Category Archives: Food and drink

Tasting the Fruits of Our Olive Tree

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It’s that time of year when I reach into the back of my cupboard to find the jars of Christmas mincemeat that I made the previous year – to put in this year’s Christmas cake. (I always use Delia Smith’s Last-minute Mincemeat Christmas Cake recipe because it takes only one-and-a-half hours to cook – so doesn’t use too much butano gas).

Treasure From the Deep

I have deep kitchen cupboards and only short arms, so it’s not unknown for me to encounter things back there that I’d forgotten about. Like the olives from our young tree, which I picked and preserved a while ago. Quite a while ago, as it happens. When I pulled out the jar (just the one; we had only 22 olives that harvest) I read on the label that I’d preserved them in December 2010. We did try them during spring 2011, but they were unbelievably bitter and The Boss had even suggested that we throw them away. Well, there’d been too much effort involved (yes, even for just 22 olives) so I buried the jar at the back of the cupboard and decided to leave them a little longer.

Four years later, the olives had human contact once again when I retrieved them from the buried treasure in the dim and distant back of the cupboard. We had some with our lunch one day. The Boss’s verdict? “They’re almost pleasant.”

Another year in the cupboard and they may just make the grade . . .

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Jan Edwards Copyright 2014

Look Who’s Cooking . . .

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The Boss has excelled himself this year with his BBQ cooking. He’s not particularly keen on conventional cooking in the kitchen – although he used to cook dinner for me on weekdays when I was working at the BBC. Back then I really appreciated coming home to a hot meal after battling Oxford’s terrible traffic on the way home. These days I do most of the cooking, but the warmer months bring me the chance to enjoy the results of The Boss’s labours over a hot BBQ.

This year we invested in a new Weber, after our more-than-12-year-old Outback BBQ burst into flames one evening late last summer, while my dad and uncle were staying with us. Using a Weber has been a totally different experience, which The Boss has embraced with enthusiasm. Living in rural Mallorca, we’ve had the weather most  evenings over the past five months to cook outside. Our versatile lidded Weber could even cope with cooking our Christmas turkey, but we probably won’t risk it (unless there’s an emergency pizza in the freezer).

Like many men, The Boss is a little bit territorial about his BBQ, but I’m not complaining. I get my dinner cooked for me – even if I have to do some of the kitchen prep. And if there’s any doubt about who’s the king of the coals (although, strictly speaking, there are none on our BBQ) this apron – a gift from our friends Duncan and Kristina when they visited in September – says it all!

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If you’d like to see a bit more of the camera-shy Boss, hop over to http://www.eatdrinksleepmallorca.com (my other blog – which is one year old today) or visit http://www.ponderosabeach.com. Yes, those feet in the sand are his . . .

Jan Edwards Copyright 2014

From the Boat to Our Table – via Porto Cristo Fish Market

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Filed under Fiestas, Food and drink

When we started looking at properties for sale in rural Mallorca, we’d already decided that we wanted to be able to reach the coast fairly easily from our future home.  Mallorca isn’t a very large island so this wasn’t much of a restriction.

From our finca in the Mallorcan countryside we can drive to the coast to the north or east of our home within 25 minutes. One of the several seaside places we enjoy going to is Porto Cristo – Manacor’s port.

Porto Cristo is bustling in the summer – and not just with holidaymakers from abroad. Many citizens of Manacor own second homes here in the port and relocate themselves to their seaside homes – only some 11 kilometres away – during July and August. When we first heard about this we were quite amused: people we’ve known in the UK with second homes usually had to travel a long way to reach them – either in the air or on Britain’s clogged-up motorways.  Folks here may travel only around 15 minutes to reach their home-from-home.

Summer at the Seaside

We don’t blame the Manacor folks for moving to the coast. During the two hottest summer months many businesses in Manacor itself close at lunchtime and don’t reopen until the following day. People who relocate to Porto Cristo may have further to travel to work in Manacor but, when the day’s (or half day’s) work is done, they can beetle back to the port for the cooling sea breezes.

Porto Cristo is in party mode for the Festes del Carme each July. Events during the week include a seafood fair (this year on Monday, 7th) and a late-night weekend firework display that never fails to delight the crowds lining the port. These are two events we – and apparently the entire population of Porto Cristo and Manacor – attend every year.

This morning we had an appointment in Porto Cristo. Afterwards, we achieved something we’ve meant to do since we moved to Mallorca: we bought a fish at the small harbour fish market.  You only notice the place is there because a few weathered fishermen are usually hanging around outside. The fish market is open six mornings a week and, in summer, for an hour in the early evening. We’d always thought you had to buy fish in bulk here but, no, they are happy to sell individual fish too.

Wind and rough seas had limited the catch today, but we chose a good-looking Cap Roig (also known as a Red Scorpion fish). We’ve eaten this fish in restaurants, but never cooked – or cleaned – one. I was pleased that one of the lingering fishermen volunteered to gut it for me.  Now all I have to do is cook it this evening . . .

Get your fresh fish here!

Get your fresh fish here!

Fresh from the Med

Fresh from the Med

Jan Edwards Copyright 2014

Reaping the Fruits of a Valley Walk

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Filed under Countryside, Food and drink, Garden and gardening

On Sunday we decided to combine a morning walk around the valley with a few tasks involving our neighbours.

First stop was the finca of our friends Peter and Maureen, to take photos of their rather impressive agave ‘flower’. It still appears to be growing and, for the time being, there’s no sign of the thing keeling over in its death throes. Our friends have a plum tree, seemingly growing out of a concrete terrace, and in previous years they’ve been able to harvest plenty of fruit. This year, it had just six plums growing and Peter told us to help ourselves when they were ripe. Having done our David Bailey bit with the agave, we picked the few fruits – which were at the point of perfection.

Grapes-in-a-bottle

With three in each pocket of my shorts, we continued down to our German neighbours, where we delivered a bottle of Mallorcan Sa Rota wine from Bodegas Bordoy in Llucmajor. This was our way of thanking them for a recent gift of oranges, courgettes and lemons from their garden. Many years ago they kept horses and, because of that, their land is very fertile. Ours isn’t, which means we can’t reciprocate with any produce of our own. But we’ve found an arrangement that seems to suit both giver and receiver: a thank-you gift of grapes-in-a-bottle.

Halfway through our walk, plum juice started to seep through my shorts: the motion of walking had bruised the fruit, so we had no choice but to eat them as we went.  And they were delicious. We were still licking the juice from our lips when we passed the old pig farm – now used mainly for arable crops (although there are always two porkers snuffling around under their huge fig tree).  Toni – the Mallorcan who works the land there – called out a greeting and offered us some of his plums. The branches of his old tree were heavily laden with the ripe fruit. He whipped a plastic carrier bag out of his pocket and, minutes later, it was full of plums.

In a Jam

Our next stop was the house of another friend, Michael, who has a few fig trees. He’s not on the island at the moment and can’t take advantage of the figs that are already ripe.  So we came to an agreement with the wasps that were taking advantage of the seemingly unwanted figs and managed to pick a few without being stung.

With such a lovely bounty of fruit, there was only one thing to do when we returned home: despite the heat of the first full day of summer, I set to and made three pots of fig jam. When Michael returns to his island home, we’ll give him a pot and he’ll be able to taste the fruits of his own garden labours.

 

Bring on the toast!

Bring on the toast!

 

 

Jan Edwards Copyright 2014

Mallorca + February = Almond Blossom

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Filed under Countryside, Fiestas, Food and drink

Almond blossom's delicate beauty

Almond blossom’s delicate beauty

February can be a cold month on Mallorca, but it can also be one of the most beautiful. This is the month when Mallorca’s thousands of almond trees burst into blossom (and show a hint of the new green growth that will rapidly follow). Those who know the island as a summer or autumn destination, but have never visited in this particular month are missing one of Mallorca’s most impressive natural events.

For those who do visit Mallorca at this time of year, a tour of the island’s rural interior offers plenty of photo opportunities and the delicate scent of almond blossom on the breeze (or, sometimes, the howling wind).

What could be more lovely on a clear day?

What could be more lovely on a clear day?

Mallorca has fiestas and fairs throughout the year and many of these firas are dedicated to produce from the island – including herbs, olives, sobrassada, honey, melons and, of course, almonds.

Step Back in Time

Today was the almond fair in Son Servera and, never having been before, we went this morning. We knew it was taking place in an old finca, and assumed it would be in the countryside outside the small town. Back in 1780, when it was built, it would have been. Today Ca s’Hereu has become incorporated into the town itself, with newer buildings around it. But once through the gates, the modern face of Son Servera is soon forgotten.

As you’d expect, stalls were selling a variety of products made from almonds, but there were also other foodstuffs available, as well as handicrafts. Wandering musicians played traditional Mallorcan music, and the local television cameras were there to capture it all. Perhaps you’ll spot us on IB3 TV news tonight? Just for a change, we weren’t caught on camera eating. We once appeared on the front cover of a couple of local Manacor magazines, gorging ourselves on ice cream at the town’s September fair; we only found out about that when several people we know in Manacor told us about our ‘starring role’.  Thankfully, we never did see what sounded like an embarrassing photo.

We decided to save our almond-munching until this evening, in the privacy of our own finca. What could be more delicious than a few roasted Mallorcan almonds with a pre-prandial drink? And more evocative of spring than the clouds of almond blossom decorating the island’s many orchards?

The venue for Son Servera's almond fair

The venue for Son Servera’s almond fair

Music, maestros, por favor!

Music, maestros, por favor!

Agricultural implements were on display.

Agricultural implements were on display.

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One day our own almond trees may be this productive . . .

One day our own almond trees may be this productive . . .

All photos by Jan Edwards

Jan Edwards Copyright 2014

Unclucky for Some . . .

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Filed under Animals/Wildlife, Countryside, DIY & Maintenance, Food and drink

We currently have two poorly pusscats: Sweetie and her big brother Beamer (who only recently had the ordeal of being tied up somewhere by someone, until he escaped – twine still tightly around his neck – and came home). They’ve picked up a virus which has left them with a nasty case of the trots. They’re temporarily indoor cats – about which they’re not too thrilled – in quarantine in our annexe, in separate cages. Still, they’re happier there than during the car journeys to the vet’s in recent days  . . .

For the time being, we’re having to medicate them twice daily, give them a special diet (and lots of extra TLC), and clean out their cages several times a day. Thank heavens for disposable gloves and antibacterial spray. And Betadine, for all the scratches we’ve sustained to exposed bodily parts during attempts to pop pills and administer their liquid medicine. The latter smells of oranges and lemons (not favourites on the feline menu) and obviously tastes vile, as it makes the cats foam at the mouth.

A Home for Hens?

With our sick cat care duties currently consuming a surprising amount of our time, it doesn’t seem appropriate to broach the subject of keeping more animals. Since we moved to rural Mallorca nearly ten years ago, I’ve had a hankering for hens. We have plenty of land where we could let them run free, and I’m sure The Boss could knock up a suitable hen house in a spare few hours; for an ex-banker he can turn his hand to a very impressive variety of DIY tasks.

But as much as I’d love to be able to collect fresh eggs from our own free-ranging chickens, I think we’re probably stretched to our animal-keeping limit – certainly when it comes to veterinary expenses. Besides, with seven feline adoptees stalking about the place, our finca in Mallorca could be a dangerous place for a feathered flock. I recently learnt that one of the collective nouns for cats is a glaring – and I can just imagine that’s what seven pairs of eyes would be doing if we had chickens strutting around the field!

So, I’ve no need to learn the art of chicken-keeping. I’ll just stick to chickens as art – the only hens likely to call our finca home.

No eggs - just my cluck!

No eggs – just my cluck!

Jan Edwards Copyright 2014

Christmas in Rural Mallorca

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Filed under Food and drink, Utilities

Our artificial Christmas tree - bought in Oxfordshire before we moved, but still going strong.

Our artificial Christmas tree – bought in Oxfordshire before we moved, but still going strong

This is our 10th Christmas spent at our finca in rural Mallorca and, thankfully, it’s a very different Christmas to the first one we spent here. For a start, we’d only had electricity for a couple of weeks – and it still felt like something of a novelty. I still remember the joy of unpacking the electrical kitchen gadgets that hadn’t seen the light of day since we’d moved into the property at the end of April 2004. I also remember how cold and damp the house was: our traditional Mallorcan fireplace was our only source of heat, although it didn’t give off much of it, despite consuming logs at the rate of a child let loose in a sweet shop.

Cold Turkey

On Christmas morning we prepared the turkey between us and stuffed it into the oven with a feeling of satisfaction. While the turkey was cooking we decided to phone family and friends back in the UK. We didn’t have a landline telephone back then – it took nearly three years for us to get a phone installed from Telefonica – so we had to use a mobile phone. Sadly there was no network coverage in the house (and there still isn’t), so we had to go outside and stand in the one spot in the garden where we manage to get reception. Unfortunately that spot requires us to stand on a low wall. Perhaps wobble would be a better verb than stand.

Despite the wobbling and the occasional loss of coverage (which required us to re-dial) we spent almost an hour outside catching up with our loved ones.  Returning indoors we expected to be greeted by the delicious aroma of roasting turkey, but nada. During our time outside, the butano in the gas bottle had run out and the oven was, by then, barely warm. Needless to say, Christmas lunch became Christmas dinner. And we’ve never since cooked a Christmas turkey without checking that there’s plenty of gas first. We live and learn . . .

However and wherever you spend this festive season, may it be a time of peace, relaxation and realization of what’s really important in life. Merry Christmas.

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

A Plum Job

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Over the past few days we’ve received two donations of plums from our English neighbours Pat and Tony, whose tree has been almost bending under the weight of the small cherry-like plums. And they are simply delicious. I’ve been eating them almost like sweets, but there’s a limit to how many plums one should eat at a time – and something tells me I’ve passed it!

As I write, a few pots of plum jam are cooling in the kitchen and, when I’ve restocked with sugar, I’ll be making more, and also freezing some of the fruit for the future (The Boss is extremely partial to a plum crumble).

Figtastic

While at our neighbours’ house we noticed they had figs ripe and ready for picking, whereas our largest fig tree still has only the tiniest of hard green fruits – our harvest usually comes in September. But we do have some small and old fig trees elsewhere on our land – albeit not very accessible – and were prompted to check those out for progress of any fruit. To our surprise, we found a handful ready to eat, with more likely to be ripe before too long.

First figs from our land

First figs from our land

Looks like I’ll be spending quite a bit more time in the kitchen this week …

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

The World’s Most Expensive Soup?

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For two people who don’t have a bulging bank account, we’ve done rather well recently as far as eating Michelin-starred cuisine goes:  The Boss and I were invited to the 3rd Safari Culinario at the St Regis Mardavall Mallorca Resort.

The latter was foodie heaven: of the eight talented chefs (six of whom had flown in from Germany) who prepared the evening’s spectacular dishes, five are recognized for their Michelin-starred food. It was an amazing event that should be on the bucket list of any serious gourmet.

Eight chefs, one exceptional dinner, no power cut. L-R: Martin Fauster, Otto Koch, Christian Juergens, Thomas Kammeier, Thomas Kahl (Es Fum, Mallorca), Marc Fosh (Simply Fosh, Palma de Mallorca), Eckart Witzigmann, and Iker Gonzalez

Eight chefs, one exceptional dinner, no power cut.
L-R: Martin Fauster, Otto Koch, Christian Juergens, Thomas Kammeier, Thomas Kahl (Es Fum, Mallorca), Marc Fosh (Simply Fosh, Palma de Mallorca), Eckart Witzigmann, and Iker Gonzalez

But none of these culinary superstars offered what could have been the world’s most expensive soup. I’d already made that, back in the spring . . .

A Chilly May

Every May my father and his brother (my Uncle Ray) come to stay at our finca for the first of the two holidays a year that they have with us in rural Mallorca. But this year’s spring holiday was rather different to ones they’ve previously had: it was the coldest May here (and in other parts of Spain) since 1985.

Usually, they’d spend quite a bit of time relaxing in the steamer chairs on the terrace, soaking up some vitamin D (well they do live in England, where sunshine has become a bit of a rare commodity). Ray – who tans easily – would normally remove as many clothes as he could (within the bounds of decency) to build up that enviable just-back-from-holiday golden glow. But not this year. Over the eight days they were here, only one day was warm enough to relax outdoors. Sweaters and long trousers were pressed into service, and much time was spent indoors reading, listening to music, and chatting.

One day was particularly bad. A howling north wind, rain lashing down the windows and a top temperature of 13 degrees Celsius (we’ve had it warmer in January!) confined us to the house. When the ever-optimistic Ray (“It looks like the sun’s trying to get through”) gave up dreaming of a tan that holiday, I knew desperate measures were called for.

In the Soup 

I would make carrot and cumin soup for lunch – soup being a wonderful comfort food. A delicious aroma was soon wafting through the house. At the appropriate moment, I poured the hot soup into our Kitchen Aid blender (recently back from Palma where it had been in for repair) and pressed the button to set the blitzing in motion. Or not. The instant I switched the thing on, the entire electricity system died.

Long story short, our dependable electrician came out on an emergency visit and returned later that afternoon when he’d been able to find the required new part for the fuse box. A rather complicated and expensive part that cost more than 300 euros.

Now that’s what I call an expensive lunch.

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013

One Year . . . One Lemon . . . Four G&Ts

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Filed under Food and drink, Garden and gardening, Writing

One year has passed since I started writing posts on Living in Rural Mallorca. I know this because WordPress just told me. And yet it seems just a few months ago that I started my new blog, after we’d finally had an Internet service connected to our finca on the island. This also means that we’ve had our Broadband Wi-Fi connection for a year, so thanks very much Wi-Fi Baleares – who achieved what we were convinced no company ever would, and stopped me pulling all of my hair out in frustration at a local Internet café.

Yes, time seems to pass quickly on Mallorca . . . except when you’re waiting for your tree’s first lemon to ripen. I wrote about our young lemon tree in June 2012 – The Boss having planted it in the spring of that year. We were looking forward to plucking a plump yellow lemon and slicing it into a celebratory G&T. Christmas seemed a likely date for this epic moment, but Christmas came and the first of our crop still looked more like a lime than a lemon. Easter perhaps? Naah.

But last week the moment to pick the first lemon from our garden arrived. And we were lucky enough to have our great friends from Oxfordshire with us to share in our minor triumph (a suitable distraction from the slow progress of the blackthorn shrubs they’d brought us on their previous visit).

Our luscious and deliciously fragrant lemon was sliced into four glasses of The Boss’s famous G&Ts, made with Mallorcan Can Vidalet gin. Delicious. By my reckoning, the next lemon should be ready in about seven months’ time . . .

Patience eventually rewarded

Patience eventually rewarded

Jan Edwards Copyright 2013