I’m a hopeless romantic… just writing the words pantry, larder, or store cupboard instantly brings to mind a beautiful country house with shelves and nooks brimming with delicious things.
I see fresh eggs from hens roaming freely in the early morning…
Jars of jam and fruit preserved everywhere, made from all the fruit and veg we gathered from the garden throughout the year. Even after giving so much away, we still had such an abundance we had to cook, like the delicious quince paste with plenty of clove and cinnamon.
I see tomatoes and more tomatoes, strings of garlic, cucumbers stacked high and litres of chilled gazpacho ready to drink.
There’d be a proper leg of cured ham, of course, and some beautifully aged cheeses from the mountains.
I don’t just see it all, I can smell it too. It takes me straight back to childhood, to my grandmother’s pantry, where I spent so much time.
Her love for good food and cooking was one of the greatest gifts she passed on to me.
It’s something I’ve come to treasure more and more over the years, and it’s brought me closer to that way of showing affection…
She always did the shopping herself, she was expert in finding the best of everything. She was unbeatable, really. Well-known and well-liked by all the local shopkeepers, they would save their finest goods for Doña Ana.
One thing that wasn’t in my grandmother’s pantry, though, was the olive oils from La Cultivada.
She would have loved them, truly. She’d have appreciated and celebrated their quality like no one else.
She’d have learned the differences between each variety and carefully paired them with her dishes.
Just like my memories can’t exist without my grandmother’s love and legacy, I can’t imagine summer without a pantry full of liquid gold…
Elena Vecino
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