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My mother taught me to always be the kindest, most polite possible me and although that sounds like a real positive trait, it got me into trouble when I was in drama school. As an integral part of the evaluation schedule we were judged regularly not only by teachers but by fellow students also. Numerous times I was told by all of them to show a bit more of my darker side, if I even had one, as a counterweight for all my pleasantries.
This sincerely confused me: when did ‘nice’ became synonymous with ‘not so good’ ?

It wasn’t until my third year there that all this criticism culminated in a very unfortunate placed explosion of rudeness. My fellow students and I had extensively discussed this girl with whom for weeks I had studied a romantic scene with and who suffered an exceptionally bad breath, up to the point where I found it unbearable not to confront her directly.

However, I waited for a classroom evaluation moment and whilst everybody else was mostly addressing acting skills, I snapped at her saying I wouldn’t be able to ever work with her again if she would not get rid of her horrific halitosis, even making the smell of garlic fade. Not exactly expecting applause for my outburst, I do remember being mostly stupefied no one was backing me up. Rightly she cried, steering the attention away from my successful self-victory. All I was left with was a deep sense of shame.

Since then I have become a less clumsy critic, although perhaps still too direct for many. Part of being Dutch, I assume. But what’s more: I have learned to love garlic and mastered the frightfulness of its fragrance.
Because of personal circumstances we planted our garlic at Les Pierres rather late in the season, even only last January. I wasn’t expecting anything more than failure from it, so I am delighted to discover that although the bulbs turned out small the yield is still substantial.

Besides drying the bulbs my favourite way of preserving garlic is to let the cloves ferment in raw honey on the countertop. It guarantees a direct supply to cook with, while the fermented honey is excellent in sauces and dressings, or even simply to relish as is. Mind your breath though.

Trying to make ones life sustainable is more than a personal choice and almost automatically leads to a multitude of decisions you have never even thought of before. On this website we share what works for us, or woefully no longer works, obviously without claiming the same for you.

We hope that our journey towards a supplementary comprehensive celebration of nature’s beauty might just clear a pathway forward for you too, perhaps challenges a revealing reconsideration, or simply provides for an equally indispensable diversion.

 

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