• Kern Farms on soil, heat, and the hard work behind every nut 

Cashew usually ranks high on anyone’s list of favourite snacks, not least to mention the role it plays in classic recipes like Love Cake. But we don’t often think about how cashews make their way to our hands. 

The idea of a cashew farm can seem odd to some of us, but most certainly, they exist, and in the quiet heart of Wanatawilluwa, surrounded by coconut groves and the dry, golden stretch of the Puttalam plains, stands Kern Farms – a thriving cashew estate that was once a forgotten piece of land. Today, it tells the story of renewal, of two people who swapped city life in the Netherlands for the slow, sun-baked rhythm of the Sri Lankan countryside. The Daily Morning Brunch recently sat down with Kern Farms Owner Russel Kern for a chat on how he and his wife Helene found their way to becoming farmers.

Their journey began with a nudge from a persistent father-in-law and evolved into something far more meaningful: a life rooted in patience, purpose, and the joy of seeing the earth come alive again.

Following are excerpts from the interview:

What first drew you to Wanatawilluwa – and what made you decide to root your lives and work here?

Since the year 2000, my father-in-law, Mr. Ellsworth Fernando, who was a retired tea planter, had been trying to get us, my wife and I, interested in buying a coconut estate. At the time, we were living in the Netherlands, far removed from farming life. He believed it was time we invested in something back home. We travelled across the Coconut Triangle, looking for suitable land, but nothing really felt right.

Finally, in 2012, in what I’d call an act of both persistence and desperation, he convinced us to look at an abandoned piece of land that was supposed to be a cashew estate. To be honest, it looked worthless –  overgrown, dry, and neglected. But on 30 August that year, we bought the 15-acre plot, mostly because we couldn’t turn him down. To sweeten the deal, he even persuaded his son, Aubon, who lives in Australia, to join us. He got what he wanted – and we were left scratching our heads, wondering what on earth we had done.

How has your relationship with the land changed since you began farming here?

It was a complete shift in lifestyle. We were city people, used to structure and convenience, not sun, soil, and labour. When we started, we didn’t even know how to hold a hoe correctly. The land was wild, dry, and seemingly unproductive. But we cleared it, slowly and carefully, and began replanting.

Today, it’s deeply satisfying to walk through the estate and see rows of thriving cashew trees where there was once nothing but scrub and weeds. The transformation isn’t just physical, it’s emotional too. We’ve learned patience, respect for the natural world, and an understanding that everything has its rhythm. The land teaches you humility.

Many say the best cashews in Sri Lanka come from Wanatawilluwa. What makes this region’s soil and climate so special?

It’s true. Wanatawilluwa is known for producing the best cashews in Sri Lanka. The secret lies in the soil and the climate. The land here was once part of the Wilpattu jungle, so the soil is incredibly rich and organic. It’s sandy but well-draining, which cashew trees love.

The hot, dry climate also plays a big role. Cashew trees thrive in heat and low rainfall. The nuts that grow here tend to be large, sweet, and have a distinct creamy flavour that you don’t always find elsewhere. It’s the perfect balance between the harshness of the land and the care we put into it.

What’s something most people don’t realise about how much work goes into producing a single cashew?

Most people see the finished nut in a packet and assume it’s a simple process. It’s anything but simple. The cashew seed grows attached to the cashew apple, and once the apple ripens, it falls to the ground. From that point on, each nut is handled by hand multiple times before it ever reaches a factory.

There’s collecting, drying, shelling, roasting, peeling, and grading – every stage requires careful attention. It’s extremely labour-intensive, especially because the shell oil is caustic and can burn the skin if not handled properly. Every cashew you eat has passed through many hands, and that’s something most people don’t realise or appreciate.

The cashew industry in Sri Lanka has gone through its ups and downs. How do you see it evolving today?

There’s definitely been a decline in production in recent years. We’ve seen it firsthand. The main culprit, in my opinion, is climate change; the rainfall patterns are no longer predictable, and prolonged droughts affect flowering and yields.

But the industry’s problems go beyond the weather. There’s a lack of structure and proper representation. What we really need is a competent authority; a government body that understands the cashew sector and is willing to listen to farmers. Right now, decisions are made without input from the people who actually grow the crop.

Still, there’s hope. With proper planning, better technology, and a focus on sustainability, Sri Lanka could easily rebuild its cashew reputation. We have the potential, we just need coordination and support.

What changes would you like to see in how Sri Lanka markets its cashews to the world?

Price is the biggest challenge. Countries like Vietnam, India, and several in Africa can produce and sell their cashews at much lower prices. That makes it difficult for us to compete internationally. But rather than trying to match them in cost, we should focus on quality.

Sri Lankan cashews, particularly from regions like Wanatawilluwa, are large, rich in flavour, and naturally sweet. We should be positioning ourselves in the premium market, selling to buyers who are looking for high-quality, ethically sourced nuts rather than bulk quantities. Machinery and innovation can help reduce costs, but our main advantage will always be taste and craftsmanship. That’s where we need to build our brand.

How do you balance traditional farming methods with modern agricultural practices?

It’s all about finding balance. On one hand, we have an abundance of labour in Sri Lanka, and farming is a major source of rural employment. We want to preserve that and ensure people have work and a livelihood. But at the same time, we can’t ignore the benefits of technology.

We use some machinery to keep costs down and improve efficiency – especially for tasks like clearing or drying – but the human touch is still vital. Cashew farming has always relied on skilled hands. Machines can speed things up, but they can’t replicate the knowledge and care that people bring. I think the future of agriculture here lies in combining both – tradition and innovation working side by side.

Has living and working here shaped how you think about sustainability or simplicity in daily life?

Absolutely. Moving to a small village like Wanatawilluwa has changed our outlook completely. You start to notice how interconnected everything is – the soil, the trees, the insects, even the people who work the fields. You learn that you’re not an owner, just a caretaker.

We’ve come to appreciate nature’s balance and its beauty. Our philosophy is simple: enhance the land, don’t exploit it. We grow responsibly, avoid over-clearing, and always think about how to leave the soil healthier than we found it. Living close to the earth reminds you that small can be beautiful – and deeply satisfying.