When The Capers Bloom

From mid-June to early July you will see people picking the caper buds that grow on wild bushes in the countryside. If you have never eaten capers, it is very hard to describe what they taste like. When first picked from the bushes they have a bland taste but after they are pickled in brine or vinegar (or a mixture of both) they will develop a sharp, tangy taste.

Photo source 

When I was a young girl I often used to go and cut capers with my parents, but especially with my father. Even as I write this I can feel the heat of the sun drenched rocks and the silence enveloping everything – broken only by the shrill screech of some lonely cicada (some years they start their ‘singing’ early depending on how hot the weather is). The grass would be dry beneath our feet but, in the fields, we would discern the blush of peaches and plums through the leaves. It always felt good to be out there in the valleys, enjoying a glimpse of some shy lizard that happened to cross our path and delighting in the sight of butterflies and dragonflies dancing and dipping over our heads.

Photo source 

The caper buds do not last very long and soon the buds will bloom into beautiful little flowers. It is then, when the capers bloom, that the heat seems to intensify and summer hits us in full force with its fiery breath.

The weeks ahead are an endless mesh of scorching hot days and balmy nights as the caper flowers wither and their beauty fades. But every time I add the caper buds to our sauces or our food, their tangy, aromatic taste takes me right back to my childhood, to the parched fields and the butterflies and to the time when the capers bloom.

  

You can go here and here for more information on capers and their use in different recipes.

A Glimpse of the Past

  

I was walking up this narrow, winding street one bright April afternoon. There was nothing unusual about that. I must have walked this road at least a hundred times. Then suddenly I heard what sounded like a sob and a heart-broken cry. I looked up but all I could see was a tiny red window. No one else was in sight – and yet I felt that someone was very close.

I reached out and touched the limestone wall, etched deeply by rain that had long since dried up and caressed by winds that have blown themselves out, and I felt a connection to another time. An echo from the past whispered it tale. In the deepening silence I closed my eyes and let the walls pour out their story – a story of prejudice and misguided zeal, of families forced to abandoned their homes and livelihoods, of hasty conversions to avoid persecution and death.

I continued to touch the wall gently with the tips of my fingers, feeling the sad vibes of this family that has long since moved on and wondering … wondering who these ghosts were, what made them so sad … then a sign above the door brought the past hurtling back and I remembered …

The Jewish Silk Market

 

The above narrative is, of course, just something I made up but the event I am hinting at took place. The first Jews had settled in the Maltese islands at least 3500 years ago. Archeological proof from many areas of the island confirm that there was a fairly large Jewish community living here. Most of these Jews were shopkeepers, merchants or import-export agents. This mostly peaceful co-existence with the native population changed suddenly in 1492 when the Inquisition gave all Jews three months to leave the island or else convert to Christianity and forfeit 45% of their possessions. This was certainly not one of the most glorious moments of our chequered history. In the centuries that followed mutual distrust grew between the two nations. These hard feelings may have been laid to rest when, during WW2, Malta was the only European country that did not require Jews fleeing Nazism to have a visa. Consequently thousands of Jews were able to escape to freedom. For more information about Malta and the Jews, go here.

Weekend Reflections: Mirrors and Mosaics

  

Several exhibitions were held during the Medieval Mdina weekend. One interesting exhibition, held at the Corte Capitanale (the former Courts of Justice), featured a number of very creative and colourful mosaics. Amongst them was this mirror framed by a simple yet eye-catching mosaic. The reflection is of the top of the opposite wall and of part of the adjacent archway.

Mosaics have been used as decorative art since ancient times. The oldest mosaic ever found dates back to the second half of the third millenium BC and was used to decorate a temple building in Ubaid, Mesopotamia. As witnessed during the exhibition, the art of mosaic-making is still thriving after five thousand years.

  

For more reflections from around the world visit James at Newton Area Photo.

Valletta in Sepia (4) – Our Lady of Victory Church

   

This was the first church built in Valletta and it was built on the site where a ceremony was held to inaugurate the foundation stone of the new city in March 1566. The facade was given its current Baroque style in 1752. Following years of deterioration and neglect, the church was restored in 2004.

On a more personal note, my parents were married in this church in 1968.

Reflections at the Water’s Edge

I am enamoured of reflections. Perhaps, living on an island, it’s totally predictable. I love the calm serene days of late summer evenings, when the heat of the sun dissipates and it hovers in the sky for just a few minutes before it sinks into the west. At that time, reflections are at their peak, every detail mirrored in the glass-like surface of the water. It is the best time for sitting on a rock, surrounded by total silence except for the whispering of the sea. It is at moments like this that reality fades and you can hear the call of the sirens beckoning you to their home.

Please visit James at Newton Area Photo for more Weekend Reflections from around the world.

Orange Blossoms

It’s that special time in Spring when the orange trees adorn themselves with blossoms. The air is heavy with their fragrance and with the droning sound of the bees as they move from flower to flower, collecting nectar and pollinating the buds. It is a magical time, with nature’s perfume pervading the orchards and thousands of petals adorning the ground, like confetti after a wedding. This beauty is short-lived though, as soon the small fruit  start to form, growing bigger and stronger, until the late autumn days are with us once again and it is time for a new harvest of oranges.

 

Note

It is thought that oranges originated in south-east Asia and were widely grown in the Mediterranean during the Arab conquest of the region in the ninth and tenth centuries.

Adorned With Flowers

Most days Mdina just perches on its hill and dreams, safe behind its high walls, austere and aloof as a cloistered nun.

But once a year at this time, the rhythmic beating of drums wakes the city from its slumber

 

and its streets fill up with knights

and falconers,

noblemen and ladies,

peasants

and slaves.

Scenes from the past are re-enacted

and the beautiful buildings and streets are decked with flowers. It is a veritable feast for the eyes heralding the beginning of Spring – splashes of colour contrasting beautifully with the golden limestone walls.

For the city is adorned with garlands and bouquets of the most gorgeous blooms. Lanterns, fountains, stairs, balconies and door knockers serve as backdrops for human artistry and Nature’s beauty.

 

 

As always, the city lays its spell on me … I am lost in the wonder of its charms. For on this occasion its aloofness is put aside and it seems almost coquettish, flirting with my senses, throwing open its windows and doors and allowing the briefest of glimpses into its most secret soul.

 

 

                              

 

I hope you enjoyed that brief look at the festival of flowers and pageantry known as Medieval Mdina.

Reflections in the Water

Reflections of some yachts at the Birgu Waterfront Yacht Marina. In the background, the spires of the town of Isla. The illusion of ‘seeing double’ had me transfixed. More Weekend Reflections at Newton Area Photo.