Daniel Gritzer

After catching a train from Burgundy to Paris, audiologist then a flight to Madrid and finally an overnight bus, page we are now at Finca As Fadegas, a farm near Ribadeo, Galicia on the north-eastern coast of Spain’s north-western-most region. Green mountains abut the shore, so that if you are even a short distance inland it is easy to forget how close the sea is. That would be a shame because Galicia has some of the best seafood in the world.

While seafood has been at the core of the Galician diet since prehistory, the true staple food was for ages chestnuts from the forests. The arrival of the potato from the Americas in the sixteenth century lessened the chestnut’s importance, and blight affecting chestnut trees in the eighteenth century further weakened its place in Galician cuisine. Chestnut trees are increasingly hard to find along Galicia’s coast because timber companies have replaced much of the natural forest with eucalyptus trees, which are not native to the region. Eucalyptus has been repeatedly planted and deforested over the past fifty years for biomass and the production of paper and other wood products. Many Galicians lament the destruction of much of the region’s natural woodlands by these commercial ventures.

Here at Finca As Fadegas Farm, young hybrid chestnut trees are growing larger each year, a cross between native types and varieties resistant to blight. Finca As Fadegas is owned by Elia Rodriguez and Vicente Mendez, who were both born and raised a short distance from the farm. Elia and Vicente moved to the farm when they married thirty years ago. For years they raised pigs, cows, and rabbits, but gradually they shifted their focus to farming fruits and vegetables, phasing out the pigs and rabbits and all but one cow. They decided to farm organically ten years ago, mainly because they were tired of applying strong chemicals to regulate the earth’s fertility. Wearing protective suits and gas masks to grow food seemed counterintuitive and they were concerned for their health and the health of the environment. They say the first seven years after switching to organic methods were the most difficult: their land ceased to produce, sterile after years of chemical reliance. By the eight year they had rehabilitated the soil through composting, natural fertilizers and other organic methods, and their produce grows well today.

At over two hectares (about five acres) Finca As Fadegas is also one of Galicia’s largest organic farms. It may not sound like much, but for a small family working entirely by hand–including using a donkey to plow the land–there is a lot of work to do. Fields below the house are brimming with lettuces, tomatoes, bell peppers, pimientos de padron, eggplant, leeks, and carrots, just to name a few. Fruit trees produce chestnuts, as well as apples, pears, plums and peaches. There is a chicken coop behind the house and the chickens roam the property freely during the day, living amicably with the dogs, cat, horse, donkey, and sheep that are also here. Elia and Vicente also collect honey from bees they keep. Twice a week they sell their produce at a small farmers’ market in Ribadeo.

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My turn to steer the plow, pulled by Tranqui the donkey with Vicente leading the way

Along with Elia and Vicente, we work with their son Pablo, his friend Brais, and Joan and Hanna, two wwoofers from Germany. The common language among us is Spanish, but at times the anglophones lapse into English, German makes a rare appearance, and the Galicians flow in and out of Gallego, the regional language that is closer to Portuguese than Spanish, with a lilting rhythm that at times tricks my ears into thinking they hear Italian. As I listen to their language and look at the lush green terrain, I feel like we are in a Spain that isn’t really Spain at all, a perplexing mix of celtic and mediterranean ways. Galicians know this, and take great pride in their regional uniqueness. The ones I have met are excited to share it with those who are interested, and I am fortunate for it.