At this time of year it’s easy to distinguish the visitors to Granada’s Costa Tropical from the residents because the former wear summer clothing while the latter are clad in sweaters and jackets. This is, I think, due to the fact that the hot summers we expereience in this country make us less resistant to cold and, although by English standards the winters here are positively balmy, there are days, nevertheless, when we feel distinctly chilly. One of the reasons for this susceptibility to cold is that houses in this part of Spain, unlike hermetically sealed English ones, are built to be cool in summer; they don’t retain heat very well and so, on a winter’s day, it’s more likely to be warmer outside than it is indoors. We have adopted the sensible habit of wearing several layers of clothing which can be removed as the day warms up.
In the mountain villages of Granada, the pleasant, homely smell of wood smoke is characteristic of the winter months. One of the most attractive features of our cortijo is the traditional fireplace which, typical of this province, is built of Moroccan brick and can accommodate the most substantial logs with ease. In Guájar Alto we have a plentiful supply of pine logs which we augment with slow-burning olive and almond wood. We get a good blaze going as soon as the sun has gone down and, with rugs to cover the floors (which, of course, are tiled) we are able to make ourselves snug.
In Spain, many people still use ‘cosy tables’ as a means of keeping warm in winter. These are two-tiered, round tables with circular holes cut out of the bottom tiers into which braziers are fitted. Families sit around their cosy tables, which are covered with heavy, baize cloths, toasting their feet. Not surprisingly, this isn’t a very safe way of keeping warm and even though the traditional, charcoal braziers have largely been replaced by electric ones, resulting domestic fires are not infrequent. In former times, the demand for charcoal was great and in Guájar Alto the production of this commodity was one of its most important industries. Roaming the mountain paths, I’ve often come upon the remains of the stone-built ovens which were used in its manufacture. The charcoal burners themselves (they were calledtiznaos) were easily recognizable because of their permanently blackened hands and faces.
There is a plentiful supply of citrus fruit in the village now that the oranges, lemons, grapefruits and mandarines have ripened and people have been busy harvesting the olives. In our vegetable garden the broad beans are flowering nicely, the peas are doing well and very soon we shall have cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower and beetroot. Curiously, salad vegetables, such as lettuces, seem to do better in winter than in summer and I have been making delicious salads using home-grown rocket, lambs’ lettuce, baby spinach and five different varieties of lettuce. To this assortment of leaves I add avocado, toasted walnuts, fresh dates and small, crunchy pieces of bacon. I make a dressing of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice and sugar cane syrup.
Two years ago, I was given a large bag of tamarinds (the tamarind is a tropical, evergreen tree which does well in sheltered parts of Guájar Alto) and, because the fruit has a sharp, bittersweet flavour, I thought the best thing to do with it would be to make chutney and, indeed, the experiment was successful. However, the other day, while clearing out a cupboard, I discovered in its recesses some jars of the same chutney (about which I’d quite forgotten) and was pleasantly surprised to find that time had improved and intensified the spicy aroma and the richness of the contents. I’m so pleased those tamarinds didn’t go to waste!
We are already halfway through the hunting season and, although I don’t like the idea of killing for sport, there is no doubt that a cull of wild boar was needed this year. Some hunters shot two large male boars near our land and I actually had my photograph taken with the carcasses! Seen from such close quarters, it’s not difficult to understand just how potentially dangerous these beasts can be. The hunters had quite a large team of dogs, some of which were Andalucian podencos, long-legged, slender dogs with pointed noses, in many ways not unlike a typical, English lurcher. As a sport, hunting is immensely popular in this country but, according to the Spanish press, it has been a ‘tragic year’ as far as this activity is concerned. So far in 2007, there have been 20 deaths and 860 reported injuries as a result of hunting accidents. It will be a relief, I think, when the season is over!
In a book of traditional recipes of Granada province I found one for cooking wild boar. The meat is marinated for three days in red wine and herbs then cooked slowly until it is tender, at which stage whole, peeled chestnuts are added.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
GUAJAR ALTO: WINTER PARADISE
If you suffer from the type of seasonal affective disorder brought about by the short, dark days of the typical English winter, then a trip to Guájar Alto is guaranteed to lift your spirits because there is no greater tonic than winter sun, of which we have plenty.
In November, the citrus fruit begins to ripen and the contrast of the bright orange and yellow and the glossy green of the leaves, set against a deep blue Mediterranean sky, is a sight to hearten even the most depressed. Also, the climate of this area favours the cultivation of roses and in November and December they have a second flowering, something you cannot fail to notice as you drive into the village because, wherever you look, there are sprawling roses of all colours and varieties. Summer annuals, such as calendulas and cosmos daisies, which flowered in May and early June, have seeded themselves and are flowering again while in the surrounding countryside and on the mountain slopes the rosemary bushes and ericas are all in bloom. In the shade of the pine forests are violets ( V. arborescens) which grow in bushy clumps and have long, narrow leaves and a profusion of pale blue, very pretty, flowers.
On the downside, this is the time of year when a most unpleasant pest starts to make an appearance in the form of the larvae of the pine processionary moth, Thaumetopoea pityocampa. Its life cycle is as follows: the moth lays its eggs on pine needles, usually not more than two metres from the ground, and when the caterpillars, which are very gregarious, have hatched, they make their way upwards and on the tips of branches they weave silken tents into which they retreat during the day and emerge at night to feed on the needles. As the caterpillars grow, so the nests expand until they become very conspicuous, hanging from the pines like white candyfloss. In the spring, when it is time to leave the nest, they form themselves into a ball which then falls to the ground. Next, they unwind themselves and, nose to tail, begin their processionary march in search of soft soil in which to burrow and pupate. Finally, they emerge as moths and the cycle begins again.
The hairs of the caterpillars contain a toxin which can be fatal to animals and very harmful to humans and it is at the processionary stage, when contact with them is most likely, that they are particularly dangerous. As an unsuspecting foreigner, not long after I came to live in Spain, I came upon hundreds of caterpillars while walking under some pines. They were strewn across the ground like party streamers, each several metres long, and I stopped to investigate. While I was thus engrossed, I wasn’t aware that my Jack Russell was also carrying out his own investigation and by the time we’d reached home, he was showing symptoms of great distress. Alarmed, I took him straight to the vet who enlightened me about the caterpillars. Fortunately, my dog recovered but I have since met a couple of dogs with half of their tongues missing, and heard of several more similarly affected. The caterpillars are not only harmful to animals but also do a great deal of damage to the trees. The authorities are aware of the problem but say that they don’t have sufficient funds to tackle it although In Navarra I understand that they put up wooden nesting boxes to attract birds, such as flycatchers, which eat the caterpillars. The Great Spotted Cuckoo is an important predator, but the use of insecticides has caused its numbers to decline. It favours olive groves and pine forests where their is a population of members of the crow family, in whose nests it lays its eggs, and since we have a great many resident jays and don’t use chemicals detrimental to the environment, I’m hoping that the cuckoos will come here to breed. Until then, we have to dispose of the caterpillars ourselves.
The wine made from this year’s grapes is ready to drink and I’m pleased to say that at a recent sampling, ours met with approval. The flavour of these country wines varies considerably, depending on the type of grape and the area in which the vines were cultivated. The climate of Guájar Alto, with its long, hot summers and cold winter nights, produces grapes which are full of flavour. The white wine produced from the muscatel grape has a taste and dryness reminiscent of fine sherry, while the wine from the red grapes is sweet and fruity. Both are lethal!
In November, the citrus fruit begins to ripen and the contrast of the bright orange and yellow and the glossy green of the leaves, set against a deep blue Mediterranean sky, is a sight to hearten even the most depressed. Also, the climate of this area favours the cultivation of roses and in November and December they have a second flowering, something you cannot fail to notice as you drive into the village because, wherever you look, there are sprawling roses of all colours and varieties. Summer annuals, such as calendulas and cosmos daisies, which flowered in May and early June, have seeded themselves and are flowering again while in the surrounding countryside and on the mountain slopes the rosemary bushes and ericas are all in bloom. In the shade of the pine forests are violets ( V. arborescens) which grow in bushy clumps and have long, narrow leaves and a profusion of pale blue, very pretty, flowers.
On the downside, this is the time of year when a most unpleasant pest starts to make an appearance in the form of the larvae of the pine processionary moth, Thaumetopoea pityocampa. Its life cycle is as follows: the moth lays its eggs on pine needles, usually not more than two metres from the ground, and when the caterpillars, which are very gregarious, have hatched, they make their way upwards and on the tips of branches they weave silken tents into which they retreat during the day and emerge at night to feed on the needles. As the caterpillars grow, so the nests expand until they become very conspicuous, hanging from the pines like white candyfloss. In the spring, when it is time to leave the nest, they form themselves into a ball which then falls to the ground. Next, they unwind themselves and, nose to tail, begin their processionary march in search of soft soil in which to burrow and pupate. Finally, they emerge as moths and the cycle begins again.
The hairs of the caterpillars contain a toxin which can be fatal to animals and very harmful to humans and it is at the processionary stage, when contact with them is most likely, that they are particularly dangerous. As an unsuspecting foreigner, not long after I came to live in Spain, I came upon hundreds of caterpillars while walking under some pines. They were strewn across the ground like party streamers, each several metres long, and I stopped to investigate. While I was thus engrossed, I wasn’t aware that my Jack Russell was also carrying out his own investigation and by the time we’d reached home, he was showing symptoms of great distress. Alarmed, I took him straight to the vet who enlightened me about the caterpillars. Fortunately, my dog recovered but I have since met a couple of dogs with half of their tongues missing, and heard of several more similarly affected. The caterpillars are not only harmful to animals but also do a great deal of damage to the trees. The authorities are aware of the problem but say that they don’t have sufficient funds to tackle it although In Navarra I understand that they put up wooden nesting boxes to attract birds, such as flycatchers, which eat the caterpillars. The Great Spotted Cuckoo is an important predator, but the use of insecticides has caused its numbers to decline. It favours olive groves and pine forests where their is a population of members of the crow family, in whose nests it lays its eggs, and since we have a great many resident jays and don’t use chemicals detrimental to the environment, I’m hoping that the cuckoos will come here to breed. Until then, we have to dispose of the caterpillars ourselves.
The wine made from this year’s grapes is ready to drink and I’m pleased to say that at a recent sampling, ours met with approval. The flavour of these country wines varies considerably, depending on the type of grape and the area in which the vines were cultivated. The climate of Guájar Alto, with its long, hot summers and cold winter nights, produces grapes which are full of flavour. The white wine produced from the muscatel grape has a taste and dryness reminiscent of fine sherry, while the wine from the red grapes is sweet and fruity. Both are lethal!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
A TRIP TO GRANADA
Earlier this month, we thought we’d celebrate our wedding anniversary by spending a few days in Almeria’s beautiful Cabo de Gata but the weather forecast for that region was so bad at the time that we had to abandon our plans and decided, instead, to treat ourselves to a meal at a restaurant we’d heard about in Padul, in the Lecrin valley. To make the evening more special, we left early so that we could spend a few hours strolling around Granada city, something I always enjoy doing and, for a change, we took the scenic route from Guájar Faragüit via Pinos de Valle to Restábel, from where it’s only a short run up the autovia to Granada.
Although the scenic route is slow and winding, it’s interesting because the landscape changes as you round each bend; you pass exposed stretches of olive and almond trees; damp, fertile, sheltered zones where there are citrus trees and palms; arid mountain slopes where only thorny scrub survives. As you climb higher, the vegetation changes and there are deciduous trees, such as hazel and poplar, growing on the roadside verges; in the distance you can see the town of Lanjarón and the recently installed, enormous wind turbines. At the summit of a hill, before you reach Pinos de Valle, there is a large, abandoned house, now crumbling into a state almost beyond repair and, on the opposite side of the road, a curiosity in the form of a castellated tower, painted red, Moorish style. The bleak, windswept location creates a rather spooky atmosphere so that it’s something of a relief to descend into the sheltered Lecrin Valley, verdant with its extensive groves of citrus trees.
Although I’ve visited Granada quite a few times during the daytime, it’s many years since I spent an evening there and I’d forgotten how different the relaxed, pleasant atmosphere of that time of day is from the mad, frenetic, bustle of morning. People were sitting outside bars and cafés, strolling about, meeting friends, walking their dogs or simply enjoying the evening sunshine. We made our way to one of Granada’s main streets, Recogidas, and from there turned down a quiet side street, one of those where you are likely to find the most fascinating shops. In fact, it wasn’t long before we came upon just such a one, typical of those old-fashioned establishments, reminiscent of the 1940’s and 50’s, which still exist in Spain. In the rather gloomy interior were rows of shelves on which were innumerable jars of herbs, spices and teas of every type imaginable. Behind the counter was an elderly gentleman, himself not unlike a character from a bygone age. I requested half-a-dozen or so different spices, including chili powder, something I’ve not been able to acquire since I moved to this country five years ago; each one was poured from the jar onto a square of waxed paper placed on some ancient scales. The paper was then deftly folded into a neat envelope on which the name of the spice was written, with great care. Traditional Spanish cuisine can often be rather bland (hence the difficulty in obtaining chili powder) and a Spanish friend who once visited me while I was preparing a pasta dish commented that I used a great many herbs and spices when I cooked.
In the local press, for the past couple of years, there has been quite a lot of publicity about the nuisance caused by a huge increase in the number of starlings roosting in the city at night. I had no idea just how bad the problem was until we actually passed a leafy square at dusk just as a vast flock of the birds was descending. There were hundreds of thousands of them, blackening the sky with a great whirring of wings, swooping down to find a place to perch until every, single, last twig of every tree was occupied. The noise they made as they jostled and squabbled for a place was deafening and there was no possibility of crossing the square at that moment without being badly splattered.
We wandered back to Recogidas and from there to the big department store, El Corte Inglés, the perfect establishment for a spot of retail therapy. I would have liked to spend longer there, but time was getting on and we had to make our way back to the car park. It was dark by the time we reached the autovia and the traffic was busy with people going home to the suburbs. Travelling towards Granada, Padul is one of the last towns you pass as you ascend to the point known as El Suspiro del Moro (the Moor’s sigh) which, according to the legend, was where the deposed Moorish king, Boabdil, turned round to gaze for the last time at his beloved Granada.
We soon located the restaurant, La Cantina de Manuel, which is situated on the main street where there are plenty of places to park. Opening the door, we found ourselves in a large, evidently well patronised, bar but, because we were hungry, we went straight to the dining room where we were greeted most cordially and offered a choice of tables. Everything on the menu sounded so delicious that we hardly knew what to choose. While we were poring over it, the waiter brought a tapa of partridge paté which was utterly divine. Finally, we ordered a starter of tropical salad followed by jabali (wild boar) for Digby and duck breast for me. The tropical salad was an exquisite work of art: there were slivers of endive, plus the usual mango, kiwi, pineapple and other fruits, with a centrepiece of pine nuts, dried fruits, crunchy vegetables and other delicious things, drizzled with miel de caña, the extract of the locally grown sugar cane. We’ve sampled tropical salads in a number of different restauarants, but this one was definitely the best. My duck breast, served with plain, boiled potatoes, was perfect; that, too, was garnished with miel de caña, something which I often use myself when cooking. Its rich, malty sweetness complements a number of savoury dishes, especially those comprising rabbit and pork, and it is also perfect for sweetening desserts. I tried a piece of Digby’s jabali, expecting it to have a coarse, rather gamey, texture and flavour. To my surprise, it was sweet and tender and subtly flavoured with thyme.
After the richness of the duck and jabali dishes, the sharpness of the lemon sorbets we ordered for dessert made the perfect contrast. Our meal had been superb and the restaurant certainly deserves the favourable reports it has been given. Our evening in Granada, followed by the visit to Cantina de Manuel, made our wedding anniversary an occasion to remember.
Although the scenic route is slow and winding, it’s interesting because the landscape changes as you round each bend; you pass exposed stretches of olive and almond trees; damp, fertile, sheltered zones where there are citrus trees and palms; arid mountain slopes where only thorny scrub survives. As you climb higher, the vegetation changes and there are deciduous trees, such as hazel and poplar, growing on the roadside verges; in the distance you can see the town of Lanjarón and the recently installed, enormous wind turbines. At the summit of a hill, before you reach Pinos de Valle, there is a large, abandoned house, now crumbling into a state almost beyond repair and, on the opposite side of the road, a curiosity in the form of a castellated tower, painted red, Moorish style. The bleak, windswept location creates a rather spooky atmosphere so that it’s something of a relief to descend into the sheltered Lecrin Valley, verdant with its extensive groves of citrus trees.
Although I’ve visited Granada quite a few times during the daytime, it’s many years since I spent an evening there and I’d forgotten how different the relaxed, pleasant atmosphere of that time of day is from the mad, frenetic, bustle of morning. People were sitting outside bars and cafés, strolling about, meeting friends, walking their dogs or simply enjoying the evening sunshine. We made our way to one of Granada’s main streets, Recogidas, and from there turned down a quiet side street, one of those where you are likely to find the most fascinating shops. In fact, it wasn’t long before we came upon just such a one, typical of those old-fashioned establishments, reminiscent of the 1940’s and 50’s, which still exist in Spain. In the rather gloomy interior were rows of shelves on which were innumerable jars of herbs, spices and teas of every type imaginable. Behind the counter was an elderly gentleman, himself not unlike a character from a bygone age. I requested half-a-dozen or so different spices, including chili powder, something I’ve not been able to acquire since I moved to this country five years ago; each one was poured from the jar onto a square of waxed paper placed on some ancient scales. The paper was then deftly folded into a neat envelope on which the name of the spice was written, with great care. Traditional Spanish cuisine can often be rather bland (hence the difficulty in obtaining chili powder) and a Spanish friend who once visited me while I was preparing a pasta dish commented that I used a great many herbs and spices when I cooked.
In the local press, for the past couple of years, there has been quite a lot of publicity about the nuisance caused by a huge increase in the number of starlings roosting in the city at night. I had no idea just how bad the problem was until we actually passed a leafy square at dusk just as a vast flock of the birds was descending. There were hundreds of thousands of them, blackening the sky with a great whirring of wings, swooping down to find a place to perch until every, single, last twig of every tree was occupied. The noise they made as they jostled and squabbled for a place was deafening and there was no possibility of crossing the square at that moment without being badly splattered.
We wandered back to Recogidas and from there to the big department store, El Corte Inglés, the perfect establishment for a spot of retail therapy. I would have liked to spend longer there, but time was getting on and we had to make our way back to the car park. It was dark by the time we reached the autovia and the traffic was busy with people going home to the suburbs. Travelling towards Granada, Padul is one of the last towns you pass as you ascend to the point known as El Suspiro del Moro (the Moor’s sigh) which, according to the legend, was where the deposed Moorish king, Boabdil, turned round to gaze for the last time at his beloved Granada.
We soon located the restaurant, La Cantina de Manuel, which is situated on the main street where there are plenty of places to park. Opening the door, we found ourselves in a large, evidently well patronised, bar but, because we were hungry, we went straight to the dining room where we were greeted most cordially and offered a choice of tables. Everything on the menu sounded so delicious that we hardly knew what to choose. While we were poring over it, the waiter brought a tapa of partridge paté which was utterly divine. Finally, we ordered a starter of tropical salad followed by jabali (wild boar) for Digby and duck breast for me. The tropical salad was an exquisite work of art: there were slivers of endive, plus the usual mango, kiwi, pineapple and other fruits, with a centrepiece of pine nuts, dried fruits, crunchy vegetables and other delicious things, drizzled with miel de caña, the extract of the locally grown sugar cane. We’ve sampled tropical salads in a number of different restauarants, but this one was definitely the best. My duck breast, served with plain, boiled potatoes, was perfect; that, too, was garnished with miel de caña, something which I often use myself when cooking. Its rich, malty sweetness complements a number of savoury dishes, especially those comprising rabbit and pork, and it is also perfect for sweetening desserts. I tried a piece of Digby’s jabali, expecting it to have a coarse, rather gamey, texture and flavour. To my surprise, it was sweet and tender and subtly flavoured with thyme.
After the richness of the duck and jabali dishes, the sharpness of the lemon sorbets we ordered for dessert made the perfect contrast. Our meal had been superb and the restaurant certainly deserves the favourable reports it has been given. Our evening in Granada, followed by the visit to Cantina de Manuel, made our wedding anniversary an occasion to remember.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
AUTUMN FRUITS OF GUAJAR ALTO
The long, hot summers and the cool winter nights of Guájar Alto provide perfect conditions for olive production and for centuries, since the time of Moorish occupation, it has been a major crop in this area. Whereas olives destined for the mills are harvested in late December, those intended for the table may be picked now. However, If they are still hard and green, then they are not ready; if they have turned a pale, yellowish colour and feel slightly soft, then that’s fine. During the ripening process olives change colour from pale green through to violet and finally black and they may be collected for curing during any of these stages. I use only the most perfect fruits for preserving and carefully select the best from each tree. If you bite into a freshly-picked olive, the astringency shrivels the mouth, hence the need for curing.
Everyone here seems to have a favourite method of preparing olives for preservation but the one which I find most reliable is as follows: firstly, with a small, sharp knife make a slit in each olive; it’s important to do this in order to draw out the bitterness. Secondly, into an adequately sized container pour in enough spring water ( not tap water ) to cover the olives and throw in a good handful of coarse salt. Cover with a cloth and leave for four days, stirring occasionally. After four days, drain the olives and put them into fresh saline solution, again using only spring water. This process needs to be repeated at least four times, at the end of which the olives should be ready to be put into jars.
I sterilize the jars and their lids in a moderate oven for at least five minutes. Next, I fill them with the rinsed olives, plus a few cloves of peeled garlic. I then add to each either a sprig of rosemary, thyme, a couple of bay leaves or some wild fennel. I also use sliced oranges or lemons, chilli flakes or soft, green, pickled peppercorns which are so hard to come by in the U.K. but are often sold in supermarkets here. Finally, I pour olive oil over the olives, filling the jars to their brims, and screw the lids on. In this way they will keep for months. Last year, I preserved some olives in saline solution and the rest in oil but the former did not keep as well as the latter. I’ve sampled other people’s home-cured olives conserved in saline and thought they were rather soggy; they should be firm when you bite into them. As a preserving medium I find that olive oil, as with my sun-dried tomatoes, locks in and enhances the flavour, as well as enabling the fruit to maintain its firmness.
Pomegranates have also been grown for centuries in Guájar Alto but, nowadays, no-one bothers to pick them and it is such a pity to see them lying on the ground, rotting. Eating a pomegranate can be quite hard work so a good alternative is to juice the fruit, strain it and pour it into ice-trays. Similarly, frozen grapefruit cubes are absolutely delicious when added to a gin-and-tonic. In Spain, blackberry or mulberry cordials are very popular and, added to sparkling white wine, make a delicately coloured, exquisitely flavoured, drink.
We have a great many oaks ( of the evergreen variety ) in this area and I have noticed that it has been a very good year for acorns. In fact, they are rather a nuisance because I have to keep sweeping them from the terrace in order to avoid slipping on them. The wild boar love them, of course, and every night can be heard snuffling and snorting about wherever there are oaks. Acorns are also an important food source for jays and whereas in England you hardly ever see them because they are such shy birds, in Guájar Alto there are so many of them that we see them all the time. We have a big oak tree outside the kitchen and often, when I’m standing at the sink, I see jays stripping the acorns from the twigs. They are strikingly handsome birds with rose-tinted breasts and wing feathers striped with the loveliest shade of blue but their cries are loud, raucous and startling.
Since it’s been such a good year for acorns, I think there might also be a good crop of chestnuts this year. Last autumn, we were given so many that my fingers were sore from the painstaking task of skinning them. I’d had visions of luscious, home-made marrons glacés but these were thwarted when I consulted my Larousse Gastronomique and read that the process involved in the making of them was long and intricate and seldom undertaken in the home. We had to make do instead with endless purées and stuffings.
Amongst the myrtle, box and other shrubs typical of the Mediterranean, there are many juniper bushes growing on the mountainsides here and this year they’ve produced a great many berries. As well as being used for the distillation of gin, their astringent, aromatic flavour makes them ideal for adding to marinades or savoury dishes.
In the mountain villages of Granada it used to be the custom to preserve surplus produce using vinegar, salt or oil but, unfortunately, very few of the youg women these days seem interested in carrying on the habits of their mothers. I think it’s a great pity.
Everyone here seems to have a favourite method of preparing olives for preservation but the one which I find most reliable is as follows: firstly, with a small, sharp knife make a slit in each olive; it’s important to do this in order to draw out the bitterness. Secondly, into an adequately sized container pour in enough spring water ( not tap water ) to cover the olives and throw in a good handful of coarse salt. Cover with a cloth and leave for four days, stirring occasionally. After four days, drain the olives and put them into fresh saline solution, again using only spring water. This process needs to be repeated at least four times, at the end of which the olives should be ready to be put into jars.
I sterilize the jars and their lids in a moderate oven for at least five minutes. Next, I fill them with the rinsed olives, plus a few cloves of peeled garlic. I then add to each either a sprig of rosemary, thyme, a couple of bay leaves or some wild fennel. I also use sliced oranges or lemons, chilli flakes or soft, green, pickled peppercorns which are so hard to come by in the U.K. but are often sold in supermarkets here. Finally, I pour olive oil over the olives, filling the jars to their brims, and screw the lids on. In this way they will keep for months. Last year, I preserved some olives in saline solution and the rest in oil but the former did not keep as well as the latter. I’ve sampled other people’s home-cured olives conserved in saline and thought they were rather soggy; they should be firm when you bite into them. As a preserving medium I find that olive oil, as with my sun-dried tomatoes, locks in and enhances the flavour, as well as enabling the fruit to maintain its firmness.
Pomegranates have also been grown for centuries in Guájar Alto but, nowadays, no-one bothers to pick them and it is such a pity to see them lying on the ground, rotting. Eating a pomegranate can be quite hard work so a good alternative is to juice the fruit, strain it and pour it into ice-trays. Similarly, frozen grapefruit cubes are absolutely delicious when added to a gin-and-tonic. In Spain, blackberry or mulberry cordials are very popular and, added to sparkling white wine, make a delicately coloured, exquisitely flavoured, drink.
We have a great many oaks ( of the evergreen variety ) in this area and I have noticed that it has been a very good year for acorns. In fact, they are rather a nuisance because I have to keep sweeping them from the terrace in order to avoid slipping on them. The wild boar love them, of course, and every night can be heard snuffling and snorting about wherever there are oaks. Acorns are also an important food source for jays and whereas in England you hardly ever see them because they are such shy birds, in Guájar Alto there are so many of them that we see them all the time. We have a big oak tree outside the kitchen and often, when I’m standing at the sink, I see jays stripping the acorns from the twigs. They are strikingly handsome birds with rose-tinted breasts and wing feathers striped with the loveliest shade of blue but their cries are loud, raucous and startling.
Since it’s been such a good year for acorns, I think there might also be a good crop of chestnuts this year. Last autumn, we were given so many that my fingers were sore from the painstaking task of skinning them. I’d had visions of luscious, home-made marrons glacés but these were thwarted when I consulted my Larousse Gastronomique and read that the process involved in the making of them was long and intricate and seldom undertaken in the home. We had to make do instead with endless purées and stuffings.
Amongst the myrtle, box and other shrubs typical of the Mediterranean, there are many juniper bushes growing on the mountainsides here and this year they’ve produced a great many berries. As well as being used for the distillation of gin, their astringent, aromatic flavour makes them ideal for adding to marinades or savoury dishes.
In the mountain villages of Granada it used to be the custom to preserve surplus produce using vinegar, salt or oil but, unfortunately, very few of the youg women these days seem interested in carrying on the habits of their mothers. I think it’s a great pity.
Monday, October 1, 2007
A CHANGE OF SEASON
Our long summer drought ended last week in spectacular fashion with a storm so violent that it was almost as bad as the one which hit us almost exactly a year ago and which, in its two hour duration, destroyed features of the landscape which had been here for centuries. Whereas, this time, the force of the storm was not so great, the amount of rain which fell during it was unbelievable; such was its volume that anyone standing underneath it would certainly have been washed away, together with the giant boulders, trees and other debris which cascaded down the mountains and ended up in the swollen torrent of the river Toba.
It took us the entire weekend to clean up after the deluge, mud being the biggest problem. Our vegetable garden was completely destroyed but, since October is the time for digging up summer crops, such as tomatoes and peppers, and putting in winter lettuces, sowing parsnips, beetroot and so on, it wasn’t too much of a disaster. However, we lost a good deal of this year’s olive crop and many of those remaining on the trees were bruised by the huge hailstones which descended at the height of the storm. For those whose crops are their living it is much more serious, of course. Some growers were able to retrieve some of the almonds which the storm had stripped from the trees but, in most cases, they had been washed away in a tidal wave of mud.
This is the time for harvesting the grapes and making wine. Fortunately, the netting with which we had covered our vines to deter marauding foxes, wild boar and birds protected the grapes quite well from the damaging effects of the hailstones and we had a satisfactory crop. After we’d picked them, we laid the bunches on a table outside for a couple of days so that the sun could dry them and intensify the flavour by increasing the sugar and resulting alcohol content. The next step was to break them up in order to prepare them for the final pressing and for this an impressive piece of apparatus resembling a giant mincing machine is used. Once the juice has been extracted by the wine-press it is poured into wooden casks and left to ferment for forty days after which time it is ready to drink. The grapes most commonly grown in our area are the muscatel variety but to improve the colour of the wine the juice of small, sweet red grapes is often added. The making of mosto (village wine) is a serious business and there is an element of competition, everyone thinking that theirs is the best. Certainly, it is always very pleasant to drink, especially when young, and it is also very pure, being free of additives, and rich in antioxidants. However, the seemingly innocuous sweetness and fruitiness of its flavour are deceptive: mosto is very potent indeed!
We were told an amusing anecdote about a neighbour who had stored his grape harvest in a shed but had not closed the door properly afterwards. When he returned to press the grapes, he discovered that they had all been eaten and the culprit, a jabali (wild boar) was lying on the ground asleep, quite intoxicated.
The weather settled again after the storm and we enjoyed days of warm sunshine and cloudless skies with hardly a breath of wind. There was a rain-washed purity and a softness in the air after the fierce heat of summer and from our cortijo which overlooks the village and the surrounding mountain panorama there was such a tranquility about the scene below us that it was hard to imagine it had been so recently subjected to a storm of such ferocity. The light this time of year is particularly beautiful and, for me, one of the joys of living here is being able to stand on my terrace with my morning coffee watching the sun rise over the mountains, the first rays illuminating the distant sierras with the loveliest, most delicate shades of blue and violet.
This time of year is very good for birdwatching because all the migratory species are in transit. Our swallows departed a few days ago, followed soon afterwards by the bee eaters. They do an excellent job of keeping irritating insects at bay and now that they’ve gone, suddenly we find that we’re being plagued by flies when we sit on the terrace. We shall be really pleased to see them back again next spring.
It took us the entire weekend to clean up after the deluge, mud being the biggest problem. Our vegetable garden was completely destroyed but, since October is the time for digging up summer crops, such as tomatoes and peppers, and putting in winter lettuces, sowing parsnips, beetroot and so on, it wasn’t too much of a disaster. However, we lost a good deal of this year’s olive crop and many of those remaining on the trees were bruised by the huge hailstones which descended at the height of the storm. For those whose crops are their living it is much more serious, of course. Some growers were able to retrieve some of the almonds which the storm had stripped from the trees but, in most cases, they had been washed away in a tidal wave of mud.
This is the time for harvesting the grapes and making wine. Fortunately, the netting with which we had covered our vines to deter marauding foxes, wild boar and birds protected the grapes quite well from the damaging effects of the hailstones and we had a satisfactory crop. After we’d picked them, we laid the bunches on a table outside for a couple of days so that the sun could dry them and intensify the flavour by increasing the sugar and resulting alcohol content. The next step was to break them up in order to prepare them for the final pressing and for this an impressive piece of apparatus resembling a giant mincing machine is used. Once the juice has been extracted by the wine-press it is poured into wooden casks and left to ferment for forty days after which time it is ready to drink. The grapes most commonly grown in our area are the muscatel variety but to improve the colour of the wine the juice of small, sweet red grapes is often added. The making of mosto (village wine) is a serious business and there is an element of competition, everyone thinking that theirs is the best. Certainly, it is always very pleasant to drink, especially when young, and it is also very pure, being free of additives, and rich in antioxidants. However, the seemingly innocuous sweetness and fruitiness of its flavour are deceptive: mosto is very potent indeed!
We were told an amusing anecdote about a neighbour who had stored his grape harvest in a shed but had not closed the door properly afterwards. When he returned to press the grapes, he discovered that they had all been eaten and the culprit, a jabali (wild boar) was lying on the ground asleep, quite intoxicated.
The weather settled again after the storm and we enjoyed days of warm sunshine and cloudless skies with hardly a breath of wind. There was a rain-washed purity and a softness in the air after the fierce heat of summer and from our cortijo which overlooks the village and the surrounding mountain panorama there was such a tranquility about the scene below us that it was hard to imagine it had been so recently subjected to a storm of such ferocity. The light this time of year is particularly beautiful and, for me, one of the joys of living here is being able to stand on my terrace with my morning coffee watching the sun rise over the mountains, the first rays illuminating the distant sierras with the loveliest, most delicate shades of blue and violet.
This time of year is very good for birdwatching because all the migratory species are in transit. Our swallows departed a few days ago, followed soon afterwards by the bee eaters. They do an excellent job of keeping irritating insects at bay and now that they’ve gone, suddenly we find that we’re being plagued by flies when we sit on the terrace. We shall be really pleased to see them back again next spring.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
NATURE NOTES from GUAJAR ALTO
Now that we are into September, although it is still very hot, there are already signs that the summer is coming to an end. The bee-eaters arrived in April and are now preparing to return to Africa; in the last few days large numbers of them have been lining up on the electricity cables, preparing for their journey. They are very agile birds and it is amusing to watch their aerial acrobatics. The evergreen oaks which are a feature of this area have produced lots of acorns this year which are irresistible to the jabali (wild boar); their numbers have increased dramatically over the last couple of years and they have become something of a nuisance. The other night, the barking of our dogs took on a note of hysteria which got me out of bed in alarm. I ran outside and looked over the wall where I saw, illuminated by bright moonlight, two jabalies in the bushes at the bottom of the hill on which our house is built. I shouted at them, threw a stone, and the next moment was astonished to see many more - at least fifteen - come streaming out of the darkness and stampede up the mountain, snorting and grunting with indignation as they ran. It would not be a good idea to take a nocturnal stroll in these parts!
Recently, we made an excursion with some friends to an inland lake, 800 metres above sea level. We drove out of Guájar Alto, through extensive pine forests where we saw some magnificent deer, eagles and other birds of prey, and finally into the gently rolling hills of olive growing country. As always, we marvelled at the diverse landscape of this most beautiful province. The lake, which after months of dry weather was at its lowest, is a popular amenity with windsurfing facilities and boat hire. Because there are no currents, children can play safely on their inflatables and the water, which is warmer than the sea, is ideal for swimming. Also, of course, there are none of the plagues of jellyfish which have been such a problem at coastal resorts for the last couple of years. We parked under the pines which line the shore and enjoyed a picnic lunch; afterwards, I strolled along the shore to inspect the flora and although it wasn’t the best time of year to go botanising, I could see from the dried remains of plants that some interesting species grow there, particularly those suited to arid, sandy conditions. Apart from the pines, tamarisk is the most common plant; it is an attractive shrub with its feathery leaves and pretty, pink blossom.
We made another excursion a few days ago up to the Sierra de Las Guájaras ( note the feminine ending here!) in order to admire the lovely views which can be seen up there. The air is very pure and I can tell from the flora that it’s also very dry. The sky was an intense, transparent blue and all that could be seen in that vast, cloudless dome was a solitary eagle, drifting lazily over the mountain peaks. I picked a bunch of thyme, lavender and rosemary because, although we’ve no shortage of mountain herbs at home, for some reason plants such as these become more aromatic the higher up they grow.
Growing close to our house is a large, evergreen oak of the kind I’ve already mentioned and we’ve made underneath it a pleasant, shady sitting area. However, we haven’t been able to sit there for some weeks now due to the steady rain of a sticky secretion resulting from the milking of aphids by the ants. Like the mature English oak, this type of tree supports all kinds of life including large numbers of jays, which eat the acorns, and a host of small, insect-eating birds, some of which nest in the gaps in the stone wall surrounding the tree. The olives, pines and oaks provide good cover for small birds and although you can’t always see them, you can identify them by their song. Since we’ve lived here I’ve seen several different kinds of warbler, including blackcaps and Dartford warblers; coal tits, great tits, crested tits and long-tailed tits, tree-creepers and green woodpeckers. We don’t use chemicals on our land and I think this is the reason we have such an abundance of birdlife. Also at this time of year flocks of beautiful grayling butterflies, also attracted by the sugary secretion, swarm about the oaks.
English people who settle on the coast often say that they miss the seasons. Here, in the mountains, although winter is never severe, you do at least get a sense of the changing of the seasons. At present, we are still enjoying the balmy, flower-scented nights which are typical of Guájar Alto; in a few weeks, however, although the days may still be hot, it will begin to feel quite chilly once the sun has gone down and we’ll know that autumn has arrived.
Recently, we made an excursion with some friends to an inland lake, 800 metres above sea level. We drove out of Guájar Alto, through extensive pine forests where we saw some magnificent deer, eagles and other birds of prey, and finally into the gently rolling hills of olive growing country. As always, we marvelled at the diverse landscape of this most beautiful province. The lake, which after months of dry weather was at its lowest, is a popular amenity with windsurfing facilities and boat hire. Because there are no currents, children can play safely on their inflatables and the water, which is warmer than the sea, is ideal for swimming. Also, of course, there are none of the plagues of jellyfish which have been such a problem at coastal resorts for the last couple of years. We parked under the pines which line the shore and enjoyed a picnic lunch; afterwards, I strolled along the shore to inspect the flora and although it wasn’t the best time of year to go botanising, I could see from the dried remains of plants that some interesting species grow there, particularly those suited to arid, sandy conditions. Apart from the pines, tamarisk is the most common plant; it is an attractive shrub with its feathery leaves and pretty, pink blossom.
We made another excursion a few days ago up to the Sierra de Las Guájaras ( note the feminine ending here!) in order to admire the lovely views which can be seen up there. The air is very pure and I can tell from the flora that it’s also very dry. The sky was an intense, transparent blue and all that could be seen in that vast, cloudless dome was a solitary eagle, drifting lazily over the mountain peaks. I picked a bunch of thyme, lavender and rosemary because, although we’ve no shortage of mountain herbs at home, for some reason plants such as these become more aromatic the higher up they grow.
Growing close to our house is a large, evergreen oak of the kind I’ve already mentioned and we’ve made underneath it a pleasant, shady sitting area. However, we haven’t been able to sit there for some weeks now due to the steady rain of a sticky secretion resulting from the milking of aphids by the ants. Like the mature English oak, this type of tree supports all kinds of life including large numbers of jays, which eat the acorns, and a host of small, insect-eating birds, some of which nest in the gaps in the stone wall surrounding the tree. The olives, pines and oaks provide good cover for small birds and although you can’t always see them, you can identify them by their song. Since we’ve lived here I’ve seen several different kinds of warbler, including blackcaps and Dartford warblers; coal tits, great tits, crested tits and long-tailed tits, tree-creepers and green woodpeckers. We don’t use chemicals on our land and I think this is the reason we have such an abundance of birdlife. Also at this time of year flocks of beautiful grayling butterflies, also attracted by the sugary secretion, swarm about the oaks.
English people who settle on the coast often say that they miss the seasons. Here, in the mountains, although winter is never severe, you do at least get a sense of the changing of the seasons. At present, we are still enjoying the balmy, flower-scented nights which are typical of Guájar Alto; in a few weeks, however, although the days may still be hot, it will begin to feel quite chilly once the sun has gone down and we’ll know that autumn has arrived.
SUMMER FIESTAS in GUAJAR ALTO
In Guájar Alto, throughout the long, hot months of summer when outdoor living may be enjoyed to the full, people take turns to lay on fiestas (parties). The Spanish are extremely gregarious and hospitable so occasions such as these are an important part of village life.
The typical fiesta begins with wine, beer and tapas. Although there are numerous traditional recipes for tapas, in the province of Granada, famous for its hams which are cured in the village of Trevélez, in the high Alpujarras, many households have whole legs of cured ham from which they carve thin slices to offer as tapas. The ham goes very well with some of the many varieties of Spanish cheeses; many ex-pats crave Cheddar but I think some of the hard Spanish cheeses, particularly those made from ewes’ milk, are actually superior. Goats’ cheese from Guájar Alto is far better than any that can be bought in an English supermarket and because it complements so many other things, there is no end to the delicious tapas that can be made from it; goats’ cheese with membrillo, a kind of quince jelly, is a particularly delectable combination. Ripe, juicy water melons are plentiful at this time of year and a delicious summer salad can be made using green leaves and cubes of water melon and goats’ cheese sprinkled with olive oil and lemon juice.
The Spanish consume a great deal of fish so, not surprisingly, there are many traditional fish tapas. Barbecued sardines, for example, are very popular, as is Gallega octopus - the tentacles are cooked, sliced, then seasoned with salt, a sprinkling of olive oil and lemon juice and, most importantly, pimentón, which is a smoked paprika widely used in Spanish cuisine. Steamed mussels served in their shells and garnished with finely chopped onions and peppers look and taste delicious.
At this time of year, the abundance of garden produce can be used as ingredients for many different kinds of tapas. Aubergines, for example, are very versatile; they may be thinly sliced, fried and served with honey or combined with batter to make fritters. Little green peppers (pimientos de padrón), picked when they are young and tender, may be threaded on to skewers and barbecued. Gazpacho - cold tomato soup - is an ideal way of using up surplus tomatoes, green peppers and cucumbers and goes down very well at summer fiestas.
Spanish omelette, cut into bite-sized pieces, is a popular tapa. The classic recipe uses only potatoes, onions and eggs but since this can sometimes be rather dry, I like to add sweet red peppers and a generous amount of chopped parsley. It is an ideal tapa for vegetarians, as is a warm salad of chickpeas seasoned with freshly grated ginger, chili flakes and lemon juice.
At a typical fiesta, barbecued meat - usually pork - and fish are served, accompanied by bowls of fresh salad and bread, after the tapas. By tradition, the men have charge of the barbecue while the women attend to the rest of the food and look after the guests. There is no formality so guests help themselves to drinks.
Since the Spanish are inordinately fond of sweet things, a variety of desserts is offered at most fiestas. There are some very good cooks in our village and I recently sampled an exquisitely light confection made from basic cake ingredients mixed with yoghourt and chopped, fresh peaches; typically, many desserts are flavoured with anise. Coffee is accompanied by a variety of liqueurs, spirits, cordials and still more sweet things. I am especially fond of a cordial made from mora (mulberry) which makes a delicious drink added to chilled, sparkling white wine. In hot weather, many people drink tinto de verano which is a refreshing combination of red wine, lemonade, a dash of vermouth and plenty of ice and lemon.
When we, ourselves, give a fiesta, because we have both Spanish and English guests, I prepare a large selection of dishes from which, I hope, there will be something to please everyone. Catering for forty or fifty guests requires a good deal of planning and organisation, therefore I like to do as much as possible on the day before the event takes place. There are always children at fiestas but they are easy to please because they’re always famished after spending hours in the swimming pool and so a big slice of pizza, hot and bubbling from the oven, goes down better than anything.
Usually, private fiestas in our village take place in cortijos which have terraces large enough to accommodate all the guests but, sometimes, we make use of public amenity areas. The most popular of these is a riverside location, pleasantly shaded with poplars and limes, complete with an artificial beach. In summer, the river is dammed so that the water, which is a transparent, emerald green, is deep enough for swimming. People bring chairs, tables, food, beer and wine and, because the Spanish really know how to enjoy themselves, before very long an atmosphere of relaxion and conviviality is established.
The typical fiesta begins with wine, beer and tapas. Although there are numerous traditional recipes for tapas, in the province of Granada, famous for its hams which are cured in the village of Trevélez, in the high Alpujarras, many households have whole legs of cured ham from which they carve thin slices to offer as tapas. The ham goes very well with some of the many varieties of Spanish cheeses; many ex-pats crave Cheddar but I think some of the hard Spanish cheeses, particularly those made from ewes’ milk, are actually superior. Goats’ cheese from Guájar Alto is far better than any that can be bought in an English supermarket and because it complements so many other things, there is no end to the delicious tapas that can be made from it; goats’ cheese with membrillo, a kind of quince jelly, is a particularly delectable combination. Ripe, juicy water melons are plentiful at this time of year and a delicious summer salad can be made using green leaves and cubes of water melon and goats’ cheese sprinkled with olive oil and lemon juice.
The Spanish consume a great deal of fish so, not surprisingly, there are many traditional fish tapas. Barbecued sardines, for example, are very popular, as is Gallega octopus - the tentacles are cooked, sliced, then seasoned with salt, a sprinkling of olive oil and lemon juice and, most importantly, pimentón, which is a smoked paprika widely used in Spanish cuisine. Steamed mussels served in their shells and garnished with finely chopped onions and peppers look and taste delicious.
At this time of year, the abundance of garden produce can be used as ingredients for many different kinds of tapas. Aubergines, for example, are very versatile; they may be thinly sliced, fried and served with honey or combined with batter to make fritters. Little green peppers (pimientos de padrón), picked when they are young and tender, may be threaded on to skewers and barbecued. Gazpacho - cold tomato soup - is an ideal way of using up surplus tomatoes, green peppers and cucumbers and goes down very well at summer fiestas.
Spanish omelette, cut into bite-sized pieces, is a popular tapa. The classic recipe uses only potatoes, onions and eggs but since this can sometimes be rather dry, I like to add sweet red peppers and a generous amount of chopped parsley. It is an ideal tapa for vegetarians, as is a warm salad of chickpeas seasoned with freshly grated ginger, chili flakes and lemon juice.
At a typical fiesta, barbecued meat - usually pork - and fish are served, accompanied by bowls of fresh salad and bread, after the tapas. By tradition, the men have charge of the barbecue while the women attend to the rest of the food and look after the guests. There is no formality so guests help themselves to drinks.
Since the Spanish are inordinately fond of sweet things, a variety of desserts is offered at most fiestas. There are some very good cooks in our village and I recently sampled an exquisitely light confection made from basic cake ingredients mixed with yoghourt and chopped, fresh peaches; typically, many desserts are flavoured with anise. Coffee is accompanied by a variety of liqueurs, spirits, cordials and still more sweet things. I am especially fond of a cordial made from mora (mulberry) which makes a delicious drink added to chilled, sparkling white wine. In hot weather, many people drink tinto de verano which is a refreshing combination of red wine, lemonade, a dash of vermouth and plenty of ice and lemon.
When we, ourselves, give a fiesta, because we have both Spanish and English guests, I prepare a large selection of dishes from which, I hope, there will be something to please everyone. Catering for forty or fifty guests requires a good deal of planning and organisation, therefore I like to do as much as possible on the day before the event takes place. There are always children at fiestas but they are easy to please because they’re always famished after spending hours in the swimming pool and so a big slice of pizza, hot and bubbling from the oven, goes down better than anything.
Usually, private fiestas in our village take place in cortijos which have terraces large enough to accommodate all the guests but, sometimes, we make use of public amenity areas. The most popular of these is a riverside location, pleasantly shaded with poplars and limes, complete with an artificial beach. In summer, the river is dammed so that the water, which is a transparent, emerald green, is deep enough for swimming. People bring chairs, tables, food, beer and wine and, because the Spanish really know how to enjoy themselves, before very long an atmosphere of relaxion and conviviality is established.
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