A fortnight on...
(and somewhat fragmented!)
I’m sorry I missed last week’s post…the ocean was calling: the froth and foam, the magnitude of it, the volume of white-capped blue, blue/green and turquoise waters; the playful rippling and overlapping of waves, the sound, sea-spray, saltwater in the nostrils, footprints in the sand, running childlike from rapidly incoming waters; the rush and exhilaration we all know is waiting for us the minute our feet carry us across the barrier of vegetation…to the sand. It had been a long time…I / we missed even seeing the sea last summer, so engrossed were we here with our on again/off again plans (that back then, were very much on).
I confess to skipping an actual plunge in! Early morning walks were brisk and chilly - definitely three layers on top and a long scarf wound round and round and round the neck, if shorts and bare legs were allowed their freedom to frolic below; while late afternoons called for long jeans and extra layers, even if tootsies were happy to splash about in the shallows, as pink skies reflected in coral-washed ripples on the sand.
We spent our days with Bonnie (as well as those walks), which were such a treat - living up north as she does, we hadn’t seen her since Christmas…all of which goes to explain the reason I missed last week’s post…
I abandoned here in such a rush the day after our winter Sunday solstice celebration - getting the event washing on the line for Clemmie to bring in later was all I could do. There was no time to digest the excitement of that day - waving goodbye to Amanda, throwing things into a suitcase, catching the train, the plane…and rush, rush, rushing in an attempt to capture that event into an insta reel between both modes of transport, so I could arrive at the other end with a clear head (Larry had gone in advance the night before to attend a meeting!). How grateful I was when upon uploading the images in a panic, the first suggested audio that popped up to accompany my efforts was Simon & Garfunkel’s Feelin’ Groovy (OK, it’s the 59th Bridge Street Song but does anyone call it that?) with its first line ‘slow down, you move too fast’! Appropriate in every way, I hit send as the queue to board the flight had reduced to the last few stragglers…feeling lighter and humming that tune in my head for the next several days!
Oh but the event was so much fun! As ever, how I wished for an extra half hour up my sleeve before guests arrived…even quarter of an hour…as with all the bones in place, still there were those last minute touches that are the very things that make peeps smile…the final evocative ‘pops’….like the twig of mandarins on the table at which Lucy and I sat for our morning conversation. While I’d got the oranges on the long tables - picked just as soon as the dew had dried; I hadn’t had a chance to run down to the mandarin tree. While the thought had crossed my mind earlier and even made it onto to the run sheet (that now consisted of several pages blue-tacked to the pantry walls for our two lovely helpers to follow as they kept ‘behind the scenes’ on track), I hadn’t had a chance to look at it since typing the final version the day before…and those girls were not responsible for all the lines that had the letter ‘M’ typed next to them!
Next on the ‘M’ list, given neither Andy or Liz could be here on the day, was presentation of their Gowrie Farm Cheese. Andy had mentioned sprinkling Za’atar on the Shanklish, so it and the Pepper cheese (cut into little bite-size pieces and sprinkled with calendula petals) were a given. But the whole Camemberts still needed a little something between them and the board and the whole Brie which Andy had presented cut in half also needed…something, causing another last minute flurry of activity. Nasturtium leaves, I decided in haste…and found some beauties, though already I could see there were cars arriving in the carpark!
I’d taken the Camembert and the Brie from the fridge in the early hours to allow them to rest…but given the Brie was already cut in half…
By the time I popped it onto the designated plate, it had reached the stage I personally find the most delectable…ooooooozing! Lucy (Tender author and special guest), Amanda (Grampian Goods Co founder and special guest), Anna (Monks Lane Farm and special guest whether it was what she wanted to be or not!) and I were all eyeing it off as we welcomed guests, wishing we were on our own and that I’d put out a spoon (or several) so we could savour that creamy indulgence that was now spilling all over the nasturtium leaf stems! Someone of course, got to do just that - I know not specifically who it was that scooped that creamy deliciousness up with the cheese knife, but it will have gone down very well with a chunk of Anna’s sourdough…as did the contents of a bowl of her golden just-pressed extra virgin olive oil!
I’d made a huge pot of scented veg broth (another last minute thing to get to the big table in the Hayshed…though I’d already got the cups and ladle set up down there at dawn!).
So as the sun shone bright on the most perfect mid-winter’s morning we could have hoped for, our guests received a warm and mouth-watering welcome…before moving inside to take their seats in front of the fire.
On their way, they passed a table laden with Amanda’s Fair Isle Knits and Woollen Blankets, the colourful leaves still clinging to the Prunus tree in the Borders casting such pretty shadows over robust stitching and comforting textures, soft to the touch and beckoning to be picked up, worn, draped round the shoulders.
What followed was…a truly lovely conversation with Lucy as she regaled us with stories of her childhood, the love of food that has threaded its way through her veins, from grandmother, to mother, to Lucy; her early career, her years working with Donna Hay…and on through her success with Every Night of the Week - a spontaneous series of instagram postings that morphed into a wildly successful cookbook, followed by a second and now a third…Tender. We talked all things slow-food related, from favourite vessels for cooking casseroles and stews, braises and soups, through cuts of meat and herbs and spices and…we ate! Lamb Ragu & Creamy Polenta, Lettuce Heads with Strachiatella & Chilli…some peeps couldn’t resist eating the oranges I’d popped on the tables - I’m always so thrilled when they do (and better than doing what Lucy did - she sent me a message later when on her way home, saying she couldn’t resist peeling one on the freeway - and managed to cover herself, her steering wheel and even her windscreen with orange juice…but said she was embracing the scenario!).
After lunch, we all returned to the cosy end of the room, where gentle flames from the fire warmed us through, for another inspiring conversation; this time with Amanda - the tales of her childhood, her early travels, her career path, and ultimately the pull of all things woollen, as alongside raising a young family pretty much solo, she’s created a burgeoning business filled to the brim with design, pattern, colour and texture; collaborating with suppliers in far flung countries and filling people’s lives with beautiful, useful, hard wearing, heart-warming (many of them recycled) wares.
With guests across generations, such a lively and engaging day caused a ripple effect - the level of noise at the lunch tables prompted me at one point to wonder if I could record the sound of it, to add later as an audio over a reel (but I’m not so technically savvy as to be able to figure out how to cut & paste such a thing!) but that happy noise sure filled the big space to the very top of the roof pitch itself!
After our conversation with Amanda, we enjoyed Lucy’s Rhubarb & Ginger Cobbler with Vanilla Ginger Ice Cream (& Vanilla Custard!), then as peeps ventured outside to catch rays of winter sun on their glowing faces with a cuppa in hand; there was a bout of excitable book signing and woollens buying (as well as Monks Lane evoo and soaps and other good things being loaded into brown paper bags), before the crowd reluctantly, began to dissipate…with calls of “when’s the next one Mickey?”.
It’s funny…how sometimes circumstances evolve…into something more than expected - little moments that cause a shift, because something said or done, sparks something in another: On the day before the event one of our guests suggested she might need to pull out due to ill health - a sadness for her. I tried to figure out a way to get her here (it was her neck that was the problem, she couldn’t drive) and so I backtracked through every booking to see if anyone was coming from her direction and perhaps might give her a lift, to no avail. At the last minute, she sent a friend in her stead - a confusion at first as I hadn’t seen the message advising me of the change and couldn’t understand why one of our guests didn’t have our address and needed directions whilst already on the road (add that to the cheese/nasturtium leaf/za-atar/mandarin etc scenario above!). Somehow though, it was this particular guest whose presence lingered in our collective memory, as during the course of the day, she sought out each of us - Lucy, Amanda, Anna and me, in individual conversation. Why am I telling you this?
Because as a final thought on her departure, as we four contemplated our pack-up after one final photo in the last rays of golden sun before it sank behind Big Hill, she shared a quote, written in haste but with purpose, on an olive oil-smattered piece of brown paper torn from the table setting. For the four of us it just resonated…and perhaps it may with you too:
“My fingertips emit sparks of fire, with expectation of my future labours” William Blake (1754 - 1824). Yes…she wrote the years of his life span in brackets too! The paper is sitting here now, rolled up on my desk…and I can’t help but feel the ignition of those words. Thank you Donna-Marie…from all four of us. I don’t know just how their meaning will play out…but there’s something burning bright in that line, and no, it’s not a tyger! (Truly, I don’t know where that came from…it just did - if you’re not familiar with Blake go a-googling!). How I’d like to have time…to read more of William Blake.
Since returning to my desk (we were only gone four nights!) there are indeed things bubbling away on the agenda; in fact this week I’ve been feeling something of a flibbertigibbet…as my mind has wandered from dumplings, dachas and folk art stitching; to flowers, perfumery and distillation; from environmental restoration to dementia prevention (all of which have prompted reams of correspondence this week); let alone the resonant voices from “Don’t ask the Trees for Their Names” a ‘richly woven tapestry of stories (told in their own voices) by nine Arab women, sharing their deeply personal journeys of migration to Australia, each reflecting on the legacies of their homelands and the complexities of forging new lives’. How I urge you to read these compelling stories…for threaded through is a history we don’t see on the evening news. I’m not yet half way through…though I’ve just read Sivine’s chapter and find them all deeply moving. (Sivine…Karima’s mother, Sunday Kitchen / Sofra…you know who I mean…at least those of you who have been here long enough will recall and if you haven’t yet been here long enough…there will be more about this pair ahead!).
On top of all these seemingly scattered, though peculiarly interlinked (for me) topics, there is a new word in my vocabulary: biophotonic. (I’ll be honest, I need to do more of Agnieszka’s brain exercises - for I cannot remember this new word without consistently looking it up!).
I imagine that many of you, like me, find messages in your inbox that you mostly delete without reading (possibly these substack postings!). There are various things I’ve subscribed to over time whose topics pique my interest and given my long time devotion to kitchen gardening and all the benefits that come with it - not just to digestive health but mental, physical and emotional wellbeing too; there are some platforms to which I continue to pay considerable attention. One of those is the US based ‘Food Revolution Network’. I don’t have their book(s), I didn’t know who Ocean Robbins (or his father) were ‘til I went down a rabbit hole one day and I can’t exactly recall how I began receiving their emails (though I’m guessing it would have been something to do with ‘Farmers Footprint’ or the ‘Rodale Institute’. Along similar focus lines (read primarily regenerative agriculture and soil) to each of these groups, I rather wish that I could have been at the ‘Groundswell Festival’ this week in the UK.
But as I was here instead, I chose to watch a documentary that landed in my inbox thanks to the Food Revolution Network. Called Farmacy of Light, it brings clearly into focus something that gardeners and farmers innately know, though it’s rarely referred to in the clear light of day, as it were. When we hear the word terroir…I think we all automatically link its reference to wine - that particular word and linkage is one the French have managed to ingrain in us all (even if sometimes they cannot hold onto the nomenclature of the contents of their bottles!). It’s a long time though, since the meaning of that word has been extrapolated quite rightly, across all produce - from meats and grains, to fruit and veg, textiles, dyes and paints to perfume. And yet how often do we talk about ‘light’ in the equation? It’s more likely we leap to the consistency of soil as the meaning of that word, which afterall translates as earth; the climate perhaps, but not specifically the ‘light’. I know in my own ‘Botanical Waters’ description that (as I struggled to get to the real heart of explaining what I was attempting to do and in a fleeting, poetic rush!) I refer to them containing the essence of plant material picked at its peak, nurtured here in our soil with the rainwater and sunshine that befall us.
But this week, in watching Farmacy of Light, the significance that substance plays in our food was pointed out with such clarity, chiming in such a truly vibrant and compelling way; I was reminded more than ever how vital it is we grow our own produce…and/or that we contribute our efforts to the wider community by doing so - however each and every one of us can manage in our own way.
Of course there’s a ‘kit’ one might buy to extend the value of the documentary - a series of ‘workshops’ (no…I’m not going that far, though I probably should / could!). To more succinctly explain my ramblings, here’s an excerpt from one of the emails containing the link to the film:
“Modern science is beginning to show that many of the health struggles people face today can be traced back to a single missing ingredient: light.
Not just the light we’re exposed to, but the biophotonic energy in the food we eat. It’s energy that starts fading the moment produce is harvested, and is substantially depleted by the time it travels 1,500 miles to your plate.
Fresh, local, light-filled food isn’t just more nutritious. It’s biologically different from what most of us are eating. And that difference shows up in our energy, our immunity, and our body’s ability to repair itself.”
I know every gardener amongst us will agree with the information contained in these three short paragraphs…we really don’t need to be told, and yet, seeing these words in print underpins what may otherwise be our own perception.
Unfortunately my own ‘link’ to the documentary has expired, but I think you just might be able to find it here: Farmacy of Light and if you do have a spare 90 minutes up your sleeve…I reckon it’s truly worth watching. I was asked earlier in the week if I’m planning another ‘in the Kitchen Garden with Mickey’ workshop…well…yes! With the next round of crop rotation in the spring…it’s the best chance I have to encourage as many of you as I possibly can…to grow!
I think that’s enough for this week don’t you? Of fractured thought though it may be, hopefully it’s scatterbrained approach has made up for the post missed!
I hope you’re all keeping warm (in the southern hemisphere) and have found a way to keep chilled in the northern one.
Sending warmest wishes as always,
Mickey x
Eating from the garden: Pumpkin, broccoli, celeriac, kale, fennel bulbs, peas, kohl rabi, leek, tomato, warrigal greens, coloured chard, chicory, lettuce, red elk, celery, Jerusalem artichoke. Pomegranate, rhubarb, orange, lemon, mandarin. Coriander, lovage, mint, chives, parsley, rosemary, sage, thyme, oregano. Nasturtium, calendula and borage flowers, fennel fronds
Going / gone: beans, aubergine, zucchini, tomatoes
Seed saving: Bean
Sowing: it’s almost time to think of sowing tomato seeds into punnets
Planting: tempted to pop in some non-hearting lettuce - to be sure there’s no gap in supply - non-hearting varieties tend to handle the cold, just as they do the heat
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: a single rose here, a single rose there…if they want to flower, I’m not going to stop them!
Perfumes and aromas: there I was, transplanting euphorbia seedlings (from where I don’t want them to where I do!) adjoining the path to Mrs R’s, when a great wave of scent took me by surprise - you guessed it…osmanthus fragrans, but accompanied by the winter flowering honeysuckle lonicera fragrantissima! Sadly neither last particularly well in a vase…so I’m content to be swept away by surprise from time to time!
Pruning and other: it’s on for one and all now! I literally can’t decide where to head to first! Thalia has been in the Borders this week…selectively working through the perovskia, salvia, knautia, lamb’s ears and yarrow, before cutting down the canna lilies. Last week while we were away I asked her to cut down all the tansy stems in the kitchen garden and now I’m following up with a much harder cut of all the foliage, as well as tackling the old and gnarly stems of fennel I’d allowed to stay longer than usual. Although it’s beginning to bud, I took to the Solandra maxima with Thalia yesterday - sometimes two sets of eyes and another set of hands are a good idea and the thing had got into such a tangle on the side of the house. It’s too early to prune the roses, but I couldn’t resist tackling the multiple specimens of Quatre Saisons behind the Dairy - they’re usually the first to put on new growth and a display of flowers in the spring and I couldn’t look at their tangled branches for one more second!
The jasmine is producing very early buds…I can’t help but think one may soon open!
On Tuesday, the soil absorbed the elements of fog… (just saying….we were in fog all day long - a peculiar, atmospheric phenomenon that I didn’t even photograph - content as I was by the fire in the kitchen, dreaming up an early spring workshop…hence the dumplings and dachas…and fingertips emitting sparks of fire!
Fantastic share on Farmacy of light. Thank you for the link ☀️🫶🏻