Idaborroa pitarra
Sweets, jams, jalea, wines, musts, brine, brine, dried, spirits, grapes, ratafias, vinagres, tomato sauces, roasted peppers, baths maria... What is not prepared for janitors at this time of the year? It's the smell of fall. And the mushrooms ...
I went to those smells, far from the sidewalks. I attended one of the most important festivities on my agenda in Arizkun, Baztan. There it is, they use the 17th-century cider lizard, the Gamiocha lizard. Unique in the world. Renovated by the young people of the valley, which each year permeates the smell of apple duck and kirikoketa music. They are doing an impressive job: local varieties, language linked to apple and cider, the census of the houses of lagares, the making of cider... He would take his cap off.
These smells are joined by a lot of people. There, those who love these jobs meet and know each other. Carpenters, musicians, stewards, miller, historians, linguists, baserritarras... People, increasingly weird at sidewalks, feel sweet in those situations. Friendships that never rejoice, join great friends.
In that temple I have met Pedro Joakin, from Idaborroa, in the Azkarate district of Erratzu, and through it, Eugenia, Nagore and Harkaitz. For half a word, they cider, then they pitch, then they also pack must... They produce enough drinks for the whole year. Despite some hesitation in the lagar and the barrel, I met his house the next day. On the Ikatzatea side of Otsondo, in Arizkun, Pedro tells us about the pitargutia he learned in his home, and thousands of years ago I made a trip back. He built the baroque lagar of Gamioco, which dates back to the 17th century. Pitarra is the grandmother of all the good sidras. The way to pitch is to hit the apples with the maza, fill the barrel with the large square sheet and fill the cracks with water. In a couple of weeks' time there will be a little heather to drink, from picha to throat. Neither the lagar nor the bottle, nor any other trace of the time, in Peter’s voice: when the apple was enough, it was very thin, “slightly thicker than the hostile”, and spread over the fabrics in the sun, collecting it in sacks when it dried well, and then, in winter, he was again pitched to his liking. The Basque cider of Neolithic live
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