Everything, Everywhere, Now

The last chords of the song finished as I pulled into the layby at the beach. Six minutes fifty three seconds of the gorgeous voice of Jeff Buckley from our door to the shore driving twenty miles an hour with goosebumps the whole way. Hallelujah.

Abundant splashes

I’d packed the leftover chocolate and olive oil cake in a tub to share as our après splash. I precariously balanced a piece of toast on the dashboard, buttered and topped with the thinnest slices of Cais na Tire cheese, slowly melting and leaving blobs of butter where it dripped through the crusts, rejoicing in the fact that I can have another slice as soon as I get back, another life affirming hallelujah. A long swim with the women is a lovely Sunday reset, a brief clearing of the mind. But even as we bob around, floating in the flat calm waters I start to sense the stacking of tasks, it feels like the bricks in Tetris, unstoppably building up, there’s so much to do, to think, to write, to plan. Uh oh, the threat of incoming overwhelm.

More toast and cheese please

Soon there’ll be too many courgettes. I know this, I knew it when I planted them but my stubborn annoyance at the failure of the early seedlings meant I overruled my head and planted all six of the courgette plants at the back of the polytunnel. As recompense they are doing very well and naturally I’m starting to panic at the thought of too much. We are in glut and abundance territory and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.

Unstoppable fennel

In the bakery we have a huge variety of local fruit; kilos and kilos of blackcurrants come from Rhee River, strawberries from Armagh, a big box of locally picked wild cherries, masses of redcurrants and gooseberries from Broughgammon and the most delicious Blueberries from County Clare. All of this fruit adds brightness and beauty to buttery pastries and dense sweet cakes. We’ve courgettes, cucumbers, endless leaves and greens, gorgeous basil, beans and peas all being used in savoury tarts and sandwiches and salads. It’s a feast, an overwhelming, delicious feast. We base everything around what our incredible producers can give us and it is fun (and necessary) to spark conversation about the perfect glowing tiny red lanterns of currants from down the road, of pretty cornflower petals from the pots at the back of the bakery and beautiful heritage varieties of peas from the fertile soils of Aghadowey. Where does your food come from and why does it matter?

The tomatoes have started and as I carefully slice a few to top some olive oil toast to eat out in the garden, I start thinking about my next meal; there’s so much choice it almost makes it more difficult to decide. My gaze moves to the slopes of the mountain, the stone walls and remnants of the lazy beds are faint suggestions, traces of hardship. I think of those cottages of disappeared communities, long forgotten people, the famine roads in the bogs and wonder how we’ve gone from so little to total excess. I think of our access to food, our understanding of provenance and seasonality, of growing, our knowledge of our food security, abundance of convenience. The places where starvation is happening now.

Tomatoes on toast on repeat

I read the gorgeous book, The Serviceberry by Robin Wall Kimmerer last week and much of it resonated with me, especially because of this plentiful time of year. Here is a quote that I feel is worth sharing, from a report detailing the observations of linguist Daniel Everett as he learned from a hunter-gatherer community in the Brazilian rainforest.

I live in paradise

‘He observes that a hunter had brought home a sizeable kill, far too much to be eaten by his family. The researcher asked how he would store the excess. Smoking and drying technologies were well known; storing was possible. The hunter was puzzled by the question-store the meat? Why would he do that? Instead, he sent out an invitation to a feast, and soon the neighbouring families were gathered around his fire, until every last morsel was consumed. This seemed like maladaptive behaviour to the anthropologist, who asked again: given the uncertainty of meat in the forest, why didn't the hunter store the meat for himself, which is what the economic system of his home culture would predict.

"Store my meat? I store my meat in the belly of my brother," replied the hunter.

In a gift economy, wealth is understood as having enough to share, and the practice for dealing with abundance is to give it away.’

Garden Rhubarb jam to share

I felt calmed by these words, that the incoming courgette outbreak will be much more manageable with gifting them to anyone who’ll take them and that I don’t have to spend my days pickling or chutneying or indeed having courgette EVERY night. But that also that there is hope in humanity, that people know the right thing to do is to share.

Berberris Darwinii, a feast for the birds this year

I head off in the morning alone and when I’m waist deep in the waves I notice the big clumps of Rosebay Willowherb on the opposite side of the bay, making pink patchwork patterns across the back of the beach. Soon the colours of the dunes will range from creamy pale yellow Burnet Rose to the purple Devils Bit Scabious, the verges and hedgerows will be vibrant reds and orange with the beloved migrants of Fuchsia and Montbretia. At the harbour the weather gods have changed their minds again and have turned the promise of sun into a grey and mizzly morning, softening the edges of Sheep Island.

Ballintoy

I want to offer a small gesture. A gift of gratitude for the support we are continually offered. At the end of the summer when the children are back at school and everyone has been jolted back onto the straight and narrow we’ll have a free day at the bakery*. A big hug to all our customers in the shape of free bread and cake…and maybe, probably some courgettes. I hope to see you there.

Meadow sweet

In the meantime I can’t wait to get my hands on this new book, aptly named ‘Abundance’ by Mark Diacono. This book of food, musings and memories reminds us that abundance can mean many things. Mark focuses on the weekly changing seasonal produce throughout the year with recipes which happily offer many delicious ways of dealing with gluts in plates of glory. Hallelujah.

Garden beans and peas

*Wednesday 3rd September