SEEING as most of the population is embarking on a New Year health drive, food is foremost in people's thoughts. Mainly what they can no longer eat if they want to fit into their summer holiday clothes.

The incessant advice by medical professionals regarding what we should and shouldn't be eating, and the celebrity-chef programmes trying to educate as to where our supermarket food really originates from, are all well and good. But how much more can we take?

Surely we must all know by now that fast-food burgers do not contain prime cuts of sirloin steak. And those five portions of fruit and veg we're supposed to eat daily? Yes, we are well aware of those, too. It's not ignorance - it's apathy.

I'm not against the eating better revolution. I count myself among the millions who should revise their culinary habits, but is anyone else getting a bit lost on what we should be putting in our stomachs?

I think I may just stick to the "everything in moderation" mantra - it's a good compromise.

One topic that does interest me is wild food, the whole Ray Mears thing of eating off the land. Food is abundant here, according to Mr Mears, you just have to know where to look and what to look for and how to cook it. Open fire, obviously, but on a heated rock; in the ashes; directly over the flames? It's a minefield of choice.

However, just because it won't kill you doesn't mean it tastes nice.

To be, honest half the stuff he peels off the ground and shoves in those hand-started camp fires I wouldn't feed to a pet, let alone eat it voluntarily myself.

But the history of the uses of these various ingredients is intriguing. The ancient peoples of Britain used all manner of skills and techniques to feed themselves nutritiously throughout the changing seasons of the year.

They lived off the land because they had to, the local take-away wasn't an option when they'd had a hard day at work and didn't fancy cooking. In reality, most of the day's work would be gathering food and making tools and implements to prepare and cook it.

One of the sad things about life today is that food is still in abundance, just in a different way.

The celebrity chefs and the like are right when they say that we have become detached from our food. It's just there on the supermarket shelf ready to bung into the oven before being spooned on to our plates smelling divine and looking appetising (if not quite the perfectly presented meal displayed on the box).

According to reports, more and more of us are becoming concerned about where we buy our food, checking labels and paying more attention to what we ingest. Still, I reckon if you took a group of these people, put them in a field and asked them to find five edible plants or berries, we'd have a bunch of bewildered people wandering around for hours.

It's not easy to relearn after so long, but knowing the basics of what you can and cannot eat in the wild is always useful. Just in case you get lost in the darkest depths of the Yorkshire countryside while looking for a nice pub for your Sunday lunch.

I have books ranging from pocket companions that help spot various species of fungi and herbal/edible plants (useful for when doing said wandering in countryside), to large hardbacks telling me in great detail how to prepare and store what I collect.

And where are all these wonderful books? In a box, in the spare room, where they will remain.

I do keep meaning to shove one of the pocket companions in my bag whenever I venture into the great outdoors. But I've been about as successful with that as I have been with changing my eating habits.

My greatest success in that respect so far this year has been to make two pots of beef stew including every vegetable I could find in my fridge (not the garden) and freezing numerous portions for future meals.

In fact, I was so pleased with myself I polished off a chocolate orange and a couple of bags of crisps.