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Almonds near Comares |
Is it snow
on the sierra?
Tony Allen's
guide to an early spring delight
The
mountains make a magnificent and constantly changing backdrop to life
in Andalucia: clothed in brilliantly coloured wildflowers in spring,
harsh and austere in the baking heat of summer or capped by shining
peaks of snow in winter.
But soon, in early
February, we’ll be able to enjoy perhaps the most stunning display of
all when the blossom of countless thousands of almond trees carpets
the slopes and valleys like freshly fallen snow.
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A
charming, much embroidered legend tells how Al Mutamid, a Caliph of
Cordoba in the 11th century, surrounded his city with almond trees. In its
most romantic form, his wife was a Christian Princess from northern Europe
who wept for the snows of her homeland. Secretly, overnight, the Caliph
had an army of gardeners plant the whole of the plain in which Cordoba
stands with almonds so that each year their blossom would transport his
Princess back to the homeland she pined for.
| Whatever the truth of
the legend, the almond tree was one of the Moors’ most precious gifts
to Spain. Wild almonds grow naturally in the Middle East but their
bitter nuts are dangerous to eat unless they’re roasted to leach out
the poisonous prussic acid which they produce.
However, safe-to-eat
cultivated species, some sweet, some bitter, have been grown since
biblical times. They arrived in Spain with the Moors in about the
eighth century AD and thrived in the Spanish climate.
The Spanish developed a huge appetite for almonds - plain or salted,
roasted or raw and in a wonderful variety of sweets and dishes from
turon to ajo blanco. |
Almonds and olives
below Corumbela |
In
fact they’re so popular that although today Spain produces over 200,000
tonnes a year and is second only to the United States in the world’s
almond growing stakes, it still has to import several thousand tonnes a
year to assuage this public hunger.
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Almond grove in
February |
You will
find almond trees almost everywhere you look in Andalucia.
They’re easily
identified not only by their spectacular spring blossom, but later by
the bright green leaves standing out boldly against the soft
grey-green of the surrounding olives and the dark glossy green of
carobs.
Most are grown in small
groves or dotted individually here and there amongst the olives but in
some areas great swathes of almonds have been planted, covering a
complete valley or mountain side and creating a breathtaking spectacle
of dazzling white February flower, flushed here and there with pink
like the morning sun on freshly fallen snow. |
A
number of companies offer guided drives or walks through some the most
attractive areas at almond blossom time but it’s easy enough to pick your
own routes. Among my favourites is the drive from Archez via Corumbela and
Arenas to Vélez Málaga. From Corumbela to Arenas almost the whole valley
is carpeted with almond trees.
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Another good area lies
to the west of Vélez Málaga, around Comares. The village perches
precariously on top of a huge buttress of rock and, seen from a
distance, the steep slopes beneath shine like drifting snow in the
February sun.
Here among the almond
groves are a number of good walks which I’ve described in the past. |
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Almonds, olives and wine are the three economic pillars of this
delightfully unspoiled village, as they have been since the time of the
Moors farming.
| As you walk through
its narrow, twisting streets and alleys, village women dart from the
doorways to offer freshly roasted almonds, honey and other local
produce. Almond production in Spain is very much a cottage industry
and most of the almonds from Comares are grown on small parcels of
land by peasant farmers or very small landowners. The majority of them
depend primarily on the “day job” and till their plots only as a
sideline. Typical
of these small farmers is Miguel de Perez, whom I met at the bar in
Comares’s Plaza Mayor. As we sit drinking our coffee in the sun, he
tells me that he inherited several small patches of land from his
father, a campesino or peasant farmer. He himself has lived all his
life in the same house in Comares but didn’t follow his father into
farming and for 32 years was the village policeman, growing almonds
and olives only in his spare time. |
Almond blossom below
Comares |
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Miguel de Perez |
He’s
now retired, but is obviously a fit and very active jubilado and a
typically sturdy man of the mountains, still working his land in his
late seventies.
He grows olives on most
of his land, encouraged by the EC subsidy. This extends to almonds,
although Miguel still owns about 40 almond trees on a plot about 10 km
south of Comares. Some he planted himself nearly 50 years ago but
others are at least a hundred years old and could be very much older
as almond trees may live for several hundred years.
The annual cycle for
his almonds begins in November when he prunes his trees, sprays them
to protect them from insect damage and the summer’s weed growth from
the land. Then it’s a matter of waiting. And hoping. |
| In about the first
week of February the flower buds burst open and the bare branches of
the trees are garlanded with pink and white blossom. It’s an anxious
time for if frost strikes much or all of the crop may be lost. Larger
and more sophisticated farms, especially in the United States, may
protect the blossom against frost by setting heaters or lighting fires
in the orchards or spraying the trees with a fine mist of water but
most small Spanish growers simply trust to luck.
All being well, after a
couple of weeks the bees, hungry for the delicious nectar, have done
their stuff and the blossom falls, a carpet of white beneath the
trees. |
Gathering almonds |
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Afternoon sun on
blossom at Comares |
As spring turns into summer the velvety green fruits swell on the
trees and another period of anxious waiting follows. None of Miguel’s
land is irrigated. A dry spring and early summer can reduce his crop
to no more than a few desiccated nuts but plentiful rain can reward
him with a harvest of anything from 100 - 200 kg per tree.
Harvest
time comes in August when the dry husks split open to reveal the
gold/brown nutshells nestling inside. Now Miguel spreads nets and
sheets beneath the tree and shakes and beats the branches to bring
down the fruit - it’s a lot easier than climbing up to get them he
explains with a chuckle.
Piling the sacks of nuts in his ancient car -not a mule as I’d hoped
though many of the crops around Comares are still gathered in from the
steeper slopes in mule panniers - he ferries them to Vélez Málaga for
sale to the local agricultural cooperative. |
Then, it’s back to the square for a celebratory copa with his chums. Not a
bad life for a jubilado!
TONY
ALLEN
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Previous walks
by Tony Allen
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September 2006 |
October 2006 |
November 2006 |
December 2006 |
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January 2007 |
February 2007 |
March 2007 |
April 2007 |
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May 2007 |
June 2007 |
July 2007 |
August 2007 |
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September 2007 |
October 2007 |
December 2007 |
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