Dear Listeners,
Welcome to the Memories Through Time monthly podcast.
I'm Olivia Pinella,
Founder of Uma Gaia,
And I'll be the voice guiding each episode.
Alongside me is my co-creator Amnions,
A functional and emotional wellness brand.
Our vision for Memories Through Time is to cultivate a space where the stories of others and our own can be woven together into a sensory landscape for each month.
An exploration shaped through a single sense.
Last month,
We explored the sound of May.
This month,
We savor the taste of June.
Keeping with the rhythm of the present moment and its quiet momentum.
During the month of June.
Amnions will continue nurturing connections from the Milan Excels Expo.
While preparing for a series of exciting events.
Perhaps keep your eye out for Omnions at Men's Fashion Week here in Paris.
At the same time,
I'll be organizing a summer solstice experience.
Taking the train through the south of France to visit clients and family.
And intentionally refining the details for upcoming retreats.
We are certain you have your own plans and flow for June,
Escapes to the countryside on the weekends,
Preparations for summer holidays,
And perhaps even a wellness retreat of your own,
Company voyages,
Long lunches,
And without question,
Some of you will be indulging in working remotely whenever possible.
So with that,
We wish you all the best in your June pursuits.
Let us return to the here and now and begin to discover the taste of June.
Are you ready?
We all like to speak about seasonality and sustainability,
But what do these ideas truly mean?
There are many layers to this conversation worth exploring,
But for now,
As we have many stories to share,
We invite you simply to sit with the thought.
To eat what the season provides.
To buy locally and intentionally.
To move a little closer to the rhythm of the natural world.
To rediscover the beauty of enough.
To understand where things come from and the hands that shaped them.
To become more attentive to the pace of nature rather than the speed.
Of consumption.
Perhaps seasonality is not only about what we consume.
But how we choose to live.
Gather,
Listen,
And connect within a particular moment in time.
A taste of June that many of us adore.
And one that has become the pillar of this month's podcast is the strawberry in season.
A strawberry may require only several liters of water to grow.
They say somewhere between four and nine liters.
Small.
Delicate.
Fleeting.
Now,
Let us turn toward the off-season strawberry,
The one grown against the natural cycles of the earth.
These little scarlet beauties can require between 15 and 30 liters of water.
To eat with the seasons is perhaps to return to a quieter state of awareness.
One where we begin to notice the hidden life within what we consume.
The water,
The climate,
The distance traveled,
The hands involved,
The time,
The care.
A remembering that even a single strawberry carries an entire world within it.
Oh my,
The sweetheart of the nation has arrived.
She first begins to bloom and blush in May,
But by June she is radiant,
Her red kiss staining the mouths of everyone.
She is not only my sweetheart or yours,
But perhaps the sweetheart of the world itself.
Who else could it be other than the strawberry?
In June,
She sits proudly upon her field of thrones,
Spreading romance,
Tenderness,
And affection wherever she goes.
She does not discriminate.
Young or old,
Rich or poor,
She welcomes everyone into her sweetness.
Perhaps June is like the strawberries Olympic season when she arrives in full splendor,
Crowned and celebrated by all.
As we speak of the Strawberry Olympics.
And this is held by certain nations who might like to say they have the best of the best when it comes to their little sweetheart.
Japan,
Perhaps the most luxurious strawberry culture in the world.
Japanese strawberries are treated like jewels,
Perfectly shaped,
Intensely sweet.
Fragrant.
And often individually packaged.
The one who shines the most is the Skyberry.
France.
Oh,
Indeed,
The French are deeply attached to their terroir.
The beloved Guériguette,
Siffleurette,
And the Fraisier du Périgaud are the most celebrated for their perfume,
Softness,
And elegance.
Italy romanticizes the strawberry beautifully.
Rare varieties like the Fregolia di Tortona are famous for their delicacy.
And of course,
Norway.
Norwegians stand tall and believe their cool climate and long summer daylight create exceptionally sweet strawberries with the most divine,
Concentrated flavor.
Of course,
There are many other worthy mentions,
But we shall not create a debate amongst the sweethearts.
Every strawberry has their place,
And every nation has their sweetheart.
The farmer's market.
Baskets in arm.
Stands overflowing.
Aromas so rich,
You can almost taste them before touching.
Cash ready to be spent.
Everything bright.
Everything juicy.
Fruits softening into sweetness,
Almost overripe in the arrival of the summer warmth.
Strawberries,
Apricots cherries.
Delight olive oil waiting to be drizzled.
Warm bread sliced to perfection.
And the tomatoes.
Oh,
The tomatoes that actually taste like something.
Everything bursting with flavor.
Everything dripping with life.
Abundance,
Abundance,
Abundance.
Wait your turn.
Get in line.
Skip to the front.
Reach around one another with subtle impatience and sun-warmed hands.
Just enough for the week,
Or perhaps only a few days,
Because a trip to the farmer's market is a ritual.
A return.
A remembering.
And everyone knows the secret.
Shh.
Great ingredients.
Ask for very little.
The farmers hardly need to speak at all.
The produce speaks for itself.
A memory of one is a memory of another.
Last day of school where I grew up.
The graduating class would host activities for the younger classes,
Play rounders against the teachers,
And throw caramels to the cheering crowds as they would run the field.
Then biking home,
Singing the traditional song,
Feeling the happiest.
Also,
I remember the sun would always shine on the last day of school.
Not sure if this is correct,
But I don't remember it ever raining.
Yonas.
I gave birth to my first daughter.
I went into labor on the strawberry full moon in June at 42 weeks.
I agreed to be induced so there would be three long days before we got to meet Bobby Atlas Bankel.
It was a considerably easy and peaceful delivery,
Arriving at the same day as her great-great-grandfather's birthday.
She and I both share in honoring his name,
Sam Bankel.
She had been a surprise,
Uprooting life as we knew it to plant a family tree.
The greatest blessing.
There's no denying fate in how she came to us.
Samantha.
There is something to be said about grandparents and strawberries.
We know this because nearly all of our contributors shared a memory connected to them.
My grandma just passed away,
And her go-to dessert when we had parties with the extended family was always vanilla ice cream and strawberries.
Sophia.
Finding little wild strawberries with my grandma when I was little is one of my most beloved memories.
Aiko.
One of my sweetest memories of strawberries is picking them at the market in Provence with my grandmother.
I still remember the smell of the warm fruit,
The deep red color,
And the simple joy of choosing the ripest ones together under the summer sun.
Eva.
For many,
Strawberries seem to carry the presence of grandparents within them.
Tenderness.
Patience.
Sweetness.
Everlasting moments flickering softly through time and space.
A fruit capable of holding memory so vividly that a single taste can return someone instantly to another place,
Another season,
Another person.
Perhaps we could go one step further and say that many of our grandparents carried with them a kind of humble richness.
An essence of simplicity,
A way of living where very little still felt abundant,
Where the purity of a strawberry could evoke the feeling of chests overflowing with gold and riches.
One could even say that amongst the foundational fruits of childhood,
Bananas,
Apples,
Oranges,
It is the strawberry that first introduces us to the grandeur of life,
To opulence,
To splendor.
To the understanding that something small,
Fleeting,
And delicate can still feel deeply luxurious.
Let's have a party in the garden.
Let's have a party and invite all the friends.
Stay awake in the sun all day and night.
Cherry-like glistening in everyone's eyes.
Let's have a party.
What's on the menu,
You ask?
A glass of something fresh and cold,
Best enjoyed at golden hour.
Perhaps bubbly,
Perhaps fizzy.
Champagne,
You say?
Yes,
Indeed.
One thing is certain,
It tastes Like sunshine,
A salad is non-negotiable.
No ifs,
Ands,
Or buts about it.
More than one is the only rule.
Fennel and citrus with just the right amount of zest,
Green zebra tomatoes dressed simply with olive oil,
Salt,
Pepper,
And of course basil.
Someone asks,
Where's the cheese?
Apricot,
Burrata,
Mint,
Pistachio.
How could we forget?
And the green beans and potatoes.
Toss them into a bowl with Dijon,
Shallots,
And fresh parsley.
One friend opens the fridge looking for something unexpected.
What could it be?
A June-inspired quiche,
Of course.
Every plate feels like a dance of opposites colliding in your mouth.
Something sweet,
Something sour,
Something crisp,
Something luscious.
Hand-stitched linen napkins layered over matching tablecloths.
Plates stacked upon plates.
Silver utensils catching the evening light.
Flowers overflowing from heavy vases.
Now,
Look to the left.
The dessert table,
Filled with you-know-who.
Everybody's sweetheart has returned to claim her throne.
Once again,
She takes her place at the center of the table.
Strawberries and cream,
Strawberries and chocolate,
Strawberries and ice cream,
Perhaps even a sundae.
And of course,
A strawberry tart made by a mother who claims she doesn't cook,
Yet somehow makes the most memorable thing on the table.
And the one Michelin-starred item we must never forget,
Togetherness.
The flavor of happiness.
Because everything tastes better when shared.
Nostalgia.
There's only one way in the whole wide world to save a red,
Ripe strawberry from a hungry bear.
Get a knife,
Cut it in two,
Share half with me,
And we'll both eat it all up.
The Little Mouse,
The Red Ripe Strawberry,
And The Big Hungry Bear.
Written by Dawn and Audrey Wood.
First published 1984.
June brings with it traditions that circle around the sun.
The welcoming of the summer through the solstice,
The Swedish summer celebrations,
St.
John's Eve,
Midsummer,
Recognitions of the longest day of the year when the sun stretches deep into the territory of the moon.
For the founder of Amnions,
This season calls forth the celebration of Sankt Hans,
A Danish tradition aligned with the summer solstice and the spirit of the Swedish midsummer.
Like many June festivities,
It is marked by dancing,
Bonfires,
Gatherings in open fields,
And flowers carried in plethora.
But what makes Sanktans especially memorable is the tradition of placing a witch upon the bonfire.
As the flames rise,
The fire crackles,
Howls,
And sings her way to the place where witches are believed to go,
A distant land of magic.
It is a celebration suspended somewhere between folklore and light,
Between fear and playfulness,
Where summer arrives not quietly,
But ceremonially in fire,
Smoke,
Song,
And collective wonder.
We extend our gratitude to our June contributors,
Sophia,
Samantha,
Aiko,
Eva,
Luna,
And Filippa,
Who lovingly took the time to share their reflections and memories with us,
Which became the foundation of this month's narrative.
And of course,
We give a huge thank you to Merciel for his musical compositions and sound design,
And to Sophie Durbenkort for her delicate watercolor works,
That both of which help bring this world to life each month.
Join us next month for the Touch of July.
