Better for decorating a gate post than eating. So sad I can not grow these into more than an ornamental size. The fruits are sweet and delicious. However, just do not seem to be able to grow enough for fruit salad at my elevation. Too high too cold perhaps.
Catepillars like the huge hairy bristly situation our doormat represents. They like to snuggle up and must feel safe and secure in amongst all those re-assuring bristly tufts. Typical paternal relationship. On the other hand, I don't. Hairy caterpillars here can be very dangerous. So daddy doormat has been put away.
Today, we went on a road trip to the other side of the Volcano to buy roses for planting. It is now raining hard, time to plant.
The 'other side' might as well be another world, people do things differently: Ladies proudly doing their shopping in cylindrical spongey curlers, gentlemen having their hair cut on front porches, men plowing with horses and some with old tractors. We followed a little corn truck going around delivering corn husks for Fathers Day in return for money, or in at least two cases I noticed for small red peppers or a sack of onions.
Almost at the end of the road, there is a very nice Señora and her daughter, who sell roses for $2 a plant; 200 yds down the road at the junction with the main road, the same plants $3; In Volcan, the town a few miles down the mountain, behind the municipal market. the same roses are now around $3.5; And by the time they have travelled to Boquete in the market they are $5. It has taken me sometime to work out the price dynamics of roses as well as the identity and location of the Source.
The Source wore a pink hat and was drying her laundry around the rose bushes in the morning sunshine. She has some very large mother plants, a great book about rose cultivation she was happy to share by a lady called Alvaraz and a garden full of healthy young rose plants.
We purchased 112 plants, were gifted 3 and given a discount on a large pot of a rarer purple blue rose. It took half a tank of gas and 6 hours with a stop for lunch. For a 60% discount, break-even point for me (I like a good lunch), is at around 20 plants. All assuming you enjoy visiting the 'other side', which I do.
'Oh, is that what I think it is there behind the porter weed?' a very knowledgeable friend remarked on coming down to the house for a cup of tea.
Apparently, the plant with blue flowers and the ever so soft large leaves, for those in the 'know', is poor mans toilet paper. Or, what every outdoorsy girl absolutely needs to know.
Very useful to have on a coffee farm, especially during the picking season............ although I am thinking I planted it far too close to the house.
This post is for Paul and the fellowship of the Lemon Cream Cella from South Philadelphia. I think you boys would be proud of my efforts. Just like I thought the first time I tasted yours: This is not a drink that is only suitable as a digestive. Yes, good after a meal but pretty drinkable anytime.
Had to improvise a little. No bellisamo bottles, so used what we have. Liked the Italian Moscato wine bottle the best and beer bottles sealed look OK. Trouble is I do not drink a lot of Italian Moscato yet. May change, good carefree dessert wine and should be good with spicy Indian curry.
Used my coffee label and not too bad although not sure how it will hold up in the freezer.
The alcohol content of mine is much lower. Despite this I am getting a good viscose creamy texture with the cold liquor although granted a higher alcohol content would be better. Need to build a still and condenser for that. Not too hard, just need to import a few pieces.
Color good. This was surprising as my lemons are actually green skinned but the liquid has come out more yellow than green. Later in the season these lemons will be orange so will probably get an orange color and that would be pretty and there is certainly room for improvement mixing with other lemons for color.
This batch needs to go out to some tasters for ideas for how to improve but for first attempt - very happy indeed. Well worth the 5-6 hours simmering that milk on the stove top. and thanks for the wonderful recipe. A recipe that is so good it was exported by the Southern Italians of South Philadelphia and is now traveling the world!
Or maybe I should say Lemon Cream Cella - in honor of the Philly lads who provided the recipe.
Got a delivery of fresh milk today from friends who have a little dairy operation. Beautiful raw un-pasturized creamy milk.
I've been itching to do for weeks. It was a surprise recipe from South Philly lads with Southern Italian roots tasted in the back of the local brew shop at 11am in the morning. A little treat offered while I was in there buying supplies to make mead from my honey. Known as Lemon Cream Cella and special thanks to Paul at info@winebarley&hops. If you should ever find yourself in the Philadelphia area, great way to spend a morning and all kinds of expertise walking in and out all day long.
Quite exquisite. Have been dying to try this method of making cream limoncello ever since returning to Panama. What could work better than this recipe with my own beautiful mandarin lemons with their lovely aromatic oily rinds.
Yesterday was the first time I have had a milk delivery in Panama. Normally I have been reverting to packet milk. Yuck, but better than fast going off 'fresh' milk. Today, I had raw milk in my tea and coffee and tomorrow with porridge I think.
Special day. We decanted the milk into my distillation buckets which are good improvised milk churns. Then I started simmering a batch with lemon rind from the mandarin lemons. This mixture was kept on the go for 5-6 hours........ During this time, had lunch with the dairy farmers, had folks over for tea and cooked dinner for 6.
Then time to add the alcohol. Unfortunately, here in Panama 45% proof is the highest legal amount of alcohol allowed. No Everclear here. This may just may be a deal breaker for this recipe but we will see. I am having to use 40% proof vodka instead.
My little bird is spending his days pecking at my car wing mirrors and the nights pecking against the reflective glass on my bedroom window. He is making a big mess and causing havoc setting off the alarms at night.
He is entirely enamored by his own image and completely in love with the idea that he has found a potential mate rather like himself. A mirror image in fact. He is just having a very hard time getting her to tweet back. Boy does he have persistence though.
Of course, he has no idea exactly how he looks although he probably does know what his kind look like. His parents, other fledglings and members of the flock. He is in love with the idea that there is another little bird that shares his particular way of expressing himself so closely she appears to be mirroring his every move.
It is a seasonal thing my little birds love interest. It is somewhat difficult to accommodate but it amuses me it is such a pure expression of a universal concept.
They were the size of my little finger nail; Fluttered like moths, swarmed like ants or termites and flew off like a flock of crows darkening the sky all over the coffee farm.
We have had our first seriously heavy rain today combined with warmer weather. Must be a trigger for this insect to emerge from the ground and do its thing.
No idea whether this was a breeding swarm, a communal hatching or some sort of species migration. What ever it was it was spooky: Great clouds of black winged insects filling the sky all over the coffee farm all at the same time. Must have been literally millions and millions of bugs. More bugs than there are people in the entire Republic of Panama on my tiny farm.
My camera could not focus on the clouds. This is an insect or two next to my flip flop for perspective. Look more harmless this way.
Today, a post about carrots. Up here in the mountains we have seen some really ugly excuses for carrots grown in clay or poorly draining soils. These, were perfect. What a treat for our Sunday lunch.
In general, Sunday is a day for catching up. Odd jobs for the guys who can fit in a few extra hours and then brunch or traditional Sunday lunch depending on our mood.
Today, a huge thanks to my neighbor who came to sort out the tack room hanging hooks and racks for saddles and stuff and ended up fixing flooding pipes and tidying up all my mess as well. The place has been transformed. Not sure where we would be without him.
Then lunch. A British tradition that fits and could almost have been invented here. A friend brought round some carrots pulled from the field in the morning. Lovely earthy flavor, very superior carrots to go with the roast.
My ancestors did not come from here and my pale thin skin is not best suited to the tropics. Because most people here have very strong skin, I am doubly cursed. Not only do I need the help of oils and cremes galore, there are none in the pharmacies here rich enough for me.
This week was hard on hands. I got accidentally covered in paint stripper, have been grooming with my bare hands, riding and working my new horse in the rain and sorting through lots of drying paper.
So, today I made my own hand creme: Started by melting some of my favorite soft and hard oils, added some beeswax and honey and hey presto......it is really good. So good, it will have to be kept in the fridge to prevent it from becoming a growing medium.
Rich, moisturizing and a great barrier for the elements. Hands feel soft and supple with a slight smell of coconut and honey and my fridge is packed with jars of hand creme. A little goes a long way.