Am single handedly keeping the massive greenhouse that is Holland in business at the moment. Dom cannot get enough fruit into him. That is, except yellow fruit. A mango or banana shall not sully his lips intact. (He’s had his banana pancakes and a Glenisk banana yogurt this weekend, but he won’t eat a full ‘nana at all)
Okay so the bit about Holland isn’t fully true, our berries are definitely Irish. I try to buy at least European fruit if not Irish, but I know that the more tropical choices are coming a long long way, organic fairtrade or not. But, guess what came from Meath this week? Grapes!
Dominic’s Oma grows grapes in her conservatory. Bunches hang heavily along metres of vine pinned along the top of the windows. She grows a lot of fruit and veg, and we get random bits and pieces throughout the year. (It’s not fairtrade either, we give nothing in return) These grapes are gorgeous, smallish, and really flavoursome. They have seeds, something my spoiled self avoids when picking grapes in the supermarket, but actually they’re not bothersome for any of us. When I send grapes into creche I halve them, but at home I just keep a close eye if they’re small like this. I still get a bit nervous mind. This was the first time we had him pick them off the stalk himself. Later he decided to show off his new picking prowess – in our friend’s yard he began to pick her not quite ready tomatoes. Oops. (She has everything from cauliflower to corn growing in pots & crates, am feeling quite inspired, for next year mind. But no bananas.)
He’s churning out the new words this weekend too – Goat! Bat! It’s a boat! (yes his first sentence, and it was, indeed, a boat) But, unfortunately, his furry green fruity friend’s proper moniker eludes him. We’re getting regular mid-dinner calls for a wiwi? weeeweeeee? mama wiwiiii?
Might have to make fruit flashcards…