A couple of months ago I was privileged enough to spend a whole week at my brother’s farm in a far-away place in the Sourthern part of Estonia - among forests and rivers, endless snow and freezing wind. I was accompanied by a four-year-old, a dog, a cat, five Scottish highlanders and two parrots - one light green and one turqoise blue. What a colourful company it was.

When I first heard of the offer I imagined myself switching off completely and doing lots of nothing for the whole seven days. I even thought I would have time to meditate. How silly of me! Did I mention that my main conversational partner was a soon-to-be 4-year-old, a witty and self-willed niece to whom I was appointed as an assistant in household assignments during her parents’ get-away-trip. My holiday turned out to be a whole different story from what I had planned.

But as the old folks used to say: “Life’s what happens while you’re making plans”. That’s why waking up at 6.30 am, making breakfast at 7, going to kindergarten at 8 and reading bedtime stories before sleep didn’t break me. Vice Versa, I got to experience a bunch of new and unfamiliar emotions (since I don’t have children myself).

One of the grandest discoveries was that I really enjoy living side by side with nature. I do have to admit that I’m strongly attached to the human society and although I was cut from the world wide web, a local radio station still filled my need for background noise. Even though I didn’t feel the pressure to cut myself completely off there was still a whole world full of silence surrounding me. It is an experience itself waking up when the sun rises and going to bed once it has set.

This week gave me a lot to think about. I realised that I am at a point in my life where I’m drawing a line between the necessary and the unnecessary, the real and the not-so-real. I understand that the society created by people is irreplaceable. It is a natural progress in the journey towards raising our living standards. But for some sad reason we, people, tend to exaggerate with many things - possibilities, necessities and resources. The present economic crisis is even too primitive as an example about over-demanding and over-offering, but it is also an obvious one.  It seems like the whole society is looking for new alternatives and is re-evaluating its actual needs. Thus is drawing the same kind of line as I am.

In order to know where to draw that line it is extremely useful to spend a week among nature, animals and a child. For them that line is undoubtedly distinct. It is us, the grown-up children, who tend to mess up the heads of the little ones. But until they reach the age when they become fluent in self-destruction and self-deception, they are as untouched and wise as nature and animals. If only their parents didn’t fill their little drawers with the dirty socks of the grown-up society without even noticing it.

How much do we really need the noise and flood of information? For whom do we really wake up and make breakfast for each morning? Where is the line drawn between comfort turning into an addiction and necessity turning into a burden?

Ask nature, animals and little children.

Hi all,
I am a Graphic design student in Bournemouth, UK and I am currently doing my final major project on promoting Slow to the UK.

I have written a brief, a (rough) outcome and a manifesto to support my project. Any comments, ideas etc would really help enhance my work and would be very much appreciated. If all goes well then I will carry out this project for real so you guys could potentially get involved!

More development work will follow very soon…

Brief

The aim of this project is to introduce and establish the slow movement mentality to the UK. The Slow ideology is to create a speed bump for everyday life. The goal of this shift in speed is to make people really engage with life and their surroundings; making richer connections with loved ones and friends.

Corresponding to the new slow proposal, the aim is to tackle the taboo of the common use of the term slow. There is of course a bad slow, being lazy for example but there is also a good, considered, slow. This fresh attitude on slow is the desired message. Ultimately the aim is to get people to enjoy and appreciate life by taking a break from the everyday hustle and bustle of life.

Live Slow 2009: a manifesto

We, the undersigned, are patrons of Slow. We, the undersigned, are patrons of speed. We, the undersigned, are patrons of life. Our slow is not lazy nor do we slack or stumble. Our slow is faster than you. We are the tortoises, and you are the hare. We win the race and enjoy the journey.

Like a tortoise we are wise and we are long lasting. Our aim is to engage with life. Living is a series of experiences and connections with our environment, we engage with every aspect of living. Our connection with loved ones is stronger, deeper and richer. And our connection with our surroundings is well informed, valued and utilized.

At home our slow is taking quality time with our family. At work our slow is considered, your fast is not. Our slow is more productive. We take time to look at all angles of a problem to make the best decision.

Slow is not a derogatory word for us; we do not use it like most. Your slow is synonymous with stupid, ours is the opposite. We wish to abolish the taboo of your slow and motion for our new slow.

Your eureka must not be too late; too often an illness or incident results in a new found clarity, but we propose you slow down now! Enjoy the existence you are here to live, we urge you not to hurdle the journey of life.

Signed:

Andrew Jackson

Outcome

A regular event, perhaps monthly, weekly or even daily that would promote and practice the slow mentality.

The experience would encourage people to learn about the slow theory, sign-up to the life of slow movement and, or, raise awareness of this attitude so perhaps the masses could take elements of the slow theory and incorporate them into their everyday lives.

Promotion of this event would be through a pseudonym of a tea party, afternoon tea or simply a tea break. The tea party would be an ambassador for the slow ideology, and act as a literal participation in the slow movement. The slow theory would utilize the normality of a tea break to represent the seemingly extreme ideology of the slow movement. Tea is an international phenomenon with many recognised connotations, which are perfectly appropriate for the slow movement. William Gladstone, four times British Prime minister relays,

‘If you are cold,
tea will warm you;
if you are too heated,
it will cool you;
if you are depressed,
it will cheer you;
if you are excited,
it will calm you’

These were the words he used to advertise tea to the UK. Tea explained here is used as a remedy to solve dilemmas. Now the second most popular drink in the world, tea has a plethora of associations. Tea break, afternoon tea, and tea parties and all the other social associations made with tea are a great representation of a state of mind similar to that of Slow. The common experience of a tea break would be used as a tool to demonstrate the seemingly unfamiliar slow mentality, by taking a break and engaging greater with friends and families.

Possible event types:
Annual - ‘Tea party’ - 12hrs
Weekly - ‘Afternoon tea’ - 2hrs
Daily - ‘Tea break’ - 30mins

When I visited London last December I was fortunate enough to meet up with Carl. We had a great conversation about the slow movement and its implication for how we think about the places in which we live. I captured it on my handheld video recorder and we created two video segments. I postponed releasing them until now in order to coincide with the launch of the new version of our site. To view the clips go to http://theslowhome.com/going-slow/.

After viewing them you may wonder about the weird looking location. We were sitting in two conference rooms that were furnished with some very baroque cushioned banquettes. Fortunately the lighting in the second room was better.

It has been about six weeks since my last, and first, post about Slow Homes. My goodness, this sounds like the beginning of a confession. The reason for the tardiness is that we have been very hard at work revamping the Slow Home site in response to viewer feedback. They told us that they wanted more design education content. We thought that this was a good, and also quite slow, idea because although there are lots of magazines and websites out there that feature picture after picture of beautifully designed houses there is very little design education that teaches you how to actually go about creating a great place to live. In the same way that Slow Food promotes learning how to cook, making a Slow Home means learning enough about design thinking to make good decisions about where and how you live. We thought that really learning about design would be a more active and effective way for people to become engaged with their home.

Of course, like most things slow, the only real way to learn design is by doing it. The result is a web based interactive studio environment that we released on Monday. We call it Design School For Real Life. It is inspired by the groundbreaking work of the chef Julia Child, who invented Demonstration Cooking in the 1960’s. In the same way that Child presented cooking as a series of skills and techniques that could be demonstrated, learned, and applied to a variety of situations, we are presenting architectural design as a series of principles, skills, and processes that can be demonstrated, learned and then applied to your own situation.

We are very excited about this hands on approach to Design Education. Understanding the foundations of residential design will enable you to plan for a better future. Every choice you make about your home, no matter how small, is a design decision that has the potential to contribute to the creation of this future condition. By learning about how to design a home that is Simple, Light and Open you will be able to make better, more informed decisions that will improve the quality of where and how you live and deepen your relationship to your home.

To see what we are up to go to www.theslowhome.com. We are going to post a new design exercise each week day. (In the spirit of slow we take the weekends off). You can download the worksheet and try the exercise yourself before watching me do it in the daily video clip. We are still in early days with the new site and exploring what this new kind of teaching environment means but right now we think it’s pretty cool.

Now that it’s Valentine’s Day weekend, I feel I should openly confess to a longstanding love affair - with my red Staub cocotte.

Every few weeks, I would visit this cocotte, or classic French oven, at our neighbourhood kitchen store. There, on a smooth wooden shelf, was just one small round red cocotte. On one of our nightly after-dinner walks, I pulled my husband into the store, to show it to him. 

“Ah!” he said, bemused. “A red pot.”

“No, it’s not just a pot! It’s a Staub cocotte, just like they use at Le Regalade! Remember that meal we had there, last winter? Remember how the meal made me cry?  It was so beautiful.  It was like the meal was an intense reduction of all the wonderful meals that we’ve ever had in France!”

He smiled.

I made him lift it up, to feel the heaviness of the cast iron. I made him feel the smooth, shimmering red enamel.  I showed him the self-basting spikes on the inside of the lid.  I made him touch the brass knob on top. I had never seen such a sensuous piece. (Since we live in a small loft, with few possessions, each purchase must be made with purpose, joy, and intention.)

It could be at the centre of our family. It could be taken from its long slow simmer, and placed in the centre of the dinner table. It could connect us all.

Then the cocotte disappeared.  I was worried.  It’s not as if I could pick up a Staub cocotte at just any store. I’d have to drive at least three hours, into another country, to find another one. That’s not a slow life.

Another week passed. Le Creuset had replaced the Staub on the shelves in our local store.  Staub was discontinued. Le Creuset? They had matte enamel, and phenolic handles.  Phenolic? “Ah, oui, I have a phenolic handle.”  Honestly!

Then, on my birthday in August, my children placed a square box on the table. Their gift of the red Staub cocotte was so unexpected, so joyful!

I slow-cooked them Lemon Chicken en Cocotte with tomatoes and basil.  The chicken melted on the fork, the vegetables had been suffused with the aroma and flavour of the lemon and tomatoes.  We were all in heaven.  We were connected. 

My daughter and son-in-law now come to visit, and almost secretly, touch the cocotte, just like I did in that store.  They live a slow food life. Their love for each other infuses their food. They do have another brand of French oven (which I shall not name), but they covet my small round red Staub cocotte.  My son and his girlfriend visit, and ask for my recipes like gifts.

One day, because I love them all, I’ll make the long drive, and buy one each for their kitchens.  But it may take a while, for we must do things slowly, at the right time, with intention.

Jacqueline’s Lemon Chicken en Cocotte

This is a relaxed recipe.  With slow food, you make your meals with love and generosity and forgiveness.  If it’s not perfect, it won’t matter.

Cut 6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts into chunks, then dredge in flour, salt & pepper, and quickly brown with a generous amount of olive oil in the cocotte (hopefully, you have a gas burner, on medium). Put the chicken aside in a bowl to rest happily.

Pour some red wine (shiraz, perhaps?) and have a glass, then cut up your vegetables, however you like, and sweat them en cocotte with a generous dollop of butter: 1 large leek, 1 large onion, 3 carrots, 3 cloves garlic, 3 celery stalks.

Add a large grasp of Herbs de Provence (just because I love the place), the rind of one large lemon (use your beloved microplane zester, if you dare), plus the remains of the lemon (roughly chopped), a dash of salt and liberal freshly ground pepper, and a large handful of fresh basil.

Add the chicken to the vegetables in the cocotte. Then sprinkle some more flour on everything and mix it all up with a smooth wooden spoon. It should smell wonderful already.

Add 2-3 cups of homemade chicken stock to the pot.  

Then, add a large tin of your best tomatoes…or you could improvise with 1/2 cup tomato ketchup with 20 cherry tomatoes cut in half. (Splash some wine in in lieu of some of the chicken stock, if you like.)

Put the lid on the cocotte and place in your oven at 350F, then go out for a walk with your family.

After 2 hours, light a fire for the tired and cold walkers, then open the oven, and lift the lid to make sure that everything’s not too dry or too wet.  Adjust the liquid (as my mum says). If you don’t know how to do this, call your mother (She’ll tell you to make a slurry and add to the chicken to thicken.  Good luck!)

You can leave the lid off for the last while if you need things to reduce, and fill the house with the aroma.

Taste and adjust seasonings. Pour out the wine. Set the table.

Enjoy the Lemon Chicken en Cocotte with your warm family, served over large egg noodles (don’t serve the family over the noodles…serve the chicken). Enjoy!

The holiday season seems like a good time for me to start writing about Slow Home on Slow Planet. It is a time when the connection between the quality of our life and the home in which we live seems to be the most evident. In fact it is often a holiday that is largely about being at home - with family and friends enjoying familiar kinds of food, music, and domestic rituals. Despite the incessant consumerism that runs rampant even in this more difficult of years, the memories we truly value about this holiday, and try very hard to impart to our children, are often about being together in a home that becomes a sanctuary from the rest of the world and the rest of the year.

Holidays are slightly surreal in this regard and our busy lives seem to take over again by noon on the first day back to work. But perhaps this intense annual experience of home points us towards a potentially different kind of relationship with the place in which we live. In the same way that the carefully prepared festive meal leisurely enjoyed over conversation at an actual dining table is a commonly experienced example of a slower approach to food, our sense of intimate home during this season can speak to a broader audience about the potential for a slower approach to home.

I believe that there are very strong parallels between the food we eat and the homes in which we live. A healthy relationship with both are essential to our well-being but these have come under siege by the too fast world around us. Over the past fifty years our historic rootedness in food and home has been challenged, if not shattered, by big business interests that provide readily available mass processed equivalents. These shallow copies of real food and real home promise everything but deliver little more than rampant consumerism, a drag on our environment, and a general diminishment in the quality of our lives.

Most of us understand these problems from a fast food perspective and see the potential for slow food to provide a critical alternative. This same argument can also be made against the so called fast housing industry. The sprawl of cookie cutter housing that surrounds us is a lot like fast food - standardized, homogeneous, and wasteful. It contributes to a too fast life that is bad for us, our cities, and the environment.

I founded www.theslowhome.com several years ago to raise awareness about these issues and provide critical alternatives to this cookie cutter world. In the same way that slow food raises awareness about the food we eat and how these choices affect our lives, my goal with Slow Home is to empower people to take more control over their home and improve the quality of how and where they live as a first important step towards creating a slower and more meaningful way of life.

As we start this new year and face the growing trepidations of an uncertain economy let’s try to remember the potential for home to be more of what of it has been these past few days and less of just a real estate investment in one’s portfolio.

Stephen Thompson, a designer in Mississippi in the southern United States, has put together a fascinating forecast of design trends for 2009. His conclusion: “If there is one overall theme coming for 2009, it might best be called SlowTec - a simple back-to-basics style that is all about less speed for better living - and a focus on quality craftsmanship and eco consciousness.”

Underneath this lovely slow umbrella, Thompson predicts lots of global influences, patchwork, rich color, wood, vintage items, and snowflakes, among other trends.  And though Thompson doesn’t talk about scale, maybe Sarah Susanka’s dream of the Not-So-Big-House will finally take hold, making all those mega-mansions suddenly appear as ridiculous and embarassing as we always suspected they were. Most of these design trends will fit perfectly in a human-scaled, size-appropriate dwelling.