Since October, Patra and I have been enjoying organic vegetables, hand-pressed olive oil, and the most beautifully-yoked eggs this side of the Atlantic (and perhaps the other side as well), all produced on a nearby farm. Our first delivery in October, courtesy of our yoga teacher, amounted to pretty much a forest of fennel and Swiss chard, and included proof of its organic pedigree: a snail as big as my thumb left its slow, slimy trail up one of the chard stalks. Yum! If only we were escargot enthusiasts.
Today we got the pleasure of finally visiting our organic farm, run by farmer Ian and farmer Sue. As on any good small farm (it seems) everything they showed us was about to be moved somewhere else, except perhaps for the Muscovy ducks who supply our eggs (I let them know we were their biggest fans; they simply nodded their heads and kept eating lettuce). Ian showed us where the carrots would go, the beets, the herb garden, the potatoes, the onions and garlic, the dates and tomatoes. On the other side of the farmhouse he showed us the koi which would be soon moved out of the pool and into a Japanese garden complete with bonsai. He let us pick mint and the flowers off cactus, and explained how onions grow (I'm still a little confused). And finally he showed us where they grow waterlilies, grapes to make their own wine, and papyrus. To make their own paper? Perhaps someday.
We'd been collecting vegetables and eggs along the way; for a box brimming over with green, they charged us only 5 Euro. We would have felt even guiltier if it wasn't for Sue's gorgeous little red Porsche sitting next to Ian's tractor. An eclectic farm, to be sure.
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