Part 4: Fruit and Veg

As we are in the middle of the countryside, it is hardly surprising that most of the townsfolk have allotments (huerto in Spanish). Those that are retired spend most of their free time working their patch of melons, peppers or tomatoes, whilst those that are still working devote themselves to the harvest at weekends. The idea of leisure time seems anathema to most of the villagers. They seem to neither need nor want to rest. The allotments come in very handy during the summer, as summer is gazpacho time. Gazpacho is just one of Spain’s great contributions to world cuisine; a refreshing liquid salad that just couldn’t be any healthier if it tried. The main ingredients are; tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, onions, garlic, olive oil and a little vinegar. There are umpteen variations, with people adding stale bread, or lemon juice as they see fit. It feels so virtuous that we normally accompany ours with a glass of wine, just so we don’t get too sanctimonious.

The good thing, from our point of view, about the huertos is their over-production. Nobody could possibly eat all the veg they produce, which means that our generous neighbours are always knocking on our door with offers of fruit and veg. The tomatoes in particular are spectacular, enormous great things with the physical imperfections that tell you they are going to taste great. Those homogenous things we get back in the UK are designed to appeal to the aesthetics of Dutch housewives and have all the taste of blotting paper.

The neighbours don’t just offer their produce to the foreigners though, and so, on our street, there is a constant to and fro of fruit and veg laden people delivering the bounty of their huertos to one another. It is not inconceivable, therefore, that neighbour X takes tomatoes to neighbour Y, who already has a glut of them. Neighbour Y, therefore, proudly passes them on to neighbour Z, who having an allotment of his own, then very kindly offers them to neighbour X, who doesn’t like to refuse the generous offer, even though her house is packed to the rafters with tomatoes. You might then get a situation where neighbour X comes into possession again of tomatoes from her own property. All of which makes me wonder if a person is capable of recognising individual tomatoes, and therefore taking offence at being snubbed in this way.

Our own contribution to this vegetarian merry go round comes from the two very fecund fig trees on our patio. When we first saw the trees we thought how exotic it would be to eat figs from our own trees, or perhaps to enjoy a glass of wine in their generous shade. The figs in question are the green ones, helpfully known as higos blancos around here, and being just slightly less popular than the purple ones, which are, of course, known as higos negros. Well the romance has now departed and our love affair with the fig trees is getting a little worn around the edges. When not risking wasp stings when harvesting them, we are touting them around the neighbours with no small degree of desperation. The figs that fall off the tree each night attract ants by the million, so a good deal of our time is spent picking up these windfall figs and throwing them out with the rubbish. The weight of fruit on the branches means that we can no longer stand up under the fruit trees as some of the limbs are virtually touching the ground. And this after we had them pruned in the winter to make them grow straight upwards. Privet hedges anyone?

Articles in the series:

Introduction to Pete's Tale

Part 1: Village Life

Part 2: Bichos

Part 3: A Two-Bar Town

Part 4: Fruit and Veg

Part 5: Summer

Part 6: Politics

Part 7: Noise

Part 8: Our natural park

Part 9: New Year's Eve

Part 10: Timetables

Part 11: The Land Where the Pig is King

Part 12: How Not to Buy a House

Part 13: That First Winter

Part 14: The Extremeño Spring

Part 15: To be a Pilgrim

Part 16: A Change is Coming

Part 17: Wine Talk

Part 18: Free For All

Part 19: How Do You Spell Asparagus?

Part 20: Designer Peas