Great Glasshouse at the National Botanic Garden of Wales

 Whilst for those of us stuck here in changeable old Blighty the prospect of a Mediterranean Food Festival might seem slightly bizarre at this time of year, 

at the National Botanical Garden of Wales it would be unthinkable to hold such a celebratory-sunshine event, at any other time of the year. 

But, why…?  Well; for those who haven’t visited the Garden, it’s certainly well worth the trip: there is so much for the family to see & do across this beautifully-landscaped, extensive site. 

And the ‘crowning glory’ is the Great Glasshouse,;which is the largest single-span glasshouse in the world, covering some 3,500m², protecting & conserving some of the most endangered plants on our planet.

And right now things are looking particularly spectacular; for whilst many of us are still only just starting to hail the first modest green shoots of Spring putting in an appearance, here in the Glasshouse the plants are ‘blooming lovely’!  Because of its’ floral inhabitiants the Glasshouse sports a balmy, year-round Mediterranean climate; hence it is a particularly wonderful place to visit on an otherwise seemingly typical blustery-changeable UK weather-weekend, such as this. 

To celebrate the sultry Mediterranean Spring erupting naturally in the balmy environment of  the Great Glasshouse (wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the UK, I can tell you!) the finest artisan food producers gathered together to marry their diverse talents & applaud this multi-national Gourmet Food Festival; accompanied by diverse folk & even opera music to enhance an already warm-&-relaxed atmosphere.

With our traditional-yet-uniquely-modern goats’ milk recipe & crafting traditional Italian-style gelato made only with pure, natural igredients rather than just ordinary ice cream, as we do; we’d been privileged in our invitation to participate.

Day Two: a lull in the proceedings allows for a photo opportunity!

Tony & I hastened to the event; & after some initial confusion (there was also a Plaid Cymru* conference going on elsewhere in the grounds, & we were sent there by a confused car park attendant) we set out our stall & I got ready to trade; as Tony was returning to the Ffarm to finish the chores before ostensibly returning to assist me. 

Trading was initially quiet; with the first visitors only trickling in at around 10.15am.  I generally find that mornings are inevitably slow for us, anyway; apart from the occasional child shyly purchasing a cone things don’t usually ‘hot up’ until around lunchtime.  And with the weather outside somewhat cold & with an inhospitably grey sky even though the temperature within was comfortable ,there were initially few takers for our frozen treats. 

Mind you, the other traders found things similarly laid back; plenty of customers drifting past but few actually purchasing.  I soon had a solid, reciprocal trade going on with the marvellous chilli-&-chutney company, WhyNotHot; we’d met before at the Llanwrtyd Wells Food Festival a few weeks before & again sent customers to one another; mine, if they felt they needed warming up after consuming gelato; his, to cool down after eating ultra-hot chilli! 

Fellow goat-keepers & food producers Kid Me Not were also there, selling their diverse range of chocolates, cheeses & fudge (try the orange & ginger – delicious!); & a gentleman selling crêpes & wine – who we thought was onto a winner.  In fact we were all excitedly looking forward to pancakes for an early lunch when he was abruptly forced to close his stall; as ironically the unusual climate in the Glasshouse wouldn’t permit his hotplate to work properly.  So there were rumbling tummies all along the aisle as a result….

Situated as we were at the end of the traders’ row, we were adjacent to Ferranti; who sell gorgeous olive oil from a venerable 800-year-old grove in Spain.  I just had to buy a bottle of the delicious Sevillenca, its taste evocative of my many wonderful memories of the time I lived out in Italy for a while.  Mopped up with a chunk of rustic, crusty Mediterranean bread it proved the perfect snack for the weekend’s balmy climate whilst cocooned within the great glass dome. 

We were stunned by the talented opera singer, & I offered to translate for eager visitors:

“Oh yes, now she is waxing lyrical about the amazing Lovespoon gelato, how it makes her want to sing – & that its’ cool, velvety texture is perfect for her voice”, I intoned casually as I scooped, whilst they bust into laughter at my opportunism.  And when the man with the maracas struck up, & I had a scoop in each hand….well, it was my chance to have a dance – & it certainly attracted some highly-amused if curious customers!

At around lunchtime the pace picked up considerably; & I was soon scooping like a madwoman whilst there was still no sign of Tony.  He did attempt to telephone a couple of times, crossed wires assuming that I’d call if I needed his help; however of course as I was so busy I had no chance of answering. 

At last there was a brief lull, & I managed to contact him. 

“Where the Hell have you been?!” I sputtered angrily.  “I’m rushed off my feet, here.”

“Oh, sorry; I thought you were going to call if you needed any help.  I did try ringing you, but…”  his voice tailed off apologetically. 

“Some assistance would be appreciated – I haven’t stopped all day.” I snarled.  He eventually arrived at around 4pm – just in time for a few final scoops before helping me pack up the stall until the following busy day (where thankfully we did work together – although ironically it was a little quieter & I could have just-about coped alone). 

I immediately took a much-needed break having not had a chance to pause, all afternoon; exhaustedly snatching a cup of coffee & going for a wander around the now near-deserted Glasshouse. 

Evening falls in the Great Glasshouse

Strange, hollow sounds were emitting from a far corner of the ‘globe’.  Was something wrong with the climate control, I mused, as I strolled out of Chile & across into Australia.  To my surprise in a shaded alcove sat an Aborigne playing a digeridoo, eyes closed, lost in a faraway world of his own. 

He was there again the next evening; the echoes reverberating rhythmically, atmospherically, around the insect’s-eye canopy of the dome.  A strangely small world…..

 

*Plaid Cymru – the leading Welsh political party.

An 'al fresco' meal: the ultimate in unseasonaly warm conviviality.

 

Entertaining is - undeniably – always a pleasure; regardless of the degree of behind-the-scenes scurrying owing to my own frantically-disorganised part.  And when it turns out to be during the wonderful bonus of an unexpectedly balmy Spring day, even better.

 

“Hi Jim, it’s Jo.  D’you fancy popping over for a bite of lunch with us, tomorrow?  There’s someone – well, someones, actually – we’d really like you to meet…”

 

Jim was hesitant – understandably so.  Not long ago he tragically lost the love of his life: his wonderful soul-mate; his unfailingly-effervescent wife; to terminal cancer: & has since eschewed the hurly-burly of a  busy social life in favour of  seeking solace in the company of a few close friends plus the beloved caprine & feline companions with whom he has since shared their poignantly-bereft smallholding.

 

It is truly, such a wonderful place;  yet without Ann’s presence I somehow feel that regardless of the weather, the sun has left the sky….until Jim’s gently warm, welcoming smile invariably lights the life of anyone present with a benign, quiescent glow echoing Ann’s own vibrant, shadow-presence.

 

“Oh.  I’m not sure….who else is going to be there, then?”

 

“Two lovely ladies, who are right up your street - Saanen ladies!  They’ve joined the Milkforce & are looking forward to a ‘meet & bleat – & I’m obviously not doing it right!”  I quipped.

 

“Saanens….?  British Saanens, like my lovely, wonderful  Wenna….?!  Wow.  What time should I come….no, how soon can I be there….?!” 

 

I grinned.  Jim’s passion for his goats, is infectious – but especially where such statuesque, silver-coated Saanens are concerned. 

 

We originally met last year; when Jim called on us with a plea to find a suitably gentle companion for his tragically-ailing British Saanen, the lovely Lady Wenna; who had suffered poisoning from some unascertainable toxin.  Although she’d somehow survived her close chum had immediately succumbed to the poison, & had apparently died within minutes of ingesting whatever-it-was, which so horrifically & abruptly killed her. 

 

Sadly – as happens so frequently - the exact substance responsible for said deadly dose, has never been determined; just one of life’s perplexing mysteries, alas.  But what is especially concerning is our friend’s relative seclusion, being situated so far ‘off the beaten track’ ;with only one immediate (but regrettably unneighbourly) neighbour, in the vicinity….

 

Meanwhile, Jim’s darling, ailing Wenna never recovered. She died a few months after her dear old friend; leaving poor, lonely Froggie (who never fitted comfortably into our robust herd environment, being a ‘bear of little brain’ & much bullied as a result), alone & pining.  So we swiftly responded to Jim’s appeal for help & ensured she was joined by cheeky young wether male, Bran; who is now a big bruiser of a ‘boy’ & very handsomely charming, too.

 

The following feast-day dawned, warm & sunny; & I enjoyed leisurely preparing us a lovely meal whilst Tony sorted out the menagerie once we’d finished the morning milking. 

 

A few hours later Jim bounced in with his typical effervescence; & we immediately escorted him to the Dairy Complex to meet our new girls.  We’d initially christened them Hattie (short for ‘Hatrack’ as she was looking positively bony after giving birth to triplets & exuding all her energies into feeding her babies); & Marilyn (as this very pretty goat reminded us a bit of the archetypal ‘dumb blonde’, Marilyn Monroe).  

 

For Jim, it was love at first sight: he found the girls utterly gorgeous; & helpfully suggested we rename Marilyn with a slightly kinder & more appropriately Celtic name – Melwyn; which means in Cornish – & incredibly close to the Welsh translation also - ’honey-sweet’.  Far more appropriate; so Melwyn it is, henceforth.

 

Being such a beautiful noon & blessed with such unseasonable warmth we decided to grasp the opportunity to eat our lunch, in the garden.  After a bit of a panic over the starter – when I realised the hot, crusty wholegrain loaf I’d intended to bake as an accompaniment to some delicious game paté, wouldn’t fit in the oven along with all the other goodies - I had to endure a hasty rethink.

Thankfully I managed to scrabble together a delicious platter of antipasti, including delicate cornets of parma & serrano ham; slivers of chorizo & peppered salami; thin slices of smoked Bavarian cheese; various pickled & marinated vegetables; plump, garlic-stuffed green olives; & a Greek salad conmbining feta cheese, juicy cucumber chunks, sweet cherry tomato quarters, black & green pitted olives & a peppery combination of mixed baby herb & salad leaves, drizzled with an improvised balsamic vinegar & truffle oil dressing.  

It proved the perfect starter for a long, leisurely lunch; & to be honest a wiser choice than the game paté which on reflection would have been a bit too heavy prior to a traditional roast dinner replete with all the trimmings.

 

Knowing Jim’s penchant for roast beef I’d consulted local butcher Dave the previous day; regarding choice of a suitable joint for the occasion.   He indicated a plump, tender cut of nicely-matured Welsh Black beef, blanketed with a thin layer of creamy-white fat:

“Just the job”,  he’d enthused.  “With your Rayburn you won’t even need to crank up the heat too much; pop it in the oven as a slow roast, scatter in a few baby onions & baste some roasting potatoes in the melted fat….mmmm, delicious; my mouth’s watering at the prospect.  Oh – what time’s lunch, by the way….?”  The last comment added with a typically cheeky grin. 

 

I’d coated the fat with a mustard & black pepper crust, to add a bit of extra spice to the gravy.  The gorgeously-succulent beef sizzled gently in our capacious Rayburn pan; & by the time I’d removed the joint from the oven to rest, it was an absolutely perfectly-cooked, medium-rare: succulent & delicious. 

The baby onions & potatoes were spot-on & even the Yorkshire puddings had gracefully risen like a prima ballerina dancing on pointes; with crisp, golden perfection.  Side dishes of al dente fresh-cooked green beans, cruch-yielding broccoli & tiny, tasty baby carrots plus some hot-buttered, earthy new potatoes completed the montage; steeped with the rich, spicy gravy I’d improvised & washed down with an excellently heady, ruby-red Rioja.

 

Over our meal we excitedly discussed the farm’s bee project.  To help us Jim had carefully unearthed a couple of books on the subject from his extensive library, for us to study; having oft kept bees himself, in the past. 

One fascinating little hardbacked volume – dubbed “Bees for Beginners” sold for the princely sum of 2′6 & published by the magnificently-titled Eyre & Spottiswoode Ltd, His Majesty’s Printers, London contains some charming woodcuts along with incisive black-&-white photos plus a wonderful quote from the great Greek philosopher, Socrates:

 

“In every undertaking the beginning is the most important part”

 

- which in modern parlance translates to the ‘Six Ps’….

 

“Prior planning prevents Patheticaly Poor Performance”

 

- the very philosophy we espouse in every undertaking : whether smallholding, farming, crafting gelato, good business practise or – well – life; really.    

 

And so, to dessert: & what could prove the perfect conclusion to a memorable meal blessed with such idyllic Spring sunshine…?   The blackcurrant cheesecake looked decidedly promising; but perhaps a little too heavy after such a substantial main course. 

 

“What about some ‘Lemon Grove’?”  Tony hopefully inquired.  I hesitated; this was our brand-new ‘prototype’ variety of summer Gelato; I still wasn’t sure that such a uniquely-challenging flavour was ready to be released from our chimaera’s box of gelato magick, without a little more careful perfection.

 

“Weeeell…..I’m not sure there’s enough in the freezer; & it has to be tempered, of course…..” 

 

Still wholly hesitant I’m sure you can appreciate my reluctance to serve our honoured guest with what – after all - was so far only a prototype variety of our refreshing new gelato.  To explain more succinctly I do so love a challenge; & all-too-often I’ve been told lemon makes a truly exquisite sorbet but that it literally  ”cannot be done” as an ice cream. 

So I painstakingly researched my fruit & after much experimentation decided upon an organic Verna lemon as my ultimate citrus variety of choice.  The Verna has a lovely thick, vibrant-yellow peel; the fruit itself brimming with sweet, zesty juice – both ingredients, exactly what I needed for such ice cream alchemy. 

 

And finally, I’d created a lemon variety of gelato that I felt reasonably happy with; albeit that I’m so hyper-critical I am seldom satisfied until I’ve exhausted all possibilities.  Oh yes; & for those who might wonder why I’ve hunted high & low for a specifially organic fruit, there’s a simple reason: tiny shards of the peel are swirled at a critical point during freeze-churning into the gelato, to give it an extra depth in terms of flavour & texture; with a truly magical result.  And whilst using an organic lemon inevitably improves the flavour I can also be confident that the fruit itself hasn’t been chemically managed during its’ growth via potentially poisonous topical growth-inducing fertilisers & deadly insecticidal sprays; all the better for the consumer! 

 

So a goodly scoop of Lemon Grove, served nestled in a sweet little natural meringue nest & elegantly decorated with a swwet sliver of candied peel, it was; & it transpired to be the ultimate curtain call for such a vibrant Spring luncheon - which would also prove the perfect conclusion to any elegant summer supper party, without a doubt.

 

After the meal I was able to put my feet up for a few minutes & enjoy a convival, nectared glass or two with our fine friend; until the goats began yelling for their own late-afternoon apéritif.  

A glance at the evening hands on the stern clockface scurried us all into guilty action as Jim already had an hour’s gruelling drive across the undualting hills of the Preseli National Park before milking the gently-anxious Lady Freya; not to mention our own imminent marathon milking session here on our little Ffarm….

 

Hours later, after the sun had majestically descended in shades of golden glory over the purple silhouettes of the Preseli mountains we watched the gathering stars flicker into a million points of bejewelled fire, one-by-one, in the depths of the darkening sky.  An early-awakened bat took advantage of the few fat moths for her own imprompu banquet as we gazed in awe at the sea of stars overhead, tracing  the patterns of ancient constellations & ascertaining the exact position of our Lovespoon Star, high overhead in the night’s inky-black embrace.  

 

A wonderful day concluded in companionable comfort; me, arms-up-to-elbows in hot, soapy dishwater; whilst Tony tackled the rapidly-growing mound of squeaky-clean bone china & ‘best’ silver cutlery.

 

“Wasn’t it lovely to spend the afternoon with Jim, & share the acquaintance of the new Milkforce ladies, with him?”  I commented as Tony apparently attempted to vigorously eradicate the delicate, hand-painted pattern from the aged bone china serving dish he was drying with the apparently equally-aged dishcloth he wielded.

 

“What a gentleman!”  Tony exclaimed in reply.  “After all; even the ladies got that scrumptious gift of a sackful of fresh fodder beet – their favourite* !”

 

And I have to say, our afternoon shared with the engaging company of charming ‘Gentleman Jim’, was delightful pleasure indeed – whatever my mixed-up menu….!

*For our goats, a gift of fodder beet is the equivalet of offering them a bumper box of Belgian chocolates as a diversion for a wet Wednesday afternoon…..in other words, sheer Heaven!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eggs - fresh from our ducks & hens.

“Happy Easter, Cariad!”

I bounded down the creaky old stairs to put the kettle on for the first cuppa of the morning, whilst Tony groaned & huddled himself even deeper under the duvet. 

“I’m really looking forward to my Easter egg….”  I added cheekily, knowing full well he’d completely forgotten – as he does every year – to get me my one singular favourite chocolate indulgence of the year. 

I don’t know what it is about Easter egg chocolate; but I find it irresistable.  It’s something about the rustle of the foil (which for some reason never fits round any remaining egg until there’s only a few crumbs of chocolate,left); the pleasing way the brittle cocoa snaps, then that first creamy, milky taste…..mmmmm.  And the sweetness & solace that chocolate provides, would take my mind away from missing our two lovely horses; the farm seems so empty without them. 

Yesterday’s Easter Market in Pembroke, was disappointingly quiet.  It’s such a shame that more people don’t support this small but vibrant farmers’ market; which has some really diverse but invariably top quality produce on offer.  A few tourists milled through; however from our perspective I’m finding that the major problem is that if they’re staying at one of the local caravan parks, the freezer boxes provided in the fridges are too small to fit our tubs.  However I do have a hardcore of local enthusiasts who invariably appear in the market, smiling & clutching their freezer bags, intent on getting their fortnightly gelato ‘fix’. 

The great news is that next month, Pembrokeshire Produce Direct is being launched; & everyone in the locality will be able to order our gelato online from now on, & have it delivere to their door a couple of days later.  Essentially an online Farmers’ Market, it’s a fantastic idea & will make a very wide range of local produce available to everyone – & for even less than it costs to have a ‘Tesco Direct’ delivery. 

So:  fantastic, fresh, quality produce delivered to your door….what more could anyone wish for?  Only in wonderful Wales….

Incidentally I didn’t get my treasured Easter egg; but feeling sufficiently guilty after I presented him with a chocolate Welsh Lovespoon (of course!) Tony did rush out to try & find one, & bought me some lovely chocolates & a nice bottle of wine, instead.  Lucky I’d already bought myself an Easter egg in anticipation…!  

Tony & Darwin

When Shakespeare penned this evocative farewell, whispered words of love from Juliet to Romeo that “parting is such sweet sorrow” I’m sure he never imagined that, centuries later, his words would still echo with sentiment & longing in the modern ear.

Today, after finishing the milking & then cooking a hearty breakfast for our friends who – alas – could stay no longer owing to pressing commitments back in Cambridge, it was time to bid a fond farewell….not only to them, but to our two lovely horses; whom after months of struggling with issues of love versus conscience, we decided reluctantly should leave us for a more meaningful existence.  However we were anxious to find them a perfect home; & preferably, together which realistically was not a likely occurrence.

Over the past year Darwin & Rolypoly, our wonderful matched pair of black Welsh Cobs, have been languishing in the field doing nothing but get fat as I haven’t had the chance to even simply dust off the saddles & bridles & take them out for a good long hack, let alone do any schooling or serious work with them.  My efforts have been doubly hampered by the weather as we endured such a miserable summer there really wasn’t sufficient opportunity to do anything as the fields were sodden & we don’t have a menage here. 

However, an unexpected opportunity then presented itself.  Recently one of Dreda’s dear old horses, passed away; so she had room in her stables to take our two boys.  As she & Ro were coming over this way delivering goats it seemed the ideal opportunity for them to go to a new home.  We know the horses will be loved, looked after, & given a more meaningful existence as they’ll get to do some ‘proper’ work at last; & we can rest in the knowledge that they’ll be safe & well with these caring, consummate professionals. 

The Shetlands will stay with us – after all, they were the original reason we ended up coming here in the first place – but with the age-old problem of shortage of grazing over the Winter – plus the additional expense of feed, bedding & farriery etc - we’ve reluctantly had to let the horses go.  And nor has it been fair on them; they were bred to work & find it enjoyable & stimulating, rather than being bored in the field.  So at least now they’ll have lots of new friends as well as more interesting, productive lives.  And we have to put their needs before our emotions.

It’s been a tough decision, though; & as the horsebox pulled out of the driveway & down the road it took all my willpower to prevent myself from running after it & calling them back. 

As we walked across the top fields it started to rain.  I could see car & trailer as they carefully negotiated the narrow lanes, weaving across to Blaen Bowi & out of sight.  The two Shetlands galloped around the field, calling out in search of  their missing chums.  I turned & stumbled back across the fields & down to the cottage, my eyes blurred…it must’ve been the rain, of course. 

 

Such sweet sorrow.

 

The last laugh's invariably on a cheeky Rolypoly!

Soon honeybees will benefit from our rich floral landscape....& the Honeycomb Gelato will be paid in kind!

 Life is sweet – especially when you know that soon you’ll be contributing to the local bee population’s survival.  But more of that, later in this post….

Unlike the bees so far this year, we’ve had another busy week.  After catching up with things following the Llanwrtyd Wells Festival last Saturday, we had another big batch of gelato to make – & this week, it was the more challenging chocolate: not necessarily so difficult to craft as with just Rich Chocolate, Mint Chocolate & Chocolate+Orange there aren’t the physical inclusions (such as strawberries or cinder toffee shards) to ensure are evenly stirred in; just the fresh, clean ice-cool of pure peppermint oil & the converse warmth of lovely, natural Valencia orange with which to infuse the cacao base mixture.  However, it’s the pasteurisation technique which is crucial, as the poudre cacao has to be so carefully cooked in. 

And this week  – owing to our now seriously-depleted stocks – we were filling Food Centre Wales’ modest vat to capacity; which takes extra care & work as all the mixture in the pasteuriser has to be evenly agitated to properly mingle all the ingredients & to prevent the chocolate from sticking to the searingly-hot sides of the vat – which is not only a nightmare to clean but more worryingly, could potentially impart an overcooked flavour to the mix; which would then mean discarding the entire batch…an extremely expensive mistake.   And trust me it isn’t easy, as the vat has only a tiny agitiation paddle & the mix gets burningly hot but still has to be hand-stirred for effective cooking.

Although in spite of the pressure of time & quantities we thankfully managed to create a beautifully-balanced chocolate, we did unfortunately suffer with considerable adherence to the floor & walls of the inner vat; thus Tony muttered dire imprecations as he scrubbed with an ineffective brush until I managed to scrounge a scourer from Mark which thankfully saved the day (as well as the pasteuriser’s stainless steel liner).   So whilst cooking in the cacao is a hard enough experience in itself as the entire building is infused with the rich aroma of fine quality, dark melted chocolate (certainly not a job to do, if you’re feeling peckish!)  admittedly it is enough by the end of the day to put you right off chocolate when you’ve spent a good 45 minutes trying to scrub solid chunks of  it out of a stubborn stainless-steel drum. 

OK; perhaps I’m fibbing about being permanently put off chocolate, make that ten minutes at most…! 

Around 150 litres & three varieities of the finest dark chocolate gelato later, & we were exhausted….well worth the effort though; especially as the Mint & Orange varieties sold out almost immediately.  So, no rest for the wicked then; we’ll just have to make even more….!

Meanwhile, onto our exciting news.  Just after lunch today, the aply-named Mel arrived to discuss a vitally important smallholding/farming/nay, living topic with us: bees.  I say aptly-named, as his moniker in Welsh is also the word for honey; & the gentleman himself is famed throughout Wales for his beekeeping skill which produces such delicious & renowned, multiple-award-winning honey. 

It just so happens Mel is President of our local Beekeepers’ Association; which I hadn’t realised until we were engaged in conversation the other week, casually leaning over the old stone bridge which marks the boundary between our land & that of his endearingly charming son – another true gentleman, in every sense – who farms the land on the eastern edge of the cwm (valley).  The soft whisper of the river echoed Mel’s hushed tones as he spoke with due reverence about the wonder which is the not-so-humble honey bee, the trees dancing dappled shade-&-light across the laughing waters below. 

I’d emphasised our increasing worries about the bee population as a whole; especially concerned that our current honey supplier had advised they may no longer be able to supply even their established customers in the locality as over the past year they’d lost a staggering 140 colonies. 

After discussing our management of the Ffarm Mel had agreed it may indeed provide a conducive environment for beekeeping; & a couple of days later arrived to research a suitable site. 

Now that Tony had returned, discussions commenced in earnest; & Mel had concluded that an ideal spot would be one we’d suggested ourselves; on an unused parcel of land between the hay meadows & our ancient, deciduous woods; providing a wide variety & proliferation of natural flora which has thankfully been untouched by chemicals for many a generation.  Enthusiastically, Tony offered his services to prepare the site, by cutting back the brambles in the area. 

“You’ll do no such thing!”  Mel warned.  “Those brambles will provide an ideal source of food for the bees later on in the season.  In the meantime there’s plenty of gorse & an abundant variety of wild flowers for them; although the bluebell wood might not prove such a draw, as bees seem happier with hedgerow bluebells but less inclined to take nectar from the same flowers, when growing in the woods.”  Well, they say there’s nowt as queer as folk – I suppose the same must go for bees!

So the Grand Plan is: Mel will establish the hives & their colonies, & then manage them for us; so that the bees enjoy the best possible natural habitat – & our gelato will benefit from the finest organically-managed wildflower/woodland honey….as we’ll buy it directly back from Mel.  He’s agreed to loose-filter it too, so that there’ll be more of that gorgeous natural pollen flavour which we’ve found infuses so beautifully throughout the gelato.  And he’s given us a jar of his own honey to try - we can’t wait!

Shortly after Mel departed, our old friends & highly-respected Goat Gurus - Dreda & Rowe from Monach Farms – arrived; they’re staying overnight after delivering some caprines to a smallholder in Crosshands. 

And we were also the recipients of two new recruits to the Milkforce: the first generation of a new breed for us, a pair of statuesque British Saanen ladies – pure white goats who are a little bigger than the British Toggenburgs we’re used to & with (it would already appear, bless ‘em) considerably less brainpower!  Both first-kidders, one of the young ladies has already birthed healthy, robust triplets; & both have beautiful full, soft udders; although they were certainly very confused at arriving in unfamiliar premises & did not exactly relish being milked on an unfamiliar stand in spite of Rowe’s extremely skilfull & gentle technique.  Roll on tomorrow; when they have the trials & tribulations of the-up-&-down ramps; & the noises & scariness of the Milking Parlour, to endure. 

Oh dear.  Wish ‘em luck…. 

So this evening after the new goats had been milked & settled in as comfortablyas possible, we enjoyed a leisurely, lazy supper at home….& rather nervously, I served some of our Royal Bourbon Vanilla gelato with an apple & cinnamon pie, for dessert.  I was relieved that these grateful gourmets evidently approved!

After an agreeable evening with wine & conversation flowing with equal enthusiasm, we all reluctantly turned in for another late night – as ever, there just aren’t enough hours in such a fulfilling day.

And tomorrow will have even more challenges – sad ones, at that…. 

Well, it might not seem so, for most readers; as I suspect many equate the ‘Festive Season’ with the deep midwinter celebrations of Christmas & New Year, those brave attempts to lift us out of the dreary doldrums of dark days & stormy, bone-chilling weather.

However for us, it’s almost the opposite: as the Food Festival Season begins in earnest, as from today.  Whilst so many dread the onset of winter (& admittedly months of driving rain, hail, snow & blow certainly aren’t a pleasant prospect for me, either) I’ve come to reluctantly agree with a local farming friend that nowadays, autumn has to be the best season: the frenetic activity which marks spring & summer is over; the hardship of deep snow & thick, slippery ice is yet to come; & in addition to the last breath of summer warmth there’s a certain briskness in the breeze to be observed, whilst striding the sunset hills & admiring the magnificent golden-bronze hues of the recumbant valley’s woodland.

Autumn is a brief breath-catching pause in the rhythm of the year; time for reflection & relaxation as well as one of preparation for the hardships ahead.  During winter we batten down the hatches & grit our teeth against Nature’s fiercest challenges; only to be faced with the long hours of lambing & kidding when the first shy flowers of spring begin to bloom.  And later in the season, when the sultry sun suggests her presence, we roll up our sleeves & work harder than ever: running not only a busy dairy farm but also an increasingly demanding & rapidly-growing business; with the production, deliveries, paperwork & general slog it all entails.  Oh yes; we’ve certainly downshifted, all right….ahem.

Anyway:  as I said, today’s the day for rolling up said sleeves & Getting On With The Serious Stuff.  It’s the Llanwrtyd Wells Festival of Fine Food & Drink – Wales’ first food festival of the year & a popular start to the Gourmets’ summer season.  Officially the smallest town in Britain, Llanwrtyd Wells is conversely also one of the most vibrant; famous not only for its superb food with some truly excellent restaurants (check out the Carlton & the Drovers, you won’t be disappointed) but also for its’ more off-the-wall activities such as the Bog Snorkelling Championship; the Beerfest Cycling Saturnalia; & a host of other unlikely-but-fantastic events, besides.  So to participate in this much-hailed event was pleasure indeed!

After morning milking I left Tony to finish the chores; & was just about to set off when he mentioned he thought one of our ladies looked a little peaky.  Sure enough, I agreed that she certainly was a little off-colour; & owing to the fact that she’d kidded some three weeks before along with certain other symptoms, suspected a dose of ketosis drench should sort the problem out.  Experience has, however, taught me that goats loathe the stuff; & would literally rather die than agree to its’ administration. So, dressed in my best, I filled the dosing gun – & after a surprise tactical assault managed to get the first 70mls down the surprised caprine’s throat. Drawing up another 30mls I had to leave Tony to the second onslaught – for which said rapidly-recovering patient was readying herself to refuse – & hurry along the challenging cross-country route to this picturesque little town.

The delay had cost me dearly; as by the time I arrived the show was already underway.  Thankfully Iwas met  – & ably assisted – by our dear friend Lorraine, a fellow goat-keeper & confectioner who runs the well-known company Kid Me Not, producing delicious fudge, chocolate & smoothies using the milk from her 600-strong herd of goats. 

No sooner had I set up the stall than business proved brisk, albeit when Tony arrived there was the typical lunchtime lull (not, ironically, what you’d expect at a food festival I suppose!).   I was delighted to meet Duncan from the famous LaBelleRouge, who used to make artisan ice cream for Harrods with the milk from his herd of buffalo; but has now branched out into delicious, classical mozzarella.  We had a fascinating chat about the best way to make ice cream & gelato; & I was delighted to learn that his methods & philosophy were very similar to ours – good to know that others share a passion for the art; & an appreciation for the technicalities which balance the perfect recipe. 

Our stall was next to ‘Why Not Hot’ – a company selling a wide range of chilli products from the dried fruits themselves to chutneys, salsas & gorgeous plump bulbs of oak smoked garlic.  Apart from the garlic all the products go from mild to “knock-yer-socks-off” hot; I especially love the Tangy Tomato Chutney & the Lemon & Lime Fire Chutney – really different & superb served over a juicy tuna steak.  We came up with a reciprocal sales technique: if someone tasted a chilli which was too hot they sent them to us; & if we had customers complaining it was “too cold for ice cream” we’d give them a sample & then send them to the WNH crew!  This tactic has since worked well at other shows we’ve attended, even though our stalls are seldom next to one another. 

We met up with old friends & also made new ones; & it was especially wonderful to meet our colleagues across the way from Glanbrydan, who produce absolutely superb home-made pies, pasties etc.  Sam is a fellow blogger & we’ve often convered via blog ‘chat’; but it was great to meet her in person at last.  I wish them every success with their ever-expanding venture – they truly deserve it & I can’t recommend their delicious produce, highly enough. 

But the highlight of the day for me was when the renowned Michelin-starred Welsh chef, Mary Ann Gilchrist, came over to sample our gelato.  Unsurprisingly she first tasted the Madagascan Royal Bourbon Vanilla – the benchmark of a truly excellent ice cream.  After a heartstopping few moments as she savoured taste, texture & mouthfeel, she declared it to be “sublime – an absolutely perfect vanilla”.  We were bowled over – & then her appreciation that the Rich Chocolate was also “stunning”, truly made the day for me.  To get such recognition from one of Wales’ most highly-respected gourmets is praise indeed; & she added that if she needs any dairy-free ice cream during the summer, ours will be the product of choice.  Wow.

All-in-all it was a reasonably busy show; & although we unfortunately didn’t have the best ‘pitch’ in terms of ice cream, positioned as we were on the rear row of stalls rather than close to an entrance (which is where you ideally need to be), we certainly did well enough considering there was still quite a nip in the air.  Roll on summer….!

At the end of the day we managed to pack up fairly quickly; but stayed behind to help fellow stallholders clear their goods away. Lorraine from Kid Me Not had given me a hand setting up even though it had meant leaving her own stall unattended, for a time; so we helped her & then anyone else who was either on their own or appeared to be struggling.  There’s a real sense of camaraderie, at these events; everyone mucks in & helps one another as well as buying or bartering one anothers’ produce; it’s so heartening that there is such a sense of community & mutual support, not the ‘cut-throat’ world of wider business I was dreading.  After saying our goodbyes we set off home for evening milking – although we did pause briefly to enjoy a drink & a chat together, overlooking the peaceful river at one of our favourite local(ish) hostelries, the attractive Crescelly Arms on the Cothi Bridge.

So, that’s the start of the Festive Season – let’s hope for a long, hot, busy summer so that by Christmas we’ll certainly be chuckling a relieved ‘Ho Ho Ho’.

Strawberries & Cream....a hard-working labour of Lovespoon.

Blimey,

another busy day.  Following yesterday’s pasteurisation the mix was left to mature overnight; allowing the ingredients to mingle & create a more subtle, sophisticated & stable gelato than one literally made ‘in the raw’.  Granted, if we had our own Gelateria (our ultimate aspiration) we would craft the batches for immediate, fresh sale; however at the moment we’re tied to pots, so in order to create the perfect artisan ice cream we need to treat it with a little more TLC than necessary for freshly-scooped sales.

And I must admit, you cannot beat freshly-prepared gelato.  Tony had missed his many months’ absence from the silky-smooth texture & sublime taste of the ‘real thing’; & from the first spoonful his delighted ‘Cheshire Cat’ grin said it all. 

After crafting some serious batches to repelenish our exhausted stock I must admit that I too, was starting to feel pretty jaded.  I’m not sure people realise just what sheer hard work this business involves:  every pot lid & label has to be applied by hand; & whilst in our temporary accommodation at Food Centre Wales I have to affix a tiny label over every single Carmarthenshire UK Approvals Number (the little oval symbol consisting a series of letters & numbers which is a unique designator for every individual producer working within a local authority’s area of jurisdiction). 

Then I have to erase ‘Gluten Free’ from each pot; because whilst all our products (with the exception of the seasonal speciality, Christmas Pudding) are assuredly gluten free, as we’re currently working in a multi-producer environment we cannot genuinely offer that guarantee unless for every single batch we make, we carry out some extremely expensive tests.   Once we’re set up on-farm however, one of first acts will be to seek gluten-free accreditation for all but the Xmas Pud (& we’re working on that one…!).

Next comes the craft itself.  If we’re concentrating on a fruit flavour I personally prepare all the fruit by hand, myself; having first selected the finest fruits in terms of quality, ripeness & variety (all of which are seasonally dependent & can radically affect the flavour of every batch of gelato) in the local area.  Citrus fruits have to be zested, squeezed & the juice painstakingly sifted for even the tiniest pips; poudre cacao carefully measured, mixed & melted into the milk; & just the right amount of honey drizzled, & tiny cinder toffee chips scattered, into the gelato to create the perfect pollen-scented subtlety for our ‘Honeycomb’ variety.

And once the gelato is ready to be potted, the fiddly-but-physical work begins.  Every pot – from the substantial 500mls to the individual 120mls – is filled entirely by hand: mine.  We dispense gelato into a metal Napoli pan & from there I take a ‘Mark One’ dessert spoon & scooping the gelato onto the back of the spoon, carefully fill the pots with it.  It’s hard, time-consuming labour & by the end of the day I inevitably have desperately sore feet, an aching back, & a big black bruise on the heel of my hand where the handle of the spoon constantly digs in. 

And filling several hundred pots in this way in rapid succession (believe me I’m extremely swift) means that by the time we’ve finished making & potting each batch (both of which are done simultaneously) my hand & wrist ache so much I can scarce move them. 

Thankfully whilst Tony’s at home we can get more done; plus I get the occasional break as he fills the Napoli pans we use for restaurants & our own market/festival sales whilst I clean, weigh, lid, metal-detect & date-label each pot. 

However as we can only use Food Centre Wales’ premises for two days per week – & as we’re only permitted to pasteurise during the afternoon, cutting our actual practical time to only one-&-a-half days, we’re pretty stretched & things get extremely intense when we’re actually freezing & potting the gelato.  Phew!

Funny, isn’t it, how your priorties in life change: once upon a time for us, the latest-technology mobile ‘phone would be the received gift of choice; nowadays I yearn for some comfortable food-grade wellies & a rubber-handled small specialist spatchelor to make potting-up even quicker & easier.

And as for the goats…?  Well, as ever, what they want is their supper – so I must fly (again).  As they’re so cheeky & naughty I cannot understand how it is that they always get a good night’s peaceful sleep when it’s no rest for Yours Truly, who has neither the time nor the energy these days, to slip her halo….! 

Sunset over the local beach at Tresaith. But when night falls the work doesn't stop here (alas)....

 ….the eternally busy.  Poor Tony has really had to hit the ground running, as we’ve been rushed off our feet with early-morning milking followed by our first pasteurisation session of 2009 at Food Centre Wales.  

Being Tony’s first ‘make’ for a while we decided to start a little gently with a modest 70-litre batch (before long I hope to be doing at least that  amount – solo – on a twice-daily basis).  

Apart from the odd rust-encrusted braincell ’hiccup’, it went really well.  We treated ourselves to fish & chips on the way home before plunging ourselves back into life as dairy farmers to a herd of demanding, grumpy goats; annoyed at our apparently tardy return. 

So much for ‘downshifting, eh…?! 

“Welcome Home, Master…!”

Hooray!  Tony’s back home – at long last.

He’s been away on a long training course, hence the reason I’ve spent the last eleven weeks coping ’solo’ here on the Ffarm.  Looking at what I’ve been through; what with blizzards, floods, lambing & kidding to name but a brief snapshot of how hectic life inevitably is, here - not to mention worrying about Tony as he endured several gruelling exams – it’s hard for me to comprehend quite how I’ve managed through the truly difficult times.  

But I have; & I’m stronger, better & wiser, for it all.

So admittedly I must say that aside from the absolute joy of seeing Tony it’s a great relief, too.  He’s due a few weeks’ leave so it’ll be wonderful to spend some completely uninterrupted time together, on the Ffarm; although whether it can exactly be described as ‘quality’ is another matter as there’s such a backlog of work to catch up with.

And today when I picked him up from the railway station, even our romantic reunion occurred in apologetically sympathetic haste – as ironically I had to fit his ‘collection’ in with a comprehensive delivery round; including an urgent order for the wonderful new Cwmcerrig Farm Shop & Grill where Lovespoon is proving a real hit & our week-on-week demand doubles, literally every couple of days….& it’s nowhere near peak season yet (scary!).  

So, our ‘Mutual Happiness’     headed off on our typical delivery route; albeit we arranged that we enjoy a pause at Cwmcerrig, our convenient & leisurely-lunchtime destination just so that we could stop there to sample their superb carvery: nigh-on all of the produce served – meat, veg, dessert fruits - has come directly from their farm or from the wider reaches of our lovely county, Carmarthenshire (as has the shop’s wider selection of produce). 

And I have to say, Cwmcerrig’s home-produced Hereford beef must be amongst the finest ever tasted: mouthwateringly succulent, tender & flavoursome (worth the trip for that alone!).   As ever we spent a good ‘cut’ of our profits, on their own wonderful produce….so we’re all mutually benefiting, not to mention consuming far healthier, higher-quality (local) produce, as a result.

After our delicious meal we headed back via Carmarthen to catch up with some ‘big town’ shopping, albeit from our point of view our needs are modest; usually just a trip to the local Farmers’ Co-Op or wholesalers’ to replenish our stocks of pure, British sugar .  For a change the weather was fine & pleasant; so Tony at least didn’t return to typically torrential rain (although we have had a few rare sunny & even WARM days, recently – heavenly). 

Back at the Ffarm the sun was already going down so after hastily unloading the shopping I showed Tony the latest happenings - including getting acquainted with the new kids, none of whom he’d met yet alone helped bring into the world – those special moments that he’s missed with sore regret (but not to worry – Tippy, Koo & Tango have held out for him!).   And of course he was reunited with young Brynn, our Border Collie; who after eleven long weeks initially met him with hackles raised but soon remembered his master’s voice & was gazing at him adoringly & fawning delightedly at his heels with every opportunity.  Tony for his part was impressed how Brynn has transformed from chubby puppy to muscular, fit, trainee sheepdog. 

At last light we settled at the elegant wooden table beside the wildlife pond with a glass of good red wine, to watch the sun slip behind the mountains & the stars start to glitter the night sky with their white fire; whilst trying to pick out The Lovespoon Star from the constellation of Draco, whilst a little bat wheeled in cheerful, insect-clearing duty overhead. 

Some people think we’re fools, to live so far out ‘in the sticks’; with such a hard, frugal existence compared with our old lifestyle.  But with the beautiful blaze of this evening’s sunset, the wistful calls of the dusk-winged owls, & the soft whisper of the river tumbling timelessly through the meandering valley, we’d be daft to ever leave.

 Dawn, & dusk; summer, & winter; high tide & low tide….

the ebb & flow of life on this little world of ours.  Today is the last day of Winter as tomorrow the clocks change, going forward an hour to keep pace with the ever-lengthening daylight hours. 

For me though, ebb & flow have different meanings.  The ‘flow’ is one of abundant milk, now streaming forth in a snowy-white froth each morning & evening from the goats’ udders; & the ‘ebb’, something altogether different but equally welcome…as each heading letter of the word stands for something:

Egg & Bacon Butty.  

Because with the start of British Summertime for me, the real work begins; so the day has to begin on a good note, too – & what better way than with that staple of the Great British Breakfast?  Wonderful – it keeps me going from my chilly 5am start, right through until lunchtime. 

Bacon?  The last of the thick, home-cured, plump, rind-on back bacon from our last group of wonderful Welsh x Gloucester Old Spot pigs; & if not, a tantalisingly tasty drycure oyster cut from traditional Pembroke butchers Cig Lodor, whose bacon is mouthwateringly irresistable; whether garnishing the finest pheasant or gracing the best-tasting, succulent sandwich.

And today, nothing ‘butty’ the best would do….

Top (& bottom) that special bacon with a couple of hearty slices of home-baked bread along with the fresh-fried, sunset-golden gooey, soft-yolked eggs from our own happy hens; then smother it with a swift spoonful of homemade chunky tomato chutney….yummy.

And with the battered-&-bruised run-around I received today (not to mention a multitude of sulky kids who wanted milk from Mum not from the bottle Yours Truly was hopefully wielding) it was the ideal comfort food….the ‘EBB’ which truly helped me to go with the flow!