The Endive Chronicles

Historically, honey has been used as anything from an offering, to medicine and even a celebratory ingredient. This golden ambrosia is a frequent guest in my cooking and I am a big fan of both it’s sweet and savory applications. So, a few weeks ago when Phil’s co-worker/friend Dan invited us to take part in a honey harvest I jumped at the chance.

A few days before we were set to attend the honey harvest my excitement was getting the better of me, so I decided to do a little research on beekeeping. Instead I read every article I possibly could on bee stings and anaphylactic shock while pondering what would happen if bees could smell fear. I haven’t been stung in years, but I had myself thoroughly convinced that during that time I had developed some sort of deadly allergy. All of this just a few hours after I had enthusiastically agreed to don the beekeepers suit.

As Friday afternoon approached I was so excited  and told anyone who would listen; though the guy in the elevator didn’t really seem to care, nor did the clerk at the market. My friend Leslie however was quite surprised and thought it very unlike me to put myself in harms way. My sister was confused by the fact that I was putting on the beekeeper’s suit and believed I was dressing as a bee for the occasion. She had a good laugh after learning the truth, though the heartiness of her laugh told me she was laughing at something other than just the misunderstanding. I have a bit of a reputation for being a giant chicken as you may have gathered.

When we arrived in Algona, Dan took us on a whirlwind tour of the vegetable patch, telling me to “eat this” and “pick that”. There were green beans, cauliflower, yellow squash, infant sized zucchini*, broccoli, tomatoes, fingerling tomatoes, Walla Walla Sweets, rosy colored garlic, Italian plums, grapes, apples, and blueberries, it was a veritable backyard smorgasbord. Our hostess Sue told us of once waking early to make breakfast for her guests only to find one already munching away in the garden. I could hardly blame them, I learned during my pre-harvest snack tour that this garden is difficult to resist.

After my tour the time came to suit up for the big game. My ill fitting beekeeper’s suit gave me the uncanny appearance of an Oompa Loompa and my head covering was about the same age as I am. it needed a bit of tape here and there to seal any openings a bee would find tempting. Phil tucked the suit into my socks and places rubber bands  around the wrists of my gloves. I was ready for battle.

Before we began the walk to the hive, Dan passed on a few sage words of advice that would prove very handy over the next half hour or so. The most important being; if the bees  begin to find your body a place of great interest, walk (don’t run) to the nearest set of trees and brush yourself off by turning around in the branches.

Comrades in comb, Dan, Steve and I set out for the hive, each armed with some offensive or defensive tool of the trade. I carried a garden sprayer full of sugar water used to calm angry bees looking to protect their treasure from our little invasion party.  When we arrived at the hive, Steve took pity on my nerves and allowed me to stand a comfortable distance away, observing, but not yet part of the swarm. I watched them remove frames coated thickly with bees from the hive.They showed me the three stages of the hive foundation, uncapped and capped as they scraped away their quarry.  From the look of things the harvest would be small this time, but promised to be very rewarding in a few week from now.

I finally moved in closer, though not before committing what could have been a grievous error by walking in front of the hive. A move that is advised against, as it agitates the bees. Like a sentinel I stood clutching my sprayer, trigger finger itchy and ready to strike if the bees became too agitated. Finally the bees had enough of us and began to retaliate. Dan was the first to fall being stung several times, most prominently on the nose. I was determined to tough it out, but a sting on the middle finger of my right hand sent me rolling around in the trees in an attempt to shake off any more assailants before making a beeline for the house.

I was done and Steve was the last man standing. Dan, a battle hardened soldier sucked it up and went back out to finish the job. I made my way back to the house where the rest of the party was waiting and was given a bee sting remedy that I must admit caught me by surprise. I have long railed against keeping meat tenderizer in the kitchen, but the papain it contained soothed the pain and kept the swelling down. After I had changed, and my sting had calmed a bit, Dan and Steve finished the job and returned with a heaping bowl of honeycomb in hand. Steve had been stung about the ankles.

Before I go on it must be said that as the three of us  were being swarmed and stung, Phil was, without suit mind you, jumping in and out of the action in an attempt to photograph every moment. How fitting that he, short sleeves and all was the only one not to receive a single sting.

With the hives back together, stings treated and smoker extinguished it was time to taste the honey. Dan held out the bowl for me to taste, his daughter Erin informed me that I was about to taste the best honey in the world and I believe she was right. As I tasted the raw honey I thought of Julia Child’s first experience with roast chicken in France, until that moment she had forgotten how real chicken tasted. For my part, I’m not sure I ever knew honey could taste like this. The rich sweetness seemed so intense and the uniquely juicy notes given to it by the blackberry bushes frequented by the bees was luxurious.

Our evening was capped off by sitting under a canopy strung with lights to a marvelous dinner filled with organic produce grown within sight of our table. My favorite dish of the evening was the simple boiled fingerling potatoes that were so full of flavor that I actually ate them completely plain so as not to spoil their creamy earthy flavor. We were sent home with enough veggies to feed an army, a giant pie with the thinnest most tender crust I have ever had and a jar of freshly harvested honey.

Now, what should I do with it?

***Update: Many of you have now likely heard of colony collapse, if not here is a link that will shed a little light on this very disturbing issue;  http://culinaryfool.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!A7D1373D92F448FA!3145.entry

* Everyone seemed a little surprised that I like the larger sized zucchini and I told them they were good for baking. As Phil and Erin had done most of the harvesting for me I didn’t know just how large a zucchini they were talking. As we unloaded the car that night my jaw hit the ground as I saw three zucchini the size of toddlers in my backseat. So far I have made two cakes, six batches of muffins and have added it to a chicken meatloaf, but have only managed to get through one zucchini. I even added extra to the recipe.

** I’m looking forward to my next visit, Dan promised to teach me about casting metal.**

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