Field to Table - Findhorn

It’s bloody cold in Findhorn in May. It’s on the northwest coast of Scotland near Nairn and Auldearn. Not too far from Culloden, Elgin, Inverness and Loch Ness.  It’s build on sands of the North Sea where the gusts will knock you over. Here’s the surprising part; the birds love it! They fly into the squall, or try, and seem to not move. Flapping their wings the hover enjoying the airstream until, either out of energy or agreeing to defeat, they fall back to ride with it instead of against it, enjoying the loss of control. The enthusiasm of their flight and their joyful calls rise above the sound of the wind. All around you see hooded crows, shrikes, blackcaps and twites, small English robins, gulls and even timid (but huge) wood pigeons calling out each others names, saying “Look at me! Look at me!”

            Findhorn grows it’s own food. Not all of it. They don’t have any luck with potatoes because the soil is too sandy. This is a dirty shame because they eat potatoes at every meal. Nonetheless, most all of the wonderful food is produced at this lovely eco community and spiritual center. They have a number of fields planted with all sorts of lovely vegetables, berries and a bit of fruit. If you are involved at Findhorn, through any number of weeklong workshops or on the path to actually live there, you have the opportunity to work in these fields and to get to know the plants that live there, the ones that are planted and the ones that choose to take up residence. All are guarded by a gaggle of chickens who stroll about gossiping to each other.

            This time of year there’s plenty of root vegetables to be harvested. We had beets and carrots with most of the meals – shredded, roasted, steamed, cooked in a stirfry. You name it. Spring onions are in season and so is the first radish crop. These were offered at the table with their tops still attached. No surprise that we also had a huge variety of greens; little round spinach leaves the size of a silver dollar. Not all big and blousy like, but smaller and more compact; lacy red tipped lettuces and bright green arugula (locally called rocket), all to be added to the bowl. One morning we had a bunch of lettuce brought into the kitchen that was definitely off, too far gone to eat raw. It was easy to tell since bits here and there were already to seed and it tasted mighty bitter. “Would you like to do that up in a stirfry?” I was asked by the cook. You know what I answered. “You bet!” in my best American vernacular. I cleaned it in the huge sink using a small sharp knife to tip the woody stalk and harvest the best leaves. Adding a bunch of freshly harvested garlic to the huge wok with oil, I tossed in these green girls and mixed them with all that goodness. You never would have guessed they were the nasty things brought into the kitchen less then an hour earlier.