good cateress newsletter Apr 08

good cateress newsletter, april 08

I had an aha moment, on the quiet day that falls between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. A peaceful day, with no urgency around it.

It was around twilight, we had both had a busy day; Num baking up a storm. Dough rising for the mornings Cinnamon Bun’s; sweet potatoes boiled ready for the Sweet Potato Pie, our Easter Dessert.

Me, I spent the day gardening. I had read White Flower Farms winter garden email earlier in the week. Reminding weekend gardeners not to go digging around in the earth, disturbing plants coming up at their own rate. Not me, I was sure I knew exactly where I had planted my Fall purchases. The Bleeding Heart a deep red coming through the earth. I also planted the Violas
bought the previous weekend on a quick trip to the North Fork. Bailie Beach Road, forlorn in the late winter, but the buds filling on the Magnolia tree; the forsythia showing yellow through the gray green waiting for a few days of sun to show off their magnificence.

As Num was rolling out the cinnamon buns, I cut some Portuguese Sheep's Cheese set with thistle rather that rennet, on an artisinal cracker from Spain, while sipping a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. Had I reached the height of pretension or was this a continuation of the culinary road I had always been on?

Back as far as I can remember, which would be Fallingbostel in Germany, I can remember driving out with mum to a Farmers nursery out in the country. The farmer would actually pick what you wanted from his produce. Simon and I agree that these were the most delicious carrots we ever remember eating, straight from the earth, washed under the standing pipe. In Berlin and Wolfenbuttel we went to the Farmers market weekly, if not fortnightly. In those days there was no choice but to eat seasonally, and we were grateful for frozen and canned peas. Breakfast at the market would be a boiling hot Bockwurst with mustard and a slice of bread.

The Market on the Isle of Wight was a hideous affair that did not include produce. But there were so many other choices.

Ralph's nurseries where Mrs. King grew most of the produce in her garden and fields. The berries were provided by her brother John from his Berry farm. Everything picked that morning. They were not alone in this most of the local green grocers bought local produce from farmers, allotment owners. On the Island the cabbages, cauliflowers, kale etc. grew through the winter as it was so mild. Yes, it got boring but it was healthy and tasty.
I remember very clearly when the big mainland Supermarkets started to arrive bringing with them produce from far away. The idea of courgettes (zucchini) in the middle of winter had never occurred to us, and it was an exciting novelty. Slowly the old fashioned green grocers, where women had shopped daily, disappeared unable to compete.

When we were at the Clarendon Hotel in Chale, almost everything we cooked was local. The crab, lobster and prawns were caught by the local fisherman living in the Coast Guard cottages. Our local Policeman sold us his vegetables from his allotment. We also had a big field where Fred Erbs, who looked as though he had stepped from a Thomas Hardy novel, gardened, producing much of our spring and summer vegetables. Asparagus, peas, Mange tout (snow peas), Runner beans, carrots, leeks, Brussels sprouts.

The Hayles at Yard Farm, provided ducks, guinea fowl and friendship. I have a clear memory of going over to spend the day with them. Jim and Cathy large as life, like a Beryl Cooke painting. This one particular spring saturday, we had come in from a blustery walk across the fields, Cathy still in her fur coat, her Pyrenean Mountain dog at her side, whisking up a cheese soufflé; sipping a glass of wine. I was too terrified to say I don’t eat eggs, and yes, I ate a delicious cheese soufflé and salad from the garden.

Berries came from the James Berry Farm in Godshill as well as Ralph's. I picked strawberries for them a couple of times, not my favourite work. There was a small apple orchard in Arreton, which grew wonderful old variety apples for our autumn fruits.

Isle of Wight Oysters came from Newtown fisheries. I still have the scars on my hands from shucking them. Years later Simon and Jane had an oyster boat, named Bee. They fished for three months of November - January and then headed to the warmth of Israel to recover.

The summer I worked in Tamnies in the Dordogne (newsletter about this coming shortly) everything was provided by local farmers or purveyors. The trout man bringing the live trout swimming in large buckets to the side door, Cep's pickers with their baskets full. Foie Gras from the farm viewed across the valley. The Tommes Vert cheese, that I now buy in Fairway, being delivered fresh weekly.

Summers spent in Minorca, France buying and eating locally.

America was quite a shock to me when I arrived in the 80’s. No local bakeries for good crusty bread. Corn, green beans, iceberg and tomatoes seemingly staples, but not much other choice. Unless you went to Hayday in Westport, which was exceptional. New York was slightly better because of the Korean groceries; and of course Fairway.

In the mid to late 80’s things started to change here in New York. The Green Market started; Eli Zabar started to make traditional breads. Silver Palate was changing how we cooked and ate. I remember going to Chanterelle and realizing it was very like the Clarendon had been in the 70’s, if only we had been able to charge those prices.

The strange thing was, as it changed here, on the Isle of Wight it became more American. I always feel that England took all the worst things about America, fast food and the like and none of the good, its peoples kindness and generosity. Each time I went home, Newport was more and more like any town USA, filled with Staples, Safeway, McDonalds, KFC; I believe it was considered progress.

Mandy, David and I would talk about a farmers market, all the wonderful produce that was shipped off the island and then shipped back. Now they have their stall at the farmers market run by Ben, their son, and also Farmer Jacks, which sells all Isle of Wight products. Their asparagus will soon be ready for picking. Mandy has promised me a few late spears for my first dinner in July, when I arrive.

I love local but I also love my European cheeses, many of which have been artisanal for centuries. The crackers from Valencia, I am betting they are someone's grandmother’s recipe. New Zealand wine, delicious, grown in a nuclear free zone, in clean air. Granted I should have been drinking a North Fork wine, but I did not have one to hand.
Here comes the sun.....