Two neighbouring farms sell goat’s cheese, the flat bread molletes, and eggs, and Fernando, who is generous, curious and full of pity, is at the fence most evenings with a bucket of peppers, tomatoes, and the best onions I have ever tasted, as well as bunches of poleo, the feathery flowered minty herb used in minty tea.
While the earth is rock hard, things continue to grow. I have had plenty of the weird looking thistly stuff so good in revueltos, as well as apricots, artichokes, and mulberries (loved by the birds). Now there are dates, pomegranates, prickly pears, black grapes, long tangy grapes, and the wild mass of grapes in the vineyard. It’s fig month: all the fig trees I’ve found so far are producing so much fruit, I can pick several kilos without moving.
I’ve been spending my days cooking figs. I’ve never had any inclination to make jam or chutney before, or to cook, actually – it must be the challenge of having to do it outdoors over firewood in ambient temperatures of 40 degrees that makes it interesting. Thankfully the crop will be over at the end of the month, and I’ll be able to get back to making a living.
Next bounty, as far as I can tell, will be oranges and lemons. I removed over 600 snails from one tree. According to Fernando, I should have cooked them. ‘Hay caracoles‘ signs stand outside most local bars. The village is famous for its snail stews, apparently.