Corn conspiracy

I too am back from my summer holidays, but with a somewhat smaller haul of goodies. Two items only, and this is the first.

Take a look at this carving, part of the arch around a window in Rosslyn Chapel outside Edinburgh, more formally known as the Collegiate Chapel of St Matthew.

Maize? in Rosslyn Chapel

Do those things in the wider arch look to you like ears of maize?

And how about this? Do those stylised, possibly spiky three-leaved things look like an aloe, or, as the Rosslyn Chapel Photographic CD would have it, a cactus?

Aloe? in Rosslyn Chapel

If they did, that would be a mystery indeed, because the chapel was completed in 1484, eight years before Columbus sailed to the New World, source of cacti and maize. There is, of course, a simple explanation: Henry I Sinclair, Earl of Orkney and grandfather of the Rosslyn Chapel’s founder, William Sinclair, sailed to North America in around 1398, brought back samples (or at least depictions) of maize and aloe (or cacti), which the chapel masons 1 incorporated into these carvings, all subsequent history of the incident being scrupulously hidden from history’s view.

Not having read or seen it, I was unaware that The Da Vinci Code makes much of Rosslyn Chapel and its Masonic and Templar associations, but frankly, I’m not in the least bit convinced that those carvings are what people say they are. And in that, I’m not alone. The BBC pours cold water on the idea too.

Undaunted, however, I’ll be scrutinizing the son-et-lumiere at Machu Pichu for evidence of neeps among the tatties.

Taking tomato improvement to the masses

It’s basically your standard I-found-redemption-in-a-tomato-heirloom story:

Another life somewhere in the pastoral wilds of Co Kilkenny, in a summer long ago, the wife of a Finnish jewellerymaker brought slices of tomato to the lunch table: slices a centimetre thick, a hand’s breadth across, jewel-bright with olive oil and scattered with chopped green basil. This simple revelation of what tomatoes should be, enfolded in mouthfuls of sweetness and scent, set my early hankering for the good life.

But this piece in the Irish Times did teach me something for a change. It taught me there’s something called the EU-Sol project “to improve the quality of the tomatoes and potatoes we eat.” But there’s more to it than that: check out the bits of its website aimed at the general public and schools.

Featured: How tree tomatoes got to Kenya

Kate Gold asked herself how those tree tomatoes got to Kenya from the Andes, and then answered her own question:

“missionaries or settlers moving north from the Cape of Good Hope after the Boer Wars may have taken seeds of C. betacea with them to Kenya and Tanzania.”

Seeds had come to the Cape from the Botanical Gardens in Jamaica. How tree tomato reached Jamaica is not clear, but it was well established there by 1884 (but, interestingly, is seldom seen there today).

Lots more information and a map showing dispersal routes around the world:

Bohs, L (1989) Ethnobotany of the Genus Cyphomandra (Solanaceae). Economic Botany, 43(2), 1989, pp. 143-163

Sort of like Physalis, then?

You say tree tomato agroforestry

As promised, here’s my interview with the mother-in-law about her attempts to diversify into tree tomatoes. Which incidentally I gather we should be calling Solanum betaceum rather than Cyphomandra betacea. Thanks to Linda for the cinematography.

Sorry about the rather unprofessional ending. And sorry about the poor sound quality, which is due to the fact that I was using the built-in mike on my camera. In case you didn’t get some of the story, here’s a quick recap.

A local guy called Mr Muiruri came by a few months ago with an offer for grandma. Here he is at right with one of the packets of tree tomato seeds he also sells. He asked to plant some seedlings on her land. He would take care of them and then when they started bearing would pay her KSh 40 a kilo. He is able to sell the fruits for about KSh 60 to kiosk owners in Nairobi, who then sell them on for even more. Grandma agreed, and Mr Muiruri duly planted about 80 or so trees in two or three separate parcels on her land. Here is is harvesting one of these lots, which happens to be intercropped with cabbages. He says the leaves improve the soil.

Mr Muiriuri has similar deals with several other farmers in Gataka. He moves among them on foot, carrying the harvest in plastic bags, then makes his way to the main road, which thankfully is now paved, where he catches a matatu to Limuru and then another to Nairobi. It’s a lot of work, but he’s passionate about his tree tomatoes. And other fruits too. He’s got a small nursery where he plays around with new species as he gets hold of them. A true entrepreneur.

Too bad none of them are local. The “nathi” that the mother-in-law mentions towards the end of the interview is Physalis peruviana, a South American native that was introduced to the Cape about 200 years ago (hence the name, Cape gooseberry) and spread from there to other parts of Africa, where it is used for food and medicine. Not that there are no native edible fruits in the highlands around Limuru. ICRAF’s database lists about a dozen. I talked about some of them with Mr Muriuri. There’s not much he can do without seeds, though, and they’re difficult to find. But I like to think maybe the seed of an idea has been planted.