Good morning!
Today I'm revisiting a topic we've discussed before, but one I always have to come back to because our very lives depend on it: Pollination.
Without pollination, there are no fruits or vegetables, it's as simple as that. You can have the best soil, perfect irrigation, and picturesque sunshine, but if that magical transfer of pollen to the flower doesn't happen, there's no harvest.
End of the movie. Or rather, of the salad.
And perhaps, {nombre}, you might wonder why I'm talking about flowers, pollen, and bees today. Well, because a product has returned, and its pollination process is quite interesting.
Follow me, let's go to the garden.
The funny thing is that not all flowers are the same, and therefore, not all are pollinated in the same way.
Some flowers are complete, carrying "the whole team" in the same flower and can manage on their own, while others prefer exchange between neighboring plants. Some rely on wind, others on insects.
To understand it simply, think of three very basic paths:
Self-pollinated, which are sufficient with a small shake from the wind or the buzz of a bumblebee. Wind-pollinated, which release pollen in abundance and the air does the distribution, as occurs with many grains. And insect-pollinated, where bees and bumblebees act as postmen, carrying pollen from flower to flower.
In Spanish gardens, many of our beloved vegetables and fruit trees depend on that hustle and bustle of pollen-covered legs from good insects.
And now, to the zucchini business, which is back on the website and makes me happy. Zucchini is a very cool case. Both male and female flowers appear on the same plant. It's like having a party dance on a single bush. Male flowers release pollen by the handful, while female flowers wait with their small, already-formed zucchini behind the flower.
When a bee or bumblebee enters and exits several flowers on its morning route, it deposits the pollen where it needs to be, and presto, the magic begins. If that encounter doesn't happen, the mini zucchini remains a promise. It yellows, shrinks or twists, and eventually falls off.
And what do we do when the bees are late or the weather isn't cooperating? Well, we have to play cupid in the garden. Flower by flower, first thing in the morning, when the flowers are wide open, we transfer pollen from the male flower to the female.
This is a job done with a soft brush, although others choose to do it with the male flower itself, like a cinematic kiss.
It's a patient and delicate job, but I promise you it's one of the most satisfying. After 24 or 48 hours, if all has gone well, you see the female start to grow. And a smile escapes me, because then you know there will be joy in the kitchen.
This is where I always say that nature knows perfectly well what it's doing and our role is to accompany it. We are not going to contradict it. We follow it, we observe it, and we lend a hand when necessary, using artisanal and respectful methods.
Just like our grandparents did. This profession requires a lot of patience, early mornings, and looking at flowers, and a little bit of magic too. Because seeing a luscious zucchini emerge from a flower that didn't exist yesterday, tell me if that isn't true magic ✨
By the way, the zucchini that has returned is of the Sinatra variety. It's our favorite for hot weather due to its tenderness and mild flavor, very enjoyable both raw in salads and grilled. Sinatra enters the kitchen and sings in your ear, you'll see.
I work with many farmers across Spain who think and feel the same way. Each with their own tricks and land, but all with that old-fashioned way of doing things, by hand, with care, without silly hurries, at the pace of a bee. 🐝
Thank you for joining us for another week and for reading with a desire to learn. May curiosity never be lacking at the table and good humor in the garden.
Pollination seems like a small detail, but it's the heartbeat of it all. Without it, there's no tomato, no zucchini, no celebration. With it, the field sings.
A big hug and until next week,
