Touring the Chef’s Garden at Bernardus Lodge

August 6, 2024 – The breeze, fresh off the ocean made a pinwheel riot of the fennel plot, waving dark gold and ochre-colored umbels, as if attempting to dislodge the pollen in their dancing heads. I always wondered what the term was for the multipronged head of individual blossoms was on wild carrot, dill and fennel: umbel is the term, and it makes sense, as it’s from the Latin for umbrella. Compound flowers like this, with multiple prongs and stems, are also called an inflorescence, another brilliant word. But enough about terms. 

As the group assembled for the Bernardus garden tour adjusted their hats and took a thoughtful sip of Bernardus wine, it was time to head for the herbs. Chef Christian Ojeda gestured at the dense forest of fennel inflorescence saying that the entire lot of them would scarcely yield an ounce of precious pollen, prized in cooking and baking, and priced about $90/ounce. Neither would their bulbs be worth the effort of harvest, although if you were to come upon a wild field of fennel, you could certainly give it a try. 

Gardener Mark Marino, who led the tour, explained there were two kinds of fennel here: evident by their differing colors, one mustard brown and the other gold. Taking a whiff of the two side by side, it was apparent that the brown one was milder. These umbels are mostly used in floral arrangements for guest rooms and dining tables, as are the vast majority of flowers blooming riotously in the various portions of the famed Bernardus gardens, which opened to the public in 1999. 

You can tour this fascinating collection of annuals, perennials, fruit trees, edibles and floral fantasia at Bernardus for three more Saturdays in August: August 10, 24 and 31, from noon to 1pm. There’s no charge, and you’ll get a glass of tea, water or Bernardus Sauvignon Blanc to enjoy as you make your way through the various garden plots, some heaping with fragrant alyssum and rows and rows of cheerleading petunias and handsome lion’s paws. There’s a fabulous rose garden, a kumquat hedge, and 200 fruit trees including avocados, limes, lemons and figs. There are beds of aromatic herbs, and plots of veggies blooming up a storm as they put forth an abundance of haricot verts, eggplants, Dino kale and later on, tomatoes and chile peppers. Ah, the promise of summer! 

No need to make reservations for the BernardusTour, but you might want to reserve a spot for brunch afterwards, as did many of my companions, to enjoy some of the garden’s bounty in Chef Ojeda’s seasonal dishes. I enjoyed the summer salad of greens, corn, avocado and tomatoes with citrus dressing, topped with blackened prawns. 

You’ll get to sniff lemon thyme, one of Chef’s favorites, and lemon verbena, which he steeps to make tea, and to flavor ice cream. “The leaves are inedible, but like a bay leaf, you can add them to dishes for flavor,” Ojeda explained to the group.

Meandering down the garden paths, you can breathe in the heady aromas of rose bushes trellised like trees, take in the enormity of rhubarb leaves the size of elephant’s ears, nibble on yellow wax beans fresh off the vine, admire the fully laden turkey fig trees, thrill to the scent of Edelweiss lavender — rare, white and wonderfully perfumey. It’s a favorite of Marino’s. You’ll discover eggplant varieties you’ve never seen before, and revel in the mashup of subtle tropical and underbrush aromas of pineapple sage, which Chef uses to flavor a crema for chicken saltimbocca. 

“So much less overpowering than regular sage,” Ojeda says. He mostly goes for subtle, rather than overpowering flavors, leaning towards the more mellow chile peppers from the desert southwest, a significant selection of which are growing in the veggie garden, some at the suggestion of Ojeda’s mom, who still lives in Santa Fe, where he spent a significant part of his childhood. 

But, as Marino pointed out when we were taking in the different varieties of basil plants in the upper herb garden, the kitchen staff don’t necessarily hew to Ojeda’s palate. They’ve created a “Garden of Death,” with a variety of nuclear hot peppers, many from Mexico, that will slay typical Anglo tastebuds. Ojeda says he personally doesn’t go near it.

One of my knowledgeable tour companions, longtime Carmel Valley resident and gardener Connie Winters, worked for Bernardus Winery for many years. Hailing from Ohio, she grew up with a vegetable garden, and like me, had the pleasure of tasting gooseberries and white currants, giving her a leg up on describing the nuanced flavors in aromatic white wines. 

She shared that Marino has been part of the landscape here, literally, since the resort changed hands in 1999, transitioning from what was then the Fox Hill Resort to Bernardus Lodge, in the wake of its purchase by the late Ben Pons. Most know that Pons was an accomplished Porsche driver, having raced at Le Mans six times, but did you know that he also represented the Netherlands—called Holland then—in skeet shooting during the 1972 Olympics? 

Back to those 8 ft tall fennel stalks, though. Marino explained that this particular plot of fennel will soon be ripped out, preferably during the new moon. It will then be burned and covered with a tarp and piled with wood chips for a year, basically baking what’s left of the root matter until it is no longer viable. No photosynthesis will be possible, enabling the earth to rest and reset. Then it will be turned, and nourished with compost to restore its vigor, before being planted with perhaps a new herb or pepper that the chef wants to try. 

That’s the beauty of earth: take care of it, and she’ll take care of you.