DIRTY SECRETS OF THE ROYALS
On his sprawling farm in the Channel Islands, a fifth-generation farmer grows a sovereign among spuds. We get the scoop on the Jersey Royals
In the Channel Islands, the Jersey Royal is being harvested
In St Catherine, on the north-east coast of Jersey, a warm sea breeze dances over the furrowed fields of Meleches Farm. It may be 7am, but farmer Nick Mourant has been up for some time, helping to hand-harvest delicate Jersey Royals in this côtil: a fertile south-facing slope so steep it makes you feel giddy to look at it. This month, it’s all systems go as the 14-week season comes to an end. Between April and early July, the island’s largest independent grower will produce 4,000 tonnes of spuds, the equivalent of four million 1kg bags. Once they’ve been scrupulously checked and graded into sizes – ware, small ware and mids (the littlest) – the prized potatoes will be shipped across the Channel to be enjoyed by UK customers just hours after being plucked from the earth.
“Jersey Royals are one of the last truly seasonal crops grown in the British Isles,” Nick says, uncovering a handful of paper-thin-skinned potatoes with his pitchfork. “When I was younger, strawberries signalled summer and clementines meant Christmas was just around the corner. Now, you can get both all year round.” Along with Cheddar cheese, Cumberland sausages and Melton Mowbray pork pies, Jersey Royals have been granted Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) status, meaning they can’t be produced anywhere else (“Not even in Guernsey!”). “We have a unique microclimate
here and a specific type of sandy soil,” Nick says. “In the autumn, we collect vraic [a type of seaweed] from the beaches at Grouville Bay and St Ouen’s to use as natural fertiliser. The tradition dates back to the 12th century, when the vraic would be transported by horse and cart. No other potato is quite like ours.”
GRASS ROOTS
The Mourant family can trace their agricultural roots back several hundred years. “We came over from France and settled in St Saviour in the 1780s,” Nick says. “I’m the fifth generation to work the land – I’ve come to think it’s in my DNA.” Nick left school to start farming aged 15. “I loved history and geography, but always had a hankering to be outside,” he admits. “I once skipped sports day to help cut the grass. My mates saw me in the field and soon the teachers got wind of it. It wasn’t long before Dad was called in to explain himself!”
While his father reared Jersey cattle, Nick was the first Mourant to specialise in Jersey Royals: “I’d grown up surrounded by producers, so when I purchased a new plot of land, I decided to give it a go myself.” During the Seventies and Eighties, the industry thrived, with hundreds of farmers cultivating the crop, but today Nick is one of just 12 left on the island. “Not only is there a lot more choice, there’s also a huge amount of pressure on food prices,” he says. “Add to that having to contend with the elements – if there’s an overnight frost, you could lose a whole field – running a profitable business is no mean feat these days. That said, it’s still a wonderful life.”
“Jersey Royals are one of the last truly seasonal crops grown in the British Isles”
PERFECT PAIRINGS
Meleches Farm covers more than 850 acres across Jersey (or 1,900 vergées in the local lingo): the size of 425 football pitches. “I can taste the difference between a potato grown in the north of the island and one from the west,” says Nick’s wife, Emma, who left a marketing job in St Helier to help out on the farm. “We eat a fair few potatoes during the year, but they’re so delicious we never tire of them.” Among natives, the best way to enjoy Jersey Royals can be contentious: “Some people like them with mint, while others see that as sacrilege!” Emma says, laughing, “We prefer our spuds boiled in seawater and slathered in fresh Jersey butter.” With their firm, waxy texture and sweet, nutty flavour, the crop is coveted far and wide. “Potatoes are the island’s biggest export; last year,
a custodian of the land. “I like to think I’ve followed in the footsteps of my forward-thinking great-grandfather, who was one of the first to invest in electricity here in the 1930s,” he says. “I’ve planted thousands of oak, ash and beech trees and seed for birds. We’ve got beehives in our fields, too.”
Towards the end of the day, Nick and Emma stack the last of the potatoes into bulging brown bags, ready to be exported to the mainland on the first ferry tomorrow morning. A long day labouring is sure to build up an appetite and the pair look forward to a supper of fresh local lobster with a side of Jersey Royals picked just hours ago. “The vast majority of our crop goes to British supermarkets, but we hold some back for our hedgerow honesty boxes,” Emma says. “We have a loyal following of locals keen to get their hands on our farm-fresh produce.” And who can blame them? On an island famous for its food, Jersey Royals are its biggest star.