another meal. You can also use finely minced broad bean pods in stews, risottos and sauces, both for a hidden boost of fibre and for that beloved and familiar green flavour. I often skip the traditional saute stage of soup- or stew-making, not just to save time and oil, but to keep the flavour (and colour) more vivid and fresh. As a busy dad of two, my approach to food is all about cooking slow food fast, simplifying recipes and creating shortcuts wherever possible, while still preparing whole foods from scratch. This soup is ready in just 10-12 minutes, from chopping board to bowl. The bean pods save waste, the white beans add body and protein, and the yoghurt and raw extra-virgin olive oil help create a rich, balanced soup packed with fibre, polyphenols and bright flavours. Serves 2, generously 150g broad bean pods (about five), beans saved for another use1 white onion, peeled and roughly sliced2-3 garlic cloves, unpeeled400g tin white beans, including their liquid20-40g herbs (mint, coriander, parsley), roughly chopped, including the stalks, plus a little extra to garnishJuice of ½ lemon, plus the grated zest if it's organic and unwaxed150g yoghurt, soya, goat's or cow's milk, or soft goat's cheeseExtra-virgin olive oil, to serve Strip the stringy fibres from the sides of the empty broad bean pods by snapping the top and pulling down the length of each side of the pod. Chop the pods into roughly 5mm-wide pieces (this helps the fibrous skins blend to a puree) and place them in a saucepan with the onion, garlic, white beans and their liquid, and enough boiling water almost to cover the vegetables. Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook for eight minutes. Stir in the chopped soft herbs, Add the lemon juice (and grated zest, if using), and the yoghurt or soft goat's cheese, and leave to cool (you don't want the liquid to be hot when you blend it). Tip the lot into a high-speed jug blender, then blitz until completely smooth; check the soup for consistency, especially if using a lower-powered blender, and if need be strain it through a fine sieve, return it to a clean pan and reheat gently. Season to taste, ladle into bowls and serve hot topped with a swirl of extra yoghurt or cheese, a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and the reserved chopped herbs.
The Guardian
09-07-2025
- General
- The Guardian
How to turn broad bean pods into a refreshing summer soup – recipe
Broad bean pods are one of the most under-appreciated edible scraps, and I can't believe I haven't written about them here since way back in 2018, when I deep-fried them in spices. They're wonderfully fragrant, and yield the essence of the broad bean's familiar flavour without having to use the bean itself. This vibrant green soup is a quick, thrifty and deeply nourishing way to use an otherwise unwanted and unused ingredient. The pods offer a surprising depth of flavour, meaning you can reserve the beans themselves for another meal. You can also use finely minced broad bean pods in stews, risottos and sauces, both for a hidden boost of fibre and for that beloved and familiar green flavour. I often skip the traditional saute stage of soup- or stew-making, not just to save time and oil, but to keep the flavour (and colour) more vivid and fresh. As a busy dad of two, my approach to food is all about cooking slow food fast, simplifying recipes and creating shortcuts wherever possible, while still preparing whole foods from scratch. This soup is ready in just 10-12 minutes, from chopping board to bowl. The bean pods save waste, the white beans add body and protein, and the yoghurt and raw extra-virgin olive oil help create a rich, balanced soup packed with fibre, polyphenols and bright flavours. Serves 2, generously 150g broad bean pods (about five), beans saved for another use1 white onion, peeled and roughly sliced2-3 garlic cloves, unpeeled400g tin white beans, including their liquid20-40g herbs (mint, coriander, parsley), roughly chopped, including the stalks, plus a little extra to garnishJuice of ½ lemon, plus the grated zest if it's organic and unwaxed150g yoghurt, soya, goat's or cow's milk, or soft goat's cheeseExtra-virgin olive oil, to serve Strip the stringy fibres from the sides of the empty broad bean pods by snapping the top and pulling down the length of each side of the pod. Chop the pods into roughly 5mm-wide pieces (this helps the fibrous skins blend to a puree) and place them in a saucepan with the onion, garlic, white beans and their liquid, and enough boiling water almost to cover the vegetables. Bring to a boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook for eight minutes. Stir in the chopped soft herbs, Add the lemon juice (and grated zest, if using), and the yoghurt or soft goat's cheese, and leave to cool (you don't want the liquid to be hot when you blend it). Tip the lot into a high-speed jug blender, then blitz until completely smooth; check the soup for consistency, especially if using a lower-powered blender, and if need be strain it through a fine sieve, return it to a clean pan and reheat gently. Season to taste, ladle into bowls and serve hot topped with a swirl of extra yoghurt or cheese, a drizzle of extra-virgin olive oil and the reserved chopped herbs.
The Guardian
02-07-2025
- Health
- The Guardian
How to turn veg scraps into a delicious dip – recipe
My friend Hayley North is a retreat chef whose cooking is inspired by the Chinese 'five elements' theory: fire, earth, metal, water and wood. Each element corresponds to a colour and an organ in the body (earth, for example, is yellow and linked to the spleen). Years ago, Hayley made me the most deliciously vibrant and earthy bright-red dip from kale, and today's recipe is a homage to her nourishing, elemental approach, while also saving scraps from the bin. I love the adage 'eat the rainbow'. Yes, it's a bit corny, but it works, and sometimes the simplest advice is really the best. Eating a variety of colourful plants increases nutrient diversity, which supports a healthy gut. These dips are a vibrant, low-waste way to add colour, fibre and flavour to your plate by using up whatever's already in the fridge or even destined for the compost bin. These dips can be as simple as just blending leftover boiled carrots with white beans, olive oil and lemon juice to create a bright orange spread, but here I've gone all in with vegetable scraps to prove a point: real discards such as pepper tops, radish greens and beetroot peelings are not only edible, but, with the application of a little love and care, they can be absolutely delicious. My usual advice is not to peel vegetables at all, because it saves time and money, while retaining flavour and fibre. But if you do peel or trim, those scraps can still be saved and used. So, this is a blueprint rather than a strict recipe: each version follows the same base formula and can be adapted to whatever you have in the house. For a dinner party, I like to make a few different-coloured dips and serve them on a platter with crudites, rye bread or crackers. Here are the four combinations I made: Red – red pepper trimmings, red apple peel, cranberries, smoked paprika; Yellow – squash skins, sweet potato peel, carrot tops and tails, turmeric, orange zest, sesame; Green – broad bean pods, courgette tops, cucumber skin, coriander stalks, cardamom, cashew, pumpkin seeds; Purple – beetroot peel, red cabbage skin, dates, cumin, sumac. Base recipe (makes 1 batch, so multiply to make a rainbow)150g raw veg scraps (eg, pepper tops, beetroot peel, courgette ends, but choose one colour of vegetable per dip)130g cooked white beans (eg butter beans or cannellini), drained and liquid reserved2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil 2 tbsp lemon juice, or vinegarSea salt, to taste Optional extras and toppings (choose to suit your dip's colour and flavour)1 small garlic clove, peeledUnwaxed citrus zest (lemon, lime, orange)2 tbsp tahini, or nuts2-4 dates, cranberries or goji berries1–2 tsp ground spices (smoked paprika, cumin, turmeric, coriander, za'atar)Soft herb stalks and/or leaves (eg. mint, coriander, parsley), for toppingChilli flakes, or chopped fresh chilliToasted seeds, or dukkah or chopped herbs, to serve Steam or blanch the vegetable leftovers or clean scraps for five minutes, sticking to one colour of vegetable per dip. Tip the steamed vegetables into a high-speed blender, add the cooked white beans, extra-virgin olive oil, lemon juice and a pinch of sea salt, then add a splash of the reserved bean liquid to help blend smoothly. Depending on your choice of scraps and desired flavour, add any optional extras that will enhance the flavour and colour – garlic, citrus zest for punch, tahini or nuts for richness, dates, cranberries or dried apricots for sweetness, as well as ground spices and chilli flakes for red heat. Blitz to a smooth, hummus-like consistency, adding more bean liquid if required, then taste and adjust for seasoning, as well as to balance the acidity, richness and sweetness. Serve as a dip or spread, topped with toasted seeds, chopped herbs or dukkah, if you like. Store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to five days.
The Guardian
08-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Fancy some iconic celeriac? New Nordic cuisine, now a blockbuster exhibition
When is gastronomy about more than just recipes? When it is New Nordic cuisine: to its advocates, the most influential culinary movement of the 21st century; to its detractors, a school of foodie puritans who have spent the last two decades sucking the joy out of dining and injecting it with po-faced declarations. If a decade of breathy Netflix food programming is to be believed, you could delicately tweezer some edible petals and micro-herbs on to locally foraged mushrooms and a bed of ancient grains, serve it with a naturally fermented lemonade, and you've got yourself a cracking (if not hugely substantive) New Nordic meal. In fact, what the movement tried to bring to the table was more than that: a wider philosophy that linked your lunch with the natural world, local culture and tradition, while being evangelical about improving your relationship with all three. As Martin Braathen, the curator of a major new exhibition marking New Nordic's 20th anniversary pronounces ominously: 'A carrot is not only a carrot.' New Nordic professed a strong interest in food education, public health and nutrition, it carefully tracked ingredients from farm, fjord or forest to table, and had a substantial environmental component. It was aspirationally low waste, low impact and low intervention. At its ambitious best, its chefs took on the challenge of replacing non-native imports such as citrus fruits, by asking questions like: can we create a vinegar that is light enough to imitate lemon juice? Failing that, could we just use ants? (Ants have a lemon-like flavour.) One dish singled out in Norway's National Museum's show New Nordic: Cuisine, Aesthetics and Place is Swedish chef Daniel Berlin's 'iconic' signature celeriac dish – where the vegetable is first grilled over an open fire, then baked in foil for hours. The charred skin is used to make bread, the celeriac roots are used to make a stock, and then a sauce, and a slaw is made from the tops, bringing waste as close to zero as possible. It is also avowedly seasonal and localist. Over the past two decades, New Nordic has navigated various controversies in a bid to elevate regional identity and folk heritage, and as the Oslo exhibition shows, it extends that enthusiasm to non-culinary local arts and crafts such as decor, architecture, design, visual art, pottery and glassware. Outside, the heady smell of birch smoke drifts through the custom-built pavilion, where they are making coffee over a wood fire – very much like normal coffee, perhaps with a hint of birch smoke. The exhibition brings in tableware and artworks from some of the New Nordic scene's garlanded restaurants, as well as maps, farming and fishing tools and photographs which speak to local landscapes as much as the food they produce. 'Moss is used both as decor and as an ingredient in broths,' reads one straight-faced caption. Earth tones abound, and drying seaweed, haunches, hides and leaves hang from wooden beams. All of this began with the 10-point Manifesto for the New Nordic Kitchen, published in 2004. Some of the manifesto's 12 authors would go on to become household names in Scandinavia and beyond, like Noma's René Redzipi and Claus Meyer. The signatories were drawn not just from Denmark, Norway and Sweden, but also Greenland, the Faroe Islands and Åland; all 12 were male. Spiritually, it shared something with its Scandi predecessor from a decade earlier, the infamous Dogme 95 cinematic manifesto: ostensibly didactic and po-faced, but in practice more playful and loose (the film-makers nicknamed their manifesto 'the vow of chastity', and then proceeded to break most of their own rules). Its arrival in the mid-2000s begged the question: what was old Nordic cuisine – what was it replacing, and what was wrong with it? Meatballs, herring, potatoes, stodge, bacon and butter – but the greater complaint was of the excess of imported, unseasonal foods; it was a response to ever slicker global supply chains and culinary homogenisation, more than a protest against the Ikea lunch. In this respect, New Nordic is an heir to Italy's Slow Food movement, prompted by the arrival of Italy's first McDonald's in 1986, or French farmer and activist José Bové's elevation to national hero in 1999, when he and fellow trade unionists 'dismantled' a new branch of McDonald's in protest against American hormone-treated beef. 'New Nordic pushes back against the global food industry,' Braathen says: prior to its arrival, 'we ignored the local'. It places great emphasis on the immediate landscape the restaurant sits in, and a desire to 'capture' it in a dish – an idea now frequently cited in British food TV shows. Two decades is more than enough time in the spotlight to acquire dissenters, too. At its worst, New Nordic can seem dogmatic, chauvinistic, and elitist – little more than smug 'bro' auteur-chefs from Michelin-starred restaurants showing off to each other, and their rich diners. The backlash has grown in recent years. 'I have eaten in Michelin-starred New Nordic restaurants where presenting the menu felt more like a lecture than a treat.' wrote Petri Burtsoff in Monocle last month, in a piece that claimed the 'fiddly', 'fussy' and 'pretentious' style has fallen out of favour in Scandinavia itself, replaced by something more hearty, relaxed and simple. Copenhagen's Noma – five-time winner of Best Restaurant in the World, for those keeping score – announced they were closing in 2023, to great fanfare, although still haven't pulled the plug, with reservations filled until the end of this year, for a tasting menu that costs a cool 4,400DKK, or £500 per head. For an institution inclined to grandiose talk about sustainability, recent revelations that Noma's business model seems to have been built on legions of unpaid interns, or stages, have undermined fine dining's reputation at large. In Noma's case, the Financial Times found that up to 30 stagiaries were working in the kitchen in 2019, almost as many as their 34 paid chefs at the time. It's all very well treating your hand-foraged molluscs with care – one New Nordic legacy is the frequency with which TV chefs talk sanctimoniously about 'respecting the ingredients' – but what about respecting the sentient beings you're getting to clean them? For all of its elevation of traditional, preindustrial techniques, New Nordic always claimed to have remained a living, breathing movement. Oslo-based ceramicist Anette Krogstad, whose hand thrown stoneware appears in the exhibition, stresses that point. Like the food on the table, her plates themselves are seasonal – some designs more suited to winter, others to summer. But Krogstad is keen that these lofty ideas are not on a pedestal, or out of reach. 'I don't want people to buy my ceramics and then put them away, and save them for a nice dinner,' she says: 'I want them to be used every day.' Can the same be said about the trickle-down effect of New Nordic's fine-dining masters on local eateries? Just beyond the museum, the cheerful cafe Elias makes no mention of New Nordic principles – the head chef had not heard about the new exhibition and said he would probably be too busy to visit – but they are on display nonetheless. I ate a meltingly tender, deep-red elk carpaccio, sprinkled with tart lingonberries, bitter rocket, the crunch of pine nuts and red onion, and a salty local organic cheese, Holtefjell. For dessert, the cloudberry panna cotta was made with cream and tjukkmjølk (a soured milk) from Røros, to the north of Oslo. The meal came to £50 for two courses, a soft drink and tip, pretty affordable by Oslo standards. To pull off the trick of being sophisticated and surprising, but still accessible and unpretentious – that's the sweet spot. Walk further around the affluent Tjuvholmen neighbourhood surrounding the museum, though, and the gastronomic upheaval lauded inside its walls becomes less tangible. Among the Kapoor, Gormley and Bourgeois sculptures, and underneath the waterside apartments, the restaurant options included Eataly, Los Tacos, Entrecote, Big Horn Steakhouse, New Delhi and Yokoso sushi and ramen. The food huts outside sold macarons and gelato. This isn't to say New Nordic cuisine has proven a failure, just that its advocates are fighting an uphill battle against the Instagram-enabled appeal of the same global smorgasbord you might find in London, Melbourne, Los Angeles or Barcelona. But is New Nordic over? For Braathen, this exhibition is indeed a retrospective; but while we might be talking about it in the past tense, there is clearly a lot more work to be done – and some of its advocates are refusing to call time at the natural wine bar. 'While the Nordic food movement has been a success by any standard, the vision that guides it still holds a great deal of unrealised potential,' said last month's report from December's New Nordic Food Summit. To realise this potential, in the face of the global food and farming industries, will be a challenge. Soaring food prices have caused concern in Norway recently, as in so much of the world – with prime minister Jonas Gahr Støre promising to address them ahead of September's election. The cause of these high food prices? Extremely high tariffs on imports, to protect Norwegian farmers – it is hard to imagine easing that protectionism will do much to support New Nordic Cuisine. For Noma co-founder Meyer, the movement's legacy should be to blend into the background. 'Now we should just move on, talk less about the New Nordic cuisine and just let it become a part of our lives,' he said back in 2015. It's a noble intention – but the struggle to extol the virtues of the local against the global food industry will not be won easily. New Nordic: Cuisine, Aesthetics and Place is at the National Museum, Oslo, until 14 September
