“Every food has an inspiring birthplace and holds flavors directly connected to the places and people that make them.”
– Simran Sethi
Spring on the quinta is a tumultuous explosion of colour – white, yellow, and purple vie for attention, while the calls of the cuckoo bird punctuate a collective increase in the birdsong that fills the air. Storks indulge in an all-day buffet of frogs that inhabit the sharka that is filled to the brim, and marshy bits of low-lying land. Judging from the riotous chorus that start like clockwork at dusk, there is still plenty left on this croaking buffet.
The cloying smell of Hawthorn blossoms that is more pungent than sweet has become the dominating smell as March is getting ready to hand over all spring duties to April, while the weather has behaved in typical spring-like fashion by being temperamental and unpredictable – Saharan dust and warm air, more rain on soil that is already completely saturated, and snow on the nearby Serra de Estrela that turned the wind icy.
Although spring isn’t my favourite season, I do love the rhythm of change, and the fact that I can start planning my summer garden. This is the fourth year that I am starting my seed trays in the warmth of the house. I love the feeling of anticipation of the promised bounty, as I watch them sprout and grow. There is something particularly exciting and joyful to play an active part in this transformation of seed to plant, and until we have a greenhouse, the house has to suffice, which is perhaps not a bad thing, as it puts a limit to the number of plants I can currently grow.
When I built the vegetable garden in front of the house, I always knew that it was to be temporary, and after growing vegetables in this space for three years, the time came for planning its demise.
With the work on the workshop waiting for non-rainy weather, we at least managed to get a big machine to move and level the heaps of soil from the previous month’s digging to start creating the terrace we’ve always planned in front of the house, where it will cut through my current vegetable garden, which has happily produced vegetables and edible flowers. Although we initially thought we would relocate it close to the well at the bottom of the land, we’ve come to realize that it would be much better to have it close to the house. Not only is it easier to care for when in constant sight, but it takes much less effort to simply step outside to pick whatever is needed to create a meal, while landscaping with an edible garden makes so much more sense than spending time and effort on a purely ornamental one.
The final filling in and levelling of the terrace, unfortunately is also weather dependent, as we will get the soil we need from the lower, marshy part of the land, which is currently completely waterlogged, but which we hope will be sufficiently dry in June to complete the job. This, of course, means that I needed to either find another temporary spot for my vegetable garden, or forgo planting anything this year. Needless to say, I couldn’t face the prospect of not having a vegetable garden, and so I built a new, smaller, temporary one in the only other spot available close to the house. As it is in a spot with some shade in summer, it will offer an ideal time to experiment with which plants will prosper with a bit of shade during the brutal summer months.
All this thinking about and planning this year’s vegetable garden meant that food and nourishment have been on my mind as well. Living on the quinta means that I am acutely aware of terroir and seasonality, something that is much more difficult when living in a city, where supermarkets dictate which produce is available, and because we have become so accustomed to always having everything available all the time, the whole idea of seasonality has become a foreign concept on our plates.
Although I am still a long way away from growing all the different vegetables – and storing them – that I would like to, I have noticed that I naturally tend to veer away from vegetables that are not in season. That means that I hardly ever reach for fresh tomatoes, zucchini, or eggplant during winter for example. It is by no means a conscious decision, but as I am starting to align my life closer with the seasons on the quinta, it seems to be a natural progression in that direction – something I find interesting.
It is sad that so much of the food that is grown these days are devoid of dense calories, flavour, and diversity. Food is so much more than just filling one’s stomach, and without realising it, the food we put on our plates are political, environmental, moral, and nutritional choices we make with every meal. Once we become aware of it, though, it can feel like a quagmire that is impossible to navigate without feeling overwhelmed.
Unless one grows one’s own food, have access to a local farmer’s market or urban community garden, it is impossible to really get a sense of terroir in fresh vegetables or fruit. So often terroir – the characteristic flavour and taste of place – is only used to describe wine, but it can be used to describe all produce, and even people, as we too, are products of the places we grow up and live in.
The word terroir is French, and translates to soil or land – terra in Portuguese. As a concept, it refers to a complex and unique interplay between soil, climate, topography or terrain (the physical features of the land), geography (which includes the interaction between people and their environment), the surrounding fauna and flora, cultivation techniques, and traditions.
As I walk on the land or pick what is edible, surrounded by the industrious sound of bees collecting pollen and nectar, I find myself often contemplating and questioning my place and role I play in the world, and although I know that I am a small and insignificant dot on the planet, I also know that every choice I make contributes to a collective impact that is far from either small or insignificant.
A Special Moment of Joy:
The fairly unpleasant weather, marshy conditions, and long grass have limited the frequency of our daily walks, but on one pleasant late afternoon, as I started calling Midnight and Lily, I spotted a fleck of white on the neighbouring land nearest to the house. On closer inspection, I realized that it was Lily crouching in hunting mode staring intently at a stork foraging for frogs. Lily stealthily ran closer when the stork increased the distance between them, and it was only when the spell was broken by my laughter and the stork has taken off to forage near our sharka that Lily looked at me as if to say, ‘what have you done – I almost caught it?!’
Notes:
Apart from cauliflower, broccoli, Swiss chard, and kale in the garden, the abundance of edible flowers has found their way onto my plate in creative ways. One of my favourite ways to make use of edible flowers is to make a flower petal pesto, which is great stirred into cooked pasta. Try my recipe if you have access to edible flowers.
| Flower petal pesto Use a stick blender to blend the following: 25 g sunflower seeds, dry toasted chives, about 3 blades finely snipped 20 g edible flower petals (bulk up with something like lamb’s lettuce if you don’t have enough) 60 ml extra-virgin olive oil ¼ teaspoon sea salt rind of ½ a lemon, grated or finely chopped |
To Read & Watch:
# Bread, Wine, Chocolate: The Slow Loss of Foods We Love – Simran Sethi
# The Lost Supper – Taras Grescoe
# You Are What You Eat on Netflix
# Read my article about Hawthorn trees in my plant series if you find that kind of thing interesting
# Revisit the blog post I wrote when I was busy building my vegetable garden in 2021 for more photographs
A Portuguese Expression:
Engolir sapos or engolir sapos vivos – translates to swallow frogs or to swallow live frogs and refers to when someone has no choice but accept an unpleasant or unwelcome situation.
Written by: Jolandi
Fascinating to watch how things are taking shape. Good luck with the new veggie garden.
Thanks, Peggy. Although things often move much slower than what we would have liked, we are slowly but surely shaping the land into our vision of it, which is exciting, especially when I look back to where we’ve started from. – Jolandi
That is one grumpy looking kitty. Like “mother!! you are cramping my style” The whole Quinta looks astonishingly beautiful. Wish I had the ingredients for the Flower Petal Pesto as it sounds so exotic.
I also think that Flower Petal Pesto sounds exotic, and I guess in many ways it is, Yvonne. I wish I could send you some, as I’ve just made a new double batch. You will just have to come eat some on the quinta one of these days, although it is seasonal, so I guess your timing needs to be right. 😇
As for Lily. Oh, yes, I am totally cramping her style. I even had to rescue a little bird she caught the other day. At least Midnight quickly gobbles up whatever she catches, and doesn’t bring things into the house. – Jolandi
I think because I live in a tropical country, I appreciate seasons like spring and fall more. I always associate the former with flowers — lots of colorful blooms — and that is enough reason for me to romanticize it. It’s nice to know that you still have a vegetable garden, no matter how small it is. I can imagine the satisfaction of being able to pluck something from the garden and eat it right away or use it in your cooking. I can almost picture Lily’s face when she looked at you following the failed ambush!
Spring is gorgeous for the exact reason you mention, Bama. It is the part of spring I love the most, and it certainly makes the unstable weather more bearable. I also romanticized the idea of four distinct seasons, while living in the UAE, so I completely understand, and must say that I prefer living in a country with four seasons, as each one has specific gifts to offer, which makes life more interesting.
Cooking with produce from the land brings joys far greater than I’ve ever imagined. I can’t wait for the day that the garden will become permanent, as there are so much more I want to experiment with, as one can definitely eat something from the garden right through the year here where we are, which is an immense blessing. – Jolandi
So nice to hear from you! We too have had a ton of rain and I am looking forward to warmer spring days filled with sunshine. I wish I had room for a garden, but I don’t. However, I managed to grow tomatoes, jalapenos, and a lemon tree. I had tomatoes year around which was a blessing.
Your new little temporary garden spot looks great. Can’t wait to see what all you grow. I hope the weather gives you a break and you can get the barn building finished and your terrace.
I can just picture your kitty giving you the look, like what have you done? Just like a child, mom, you are ruining all of my fun.
Take care of yourself,
Terri
How wonderful that you managed to grow tomatoes and jalapenos despite having a small garden, Terri. And lemon trees are just gorgeous to have anyway. I can’t wait for ours to bear fruit. The joys of any edibles in a garden is such a joy, isn’t it? I’m already wondering where and how I will fit in all the plants I’ve managed to grow from seed, so I, like you, can’t wait to see how this new little temporary garden is going to pan out.
I hope warmer spring days filled with sunshine is on the horizon for you. – Jolandi
I think you have something about the taste of homegrown vegetables versus the kind one buys in a supermarket. I was chatting with a Japanese food blogger about (of all things!) Japanese fire-baked sweet potatoes and how good they are on cold days, especially when you can’t seem to shake the chill out of one’s bones. However, I groused, they don’t seem to taste as good or as sweet as the ones my grandmother used to bake. I wondered if it was just nostalgia that made me think that, or I’m “just getting old.” The blogger said something that surprised me: the flavor of sweet potatoes depends a lot on the quality of the soil and the region they’re grown in. Soil that’s been saturated with chemical fertilizers or is of poor quality produces potatoes that are without flavor or have a hard, mealy texture. Which is exactly how the sweet potatoes in my local market taste: I’ve grumbled that it’s hardly worth the trouble of baking them when they taste like old socks stuffed with newspaper. (Not that I actually know from experience, but honestly, that’s what the texture reminds me of.)
Anyway, I am happy to know you’re enjoying spring in the quinta. It has been a quirky spring in California as well, with heavy rains one day and brilliant sunshine the next. I’ve been closely observing the new sprouts and leaves on my garden plants; they look fine now, but I know a cold snap could wreck it overnight. Fingers crossed!
Fingers crossed there won’t be a cold snap, killing off your precious plants, Hangaku. One never knows what will happen in spring. Two years ago, when I transplanted all my seedlings, a heatwave caused havoc, and not the feared late spring frosts. One just never know what will happen. Gardening and farming is a bit like gambling, I think.
I love your story about the sweet potatoes, as it simply confirms everything I’ve ever read about healthy soils and the immense harm pestisides and fertilizers are doing to the environment by depleting the soils. Not to mention the influence it has on the taste and nutrients of the produce. I’ve read some research articles where it shows how so much of the produce we find on the shelves of grocery stores nowadays simply don’t have the same nutritional value as it used to. So although nostalgia always play a role in our memories, I think you remember sweet potatoes the way they should taste, but no longer do. Thank goodness for changes in farming practices, but sadly, unless one has direct access to these farms, not much will change. Also, people have become used to buying cheap food, and good, nutritional food is expensive to produce. – Jolandi
Lily’s portrait at the end made me laugh out loud, especially considering the story we had just heard. It reminds me of imagining your laughter too – scaring the stork away. I appreciate that expression about swallowing live frogs.
So good to go visit you at the Quinta today. I hope it’s not too frustrating to have to create another temporary garden, but I completely understand the inability to forego a vegetable garden. I still feel overwhelmed here at my new place and with construction underway for Pedro’s new workshop right in the way of the garden spots I wanted to focus on, there is too much clutter in my brain (and actual clutter) to get started. I think that as soon as I begin, I will be able to continue, but it’s hard to take someone else’s plan (the former homeowners) and begin to use it, because first I have to learn what they did with the built up and lined planter beds that need to be repaired, and the irrigation lines all buried who knows where. It’s still too cold here to really need to act, but we are almost out of the danger of freezing at nights, so I need to get going. I absolutely can relate to obstacles you find and I’m constantly inspired and impressed with your bountiful gardens. The flower pesto looks and sounds incredible.
She looks just like a lion, don´t you think? And clearly she thinks she is as big as one, too.
I feel for you, Crystal. Building projects are not for the faint at heart, because, like your case so clearly illustrates, it also impacts other projects. Good luck. I hope you have enough patience to keep you sane throughout the process. Fingers crossed it will all run smoothly, so that you too can enjoy the bounty from your own vegetable garden. – Jolandi