Eggs straight from the estancias own chickens
Winter leaves our fruit trees dormant, waiting quietly for spring and the first rains of the year. Then everything changes at once. By summer, the estancia is bursting with produce, marked by wild asparagus sprouting across the hills and an orchard heavy with fruit. Our approach to all of it comes down to three words: pick, prepare, preserve. Our chefs spend the summer months finding new ways to capture that harvest so it carries us through the winter ahead.
Building on What We've Learned
We've written before about our efforts to smoke meats, which has become a real success and one more step toward a more self-sufficient kitchen. This year, the focus shifted to vegetables. We spent much of the season picking, preserving in flavoured oils, and turning the surplus into jams, jellies, and chutneys. A bumper crop of aubergines became escabeche, a traditional pickled antipasti finished with chilli flakes, garlic, and bay leaf.
From Orchard to Jar
The orchard at Loza gave us plums, peaches, apricots, and wild cherries in abundance. We filled jars with wild cherries and sugar to start a batch of guindado, a cherry liqueur that will be ready after three months of brewing. Traditionally made with brandy, our estancia version has always used locally sourced gin instead.
The soft fruits went into jams, some poached in red wine and amaretto, others turned into compotes for topping fresh yoghurt. We foraged mirabelles, a sweet yellow plum, from the trees near the waterfall, and the apples from Los Melados became jar after jar of jam.
As summer stretched on, the figs ripened, appearing everywhere from the cattle station to the garden at Potrero de Niz. Sweet on their own, figs also pair beautifully with cheese and meat, so alongside jam and chutney, we're planning a batch of honey-poached figs with orange and spices for the final harvest.
The Last Fruit of the Orchard
Quince is always the last to ripen. You know it's ready when the fruit turns a deep golden yellow and gives off its distinctive floral scent. We looked to Mediterranean traditions for inspiration, cooking the quince in a sweet syrup to serve over homemade yoghurt or fresh cheeses like labneh, something Kevin has been perfecting in the kitchen.
Nothing says Argentine tradition quite like quince jelly and membrillo, made together in one process. First, the fruit is boiled with sugar until the colour deepens from pale yellow to a rich reddish pink. Following a method passed down from Louie Begg, we strain the mixture through a sieve rigged from an upturned chair and a tea towel tied around its legs, separating the jelly from the thicker quince paste, the membrillo.
Looking Ahead
Walnuts will soon be falling from the trees, and the topinambur, or Jerusalem artichokes, will be ready to dig up and store for winter. There's always something to harvest and a new way to preserve it. We're looking forward to continuing this work, using what nature gives us to reduce our footprint and keep the kitchen running on what the land provides, season after season.
