Showing posts with label kairos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kairos. Show all posts

Thursday, 13 February 2020

Raising End of Winter Spirits ~ Making Gin Alexanders

Foraging basket with Alexanders

I have dipped one toe into my first gentle forage of the year; gathering Alexanders leaves from the hedgehermitage garden to make a flavoured gin; so easy that even I can emerge from my end of winter nesting to make it happen.

Foraging is perhaps my favourite thing to do; it is mindful, creative, it helps me care for my body (both because it involves walking & because it offers me healthy things to eat), but most of all because it creates a relationship & an intimacy with the land and the plant people, especially those close to home.

But I must admit that part of me resists foraging at all because, once I put my foot on the helter skelter ride of gathering, time becomes a different thing. I am a terrible procrastinator but there is very little room for doing-it-tomorrow with plants. They move so quickly from one stage to another that the prized petal, leaf, seed, or berry, can be gone before I've even picked up my foraging basket. So much longing waiting for their return, so much sitting with patience waiting for the right time, and then whoosh and they're gone! It really gets me in touch with what's real, and with what endures for all its ephemeral cycles.

There have been years when I've missed the spring cleavers, most of the nettle seeds, the rowan berries, & I dream of them all winter and still regret not being braver, or more present, or less world weary. But, when it works, it is also precious to live by something other than chronos, the worldly time of clocks & four walls; to step into the flow of kairos, the sacred time of sunlight, moon cycles, seasons, & the ebb & flow of growth. To be swept along by the generous tide of green is a gift to be cherished.

Alexanders, also known as black lovage, wild celery, & horse parsley, are almost ever-present in our garden but they are particularly lovely in the spring when their young leaves are pulsating with new growth and, a little later, when their green-gold flower heads are beginning to open. I also love them in the winter when they turn to dry stalks topped with shiny black seed heads.

Alexanders seedheads
They look beautiful and the tiny birds love to use them as perches. They are all leaves at the moment though and have almost entirely obliterated our garden bench!


The Romans called this stately green being 'Parsley of Alexandria' & introduced it to Britain as a pot-herb where it has thrived, particularly on the coast, which is why we have so many here. Although it was brought here primarily as food (its flowers can be steamed or eaten raw in salads, & its sprouts, buds, & tops  blanched all year round, together with its spring stalks, its black seeds can be ground & used like pepper) it has been used as medicine since ancient times & was eventually planted in medieval infirmary gardens. It can still be found growing in monastic ruins. Originally, it is native to wild Macedonia, the birth place of Alexander the Great.

A possible over-abundance of Alexanders
in the hedgehermitage garden 

As a medicinal herb the juice of Alexanders' roots & seeds have been used on cuts & wounds, & its bruised leaves used to stop bleeding. Its seeds soaked in wine were used to stimulate menstrual bleeding, & its leaves eaten against scurvy. The leaves were also said to 'sharpen the appetite'. That it helped with digestion was one reason for its inclusion, with nettles & watercress, in 'Lenten pottage', a gruel eaten in Ireland during Lent up until the 18th C, which was believed to ease the 'viscous humours' gathered in the stomach through the over-consumption of fish.


And so I pottered with my basket in the garden collecting Alexanders; they are wild & so to me that definitely counts as foraging. And we have SO many this year that gathering some feels essential! It is important though to be sure of identifying Alexanders correctly, as they are a member of the Umbellifer family which includes the highly poisonous Hemlock Water-Dropwort, although that is always found growing close to water. But there are others, like Hemlock, which it might be confused with. As I say, foraging builds relationship and the deeper that relationship is the better our ability to identify plants from their sisters.

Gathering these Alexanders I had to be particularly mindful as this year many of the plants have rust fungus (Alexanders rust, Puccinia smyrnii), which I celebrate as a being but don't really want in my gin.

Alexanders rust fungus




I was pleased with the leaves I did find though, & I feel more connected to the garden after the long winter months.


Having gathered the leaves, I carefully checked & washed them before slightly crushing the stalks (a bit of guesswork there but they smell lovely).


I then packed them loosely into a mason jar which I topped up with gin. You can also add sugar for sweetness at this point but I felt that I wanted to keep the pure flavour of the Alexanders as we move into spring. I'll leave them for three weeks or so & then strain them. I'm hoping that it will make a delicious spring tipple. So exciting!



Solid Dennis helped with my Alexanders gin making too, although to be honest his attention span wasn't all that...



To read more about Alexanders & using them to flavour gin pop to these links:

https://www.wildfooduk.com/edible-wild-plants/alexanders/

https://www.edenproject.com/learn/for-everyone/edible-wild-food-alexanders

https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2011/dec/07/how-to-make-gin-alexanders


Monday, 6 January 2020

To Draw a King ~ Galette des Rois for Epiphanytide

Galette des Rois at the Walk of the Kings 

A few days ago I wrote about the Walk of the Kings; a sponsored walk which takes place each year around Epiphany. At the end all the walkers gather for a simple lunch of bread and soup, but we are also treated to Galette des Rois.

Galette des Rois, or 'King Cake', is intimately associated with the Epiphany season, especially in France. The cake takes its name from the Kings, who Matthew's Gospel tells us visited the Christ child on this day. It began around three (or seven in some reports) centuries ago as a dry French bread-style cake with sugar on top and a small bean, charm, or figurine, known as la fève or the King Cake trinket, inside it. Although it began in this way it now comes in all manner of different varieties depending on the country it's made in. Some are made from sweet brioche sprinkled with coloured sugar. Others use puff pastry filled wuth apple, almond, or chocolate/pear paste.

King Cake season lasts from the end of the Twelve Days of Christmas to Shrove Tuesday. In the Southern states of the US it is associated with Mardis Gras/Carnival, which again lasts from Epiphany Eve until Lent Eve, which there is known as 'Fat Tuesday'. It's believed that the King Cake was introduced to New Orleans from France in 1870. The themes of Mardi Gras are reflected in its colours, which were adopted only just after the King Cake tradition arrived there; purple for justice, green for faith, and gold for power.

Tradition tells us that the purpose of the King Cake is to 'draw the kings' to Epiphany, which is one reason why the cakes are so ostentatiously decorated. As for the bean or charm; the la fève is again part of the endlessly weaving theme that we find again and again in our folk traditions; that of the World Turned Upside Down. Whoever found it was tasked with providing the next year's cake but also became 'King for a Day', with all the blessings and responsibilities that that entailed. That this was a subversive act is suggested by another tradition; that of cutting the cake into the exact number of slices for those present, but also ensuring that there was an extra slice, known as "the share of God," "share of the Virgin Mary," or "share of the poor", and which was intended for the first poor person to arrive at the home, making it possible for the poorest of strangers to become king.

In England the 'Twelfth Cake' upheld a similar tradition but, uniquely, other items were often included, with whoever found the clove being “the villain, the twig, the fool, and the rag, the tart”. Anything spicy or hot, like ginger snaps and spiced ale, was considered proper Twelfth Night fare, recalling the costly spices brought by the Wise Men. Another English Epiphany dessert was the jam tart, but made into a six-point star for the occasion to symbolize the Star of Bethlehem, and thus called Epiphany tart. The discerning English cook sometimes tried to use thirteen different coloured jams on the tart on this day for luck, creating a dessert with the appearance of stained glass.” (The Old Foodie). As for the Twelfth Cake, it also contained a bean, but this would be in one side with a pea in the other. The man who found the bean, and the woman, who found the pea, would become King and Queen, or Lord and Lady of Misrule.

Le gâteau des Rois, by Jean-Baptiste Greuze, 1774

These days, the celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas having been discouraged during the Industrial Revolution (more important to work than feast), our Twelfth Night cake has largely been replaced by Christmas cake, and so subsumed into the shorter two or three day celebrations. No wonder that we often feel that we've eaten two weeks worth of food in one day at Christmas; we actually have!

The Epiphany Cake, and its loss from our own traditions, reminds me that I would like to reclaim my own eating from kronos (secular time) this year, and return it to kairos (sacred time). No wonder that we so often feel unsatisfied by the food we eat. We have forgotten how to 'draw out the king'.

References:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_cake

https://www.frenchasyoulikeit.com/galette-des-rois-a-sweet-french-tradition/

http://www.theoldfoodie.com/2007/01/twelfth-day-of-christmas.html?m=1