Good morning!
I'm going to tell you a little secret from the Valencian huerta that seems straight out of a movie: in Valencia, there are corners that bend the rules of climate.
We call them microclimates, and they're like little VIP lounges of weather. On one side of the road, it freezes, and on the other, three steps away, the trees don't even notice.
Sumacàrcer is the best example I know. There, by the Júcar River, the valley acts as an embrace, and the hillside eagerly faces the sun. The river works like a blanket that warms the air at night, the terrain blocks cold winds, and the slope allows freezing air to drain downhill.
The result is a tropical bubble in the middle of Valencia. And there, two little stars of Campos del Abuelo are grown, and one of them is still in season.
The curious thing is that this bubble is truly noticeable. You leave Sumacàrcer and go a little higher, and the cold bites harder, frosts last longer, and the avocado is no longer as happy.
When the plant doesn't waste energy defending itself from the cold, it focuses on its job: filling the fruit with what you like.
Sometimes you ask me what exactly a microclimate is. Think of your house. In the kitchen, it's hot when the oven is on; in the hallway, there's a silly breeze; and in the back room, it's always cooler. All under the same roof, but each corner with its own character.
The countryside is the same.
A well-oriented valley, a nearby river, a few less meters of altitude, and suddenly the winter minimum rises one or two degrees. For us, that's gold, because between a thermometer showing zero or two, there's the difference between a happy tree and a suffering one. And we already know who cooks better when they're not in a hurry.
Sometimes people tell me we're lucky with Valencia's climate, and what do you want me to say, a little bit, yes. This climate is a true privilege.
It allows almost any fruit or vegetable in the world to find its niche. Here, citrus fruits coexist with Asian persimmons, Central American avocados, rice that came from afar, and traditional local produce.
The Mediterranean provides the light, the valleys provide the shelter, and the irrigation water, well-cared for generations, does the rest. That's why I like to say that if a fruit exists somewhere on the planet, there's a good chance it will find its home in Valencia.
And all this isn't just poetry for the farmer. For you, who have breakfast with half a toast and a coffee, it's a huge benefit. Eating what is grown on our land means more freshness, fewer kilometers on the road, and more control over when and how it's harvested. We cut to order, without rushing or storing it in cold rooms, and the next day you have it at your door.
Very few hands are involved between the branch and your table. And what's more, every box that leaves our fields keeps a trade and a traditional way of working alive, the same one taught to us by our elders, with patience, observing the sky, and listening to the plant.
I'm leaving now, the sun is starting to warm up, and the crew is giving me strange looks because I've been on my phone in the shade for a while 🌞
Thank you for joining us, for reading these stories, and for supporting local and meaningful agriculture. Have a wonderful week, and may you never lack a good ripe avocado at home.
A big hug and many thanks for your support,
