A Day in the Peats: Fire, Memory, and the Enchantment of a Sandwich with Buttered Bananas

I have had the concept for this site for almost ten years, ever since I came up with the recipe for "A Day in the Peats." It was designed to evoke the natural feeling of being in the moorlands, complete with picnic-style, all the accompanying textures, scents, and stories. Theatrics aside, we even served it on a specially made peat block. I just had the pleasure of reviving it at a luncheon held at CEN's Day Club. An honor to be a part of, and a full circle moment.

Where Stories and Heather Smell in the Wind Exist in the Soil

Whether the weather cooperates or not, I always walk Bailey across the moor. It is one of my favorite spots to be, rain or shine. The unpredictability of the breeze, the open silence, and the way scent appears to cling to the air—sometimes earthy and moist after a rainstorm, and other times fragrant with heather—all have an effect.

The moor has a strong, peaty scent on warm days when the land has absorbed recent rainfall. 

The river may gurgling softly if you are lucky, but after a storm it becomes urgent, even panicky. You are lost in your thoughts when a wild hen reminds you that the moor is also theirs by exploding from a patch of heather like a feathered rocket.

It always hurts to pass the ancient, deserted peat banks. Families, neighbors, and communities used to congregate here, leaving behind spectral remnants of bygone times. The carefully placed turf has almost completely disappeared, but the tairsgear's cut markings are still visible on the banks, resembling a vanished kind of calligraphy from the countryside.

Stacks of Peat and Forgotten Fires

The occasional active peat bank can still be seen, with walls of well-kept grass drying in the sun and little gatherings awaiting the ideal balance of light and breeze. It is an age-old custom that has been handed down through the generations. What drew us in as children was not the peat labor itself, but rather the spirit of adventure.