a gastronomican in Madrid

Gastrofestival Madrid

2012-01-23T21:34:00.001+01:00

A first taste of Degustapas at the presentation this morning.

This morning I attended the official presentation of this year's edition of Gastrofestival at the Museo Thyssen. In its third year, this citywide event is an offshoot of the marvelous annual gastronomic conference Madrid Fusion, which kicks off tomorrow. While the three days of conferences that make up Madrid Fusion are mainly directed towards chefs, restaurant professionals and intense foodies, Gastrofestival was conceived of as a way of involving the rest of the city's citizens and tourists in this yearly celebration of gastronomic culture and all things edible.

Establishments all over the city will be participating in the many different facets of this festival. Degustapas, consists of dozens of bars and taverns that will be serving up a special tapa and a small bottle of Mahou beer for 3 Euros. Additionally, a long list of restaurants will be offering special menus priced at 25 or 40 Euros. However, my absolute favorite initiative (which admittedly I have yet to try) is called Cena con Las Estrellas (dinner with the stars), during which several of the visiting international chefs from Madrid Fusion are paired up with restaurants in Madrid, where they prepare their special (75 Euro) menus for only a day or two.

Of course in addition to all of these opportunities to eat eat eat, the festival also provides Madrileños with plenty of culture culture culture. Held from January 23rd - February 5th, Gastrofestival extends beyond the restaurant scene and into gastronomically-themed expositions in museums and art galleries; special offers, courses and lectures in specialty shops and cooking schools; and even a food-themed film series at the Filmoteca Nacional.
Needless to say, this is the perfect opportunity for me to shamelessly plug the participating exhibition in my mother-in-law's art gallery, Pelayo47, by José Manuel Nuevo entitled Cosas del Comer.

Mi Sushi - Well, you can keep it!

2012-01-19T14:24:00.005+01:00

For lack of another photo, this actually really is a photo of MY homemade Sushi

Last night I had an inexplicable hankering for Thong...let me just let that hang in the air for a moment.

The Thong to which I am referring of course is the delightfully named Chinese restaurant that I frequented years ago on Calle Santa Teresa, 4, in Alonso Martínez, which was right around the corner from where I found myself yesterday at dinnertime. Unfortunately, I soon realized that this Thong was long gone. Before anyone has time to worry, however, I should point out that there is still another Thong location on Calle de López de Hoyos, 14 - but while this agreeably elegant restaurant can be counted on to serve up equally agreeable Chinese food, it doesn't beckon to me enough to cross the city for a spring roll. Therefore, as I yearned for Thong, I settled on grabbing a quick bite at Mi Sushi, the apparently 'Japanese' restaurant that has taken its place. Big mistake.

My companion and I were feeling neither very hungry, nor very flush, so we opted to go the cheap and cheerful route of just ordering a couple of small dishes, including a few mixed maki, fried rice for her, and (a cold weather comfort food) udon noodle soup with tempura for me. The million item menu should have been enough to make me trust my instincts and get up and leave - no restaurant should have THAT many dishes - and if not that, then the nasty stare of the waiter when we ordered tap water (which he repeated back to us 3 times). But, being tired and weak, we ignored our gut feelings and stayed, proceeding to (not) enjoy the miniscule but acceptable maki (which cost upwards of 3 Euros for 3 tiny pieces) and the greasy and small portion of fried rice. I had to draw the line however at the soup, which smelled so unappetizing that I couldn´t eat it. It wasn't a rotten smell, but rather more like tepid dishwater with noodles, tinged with greyish beige hues and sad clumps of limp bean sprouts.

I would definitely never ever want to call this restaurant My sushi, rice, soup or anything else. Ugh.

Mi Sushi
C/Santa Teresa, 4
28004 Madrid
913102436

Red Meat on a Stone: Viña P's enduring classic

2012-01-12T10:43:00.000+01:00


I couldn't get them to stop flipping the meat long enough to get the photo	.

There are few dishes that seem to leave as big a mark with my foreign visitors as the Carne roja de Buey a la piedra that has been served up at the classic Madrid restaurant, Restaurante Taberna Viña P, for as long as anyone can remember. This straightforward dish consists of a plate of barely seared aged beef that has been thinly sliced and generously sprinkled with rock salt. It is then accompanied to the table by a piping hot clay dish that has been lightly coated with oil. The rest is up to the diners, who cook their own meat to the desired amount on this piedra, or stone. The plate doesn't stay hot for long, but not to worry, the waiters will bring you a new one as soon as yours cools down.
There is something about cooking your own meat and watching it sizzle in front of you that has a memorable effect, leaving people like my co-cuñadastro, Will, eager to repeat almost 8 years after first having tried it - not to mention that the thinly sliced beef is flavorful, tender and quite lean. Listed on the menu for two people, it is admittedly not cheap (around 30+ Euros), nor does it seem to be as generous as it used to be. Even so, it is often enough to order just one portion for 3 or 4 people to share and then tack on a few other raciones, such as the fried eggplant with honey (thin, crispy and always delicious) and the tasty grilled pericos (green asparagus) with garlic mayonnaise. For dessert, I always get the Crema Catalana to share (similar to a creme brulee) and a icy glass of patxaran for a digestivo.

Viña P also makes an excellent choice for taking out-of-town visitors due to its wonderful location, smack dab in the middle of Plaza Santa Ana. Granted, it is full of tourists, but there is a wonderfully sunny terrace in the plaza itself (I just had lunch outside in January). Inside, the restaurant is a traditional classic graced by bullfighting photos, posters and aging aficionados. This family owned-and-operated establishment has a long history of being frequented by bullfighters, who during the sport's heyday, traditionally dressed before a fight at the imposing meringue-like Hotel Reina Victoria (now the Hotel ME), located at the end of the plaza.

Holiday slabs and holiday flab

2012-01-07T13:00:00.000+01:00

Happy New Year!!

I spent the holidays in relative peace and quiet, apart from a spontaneous three day escape to London (more on that later), and really got my bake on. Maybe it was inspiration from my recent trip to Jijona to write about turrón making, or maybe it was just a bit of nesting and nostalgia, but I could not get my thoughts out of the kitchen over the holidays and away from a desire to mingle some of the sweet flavors of my past and present. Naturally, having stuffed myself on these confections - despite not having much of a sweet tooth -, I am looking forward to a few months of healthy eating and honoring the future over the past. Read more in Recovering from Turrón de Michigan and other holiday folly on the Trans-Iberian blog from El País.

Welcome back, London Town!

2012-01-05T11:15:00.000+01:00

Sizzling fish at the Loong Kee Cafe

The Mister and I spent an impulsive three days in London between Christmas and New Year's Eve, dodging raindrops, visiting (closed) galleries, popping into museums, catching a show and drinking lager and warming up next to cozy fires in festively decorated pubs. With only a day or so to prepare for the trip, I spent the day before we left researching some great places to eat in London on food blogs like Greedy Diva, Gourmet Chick, A Girl Has to Eat and Musings of a W8 Housewife. Unfortunately, we were short on time, a lot of places were closed for the holidays and E was under the weather, so we contented ourselves with a couple of excellent pub meals of fish and chips and hearty soups at the The Antelope in Belgravia (near where we were staying) and at the Coopers Arms off of King's Road in Chelsea. We also had Hanoi-style sizzling fish for lunch at Loong Kee Cafe in the Vietnamese area of Kingsland Road, near Hoxton, which came highly recommended by two different people who we asked on the street, and a very tasty but kind of bizarro Chinese meal at Shanghai Blues in Holborn. This palatial establishment and former library has both the stiff formality of hovering waiters and cloth napkins delicately and silently placed on your lap and the black lacquered tables and blue neon lights of a nightclub. We had a great time, but I would take a noisy and bustling restaurant in Chinatown over this more staid version any day.

The night's menu at The Duke of Cambridge

Our favorite meal, however, was the one that we had been waiting over a year to enjoy. We happened upon The Duke of Cambridge organic pub last year while wandering around the marvelous district of Islington. This charming corner establishment is graced by large windows, rustic wood floors and tables, mismatched chairs and cozy candlelight. There is both an outer pub area and a smaller dining room in back, both of which are presided over by massive chalkboards that change during the course of the evening as the kitchen runs out of certain dishes and adds new ones.

The Duke of Cambridge is an all organic gastropub that opened in 1998, serving seasonal food and drink that is at least 80% sourced from the counties surrounding London. All of their fish is caught on small day boats off the south-east coast of England, all of the meat comes from whole animals purchased from local farms, and all of the beers, wines and alcohol are made by small independent producers. Basically, this place is food lover's dream, served up in an incredibly lovely, cozy, friendly and relaxed environment. Last year we managed to have a couple of beers in the pub, but the restaurant was packed to the gills and it was still a bit early to dine. To say that we were looking forward to coming back this year for a proper meal would be an understatement. To start off, we shared a Chicken liver and port pate with pickled beetroot, chutney and toast, followed by the delicious Slow roasted lamb shoulder (for me) and the Chili marinated coley (fish) with spiced haricot bean and tomato casserole, Savoy cabbage and golden beetroot, for the Mister. Unfortunately, it was too dark for any of the photos to come out, but suffice to say it was a delicious, romantic and lovely experience all around. I love London!

The Duke of Cambridge
30 St Peter's Street, Islington, London N1

+44 (0)20 7359 3066

The Antelope
22 Eaton Terrace, Belgravia, Westminster, London SW1W 8EZ
+44 (0)20 7824 8512

Coopers Arms
87 Flood Street, Chelsea, London, SW3 5TB
+44 (0)20 7376 3120

Loong Kee Cafe
134G Kingsland Rd City of London E2 8DY

+44 (0)20 7729 8344

Shanghai Blues
193-197 High Holborn City of London WC1V 7BD

+44 (0)20 7404 1668

Tapa Hopping the Nation's Best Tapas and Pintxos

2011-12-20T11:29:00.000+01:00

Incredible "Jabón de pato" pintxo at Los Zagales Restaurant in Valladolid

This past November I again had the opportunity to attend the incredible National Pintxos and Tapas Competition that is held annually in the city of Valladolid, in Castilla Leon. While the competition itself is absolutely amazing, this year I focused my experience on visiting the local bars and restaurants that were hosting the competing chefs from all over Spain and providing the opportunity to taste their winning creations. Not only does the city boast a lively nightlife and ample tapas scene, but also, being able to actually taste the competing pintxos added a level of complexity to my understanding of the event itself.

Read more in Small Wonders in Valladolid on Foods From Spain.

Puckering up to Spanish grapefruit

2011-12-15T11:19:00.000+01:00

One of my favorite winter treats has always been grapefruit. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that my father's from Florida, but as children we used to eat half a grapefruit on winter mornings slathered in our own honey. I love the fact that the fruit makes its own handy breakfast bowl and the utilitarian beauty of the serrated grapefruit spoon.
When the magazine asked me to do an article on Spain's growing grapefruit, or pomelo, industry, I was completely shocked. I had never seen people eating grapefruit here the way that they do in the States (or at all really) and had no idea that it was such an important crop. Of course it's not surprising given the importance of other citrus crops such as oranges and lemos along the Spanish Mediterranean coast.
A four-hour train trip down to the beguiling and tropical town of Murcia, with it's ridiculously good vegetables and tapas scene, revealed the extent to which this delicious and tart fruit is blushing its way across the countryside.

Read more in Pulp Non-Fiction: Grapefruit, Spain's Other Citrus, from Spain Gourmetour Magazine on Foods From Spain.

Tis the Season for Turrón

2011-12-14T17:47:00.000+01:00

Turrón de Jijona being made in the traditional boixet at El Artesano

I confess that I personally have never really developed a taste for true Spanish turrón. I want to, I really do. In fact, every year I make E give me a bite of his to try, but to no avail. This method worked with patxaran, a somewhat bitter and sweet (but interestingly, not bittersweet) Spanish liqueur - I tasted a sip from my friend Josh's glass for years and now can't get enough of the stuff.
Of course I have never had much of a sweet tooth, and so the honeyed sweetness of turrón is too much for me. I do like it, but just have never felt the intense love that most of my adopted countrymen have for this holiday treat. I can however, appreciate the history, tradition and incredible ingredients of this classic Spanish sweet, whose origins trace back several hundred years.
This appreciation is especially true now that I've visited the town of Jijona, Alicante, a delightfully smelling town that lies at the heart of Spanish turrón.

Read more in Turrón Temptations, Tasting the Holiday All Year Long, from Spain Gourmetour Magazine on Foods From Spain.

Now This is Grilled Octopus!

2011-12-11T12:40:00.001+01:00

While on the subject of octopus, I thought it might be nice to give people a 'taste' of what a real grilled octopus dish looks like. This photo was taken on the island of La Graciosa, off the coast of Lanzarote in the Canary Islands. Grilled octopus is a specialty in Lanzarote and I have to say it was the most delicious pulpo I had ever sunk my teeth into. The outside was crispy and smokey, as if almost caramelized by the heat from the grill, and the inside was soft and tender. While the Canaries do tend to be cheaper than Madrid, if I recall correctly, this plate cost around 8 Euros. Amazing.

Clarita: Overpriced Octopus Category

2011-12-08T01:21:00.002+01:00

I can't remember the last time that I went out to dinner and my greatest regret of the evening was not having had taken a photo of the octopus.

The pulpo, or octopus, dish was tasty, I'll give it that, but it was also so incredibly overpriced and ridiculously tiny (think 1-2 bites a person for a group of four) that I kept expecting it to jump up and sing Dixie, just to get my money's worth.

Truly anyone would have been shocked and appalled to pay 16 Euros for the one (small) tentacle of grilled octopus that came out on a massive plate accompanied by four, lackluster acorn-sized boiled potato cubes and a squirt of mango cream. This was hardly the fancy sounding dish that was advertised on the casual sounding menu for 16 Euros, but then again this was hardly a fancy enough place to be able to get away with this kind of blatant customer abuse either.

Fortunately, my guilt at bringing the outrageous price and quantity of the dish to the waitress' attention was assuaged by her surly attitude and uninterested, dismissive response. It seems that Clarita, a cozy looking cafe/restaurant squeezed between the edge of Malasaña (neighborhood) and the iconic avenue Gran Vía, is nothing if not consistent: small portions complemented by soaring prices and heaps of bad attitude. Welcome, neighbors, to the first candidate for the Worst of Madrid Dining in the Overpriced Octopus Category.

Clarita
Corredera Baja de San Pablo, 19
Madrid

Maker's Mark, maple syrup and duck fat - oh joy!

2011-11-25T12:12:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, I went from roasting a chicken for 4 people to making an impromptu Thanksgiving dinner for 8, for which I purchased the turkey at around 5 pm (luckily we eat late in Spain). There is something about eating Thanksgiving on the actual day that gets me every year. Of course it is more of a challenge than you might think given that we don't have the day off from work. Actually, the main event is tonight at my friend Sarah's house and her turkey promises to be absolutely stellar. One of the few fortunate people to have a real barbeque in the Madrid city center, she brined her organic turkey in apple cider and spices overnight and is going to plunk the whole thing on the charcoal grill this afternoon to roast.

In any case, my nearly 8 pound bird was so cute and easy to handle that I really went to town doing all sorts of fun things to it (I normally have to sit on the ground in front of the oven with plastic bags over my shoes and literally kick the large turkey into the oven to make it fit). After slathering it with butter and fresh herbs, I decided to try the injector bottle that my ex-intern/chef Cassie gave me years ago. I filled the bottle with a mixture of Maker's Mark bourbon, maple syrup and the duck fat left over from a magret that I made earlier in the week, and then injected this deliciousness into the turkey's breast and thighs. This was supposed to make the turkey juicy, but what I really wanted to do was inject this mixture directly into my mouth. Anyway, my digital thermometer broke halfway through the cooking process, so I think I overcooked the whole thing to be safe, but it still came out juice-tastic so I'm figuring that this injector bottle may be the nectar of the gods. Now off to make the pies for tonight!

Thanksgivings Remembered

2011-11-23T19:32:00.001+01:00

In 2007 I wrote a post about my first Thanksgiving in Spain. It was a wonderful debacle of a meal - the memory of which has never ceased to make me smile. Once again, on the eve of another Thanksgiving and just hours from rolling up my sleeves to start on the stuffing, pies, sweet potatoes and cranberry sauce (my friend is doing the turkey on her grill), I think back to that first Thanksgiving and all my subsequent years in this country, and I am eternally grateful for the friends, family, good fortune and richness of my life. The wonderful illustration is by Chris Ware for the New Yorker

Spanish Cured Meats in Outer Space!

2011-11-23T12:33:00.001+01:00

This is a fun and interesting news item about the Spanish company Campofrío that is doing experiments on launching their products into outer space with an eye towards NASA's future missions to Mars.Read the full article, Campofrío Launches Products Into Space on www.foodsfromspain.com.

Sherry Tasting Sampler in Madrid (at the Mercado de San Miguel)

2011-11-14T17:29:00.002+01:00

The Sherry Corner at the Mercado de San Miguel offers a tasting menu of six glasses of sherry and a pairing of six different Spanish tapas. I thought a nice way to try this tour would be to send two middle-aged American ladies to experience Spanish culture first hand and report back on the results. The following is their report, as written by my mother, Susan.

The tasting began with a Fino sherry and progressed through Palo Cortado, Amontillado, Oloroso, Moscatel and finally the very sweet, dark Pedro Ximenez. Glasses of sherry were poured and arranged in a brass holder which could be carried around the market fairly easily-although with six glasses of sherry it was easier to find a table in the center of the market and use that as a base of operation. With two people at the tasting, one could guard the sherry and the other dart forth in search of the tasty tapa samples that complimented the various sherrys. Tapas included bacalao, cheese, olives, nuts and sushi. An audio-guide was available (in eight different languages) which clearly explained history and process of sherry making and the importance of sherry in the Spanish culture. This audio-guide was easy to understand, but we recommend visiting the market at an off-time as when the market is packed, it’s a bit hard to hear. Carrying the wine tray and the headset and controller did make us look a bit unusual in the market. The brass tray itself was the start of several conversations with other patrons of the market-what was it and where did one get it? As the sherrys were consumed our Spanish improved immensely and we were able to answer many of the questions we were asked about the tasting and direct people to The Sherry Corner. The small table we shared was with a group of Belgian tourists who were greatly interested in our progressive tastings. As we were leaving, we invited them to a glass of the Pedro Ximenez from The Sherry Corner, and left these tourists happily trying a new aspect of Spanish culture. For more information and a discount coupon: www.sherry-corner.com. Photo complements of The Sherry Corner.

International Tapas Champ!

2011-11-10T18:27:00.000+01:00

More news from Valladolid, but this time from the International Tapas Competition for Culinary Students. 15 students from all over the world competed to produce the best tapa!Read more about the winners at Foods From Spain, 2011 International Tapas Competition in Valladolid.

Valladolid Pinchos Competition

2011-11-10T13:09:00.000+01:00

I just got back from a few days at the amazing National Pinchos and Tapas competition in Valladolid. The level of culinary talent was mind-boggling and the bite-sized morsels came in all different shapes and sizes, each more stunning than the last!Read more about the winner of this fantastic competition at Foods From Spain, Best Pincho in Spain 2011.

Talentos Design by the Talented Designer

2011-10-26T10:27:00.000+02:00

Another great reason to go to one of my favorite Madrid museums, the Museo del Traje (costume museum) is to stop by the Talentos Design exhibit that opened last night. Sponsored by the Fundación Banco Santander, the exposition displays work submitted to this sustainable design competition by aspiring young designers from Iberoamerica in the categories of Spaces and Interior Design, Industrial or Products, Fashion and Textiles, and Graphics. In addition to the work itself, the most exciting aspect of this expo (in my completely unbiased opinion) was that it was designed by architect Enrique Bordes. Made using sustainable and recyclable materials, it is apparent that the geometric forms and shapes that make up the backdrop for this expo were individually tailored to each of the submitted pieces. All in all, it makes for a truly unique and breathtakingly fresh approach and a striking exposition. Whoever this guy is, he ought to give me a commission! No ham this time, rather chocolate and cava.

The Measure of Time

2011-10-25T09:33:00.000+02:00

Last night I had the pleasure of attending the inauguration of an exhibition entitled The Measure of Time - The Kings' Clocks in the 18th Century Spanish Court (La Medida del Tiempo - Relojes de Reyes en la Corte española del siglo 18), which is being held in Madrid's Royal Palace until January 15th. In addition to the added delight of going to see something in such a majestic setting, the contents of the exhibition are breathtakingly lovely. This collection of eighteenth century clocks, which is managed by the Spanish National Heritage organization (Patrimonio Nacional), is one of the most significant and complete of its kind in Europe. Each piece in the collection, which was begun by the first of the Spanish Bourbon kings, Felipe V, and continued by Fernando VI and Carlos III, is a unique and fascinating timepiece adorned with intricate gold, lacquered wood, enamel, marble, glass or bronze. Additionally, the exposition, which was designed by my favorite architect and museographer, Enrique Bordes, is beautifully arrayed on a innovative structure that not only displays the clocks to the best possible advantage, but that also evokes the shadows cast by a sundial, marking the passage of time.

On a side note, I would highly recommend going on the hour, to hear the wonderful chimes. Oh, and as this is a food blog, I'll say, that we ate some delicious ham!

Sweet Sliders

2011-10-22T11:13:00.004+02:00

I spotted these tasty looking sliders at the recent Millesime Madrid gastronomic event and just had to try them. Much to my surprise, what I expected to find - a meaty and juicy little burger topped with delicious cheddar cheese - was in fact a sweet brioche with a chocolate 'patty' and an Andalusian orange square that melted tangily on the tongue. Read more in Sweet Sweet Burgers on the Trans-Iberian blog from El País.

Las Recetas de El Comidista

2011-10-19T11:09:00.002+02:00

Last night I had the great pleasure of attending the release of the new cookbook by Mikel López Iturriaga, better known as El Comidista for his fantastic culinary blog published in El País. To be perfectly honest, I crashed the book presentation, thanks to an invitation from a mutual friend, but I could not have enjoyed it more. Not only is the book appealing, organized into sections such as Exploiting your family´s recipes, Humiliate your colleagues with your Tupperware, Post-alcoholic meals and For you, because you're poor; the presentation itself was a delightful, even sidesplitting event that reached its highest points of hilarity during the author's gleeful reading of some of the comments made by his most fervent critics (trolls). The recipes are straightforward, easy (classified as being accessible to varying levels of morons), interesting and accompanied by musical suggestions - what else. Compralo!Read more in Las Recetas de el Comidista at Foods From Spain.

Jamón Ibérico Fair in the Plaza Mayor

2011-10-03T10:56:00.002+02:00

The latest gastronomic fair in a welcome, but nonetheless never ending stream of them, is the recently announced Jamón Ibérico de Bellota Fair that is scheduled to take place in Madrid's Plaza Mayor in late October.Read more in The Seven Flavors of Ham.yum.

Cheesecake for Breakfast

2011-09-30T09:04:00.000+02:00

It's 8:30 on Friday morning and I'm having a slice of lime cheesecake with a coconut crust for breakfast. Normally, I would be having a poached egg on toast, my newest obsession, but I used all the eggs making the cheesecake last night and my refrigerator is so small that in addition to the cheesecake, it fits little else. I'm not much of a sweets person and I would really almost rather be eating something salty, like Chinese dumplings or potato latkes, but I do make an exception for cheesecake. I also figure that this one, the result of trying to be über prepared for tonight's subsequently aborted dinner party, will just languish in my fridge if I don't do something about it, hence, cheesecake for breakfast.Anyway, the most important thing about this treatise is that it turned out delicious. I used the recipe off of Epicurious for Key Lime Cheesecake with Tropical Dried-Fruit Chutney. I usually have to piece together a variety of different scraps of cheesecake advice from different recipes (seriously, how can there be so many different techniques for making cheesecake), but this time I more or less followed it exactly, taking into account just a few of the suggestions in the comments section, which is truly the most fun part of the site to look at anyway. I also made a few modifications of my own: there are no key limes in Spain so used regular ones, skipped the weird-sounding dried-fruit chutney, reduced the sugar slightly, used plain yoghurt instead of sour cream (or crème fraiche), cooked the crust (with unsweetened coconut flakes) for about 18 minutes and put a little oil under it so it wouldn't stick to my spring-form pan. Anyway, it was incredibly easy to make, especially the crust, and took about 9 minutes in total to prepare plus a night in the fridge to settle. Just a tip, take the foil off from around the pan before sticking it in your fridge, mine was slightly flooded this morning - must have been from the wine I drank while cooking the cheesecake last night.Overall, delicious, although maybe a bit rich for breakfast. I may have to trade it for a breakfast bowl of gumbo (also on the menu for tonight's cancelled soiree). Please excuse the poor lighting on the photo, the sun's just come up.

Lusting for limpits

2011-09-22T20:48:00.000+02:00

The first time I was lucky enough to try a lapa, or limpet, at a restaurant on the Canary Island of Tenerife, I was also unlucky in that it was the very last limpet left in the whole restaurant. In fact, after waiting for over an hour for our table and watching plate after plate of these hot, sizzling mollusks go by, bathed in mojo verde sauce made of garlic, olive oil, vinegar and fresh parsley or cilantro, when we finally sat down and were told us that there were none left, I was only able to get my hands on one of them by begging the kind gentlemen at the next table. Yes! They are good enough to tell a tall tale to a group of total strangers about having traveled all the way from the USA to fulfill my lifelong dream of tasting these delectable mollusks.Now, recently back from ten glorious days on the stunning Island of Lanzarote, I can gratefully say that I ate myself silly with limpets. I bet you never heard that before. Read more in "Stuck on Limpets" on the Trans-Iberian blog from El País.

Eating Spanish in Delhi

2011-08-24T12:38:00.001+02:00

While I may have indulged in a glass (or three) of Spanish wine at the Instituto Cervantes, I confess that on my recent trip to Delhi, I didn't eat any Spanish food at all. I mean, why would I? The food in India was amazing: succulent wood-roasted tandoori chicken, dahl, korma, tikka masala, etc. And after all, I only had a week to taste it all. But if I could do it all over again, I would take the time to try the food at Chef Saby's incredible restaurant, the Olive Bar and Kitchen, which I unfortunately only heard about on my last day in the city. In any case, I couldn't help writing about this culinary gem and some of the other Spanish gastronomy that is making its way to Delhi.

Read more in "India Savors Spain" on www.foodsfromspain.com

Bluefish Revisited

2011-08-04T16:50:00.000+02:00

Last night I finally fulfilled a request made a couple of years ago by my dear friend Pepe, the ex-waiter from my ex-restaurant, to reprise his favorite dishes from Bluefish: Plato Beirut, Roasted garlic with brie and Apple pie with vanilla ice cream.

I have to admit that the cooking part was pretty fun. Considering how big my own kitchen is, I almost felt like i was back at Bluefish. I knocked off the prep work for these three dishes in about an hour - one hand making the apple crumble, while the other boiled water, drizzled olive oil, peeled garlic and diced parsley. It was as automatic and speedy as it used to be and the ingredients flowed into each dish without a moments doubt. At the same time, I realized that despite how much time has gone by, I still don't particularly feel like eating any of these things. So, in order to spice up the routine a bit I decided to pickle some carrot sticks using an easy recipe from Gourmet.

They were delicious: crunchy, slightly spicy from the garlic, dill and pink peppercorns that I added on a whim. Truly, the photo doesn't do them justice.

The whole thing was pulled together by a limonada or white sangria that I made with white wine, lemon fanta, fizzy water, lemon juice, peaches, pineapple and cherries and a splash of cherry liquor that I bought during a recent trip to Valle del Jerte in Extremadura. I should point out that, here in Spain, people really NEVER drink sangria. It is strictly tourist fare. However, this was a delicious and satisfying beverage anomaly meant to deal with a particularly hot day and alcohol-infused week - but it was delicious!

Food and Theater in Almagro

2011-07-28T18:49:00.000+02:00

At first glance, Almagro (Castile-La Mancha) exudes a decidedly traditional feel. This preciously maintained town is made up of impeccably whitewashed houses and cobblestone streets arrayed around a 16th century, porticoed Plaza Mayor. Its cultural heritage is also reflected in the annual Classical Theater Festival that attracts spectators from all over the world. At the same time, the town’s rich gastronomic heritage is often represented by the pickled berenjenas (eggplants) de Almagro that are everywhere and were first introduced by the Moors in the 10th century. Therefore, expecting to become immersed in this air of classicism, I took the train to Almagro last weekend for the festival’s final days and was pleasantly surprised to find that from the theater to the table, Almagro does tradition, with a twist.

Read more at the Trans-Iberian blog from El País: "Almagro, tradition with a twist"

To Market in Madrid

2011-07-28T11:23:00.000+02:00

I spent the greater part of yesterday at two very different types of Madrid markets. In the morning, I made my way over to the second edition of the “Días de Madrid” farmer’s market, which is now being held on the first Saturday of every month in the Recinto Ferial Casa de Campo.

Keep reading on the Trans-Iberian blog from El País: "Madrid Markets - Rural Meets Urban"

Grilled Seafood at Madrid's El Boquerón

2011-06-29T18:39:00.000+02:00

With the way that I have been sluggishly getting through this heatwave, I almost feel like I've met the same fate as the delicious gambas (shrimp) and cigalas (like salt-water crayfish) that are grilled and served piping hot with sea salt at El Boquerón, Lavapiés' local seafood haunt. This traditionally tiled bar has been a neighborhood favorite for decades and has all of the elements of one of those classic and treasured Madrid locales that you hope to frequent for years to come: grouchy but charming old waiters, delicious food, perfectly poured cold cañas (little glasses f draft beer) endless glasses of vermouth on-tap and a shrimp-head scattered floor. The best time to come is the aperitivo hour (around 1pm), before lunch on a Saturday or Sunday, although El Boquerón is always busy. In fact people actually begged me not to write about it, so as not to attract more crowds.

Shrimp and cigalas are weighed on an antique scale before being gracefully laid on the smoking griddle. And while I have tried many a grilled crustacean in my time here, nothing quite prepared me for the wood-smokey flavor of these exquisitely grilled delicacies.

For a palate refreshment, try the small, sweet oysters from Northern Spain that are being shucked to order just behind the counter.

And, as always, remember that the best places to eat in Madrid are those with the most (but right kind of) trash on the floor. Just try not to slip on a shrimp head.

El Boquerón
C/ Valencia 14, Madrid
+ 34 91 527 6380

What's on the menu for the revolution

2011-06-22T09:43:00.001+02:00

Just the other day we were discussing the fact that so many expressions and sayings in Spanish have something to do with food. Mala leche (bad milk) is for someone with a bad attitude or intentions, while a mendrugo (piece of hard bread) is a way to call someone stupid, and the list goes on and on.
And of course the food expression of the hour in Spain is calling your least favorite politicians chorizos, which, in addition to a famous Spanish pork sausage, also means "thieves". So it seems only fitting that Spanish protesters have been using food to express their feelings. Here is just a taste of the Spanish revolution.

Buen provecho!

My Father's Daughter - Gwyneth Paltrow's Cookbook Speaks From the Heart

2011-06-14T08:26:00.005+02:00

I asked my recently visiting parents to bring me a copy of Gwyneth Paltrow's new cookbook "My Father's Daughter: Delicious, Easy Recipes Celebrating Family & Togetherness" from the States. I was curious and, I confess, have always felt a bit guilty for writing a petty blog entry years ago expressing my jealously over the PBS series "On the Road" about eating around Spain. (I think I inexplicably felt that I held the market on loving Spanish food and culture - don't bother looking for it on the site, I removed it years ago in shame). I had also heard quite a bit about the book and its recipes and can closely relate with equating my love for cooking with my love for my family and the wonderful times that we have shared around the stove and the table.
My own father, who I am incredibly fortunate to say is healthy and wonderful, is a great scientist in the kitchen, making breads, pizza doughs and other dishes that depend heavily on strict measurements and a number of external factors such as oven temperature, type of dish, altitude, humidity, exact timing etc. It surely has something to do with his training as a marine biochemist, but I think mostly revolves around a type of intense culinary satisfaction - of being able to solve the riddle of a dish and recreate it the same way every time. My own culinary satisfaction manifests itself in a different way, from the challenge of being able to invent an amazing meal from the remains of the refrigerator or the dwindling contents of my spice cupboard. I like inventing, mixing and matching and making every dish my own.
It is the combination of these things that makes Paltrow's new book so enticing. Her philosophy on cooking is one that I share - use good-quality, fresh ingredients to make simple and delicious dishes (and, drink while you cook) and the recipes themselves are simple, interesting and intentionally leave a lot of room for adaption (for kids, vegans, main dishes, dinner parties, etc.), which I appreciate as I like to take inspiration from recipes, but rarely follow them to the letter. She even includes a couple of recipes from the time she spent in Spain studying abroad, which is also something I can relate closely to. This is, in fact, partly what led me to buy the book in the first place. About a year ago I saw the recipe for Pan Tumaca on her website (Goop) and thought, "13 years in Spain and it never occurred to me to grate the tomato - what a fantastic idea!". I have been using this technique ever since.
I should confess that I have yet to actually try any of the recipes. I meant to, I truly did, but I sat down with the book to find some inspiration for dinner and ended up reading the whole thing cover to cover with a glass of wine - forgetting about eating altogether. I can't remember ever doing this with a cookbook before.
In short, I found everything about it be refreshingly clear, tenderly nostalgic and an overall delightful read, lacking in any of the pretension that sometimes invades celebrity-chef cookbooks. Quite on the contrary, Paltrow's writing exudes a straightforward love of cooking, gastronomy and family that makes it easy to enjoy and relate to. Of course the fact that both she and her kitchen are absolutely beautiful doesn't hurt either.

(Not Spanish) Tortilla Making 101

2011-06-08T19:10:00.007+02:00

First off, I should mention that I don't mean Spanish tortillas (egg and potato omelets), but rather the delicious corn tortillas used in the cuisine of so many other places all over Latin America.

I absolutely love corn tortillas, especially those small fresh ones that I have stuffed my face with in Guatemala and Mexico so many times. In Spain it is now easy to find brands like Old El Paso and other similar versions, but these poor imitations (Old El Paso only contains 29% corn flower) lack the toasty corn taste and the soft yielding texture of real tortillas, and so I decided to make my own.
Years ago my roommate Alison and I made corn tortillas in the apartment that we shared in Madrid. She is a great cook and showed me how easy it was to press the tortillas flat by putting the ball of dough between two plates, pressing the top one firmly down in the center. Now a much lazier, and more gadget happy, version of myself asked a chef friend to buy me a tortilla press in Milwaukee and bring it to me at a wedding that we both attended two weeks ago in Chicago. Oh no, I just remembered that I never paid her back!

Anyway, I have been using it like mad since I got back to Madrid and I have to say that yes, my tortillas are indeed delicious and incredibly easy to make. The only ingredients are (instant) masa corn flour (which is now available at El Corte Ingles department store), water and salt. Masa is essentially a corn flour made out of corn that has been treated with lime and made into dough that is dried and powdered. The recipe on the back of the Maseca brand Masa that I bought (which is also used for tamales, pupusas, empanadas, etc.) calls for two cups masa, 1/4 teaspoon salt and 1 3/4 water, to make 16 small corn tortillas.

This is the process, as carried out in my tiny kitchen by me and my Dad, and captured on film for eternity by my Mom (visiting from Colorado). I should note that my dad has decades of experience frying up tortillas, ever since he and my mom would visit her family in San Diego and bring an empty suitcase along to fill up with tortillas straight from the best factory in Los Angeles. They would freeze them in our massive basement freezer in Michigan to last the year, during which snowy Midwestern Saturdays were perked up by my Dad's quesadilla lunches.

First, mix the Masa, salt and water together for about 2 minutes until forming a soft and smooth dough. You can add a bit more water if it feels dry, only about a Tablespoon at a time. It worked best to mix with our hands.
Then, to divide the dough up evenly into 16 parts, my father, the scientist, came up with this wonderful circular - Aztec looking - disk technique:

Then you roll each of the sections into balls, which you should keep under a slightly moistened cloth so that the dough doesn't get dry.

Lighting not a special effect

The next step is the tortilla press, just slip each of the balls of dough between two pieces of plastic wrap or wax paper (papel de horno) and press down. This is captured in this scintillating video. Music by Al Green.

Voila! The last step is the cooking. About a minute on each side in a very hot, UNGREASED pan. This cooks the tortilla dough. Then, if you are going to use them for tostadas or tacos or the like, let them cool a bit and then fry in a bit of olive, or other, oil.

We had ours with chicken and vegetable fajitas during the Spain - USA soccer match. Unlike the game, the food made everyone happy!

Anto's Family Recipe For Tortitas de Camarones!

2011-06-06T13:08:00.003+02:00

I confess that yesterday's post on food in Cádiz made me hungry for some of those delicious, crispy-fried tortitas de camarones. I asked my friend Anto who is from Cádiz, but lives in London, if he would ask his parents or grandparents for a family recipe for this local favorite.

Before I go into the recipe, I should note that in Spain, camarones are teeny tiny shrimp about the size of a normal paperclip (it took me a really long time to think of something that size) that are eaten whole - head, peel and all.

Anto's Parents and Grandmothers' Recipe (translated directly):

Flour, onion or chive, parsley, camarones (it sounds cruel but it's better if they're alive) and a pinch of salt. Add water (some people also use beer) a little bit at a time and stir until you get a relatively liquid batter. Heat olive oil and when it is very hot, add a spoonful of the batter in the oil, spreading it out so that it is wide enough and very thin. (One spoonful = one tortita). Cook until golden, remove and drain oil with absorbent paper.

As I am personally averse to measurements, this is my kind of recipe. However, I will try to define it a bit better for anyone who is interested once I have made it. Off to the market to buy camarones (I hope they sell them in Madrid), but I will leave you with this blurry photo of tortitas from El Faro del Puerto.


I was so excited to eat these that I didn't wait for the camera to focus! Blurry tortitas de camarones - sorry!

Mil gracias a Anto, padres y abuelas!!

El Faro del Puerto, Cadíz

2011-06-05T12:24:00.000+02:00

There is plenty of great food in Cadíz, with particular emphasis on wonderful things like different types of crispy fried fish and tortitas de camarones (thin pancakes made with tiny whole shrimp, garbanzos, eggs, onions, garlic and parsley). One of my absolute favorite places to eat here is Gonzálo Córdoba's, El Faro del Puerto, a classic restaurant dedicated to traditional and delicious "gaditana" (from Cadíz) cuisine, using local and seasonal ingredients. The restaurant is actually divided into two areas, a large circular bar and a more formal, sit-down dining room, which is connected to the bar through a door at the back. To be perfectly honest, in all of my visits here over the years, I´ve never even set eyes on the dining room, I´m sure the food is wonderful, but, as locals will tell you, the secret to this restaurant is to dine at the bar. Here, you can not only can you order anything off the moderately expensive regular menu, but also chose from a huge menu of incredibly priced and delicious tapas and raciones (slightly larger plates of food) - a small price to pay for the lack of stools or any other seating. The best and most typical thing to do is to order a variety of different dishes to share.

Here are some of my favorites from a recent visit (I actually went twice in two days):


Alcachofas confitadas con boquerones en vinagre y jugo de pimiento amarillo (Artichokes with vinegared sardines and yellow pepper juice - 2.65 Euros / plate)


Brocheta de alcachofas y vieras a la plancha con jugo de pimientos asados (Grilled artichokes - I love artichokes - and scallops with roasted pepper puree - 5.25 Euros)


Albondigas de Marisco al Jerez Fino en Salsa de Almejas (Seafood balls with Fino sherry and clam sauce - 16.60 Euros)


Fried eggplant "flower" and charming waiter

In the center of the bar behind the counter there is a huge cold storage box piled with the local fresh fish of the day, ready to be prepared to order in any variety of ways. Other specialties include incredibly rich and perfectly cook rice dishes and a long list of meats. The wine list is long and varied, but I always start with a glass of crisp, dry Manzanilla (sherry) that the bartenders line up along the bar in cold buckets of ice at the beginning of the shift.

And if this doesn't convince you. This is the photo that I took around the corner from the restaurant.

El Faro de Cadiz
C/ San Félix, 15
+34 902 211 068
www.elfarodecadiz.com

Spain in Denver

2011-05-18T11:40:00.003+02:00

One of my favorites, Ortiz tuna, on a shelf in Peppercorn in Bouler

Several weeks ago during a visit to see my family in Colorado, I decided to try to follow the trail of Spanish products found in Denver restaurants from their source on the other side of the Atlantic. The article proved to be much more involved than I ever imagined, and opened a wealth of other ideas relating to how food gets from point A to point B and how the products that are shipped from one place to another are even found in the first place. I think that the most fascinating thing to consider is how it would feel for a farmer from a tiny town in Andalucia to know that their olives are being served with gusto on a table in Boulder, Colorado, and particularly the other way round.
Here is just a taste of what I discovered.

Denver goes Spanish - www.foodsfromspain.com

Churros in Cádiz

2011-05-10T13:06:00.002+02:00

I just spent a long weekend in Cádiz, a charming city in the south of Spain, founded by Hercules incidentally and thought to be the oldest in Europe. It is one of my favorite places in Andalucía and in Spain in general. Nice people, wonderful ruins and charming plazas, great food, lots of fried fish, sherry and beautiful beaches. I took about a million photos of the food which will be popping up in posts little by little. I thought it best to start chronologically, however, with breakfast.

We had heard that the churros in Cadíz were thinner than in other places in Spain, and since E is a venerated Madrid-born expert on all things churros, I ventured up the street from the hotel with directions from a couple of complementary elderly gentlemen to the famous Cadíz freidura (fry-shop), Las Flores. Connected to a cafeteria-style restaurant, in the morning this fry counter is all about churros, while in the early afternoon it is where people from all over the city come to pick up an assortment of the delicious and typically fried fish and mollusks that has made this establishment famous. It is fried fish to-go in its most wonderful form.

a cuarto of churros

The churros here were indeed thin, and made in crisp, golden loops of fried dough, which are then cut into strips. They are ordered by weight and so, unsure of how much we needed for two people, the helpful churrero suggested I get a cuarto, which I took to mean a quarter kilo. The whole order cost 1.80 Euros. Needless to say I couldn't believe that there were plenty of individuals at the bar ordering medio for themselves. Despite the fact that they were probably the best I had ever tried, we could only get through about half of the cuarto of incredible crisp and toasted treats. My recommendation is that they are best eaten dunked in coffee and then dipped in a bit of sugar while looking at the Atlantic Ocean.

Freidura Las Flores
C/ Brasil, S/N
11009 Cadiz, Spain
956 289 378

The Rural Juror

2011-05-03T23:57:00.001+02:00

Idiazabal Cheese in the Ordizia Marketplace

Last summer I was generously invited to sit on the jury of the annual Idiazabal Cheese competition held in the Navarran town of Uharte Arakil. I had met some of these wonderful cheese-loving folks in the Spring, while researching an article on this incredible and traditional cheese which is artisinally made from Latxa sheeps' milk (I never can decide where that apostrophe goes) on the Guipuzcoan side of this cheese-making region. Most particularly, it was the enthusiasm, kindness and delightful charm of the President of the Designation of Origin Queso Idiazabal, Jose María Ustarroz, that made it all such a wonderful experience (and, of course, my cheese-loving cousin K and friend J who drove me around during both adventures). I am incredibly excited as I've just been invited to again become a Rural Juror in this summer's event.

Both original articles were written and published for www.foodsfromspain.com.

Link to Queso Idiazabal Article
Link to the Rural Juror Article

The Gingerbread Michigan

2011-04-28T09:36:00.001+02:00

Speaking of going global. This is a shot of the gingerbread cookies that I recently prepared using my only cookie cutters, which as you can see, are in the shape of the great state of Michigan - upper AND lower peninsula. Unfortunately the lower peninsulas kept snapping in half.
As you can imagine, they caused almost as much of a stir among locals as when I brought a tray of paper cup Jello shots to a "BBQ" here so many years ago that turned out to be a fancy cocktail party for the Spanish upper crust. Which is not to say that there wasn't any grilling going on, only that the burgers flipped by a staff of white-glove wearing butlers.

If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you!
(and thank you J, L, L and K)

Forbidden Pleasure Goes Global

2011-04-26T06:08:00.000+02:00

When you own a restaurant and do all the cooking, you get to the point where you would rather eat just about anything but the food that you yourself prepare there on a daily basis. Instead of making myself one of the healthy salads or other dishes on the menu, I would think of everything in terms of "ugh! If I eat that, I will just have to make more of it later". The only days that I truly stuffed myself while working were Sundays, when we brought the miracle of Sunday brunch to the center of Madrid...and with it, the forbidden pleasure: smoky bacon dipped in maple syrup. This treat was stuffed into our mouths at a feverish rate while passing through the kitchen - and often washed down with a Bloody Mary. My business partner B was the first to give it this name, a term that we later introduced to many a regular client, "So, Juan, have I told you about the Forbidden Pleasure?".
Well, it seems that many years later this treat (or a slight variation of it) has finally made it to the realm of Spanish "Avant-garde" tapas, as illustrated in this article/recipe that came out yesterday in Gastronomía y Cia. They don't seem to know that it's forbidden, however...

Eating American

2010-08-19T11:17:00.005+02:00

I´m back from my travels in the USA, land of sensual ribs so tender that the meat slides off the bone; jalapeño burgers slathered in cheddar cheese with jaunty American flags waving out of the top buns; spicy tamales with soft yielding corn meal, salsa prepared at the table with a stone mortar and pestle; bison burgers, bison steaks, bison bourguignon; corn on the cob, husked on the back porch and finished on the grill; ghost chili chimichurri slathered on roasted pork belly; scallop-tilapia ceviche with tostones and hearts of palm; frijoles antioqueños, dripping in lime, cilantro and roasted tomatoes with scallions; clam chowder whipped into a frenzy by the August wind of San Fransisco Bay; coffees as big as your head; Chicago hot dogs, topped with shockingly green relish; Prince Edward Island mussels and happy hour; my brother's homemade jerky, sausages, kimchi and pickles; fried chicken and waffles; polenta with sauteed kale and blue cheese; lemon meringue pie; Enrique's celebrated gnocchi, the best I've ever tasted them; jalapeño-cheddar Cheetos, toxic-orange stained fingers; American breakfast! grits, biscuits, bacon, Hollandaise, the inevitable bison sausage, burritos; the elusive Vietnamese pho, that still haunts me with a craving; micro-beer in every flavor and color; wine from every state; cappuccino from an ancient machine that still only my parent's know the secrets to; bagels with vegetable cream cheese, lox and capers; champagne on the top of Chicago; seltzer in a mason jar; pan-fried lake perch; bourbon; eating crisp yellow squash and digging purple potatoes from my parent's garden; lemonade stands; ice tea...
Thank you everyone, it was glorious!

photo: roasted pork belly, tostones, kimchi and homegrown purple potatoes

Sigüenza

2010-06-22T11:22:00.004+02:00

I just spent a weekend in Sigüenza, a charming medeival town in northern Castilla La Mancha surrounded by incredible countryside and beautiful trails, not that the town´s tourist office has ever heard of them. There is also an incredibly restored castle that has been turned into a four star Parador, a national, publicly owned chain of hotels located in restored monasteries and other historic monuments. Unfortunately, the hotel staff at Sigüenza´s Parador had the personality of monuments - just as stiff and just as cold.
Fortunately, there were other more agreeable and delicious places to dine in Sigüenza, including Gurugú de la Plazuela, a lovely, family-owned restaurant that occupies a beautiful stone building on a corner overlooking a plaza, with the green hills of La Mancha just beyond. A specialty here are the wild mushrooms, of which there is an ample selection of around ten differnet varieties, each prepared in a way that best suits their individual characteristics, but mostly just sauteed with a little olive oil and garlic or onion. If you are less than fungally savvy, there is an option of trying three different kinds of mushrooms, selected by the friendly waiter´s aunt and uncle depending on the season. Another specialty is the rabo de toro, bull´s tail that is slowly cooked into a tender stew with red wine, carrots, onions, garlic and cloves, among other things. Unfortunately, I kept forgetting to take photos of my food before eating, all I ended up with was a photo of a plate with a pile of bones, a poor example of the deliciousness that was the dish.

Gurugú de la Plazuela
Travesaña Alta, 17 (Plazuela de la Cárcel)
19250 Siguenza
+34 949390134

Parad-rice (insert groan)

2010-06-01T19:02:00.009+02:00

There is some debate as to whether this delectableness was actually paella or arroz a banda, as the authentic Valencian rice-maker Boris would have us believe (similar to paella but only cooked with all of the delicious things, which are then removed before serving).
This debate became heated in nature only in that it took place under a hot Ibiza sun, and drawn out only by the copious glasses of wine and full bellies that had caused our brains to gloriously dim. As far as this article is concerned, I preferred to willingly accept the arroz a banda assertion, given that its author had just produced one of the most delicious rices that I have ever tasted.
The journey began on a surreal note when the DHL delivery man showed up with the perfect sized paella pan for 14 people. It seems they take their rices very seriously here.
Boris then spent the next hour sitting on a dusty driveway in front of an old stone shed, scrubbing out the pan with lemon juice while the occasional lagartito gracefully scurried past. The pan was finally positioned just right over a gas grill, which was moved, and then moved again, until ending up out of breeze's reach at the top of a staircase so that the gas flames would lick the pan uniformly and the rice cook evenly. I believe I was in the swimming pool while this went on, but please don´t tell the chef that.
The first step is to make the sofrito, sauteeing a head of garlic with some grated tomato, fresh diced sepia (squid), and whole, unpeeled langostinos (or shrimp if available). Then add the fish stock and a bit of sweet paprika (which shouldn't be burned or it turns bitter), saffron (either in threads or powder), and ñora, a type of pepper that has been dried in the sun. It must first be soaked and then opened, and the soft insides scraped away from the hard outer shell.
Then finally add the short-grained paella rice, which Boris poured in the form of a cross before spreading it out in all directions so as to achieve even disbursement. I have never had much of a hand with rice, either using too much or too little water, or making way to much or little for the quantity of hungry people, but he seems to be blessed with the opposite skills, and when the rice was cooked he served it to all 14 people, one at a time, and completely fearlessly - a Robin Hood of rice if you will. He tried to share some of this wisdom with me, and even told me how to measure the proportions, but I can't even trust myself to do the math. All I know is that 4 liters of stock and 2 kilos of rice, will serve 14 people the most delicious arroz a banda they have likely ever tried, especially when Boris is making it. The flavor was at once rich and delicate, the texture of the rice perfect, the chef delightfully calm, and the servings more than generous although I imagine we all would have gladly eaten more.
Serve with alioli, freshly squeezed lemons, and a beautiful wooden table, surrounded by lovely people and buganvilla - preferably in Ibiza.

(gracias a Juan por las fotos)

Roasted Sea Bass in Ibiza

2010-05-27T12:48:00.001+02:00

This week is special meal Ibiza edition. I can sit at the very edge of the garden and steal internet from across the way, while looking out over a rocky cove and lazily crashing waves. Not that I´m showing off.
Dinner last night was thanks to María. Beautiful whole sea bass or lubina, cleaned of guts and such and laid over a bed of peeled thinly sliced potatoes, tomatoes, green peppers and onions (not for me). Roasted whole in the somewhat iffy oven for about 35-40 minutes and covered with slices of lemons and crushed garlic. According to María, the objective is for the potatoes to cook through without the garlic burning too much, but I confess that the crunchy brown garlic goodness was so darn delicious. Easy and tasty, particularly when accompanied by an almost full moon and soft wave soundtrack.

Happy Birthday Gran Vía, We got you PIPAS!!

2010-05-18T09:51:00.010+02:00

BEFORE and AFTER

This weekend, Madrid's emblematic boulevard Gran Vía celebrated its 100 year anniversary. Not actually on the real anniversary, this celebration kind of seemed like a silly waste of money, but anyway. I love Gran Vía, it is a beautiful street and deserves every bit of recognition that we give it, but whoever had the genius idea of carpeting the entire street in blue carpeting (ahem, Telefonica) and then encouraging thousands of people to trample on it all night long, obviously doesn't understand the true volume of the nation's addiction to eating PIPAS (sunflower seeds)! Pipas are obviously a national pastime. Go to a futbol match and your feet will be swimming in the shells long before halftime. In a bar, the park, on a train...but you just can't grasp the quantity until you see these shells highlighted against a ridiculously blue carpet that covers Madrid's main thoroughfare - uniformly, perfectly spaced out EVERYWHERE - and this was at the beginning of the night's activities.
According to the program issued by Madrid's city hall, this massive carpet is going to be reused for the White Night event in September. Hope they get an army of squirrels in to clean it first.

Fried Egg + Avocado = Breakfast

2010-05-16T09:31:00.006+02:00

This is my current breakfast of choice. I love it so much that I couldn't wait until after the photo to take a bite. I assume that it is a great way to start the day because it more or less keeps me going until lunch which isn't until 2 or 3 in the afternoon here. Our next door neighbors gave us a whole bag of avocados from the trees around their house, which I believe is near Granada. I would put avocado on my list of top five favorite foods in the world - as in raw materials. Here, the avocado is sliced or smushed directly onto the toasted bread and then sprinkled with rock salt, which I can find a use for on just about anything. The fried egg makes me think of my mom, although on a side note, egg yolks are a different color here than they are in the States. In Spain they are a deeper more golden-orange yellow, and in the USA much paler and more lemon colored. Oh, and by the way, I recently read somewhere that the thing about keeping the seed in the avocado so that it doesn't turn brown is totally bunk. Just cover it tightly with plastic and/or a bit of lemon juice. Or just eat the whole thing in one sitting. For other uses for that leftover piece of avocado, please see the Aquodka post from July 2007 (where does the time go?).

Seriously, do not make this

2010-05-16T09:23:00.002+02:00

But let's just throw another photo up because it is so very pretty.

(ps. thanks for this plate Myra)

Do Not Make This TUNA

2010-05-16T08:55:00.007+02:00

We're not eating blue fin tuna, or is it yellow fin? Ack! I don't remember, but I do know that we're not eating it because of the overfishing (sobre pesca in Spanish, overfishing just sounds weird) issue and the fact that I would actually prefer that this majestic fish survive. I haven't made my favorite tuna tataki with a black toasted sesame seed and rock salt crust (my brother's recipe) in at least two years, and so when I waltzed into Carrefour of all places early last Saturday morning and saw the amazing fish selection, and more specifically the glistening tuna steaks at 2,50 euros each, I couldn't resist - nay, something came over me. I didn't have sesame seeds at home, so ended up making the crust with crushed dry red pepper corns and rock salt. Basically, just rinse the fish in cold water, dip in the mixture of crushed pepper or sesame and sal gorda, and then sear on each side. Make sure that the pan is hot, and use a drop of either olive oil or sesame oil. Hold for about 1-3 minutes on each side (depending on how raw you like your tataki and how thick it is), and if you are unsure, there is nothing shameful about cutting into it and checking. When it's finished, slice the tuna into 1 cm slices and throw in the fridge for a few minutes to chill, or you can eat warm, whatever floats your boat. In any case, the inside should be raw and cool. My brother drizzles the tuna with spicy sesame oil before serving, and sprinkles it with thinly diced scallions, which I am allergic to. I'd like to think that he wouldn't do that if I were eating over.
This time I made a little dipping sauce from equal parts soy sauce and lime juice, about a teaspoon of sugar and some sliced fresh ginger, and served with steamed asparagus and roasted sweet potato.
It's heaven, but please don't make this dish. Just think of those poor tuna.

1960´s chicken plate

2010-05-06T10:02:00.003+02:00

This lunch cracked me up because it looked like something straight out of the 1960´s; Leave it to Beaver, but in color. I think it must be the peas; they always give a meal that vintage appeal. Really the only unique component of this meal were the peas, believe it or not, as fresh peas are not very common in Spain and cost an arm and a leg in the market. Feeling nostalgic for the snap peas from my mom’s garden, I plunked down close to 5 Euros for a small tray of already shelled peas and I have to say that they were such a disappointment, with none of the sweet summery pea flavor that I was remembering. Anyway, stuck with these disappointing peas, I boiled them for just a second with a pinch of salt and then threw them in a sauté pan with a little olive oil, diced garlic and the leftover portabella mushrooms from yesterday’s dinner. I added a splash of a bottle of light white wine (un-oaked Chardonnay from Navarra) that had been open for a couple of days and some salt and pepper.
Then, I made a space in the vegetables and plunked my chicken breast down in the middle, put a top on the whole thing, and let it cook for about 10 minutes until the chicken breast was cooked through (not pink, not transparent shiny). This was a mistake. What I should have done was not be so lazy and cut the raw chicken into bite-sized pieces before sautéing it. It would have cooked uniformly and stayed juicy and delicious. What I found instead was that the whole thick breast was chewy and overcooked just about everywhere but the inside (which took forever to cook), and none of it had absorbed any of the flavors of the wine, garlic, etc. As you can see in the photo, I could barely cut the thing and had to resort to ripping it apart like a savage beast just to get my fork in it. Luckily, the mushroom mixture tasted wonderful – sweet peas or no – and I had roasted some slices of sweet potato (batata in Spanish) in the oven with a little bit of sea salt and olive oil, which is always absolutely perfect. Just peel, slice, and lightly coat with olive oil in a glass or metal dish. Let roast on whatever temperature suits for about 20-30 min. I was in a hurry, so I turned the oven way up to 200 C (around 430 F), but had to keep a close eye on them so they didn’t burn. 170 C would have been more appropriate.
And voila! “Lunchtime, Beaver!”

Duck Magret with Portabella Mushrooms

2010-05-04T20:44:00.005+02:00

I bought a beautiful magret de pato (duck magret) last night for dinner. E loves it and has been working so hard that he needed a gastronomic pick-me-up, and I like it because it gives me a valid excuse (not that I REALLY need one) to open a bottle of wine on a Sunday night. It was also on sale, and for a mere 5-6 Euros a smallish magret, about the size of a large potato, is plenty for two or three. I feel like people turn to duck as a special-occasion, restaurant type food that is really too much trouble to cook at home, when actually it really couldn’t be any easier, and can be accompanied by whatever you have on hand. I used to spend large amounts of time following this delicious, but ingredient heavy, recipe for Duck with Blackberry Sauce, except that I used raspberries and used every clean item in the kitchen to pull it off. Yesterday I just decided to wing it. There are about a million different ways to cook the duck and I usually end up doing a combination of several (sear on stove, roast in oven, etc.), but the easiest way really seems to be the following, and my duck turned out juicy and delicious.

Prepare the duck by trimming any excess fat (I use scissors) that is hanging loose off the sides. Then, cut a crosshatch pattern in the fat about half an inch apart, being careful not to cut into the meat underneath. If you do cut the meat accidentally, as I did, patch it up with some of the fat that you have trimmed off the sides. I don´t know if this helps, but it made me feel like I was a culinary genius.
Salt and pepper the whole thing and heat a pan on medium for about a minute or two and then chuck the duck on fat side down and cook on medium low for about 10-12 minutes. The fat will render (seep out into the pan) and slowly get brown and crispy, when it is nice and brown, flip it over and cook on the meat side for 3-4 minutes, depending on the thickness and how rare it is.
Take it off the heat and let it sit for a few minutes while you pour the delicious fat into a jar to use later to make homemade popcorn.
Slice the duck and serve with whatever you like. I had portabella mushrooms on hand which I sauteed with garlic and some of the fat. Duck is always good with something slightly sweet, and so I dumped a spoonful of Amaretto in the mixture and plenty of salt and pepper. Brandy, sherry, or even maple syrup would have been good too. Then I steamed some broccoli on the side so that I could feel virtuous and healthy.

Tacos al Pastor (pork tenderloin tacos with pineapple)

2010-05-02T23:14:00.004+02:00

So I had corn tortillas, lime and cilantro left over from last night's steak fajitas and I had bought a pork tenderloin (solomillo de cerdo) at the market the day before which I had intended for an entirely different purpose, but things happen...
On a side note, pork tenderloin is about the easiest, most delicious, and cheapest no-fail dish that you can prepare. At the market in Spain it costs about 4 euros for a pork tenderloin (in Spain they are about the size of a 350ml bottle of watter, a corncob or an old school mobile telephone sans antenna), that can feed anywhere from 3-4 people. I like to roast it, sear it, grill (pan) it, whatever I have in the fridge-it, and it always looks fancy and well-thought out.
In fact I have a fool-proof plan for any whole pork tenderloin, which I promise to get into at a later time.
In this case, leftovers in hand and pork cooking scheme adapted, I used this recipe that I found in Epicurious.com for Tacos Pastor as a guide. I had pretty much everything on hand but the pineapple, and May 1 being a holiday in Spain, I ran down to the closest convenience store and bought a can of pineapple in syrup/almibar. This turned out to be the one thing that I just couldn't get over. It would have been so much better fresh, but at the very least I rinsed the pineapple to get the sugar water off and then chopped a couple of rounds up into small pieces and tossed them into my tiny (mini-primer blender) with two cloves of garlic, a couple of Tablespoons of apple cider vinegar, some oregano, rock salt, cumin, chili powder and a few drops of some weird mixed berry antioxidant drink that I found in the fridge. I sliced the tenderloin into half-inch slices and chucked it all in a newly purchased IKEA zip lock (emphasis NOT on the lock part) bag and left it on the counter for a couple of hours.
In general, meat or fish marinates faster out of the fridge, so if you are limited on time and can't do the overnight marinate in the fridge, an hour outside is better than nothing. Of course, if however, you are planning on marinating something for several hours, it is probably better to keep it cold to prevent any kind of bacteria. It is also always better to cook any meat at room temperature, rather than cold. Take my word for it.

Anyway, marinated the pork, heated the grill pan and tortillas and then grilled the four or five remaining pineapple slices for a couple minutes each. Then, I threw the pork on, let it grill on each side (around 2-3 minutes each) and then took it off, chopped it roughly, mixed it with the grilled pineapple and scooped it onto the warm, corn tortillas. While I was waiting for the pork, I diced some tomatoes into a bowl, added a half-lime squeeze, salt, cumin, cayenne, and the leftover chopped cilantro, to later use as a salsa on top of the taco.

The pork was amazing, tender and really juicy, although not as spicy as I expected given the massive amounts of Chipotle that I added to the marinade.

In the end, the meat had an entirely different flavor than the steak the night before, but at the same time it felt really satisfying to use the leftover ingredients and create such an unique dish.

Steak Fajitas

2010-05-01T12:46:00.010+02:00

This is a good everything dish that more or less works with whatever vegetables you have on hand. I used red peppers and tomatoes, but zucchini, mushrooms, asparagus, yellow squash, fennel, carrots would all work, in addition to a number of other veggies. Really the most important things needed to turn your "fajitas" into "fajitas" and make them acceptable cargo for a couple of corn tortillas is lime and cilantro - although cumin and any chili peppers (cayenne, chipotle, Korean chili, jalapeño, Turkish smoked something that we were given as a gift, serrano) really add to the dish, and are good things to have on hand at all times anyway - dried, while they may lose some of their kick, they really last forever.
Squeeze the juice from a couple of limes into a bowl with a dollop of olive oil, couple of shakes of cumin, crushed clove or two of garlic, four finger pinch of chunky rock salt and a dash of the chili of your choice. Take your two relatively thin steaks and throw them in the mixture, either whole or already sliced into thin strips (it will marinate faster already cut if you are in a hurry). Let marinate for anywhere from 10 minutes to 1 hour, depending on your rush. And if you have to go out and accidentally leave the steak marinating for two hours while you have a glass of wine with a friend or go to Pilates, don´t worry. It will be fine.
When you´re ready to cook, chop whatever vegetables you will be using into thin slices or strips and heat up your grill pan (I live in a 60m city apartment, this is as close to a grill as I am going to get). Take the beef out of the marinade and dry it off. When the pan is good and hot, throw on the sliced beef for a minute or two and then take it off and throw on the veg. for another minute or two. Mix the whole lot together and divide between already heated (I grill them on a pan with a drop of oil for 30 seconds on each side) corn tortillas. Sprinkle with fresh cilantro, diced tomatoes and a little crumble of fresh cheese,if you like (feta works well with this dish). Serves two or more (depending on how much beef and veg you used) and really the most difficult part in making this dish is cleaning the grill pan later.

la Palma 60, Bar de Tapas. Best of Madrid

2010-01-11T10:19:00.002+01:00

I am almost reluctant to mention this tapas place, given that I am so very taken with it and that it is not very big and I am afraid that it will become impossible to find a table.
However, I do believe that restaurants and bars that go out of their way to serve up a great product in a pleasant setting do actually DESERVE to be mentioned, and of course, I do believe in Karma.
Palma 60 is the latest establishment to strike and hold my fancy, and I really like it, a lot. Located on Calle Palma (60) on the Conde Duque side of San Bernardo, this corner bar/restaurant is almost entirely taken up by a long curving bar that extends all the way to the back of the space where there is one long communal table that can seat around 12 people comfortably. Otherwise, there are a couple of tall bar tables and then comfortable stools along the length of the rest of the bar.
The decor is simple and agreeable. Modern and clean, while still retaining a pleasant coziness that can be so hard to find in this illumination-challenged city. White tiles painted brick , marble countertops, wooden chairs and tables, plants!, chalkboards and a glowing red wine fridge that is especially handy for the heat that it gives off on these cold cold winter days.
The place is run by the charming Charo (on the floor) and chef Alberto (in the kitchen), both incredibly friendly and accomodating people who have obviously paid close attention to detail and are delighted to be where they are.
The food can best be described as international, creative raciones that have been molded into a menu that deftly combines some traditional Spanish ingredients and dishes such as chipirones en su tinta, with surprises like pad thai with chicken and shrimp, all for very reasonable prices ranging more or less around the 10 euro mark for dishes intended to share. Some of my favorites are the boletus and truffle risotto, the mini-hamburgers with ruccola and onion confit, the wild mushroom parmesan croquetas, the crispy sun dried tomato cannelones with fresh mozzarella, and the piping hot mini tortilla española that they give you as a tapa.
The wine list isn´t terribly long, but it is very well thought out and varied, and definitely surpasses anything that you would find in the vincinity. It would be hard to go wrong with any of the wine choices, and I particularily love the mineraly elegance of the Cepas Viejas from Dominio de Tares, D.O. Bierzo. I believe we may (unfortunately for our heads) have drunk all of their bottles of crisp and delicious white Rueda when we were there last Friday night, but I imagine they will have been replenished by now. The cocktails are also a high point. Artfully made with particular high marks going to the gin tonics and rum.
In all, great food and drinks, nice decor and a great ambience that slides effortlessly between an extremely pleasant and civilized restaurant/bar to a great place for an after dinner drink, packed with fashionable thirtysomethings from the barrio and beyond.

la Palma 60
www.lapalma60.com
c/la Palma 60, Madrid
91 521 3106

"Con Dos Fogones" Worst of Madrid Dining

2009-10-06T17:33:00.006+02:00

It would seem that there are very few places to eat in Madrid by virtue of the fact that there are more than a few establishments that continue to exist, or even thrive, despite unacceptably mediocre or even bad food. However, anyone who has ever been here knows that the opposite is true. Madrid abounds with restaurants and bars - all the more reason to be confounded by a couple of my recent dining experiences.
I spent last Sunday lunch at the restaurant, "Con Dos Fogones", located in San Bernadino 9 . It was my second visit, my first being about three years ago at which time I swore I would never go back. Unfortunately, being a firm believer in second chances, I did.
The only thing I remember about my first visit was that the food was mediocre at best, and overpriced at worst. The most significant point of reference was the fact that we were seated in the back room and there were at least three sticks of incense burning within four feet of the table on either side. At the time, the smell was so overwhelming and nauseating that the food was the least of my worries. I also remember the service being somewhat surly, but given that the restaurant web page specifically states "we like to have an intimate and friendly relationship with our customers", I thought that maybe I had just caught them on an off day. I was wrong.
The service last Saturday was not only surly, but actually outright rude and unpleasant - and interestingly enough we recognized a couple of the faces from the earlier visit. With the exception of one moderately polite waiter (who unfortunately was not ours), we were treated with disdain and outright nastiness by the other two or three other members of the staff. When the shared starter arrived, a 9 euro quesadilla with avocado and cheddar, I came to conclusion that the hostilities of the waitstaff were intended to distract us from the fact that the cheese was rotten, or at least to scare us into submission. While I may not have a Michelin star, I was a professional chef long enough to be able to recognize the stench of rotten cheddar - and most of my 5 companions smelled it immediately as well. I also know from personal experience that things can happen, no kitchen is perfect, and that things can sometimes get away from us. No problem, right. Apparently pointing out discreetly and kindly that the cheese was passed its prime was a problem, both for the waitress and the chef who sent us back the message that we were completely wrong, that we had no idea what we were talking about and that the cheese was fresh as can be.
The next tip off should have been the fact that curry played such a heavy (and often surprise) role in all of the dishes that followed. The 10 euro hamburger (which came without a bun - also a surprise) was infused with curry (surprise) and the meat, which was purportedly beef, was pale gray in color, although the flavor wasn't bad, providing you like curry. The chicken and avocado crepe with bechamel sauce was not only curry laden (surprise!), but also suspiciously rubbery and mystery saucy. I ordered the solomillo and asked the waitress if the shitake sauce had onions, given that I am allergic. She told me no, but luckily it came on the side as I later discovered that it was full of huge onion pieces. The 18 euro meat was fine, cooked to my specifications if not a bit tasteless, but the tempura of red and green peppers was as greasy and heavy as something deep fried in heavy batter two days before and then microwaved to order, while the sweet potato-pumpkin puree was lackluster and tasteless as can be.
Truthfully, if I seem to be relating this experience at all gleefully or with an eye to vengence, I'm not. I would rather think that restaurants that continue to exist in Madrid do so because the food is decent, the ambiance pleasant and the people who work there somewhat agreeable. "Con Dos Fogones" failed these three modest requests by all accounts - and most particularly with regards to the downright angry treatment by the staff.
The fact that it ended up at an offensive almost 30 euros a head (for 2 shared starters, 1 entree each, and a couple of rounds of beers) doesn't even bother me. I could not be induced to return to this restaurant for any price at all.

Restaurant La Passarelle, Marseille - and the best lettuce of my life

2009-08-19T12:10:00.014+02:00

When walking through Marseille in late July wheeling suitcases and toting guide book laden shoulder bags in 90% humidity, it may seem that the city is larger and more labyrinthine then you imagined when first mapping out the location of your hotel at home that very morning. It also seems to be incredibly steep and hilly on some sides, that is, until a few days later when you repeat the same drill in Genova. Marseille is a large city, to be sure, but one that is so easily explored and magnificently arrayed around the old port and the more winding streets that rise up behind it, that its charms transform with every few steps unveiling a host of new surprises; the greatest of these being Restaurant "La Passarelle".
Sandwiched rather ingeniously between the Radisson Hotel and the Vieux Port, the first thing that is impossible not to notice (and be envious of) is the fact that there is a massive vegetable garden in the middle of the city center. Tucked next-to and under a long and modern staircase connecting two parallel streets of very different elevations, the garden seems sprawling, thriving, and completely and wonderfully utilitarian. It is easy to see the tomato plants, zucchinis, peas, dill, cucumbers, carrots, strawberry plants, etc. through the fence around this corner lot, as well as the thing that almost makes my heart stop, an elevated wooden terrace covered in tables - a restaurant!
This has always been my dream restaurant, a simple place with its own garden serving just a couple of dishes that change on a daily basis depending on what's in season. The menu is posted on the wall of the actual restaurant, located in a building just across the street. It is handwritten, with just three starters, three entrees and a couple of desserts. I start to get so excited that I begin calculating how many times we can eat here before we have to leave the city. I start planning our next trip to Marseille. Enrique reminds me that we havn't eaten here yet. We make a reservation for dinner that night on the terrace in the garden, although it is worth mentioning that the inside of the restaurant is very charming and inviting as well.
I tend to live in a world of food expectations. I have been known to ruin restaurants for myself just by virtue of the fact that I get so excited, my expectations so high; although I would also argue that I am not picky in the least. I don't demand a fancy setting or incredible service, or even "fancy" food, only good ingredients cooked well for a reasonable price (with regards to what you are getting).That being said, I can comfortably say that even if you were to take away the beautiful garden and candle-lit terrace that greeted us at La Passarelle when we arrived that evening, I would still remember this meal as one of the most delicious that I have ever had - although I can't even remember exactly what we ate. The first dish was a choice between an onion tart with thyme, a cold melon soup and a mixed salad plate, which is what we ordered. It was very simple. Baby carrots and green beans, a bit of hummus, maybe some kind of marinated eggplant and olives, hummus, and baby salad greens dressed with only sea salt, lemon juice a touch of oil. The lettuce was unbelievably good, as were the carrots and the beans, and everything else for that matter... I have been trying to replicate it at home ever since. The waitress told us that while the garden didn't produce enough vegetables to cover the needs of the restaurant, everything they use is from a local organic farmer, as is the meat, fish etc. Our entrees came as a slight surprise as one was a deliciously herbed pork (expected) and the other a seared lamb's liver with almonds (unexpected). In our excitement, hunger and not-perfect French, we had pieced together the foods on the menu (charmingly handwritten everyday in a agenda-like book which makes it fun to go back and look at what dishes were being served when), and had seen foie and agneau - oh, we love both foie and lamb - but had not realized that it was actually foie OF agneau. Disappointed for about 10 seconds when the plate arrived to the table, I don't usually like the texture or gamey flavor of meaty livers and neither does Enrique, we soon realized that it was as delicious as everything else on the table and once again exemplified what I have come to think of as French cooking - fresh ingredients, prepared perfectly in such a way as to accent and bring out their very best qualities. I am so jealous.
We finished with a dessert of nutty baked apricot and, after coming to the end of our Côtes de Provence rosé, were invited by the charming waitress to a locally made brandy.
The evening's soundtrack provided by a splashing fountain and the quiet murmurings of the other diners (strangely and wonderfully quiet compared to Spain). As we were savoring our brandies, the bartender from the nice looking bar down the street ran into the garden with a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut some more mint for his mojitos, bringing to life the heart-warming concept of a community garden and rounding off one of the most delightful and perfect meals that I have ever enjoyed.

Restaurant La Passarelle - Chez Phillippe et Patricia
52, rue du Plan Fourmiguier (au cul de la Criée)
13007 Marseille, France
tel- (+33) 0668627787 - 0610965810
lapassarelle@gmail.com

(by the way, Marseille is a wonderful city and a great place to visit)

Crisis, what crisis?

2009-03-26T13:48:00.001+01:00

While I know that the whole world is in crisis mode, economic crisis this and economic crisis that, I have to admit that it is tough to think that we may have to brace up to hear this kind of talk for a long time to come. I am not being glib, in fact I am more or less out of work at the time, and am personally feeling some of the effects of the economic downturn either directly or indirectly. However, this doesn’t mean that it’s all I want to talk or read about. Drawing a rather obtuse connection to this statement, I might say that I was either a.disgruntledly amused b.annoyed or c.bored by Frank Bruni’s latest NYTimes article entitled: Comrades at Arms: Two Food Writers in a Kitchen Smackdown , about a challenge between two of the culinary staffers to create the best possible meal for 6 people on a 50$ budget. I guess I’m mainly just surprised that this appears to be such a challenge to these folks, and perhaps not the best example to set during these tough times. While I myself am definitely of the “spend all my (former) paycheck on delicious ingredients at the market” persuasion, 50$ is plenty of money for a delicious meal for 6, and more than what most people spend in general for a daily meal. I think that a truly fun and challenging thing would maybe have been to set the bar a bit lower, maybe 20 dollars, 10? I’m also supposing that this 50$ limit would not have included drinks for example, maybe requiring that enough wine for everyone be included in the budget could really spice things up. It is tremendously rewarding to find a delicious 2 euro bottle of young wine from Navarra or La Mancha for example – although maybe this is one of the advantages of living in Spain. In any case, I also don’t agree with the fact that “the best way to disguise a limit and leave guests feeling pampered was to present a long sequence of treats”, as stated in the article. At times there is nothing more rewarding than a delicious plato unico as they say in Spain, a hearty dish reminiscent of those many dishes that in fact originated or were staples during tough economic times: polenta, migas, paella, etc., and there’s no reason that this cannot be gourmet on a tight budget. In any case, taking a line from an aspiring small town politician, I’ll give it some thought and get back to ya.

Gimme Dimi

2009-01-21T11:33:00.002+01:00

There is very little that I can say about this new Japanese-Korean restaurant without interspersing it with comments such as "I would go every day if I could, twice" and "I want the chefs to live with me and will sell my furniture to make space for them"!
Ah, glee. It has been so long since I have been able to recommend a restaurant 100% without a single reservation. I almost don´t want to share it with anyone.
Actually, I think I won´t. Well, ok.

Dimibang
C/Rodriguéz San Pedro, 67
915446213

Restaurant Reviewing

2009-01-18T12:19:00.001+01:00

Let us all bow our heads and laud the coming of a society where food and drink are so highly praised, where every self-respecting newspaper and magazine has a culinary writer, and where you can’t sneeze without finding locally made grass-fed chorizo.
Welcome to Madrid, a place where you can still get absolutely stellar material prima. There are great fruits and vegetables, a fantastic variety of meats, and some of the freshest fish you can find anywhere in Spain; and the best part is that most of the products that you buy at your local market ARE, in fact, organic, although not labeled as such due to the its yet perceived unimportance. There is also new species of gourmet specialty shops opening here: chocolate, cheese, oil, etc., and of course an invasion of new restaurants, one a block, one a minute, and each more modern than the last. Let us praise the fact that in Madrid the culinary craze has hit just as hard. The only problem is that this evolution has, in many ways, made dining out in Madrid a nightmare.
The problem could perhaps be best described by the age old Mom-ism, “well if all your friends want to jump off a cliff would you want to jump of a cliff too?” In the Madrid restaurant scene the answer is a resounding just tell me when and where to jump. Now don’t misunderstand me, there are excellent restaurants in Madrid, both old and new, but the problem seems to boil down to a pervasive lack of criteria that has suddenly given the green light to either creating an incredible atmosphere of design and style and adding the food as an afterthought, or more recently, throwing a coat of paint on an old restaurant, giving it a new name or look, and charging ridiculously exorbitant prices for food that is pretty much same ole same ole. The even bigger problem as far as I can tell is that there is no one thorough and more importantly, independent restaurant review network here. The closest that I have found is the Metropoli guide published by El Mundo newspaper, which is actually a very complete guide to restaurants in Madrid. The problem is that Metropoli calls you up, tells you they’re coming by, and as far as I know and in my own experience, has their food chosen and paid for by the establishment. Therefore, I propose to create anonymous (to the restaurant) forum for restaurant reviews, not with the intention of weeding out the bad, but also with the objective of piling praise on the good. While the rating system might take a while to sort out, sometimes I think it best just to get the ball rolling.

Malaga es grande

2008-04-09T15:38:00.001+02:00

Its hard to believe sometimes that just two and a half hours on a gently rocking train hurtling through the olive grove scattered countryside is enough to transport you to another time frame, or rather another brain frame altogether. This train, with its duckish beak and generous amount of leg room is like a portal to the tropics, a ticket to a better life consisting of sardines roasted on spits in bonfires set in hollowed out old boats and tended to by old men that in other countries might have anchors tattooed on their biceps. And so I found myself perched on a rock coming out of a jetty, nose newly freckled, surf swirling around my toes, wearing a bathing suit from the year before, and wondering why oh why it had taken me such a long time to make such a quick trip on the new high speed train to Malaga, and how being so close to Madrid, one could feel so absolutely and delightfully far far away.
The excuse was the Malaga Film Festival and an overdue visit to a friendly cousin. Once there, I was happy to see only a third of a film and a lot of the cousin. We rented bikes from a pleasant Dutchman that took us on the wide promenade along the length of the beach to the Port where the great cruise ships are docked, boarded by people who are dressed mysteriously for much colder weather, and back again to our little community (ours now for almost 48 hours) buzzing with fisherman unloading shellfish from the trunks of their cars in styrafoam boxes, beachfront restaurants, and Sunday afternoon strollers crowding the sidewalks of our lazy haven.
Apart from the smoky sardines, the restaurants in the area serve specialties that include pescado en adobo, made from deep fried spiced (sometimes) dogfish, white and hot on the inside with an almost vinegary fresh and light coating of golden batter; also battered are the thin slices of eggplant, fried and drizzled with honey; baby octopus, tiny smoked cockles, and tiny squid called chopitos. Grilled fish is fresh and smoky as well – frequently cooked whole, side by side next to the sardines over a wood fire, and tomatoes are flavourful and deeply coloured, swimming in olive oil with enough fresh smashed garlic and rock salt to make a girl blush.
In Malaga, if the food is revival then the sea is rebirth, and the return to the real world is just a bit more bearable because of it.

Thanksgiving: celebrating my favorite holiday

2007-11-21T12:33:00.001+01:00

It was my first Thanksgiving in Spain and our rented flat didn't have an oven so I tasked each of my roommates to go out and get a boyfriend, friend or acquaintance who had one. Luckily, my American roommate understood the importance of this mission and came back with Santiago – the owner of a large kitchen and large oven, albeit one that was located somewhat far away on the other side of town.

And while I've surely told this story at least a hundred times, on the eve of Thanksgiving so many years later, I just can't keep from smiling at the thought of it: how my friend Ashley and I called in sick to work and picked up the 20+ pound bird at the market in a taxi and drove it uptown in style; how we got tipsy on the cooking sherry that was meant for the stuffing, spent an entire day cooking alone in this relative stranger´s house and eventually caused a blackout in his entire building as we sucked up all of the electricity on our 8 hour turkey, stuffing and pie baking bonanza; how the famous blackout didn't have the courtesy to wait for the turkey to finish cooking and so more cooking sherry was consumed while we waited for the electrician to come and sort us out again; how by the time the turkey was finished it had to be transported boiling hot right out of the oven and swimming in juices in the trunk of Santiago's car (who had come home from work that night to find virtual strangers jollied-up on cooking sherry, an electrician, and a bunch of cranky powerless neighbors) in traffic, to a house full of 20 some guests who had been waiting, starving at my house for about two hours for the food to arrive; and how, when we finally arrived, we realized that in our haste to tuck the turkey snugly into the car, we had left the stuffing, pies, potatoes and whatnot on the curb in front of Santiago's house; so he had to go back, in traffic, to retrieve them.

I think that the food that Thanksgiving was delicious, even the burned slivers of bitter parsnips (I´m not naming any names) and the cold accompaniments. I know that the best part of the evening came after dinner when we passed around a bottle of Turkey, (this time the Wild Turkey kind) and everyone drank a shot and said what they were thankful for – something that would have been very TV movie were it not for the fact that we represented about 9 different countries and 5 different languages with their corresponding simultaneous translations - I also know that the best part of that Thanksgiving has been just being able to repeat this story over and over again. I can´t think of a better way to pay homage to my favorite holiday or to explain what it means to me.

Porto.Punto.

2007-11-20T14:33:00.000+01:00

I´ve been away for a month exactly. A month filled with wine presentations, tasting classes, bobbing for apples (not really), working full time and achieving stiffer penalties for parole violators. And somewhere sandwiched right in the middle I managed to escape to Porto, Portugal (sigh) city, deliciously lovely city in the north of Portugal.

If I had a gun to my head forcing me to rate countries in terms of their national cuisine, Portugal would be right up near the top of my list. If I had to rate cities in terms of just sheer breathless romanticism and staggering drama, Porto would outrank most that I´ve ever visited. It is a city graced with the wide and elegant avenues typical to more northern European cities, but then interwoven with winding streets that cascade carelessly down from hilltop monuments. There are charmingly blackened and sometimes rundown buildings that seem perched almost haphazardly amongst the maze of streets and glints of brightly colored tiles in cherry and emerald tones, and intricately painted wedgewood blue designs. There are clotheslines winding like colorful flags though the building facades. There is an area near the cathedral that feels almost like a fishing village, its windy narrow streets have flowerpots, open doors shrouded in threadbare curtains, delicious aromas of food (maybe because it was lunchtime when I happened upon it), and the occasional Virgin complete with lit candles, stuck into an unassuming corner. And just when you think you are in the middle of a charmingly sleepy town, you happen upon the clean and stark lines of a modern architectural masterpiece, a photography museum, or a reformed apartment building and incredibly majestic bridges.

And then there is the Douro; glistening, wide and churning away of its own free will, independent of everything else and breathing life into the city as it rushes by as though completely unconcerned by it. Someone told me that this is what every city needs, a thing with a life completely of its own.

There are the famous Port wines, and fresh fish (typically cod); plates of deep green leafy sauteed vegetables, softly boiled potatoes, and minced golden flecks of baked garlic. Crisp, refreshing vinhos verdes - slightly sparkling - and deep fruity reds made of grapes with wonderfully difficult to pronounce names. Portuguese coffee is one of the best in the world, and cheap!

And when the sun comes out and the city is laid out before you, there is no place like it in the world.

Harvest time in ye olde Ribera del Duero

2007-10-19T21:21:00.000+02:00

Grape harvest arrived to Ribera del Duero last week and I wore my big blue rubber boots just in case.
I had never witnessed the harvest before first hand and I have to say that the whole experience was aided by an absolutely stunning day. We drove up to the town of Aguilera, near Aranda del Duero, early last Friday morning to meet up with my friend Gema's uncle Florien, a venerated grape producer with vineyards that have been in their family for generations. It was the second day of harvest and in general the motto seems to be "we're ready when they are". I can understand it. Like any annual crop, you wait for the meat of it all year long, and like anything else, you also risk the wrath of Mother Nature and the fact that anything can happen at any time to destroy a year's work. This becomes even trickier as the fall harvest time rolls around as the temperature begins to change and there is a greater likelihood of storms or frosts that can mildew or damage the vines. This year seemed particularly tragic in Ribera del Duero, as an icy frost hit just a week before harvest and wreaked havoc on a huge percentage of vines. Driving through the countryside you could see a line across the vineyards like a treeline in the mountains. All of the lower-lying plots of vines were stained bright red, their leaves and fruit irreparably damaged by the freeze, but as the plots moved out of valleys and up hills, the vines were intact.
Florien was lucky this year. Despite the fact that his overall production was down 40% (he blames it mainly on the climate change, global warming), his vines were untouched by frost and gleaming with juicy fruit (that I just couldn't get into my mouth fast enough - hoping it would ferment in my belly, maybe?).
He and his son and daughter were leading a group of workers in the harvest. Harvesting everything by hand (for much much better quality wines), they showed us how to clip the bunches of grapes close to their "stems", to look at the grapes to make sure that they weren't damaged or diseased and to then lay them gently in the 15-20 kilo boxes. Between the four of us, Gema and Carmen took on more directional, supportive and photographic roles, while Carlos and I put our back into it. We were extremely proud of the four boxes that each of us filled (in the time that the seasoned workers had probably filled 5x that amount), and I was delighted to calculate that we had probably just picked enough grapes for approx. 120 bottles of wine. Not too shabby. But oh, my back was aching. Good thing I wore those rubber boots.

How to please your spanish In-Laws

2007-10-07T21:47:00.000+02:00

While I do consider myself to be a cook, having had people pay to eat my food in a restaurant gives me that right, I am not a chef. I have never trained as a cook and actually my personal cooking manta is “invent, invent, invent”. I am a hack, a proud food-loving hack who can joyfully spend an entire Saturday morning at the market mulling over the fruits and vegetables, eyeing the fishmonger’s wares, and creating and discarding menu after menu as my options change and ingredients are found or forgotten. I am fortunate enough to have a willing audience at home, a pareja that has evolved into quite a foodie and a familia política that will trustingly and enthusiastically eat just about everything I put in front of them. The only problem with this is that it is sometimes hard to feel vindicated for spending an entire day making homemade raviolis, pierogis, or marinating a duck, when they would likely be just as thrilled and complimentary about a ten minute throw-together chicken pot pie. In fact, for the first meal that I prepared for my suegros (parents in-law), I was prepared to go all the way, mentally sculpting delicate rosebuds from radishes and hand-sculpting vichyssoise bowls out of entire blocks of ice. Therefore, I was taken aback when Enrique informed me that one of his father’s very favorite foods in the world was none other than, chili con carne – in all of its Tex-Mex glory. So, while this blog is purportedly dedicated to the pursuit of Spanish wines, restaurants, culture, and grub, I have decided in the spirit of intercultural communication to include (for my Spanish friends) a 20 minute recipe for fool’em chili. I should point out that, is chili better when you cook it all day, add 17 spices, hand cook the beans, use real tomato sauce, and butcher the cow yourself? Probably, except for the part about the cow. But for a delicious (cheap) and exotic meal (in Spain) with under 5 minutes prep time, who cares?

Ingredients
2 cloves garlic
1-1.5 pounds ground beef
1 jar or around 300 grams tomato sauce (I use organic, I find it tastes less industrial)
1-2 Tbs.olive oil
1 onion (I am allergic so in my house we omit them, well, I omit them)
2 cans diced tomatoes
1 jar or around 450 grams cooked kidney beans or red beans or a mixture of the two
2 tbsp. cumin more or less
Cayenne pepper (add a little bit at a time to taste, it gets spicy quickly
any other chili spices, I like Chayote
salt (I sometimes use garlic salt)
pepper
1 tsp. oregano
diced zucchini, red pepper, green pepper, celery (all are optional but I like to add a lot of veggies)
cheddar cheese
sour cream
chives (if you want to be really fancy and garnish, again, I am allergic)

Heat olive oil and add the garlic and onions. Sautee until tender and add the ground beef to brown. Season with oregano, salt and pepper. Once the beef is browned, add the diced cubes of vegetables and cook the whole mixture on high for about 5 minutes. Add the cans of diced tomatoes, the tomato sauce, and another can or a bit less of water depending on how thick you like it. Add the rest of the spices and cook until the vegetables are tender, about 10 more minutes. Rinse and drain the beans and add them at the very end. Cook just long enough to heat the beans through and throw in some more spices for good measure. Garnish with cheddar cheese and a dollop of sour cream or plain yoghurt. Was supposed to serve 8, but there were 5 of us and we all had huge second helpings and then groaned that we ate too much. I was also planning on including a photo, but we ate it all before I had a chance.

Customer Service Sadism

2007-09-29T19:56:00.000+02:00

I wish I could say that I've stayed away from my blog for so long so that you could get a taste of what customer service is generally like in Spain: slow, tedious, and sometimes non-existent; but I can't, that would be a lie - although not the part about customer service.
Let me give you an example. The other day I went to a trendy and expensive furniture store. I wanted to exchange a chipped 4 euro coffee cup that had formed part of a 500 euro purchase (not mine). The 14 employees of the store were divided up into 4 basic groups: talking on the phone in a rude manner, smoking cigarettes outside, standing in groups bitching about their whatever, and smirking nastily from behind the cash register. As I waited in line for 20 minutes behind the other 6 customers who seemed to think that it was normal to wait while over a dozen employees roamed around without even acknowledging our presence, when it came to be my turn, I decided to boldly ask a question. "Um, hi, excuse me, for exchanges?" Someone barked at me, "You'll have to talk to Alvaro, he's the only one in a 75 kilometer radius authorized to exchange the broken cup that we knowingly sold you".
"Ok, um and who's Alvaro?". The surly employee replied, "well, he was in the smirking nastily group, but since then he's shifted to the talking on the phone in a rude manner team," gesturing to a sullen man behind her. So when he hung up the phone, "excuse me Alvaro, I'd like to exchange this coffee cup." He looked at me, "You'll have to wait your turn" and went outside for a cigarette.
Now you might say, isn't that just water under the bridge, can't anyone have a rotten day? But the reason I brought it up was because I was reminded of the whole experience by the charming waiter that served us in the Galician restaurant where we went for lunch today. After waiting patiently for 20 minutes for him to come over to our table while he buzzed busily around us, I waved him down with my most winning waiter smile. His response, "you'll have to wait." Brilliantly disrespectful (so much so that my American restaurant-owner friend fantasizes about working there), rude, downright uncivil. What gives? My Spanish brethren like to tell me that the reason that restaurant service is so bad is that the waiters are not working for tips. While I agree that it is annoying when Brian shows up at your table at _____________ American restaurant with crayons and begins to kiss your ____ the whole night, isn't there something to be said for customer service meaning just decent and friendly treatment between humanoids? Maybe they get off on it here, maybe waiters like to treat their customers badly just as much as customers don't enjoy themselves as much if they are treated with respect. Are Spaniards customer service sadists?

How to build a starter kitchen

2007-09-12T17:14:00.000+02:00

I was interviewed a couple of months ago by someone who was doing an article about how to start a wine cellar with 200 euros. It seemed like an excellent idea to me, especially considering that everyone has to start somewhere and that a few pointers can go a long way.
I was reminded of this article again last night when a good friend asked me if I could share a few easy recipes with her, and give her a few pointers in the kitchen. She went on to say that when she goes to the market or the grocery store she unsure even of what to buy, and frequently ends up with very few things to build on, which is the way that I like to think of cooking. For me, fruits, vegetables, meats, fish, condiments, are all building blocks. Unless I have something very specific in mind when I go food shopping, whether at the supermarket or the farmer’s market, I tend to buy what “looks good”, knowing that the possibilities for mixing and matching will be endless once I get home. This is in fact what I most love about cooking; above all I am an experimenter and an inventor in the kitchen. I might use a recipe for inspiration, or for general cooking times or temperatures, but I like to take a recipe and turn it over and over in my head, creating its new identity and then throwing in a little bit of whatever else I can think of. Usually, I will do my shopping with a very definite idea in my head – chowder, chard, Poland, comfort, etc. but in general the finished product morphs a dozen times, again depending on what ultimately “looks good” while I´m in the store. I understand however, that even if you are able to chose the vegetables that are in season and the best cut of meat, you don´t necessarily know what to do with it when you get home. How do you know that what you are buying is going to “work”.
So, what are the building blocks for starter kitchen? They would obviously have to be broken down into groups of things, and this would clearly be open to debate (which I am more than welcome to) depending on the cook, the size of a kitchen, and whatever other possible factors such as food allergies (I, for example am allergic to onions, a building block for most kitchens) or refrigerator space. I should also point out that the interesting thing would be to create a starter kitchen that would contain not only basic elements that enable one to cook (i.e. Oil, salt, pepper), but also basic elements that enable one to cook WELL.
On top of these basic elements, it would then have to include the variables, those things that again, “look good” and that are in general can be used in a huge variety of dishes, and would include things such as vegetables and starches such as rice, pasta, couscous, etc., while it would also include meats, fish, poultry, etc. that can be prepared, and enjoyed at any time, without too much of a hassle. And then of course there is the price factor. Knowing how much things are going to cost you in general, and not to mention how long they are going to take to cook, is a huge help when it comes to stocking your kitchen with food. If I´m running to the grocery store with 10 euros in my wallet and want to get something good for dinner, I automatically know before I get there certain things that are out of my grasp. In fact, I brag about the fact that I can usually guesstimate how much my cart full of groceries at the supermarket is going to cost me down to the euro.
I know, isn´t that just fabulous for me, but that being said, my friend’s question still remains: what should she buy, how should she shop for it, how much will it cost and what does she do with them once she gets home?. All of these are valid questions, and ones that one by one I hope to address and answer here, hopefully with a little help.

I still don´t get it...

2007-09-05T16:11:00.000+02:00

What is going on around here? I promise that I don´t have a personal vendetta against Ferran Adriá, but it seems you can´t shake a stick without it hitting some mention of his wonderful exhibition in the Kassel, Documenta. Were we the only people who actually went and realized that he didn´t do anything – at least not there. In the latest edition of Museo Manía magazine (Museum Mania – yes, I have been reading a lot lately), there is an article that starts off with the line (roughly translated) “Ferran Adría´s contribution to the most recent Documenta in Kassel constituted an eternal compromise between art and cooking”. What?? What contribution? I promise that if someone writes and explains this to me, I will eat happily eat my words in the form of gels and foams.

GOOD AND GORGEOUS GAGO

2007-09-03T17:27:00.000+02:00

What I’m about to say is no news flash. In fact, it might even be considered old news by those in the know and those who know me, but it is worth re-mentioning every once and a while. I love GAGO. GAGO from Bodegas Telmo Rodríguez, D.O. Toro, that potent and enveloping wine that stylishly wears one of the most beautiful “labels” I have ever seen on a wine bottle. GAGO, synonymous with GOOD AND GORGEOUS.
It is a sumptuous wine, but lively, not stuffy. A noble prince with a dignified jaw line and a level head, but also prone to fits of laughter. Yes, I know, speaking of laughter… It is all the best of the Toro: the dense lush fruit, serious structure, and potent tannins that the region is known for, mingled together with a frank and open elegance that the region is starting to become recognized for.
Pour a glass of GAGO and you will find it deeply jeweled-garnet in color, brilliantly reflected around the rims of the glass but densely opaque in the center. The prince’s cape, his velvet pantaloons or whatnot. It is aromatic to say the least, even before being either daintily or heartily swirled. The enveloping aromas become spicy and peppery, with an intense underlying aroma of sweet dark cherry cordial, chocolate cherries, black cherries and all the other cherries in between. On the palate it is velvety and elegant, but again lively, potent and bold, suggesting that there might be even better things to come.

Gago 2004, Compañía de Vinos de Telmo Rodríguez
D.O. Toro, around 15 euros

(photo thanks to La Vinia)

to Boycott or not to Boycott, why do we love to eat out?

2007-08-29T20:20:00.000+02:00

I have been mulling over a tough question the past couple of decades that I hope to address here with frequency, what makes a good restaurant? Or, what makes a restaurant good? The obvious answer and the only one that makes any sense is that it is a combination of factors: food, ambiance, service and of course price. The tricky thing however is figuring out the correct combination of these things, given that there are so so many ways that they can meld together harmoniously. Some of my favorite restaurants are beautiful, and some are dives. Some have delicious wonderfully elaborate food and others I crave for the simplest of dishes. Sometimes, nothing but a greasy hamburger can fill that whole. I love a bargain, but I don't mind spending the money once in a while for a truly fabulous meal. I sometimes relish the surly old school Spanish waiters that grump and groan at you and I hate being fawned over. Other times, I can diatribe for hours on how it doesn't take an effort to be friendly, or at least polite. So what is the magical blend and how do we read the signs to discover if we should become a regular or become a boycotter (I am not a vindictive person, I swear)? I plan on using this space and the RESTAURANT entries/reviews that I write in this blog to analyze this, to find out, and to undoubtedly make myself hungry along the way.

Adrià, the Reluctant Traveler?

2007-08-24T13:33:00.000+02:00

I do honestly and sincerely believe that Ferran Adrià, renowned chef of El Bulli, is an artist. His creations are so otherworldly, creative and ethereal at times that it is hard to remember that they are also deliciously edible and not just sculptural feats of greatness. That being said, I just cannot get over his "contribution" to the documenta contemporary art exhibition which, in a word, I think is lame.
To quote the El Bulli press release, "When (the curator of the documenta) Roger Buergel invited Ferran Adrià, he became the first cook in the history of haute cuisine to participate in Documenta..."
This is significant. It is a move to expand the world of art past what we traditionally think of as art (photography, sculpture, painting) and to accept that artistic design can flourish in different formats. I was excited. I thought, "this is it, cooking as an art form recognized on the scale of world class contemporary art", and I booked my tickets to Germany to attend this exposition that only takes place every five years.
Ferran Adriá however, must have forgotten to book his tickets because he wasn´t there!
Nor was there any sign of him apart from a little corner on the exposition map designating the different pavilion locations that read, El Bulli, Tarragona, Spain. (But, I just came from Spain!)Rather than coming to the documenta and presenting something, anything - he stayed in El Bulli and declared that his contribution to the event would consist of inviting two guests a day for the duration of the exposition to dine in his restaurant.
Fabulous, so sign me up! Where do I put my raffle ticket? Then I read that it was for two guests a day that would be hand chosen by director Buergal himself, and I heard a rumor that they had to pay for it, not to mention travelling to Spain for it.
So where exactly is the part where ordinary people that have made their hotel, train, plane and automobile reservations and paid their 30 euros entrance fee, get to experience food as art? Or even the possibility of food as art? A mere whiff, a pamphlet poster, photo, catalog, a copy of a menu? I did read today that Adrià made a special menu inspired in the documenta. Too bad you didn´t even HEAR about it at the actual exposition. The article, from the newspaper La Razón (23 Aug.), ends with the line. "Everything in El Bulli is a mystery". They got that right.

Adrià´s Chemistry 101

2007-08-21T11:03:00.000+02:00

Always a master of selling, something, renowned chef Ferran (and Albert) Adrià has come up with a kit that does things to food - although I´m still not sure what. The name of the kit translates more or less to "Basic Spherification" and contains four different cylindrical containers that hold the secret to creating different textures in food, something that Adrià has mastered to perfection. From what I can understand both from his own web page and an article from today´s El País, is that it gives users the ability to "gel" liquids into the form of different spheres by submerging them in different substances. The resulting spheres might be the size of caviar, eggs, or raviolis. The gels can then be manipulated into different forms, creating your own Bulli-esque creations, as well as modified by other substances from the kit that can be used to correct the amount of acidity, for example. In addition, there is another line called "Surprises" which contains options such as "Fizzy" (used to create effervescence), and "Crumiel", which creates crunch. The price of the kit is 55 euros and I must confess that I am dying to try it.
Considering both how fascinating, complicated, and artistic this all sounds, my suggestion would have been for Ferran Adrià to use his space at this year´s Documenta (contemporary art exposition in Kassel, Germany that takes place every 5 years), to demonstrate these techniques, instead of disillusioning thousands of people with his promised participation in the festival, which in the end only consisted of putting his restaurant El Bulli on the exposition map, thus gaining free publicity with zero effort. Put that in your liquid and gel it.

Trans Fat , Transformation?

2007-08-21T09:36:00.000+02:00

(photo thanks to)

Good news! According to the latest trans fat update published in the New York Times, trans fat has been struck yet another debilitating blow in the form of banishment from the Illinois State Fair.
Yes, that´s right, this is good news for those of us who have been worried that deep fried Snickers, Ho-Ho´s, or Peanut Butter Cups might be too fattening, or dare I say, unhealthy? The measure has been greeted with mixed feelings by the Fair fry-folk, some of whom complain that the new trans fat free oil has to be changed more frequently (frequently then what? I ask, afraid of the answer), while others have noted that this change might have dire consequences, making people believe that these foods are actually healthy now and that they can eat more of them.
I´ve been told that this is the first banishment to follow the 1967 ruling that outlawed fruits and vegetables anywhere within a four mile radius of a Ferris wheel.

There´s more to Cuenca than Morteruelo, thank goodness!

2007-08-14T09:26:00.000+02:00

Cuenca is nothing if not dramatic. Perched on a rocky outcropping with deep river gorges falling off on both sides and spanned by a beautiful steel and wood pedestrian bridge. Houses hanging precariously over the great expanse, the nexus of Spanish abstract art, immensly tall cyprus trees that seem to lap up the deep blue sky, massive stone sculptures, naturally sculpted to look like fists being brandished in the sky, and morteruelo, the most traditional dish in the coquense cuisine.

Oh yes, they love the drama here. As far as I´m concerned, morteruelo (see photo above) is about as dramatic a dish as you can get. Basically, you take some rabbits, partridges, chicken, ham, liver, pork etc. and cook it for a really long time with bread, broth and a whole bunch of spices such as oregano and paprika, until it has the consistency of mushy gruel. Other names for it are great green gobs of greasy grimy gopher guts and.....no, I´m only kidding, but as a special regional dish it´s not the easiest one to learn to love, and especially not when served hot with even more bread in the dead heat of August, in Spain. But yet, here in Cuenca you see it everywhere. Menus hanging outside of restaurants, beckoning people to come in and try their fare, seem to mock you with morteruelo, as if challenging your stomach to a digestive feat, saying "come on, let´s see how AUTHENTIC a tourist you really are".
I was that authentic of a tourist here, once, but this time around I was hoping that Cuenca could introduce me to some new gastronomic experiences, and I was not disappointed.

The name of the restaurant was Recreo Peral, its existence weasled out of our hotel manager when we insisted that we wanted to go to a non-touristy restaurant (the touristy ones all have the gorgeous views of the gorge below). What I really wanted to ask him was to recommend a restaurant that does not serve morteruelo, but I figured it would be better not to push my luck.

The restaurant can be reached by a lovely road that goes through the historic center of Cuenca, descending down off the plateau and passing by beautiful houses and a convent that have been sculpted out of the rock and bathed in ivy and flowers. At times, the urban walkway takes you under natural stone arches and outcroppings before it descends down to the level of Cuenca´s other river, the Júcar. The restaurant almost looks like one of those slatted farmhouses where you would find an old waterwheel, with two outdoor terraces on either side and a glassed in dining room, all facing the river.
After little cañas (beers) on the outdoor terrace, we moved inside for dinner which began with complementary glasses of cava rosado. A nice touch, and not at all typical in my experience in Spain. The indoor space is quite pleasant, like a glassed in porch filled with Saturday night diners. The only incongruous details were the very modern mismatched plates that the first course was served on and then the too large somewhat old-fashioned plates that came with the main course. The modern and clean lines mingled together with outdated tablecloths printed with the name of the restaurant and current bull fighting posters on the wall. In addition to good and attentive service, the setting and the tiny embellishments (like the glasses of cava) that the restaurant tacked on to the meal gave the whole experience that comfortable feel of quality without pretention - a back woods country club perhaps.
We ordered a salad with slim green asparagus, nuts, citrus fruit, endives and marinated cod. I have to admit I was expecting the oily smoked cod that you normally get on salads - straight out of the packet and onto the plate - but I was delighted to discover that it was fresh cod, and a lot of it, sliced from the loin in thick cool slabs. Next, they brought us some lemon sorbet and then for the main course solomillo or beef tenderloin, simply prepared with rock salt and as grilled to a tender and flavorful perfection. The food was as simple as it was well prepared, and even more importantly with fresh ingredients and attention to detail.
I was tempted to try a local wine from the ample selection and was thrilled when the waiter suggested a 2003 crianza called Casa de Illana (Merlot, Syrah, Cabernet Cauvignon) that was half the price (only 13 euros) of the wine that I was originally going to order. Neither incredibly aromatic nor incredibly full bodied, it was nonetheless fantastic on the palate: velvety, smooth, spicey and balanced wafting notes of clove and tart cherry jam.
Had the food and wine of Recreo Peral chased the drama away? Feeling peacefully satisfied and tranquil, we made our way back through the town towards our hotel. I tripped over nothing, fell in the street and sprained my ankle, narrowly avoiding getting hit by an oncoming car. Dramatic dramatic dramatic.

Restaurante Recreo Peral
Carretera Cuenca-Tragacete, Km 1
16002 Cuenca
Tel: 969 22 46 43
Average price for a dinner for two with wine around 75 euros

Beef jerky finally gets what it deserves!

2007-07-31T18:12:00.001+02:00

According to the New York Times, beef jerky is finally making its way into the ranks of the elite gourmet - reaffirming the pro-jerky stance that I have taken for years in spite of the mockery of my peers. While buying beef jerky at the gas station on road trips has long been a tradition in my family, I am thrilled to find that the fanciest foodies are taking the delicacy to a new level - using lean strips of top and bottom round or chuck, seasoned and then slowly smoked and dried using complements such as molasses, brown sugar, Cabernet Sauvingnon, garlic, and whiskey to name a few.
Actually, the article points out that beef jerky (as I've long suspected) is actually the perfect meat, it has zero fat, lots of protein, and low cholesterol. It dates back to at least the Incas, and the name "jerky" comes not from the cowboys of the Old West, but from the Quechua word “charqui.”
In Spain, the land of ham and all cured pork products, I have been getting my beef jerky fix for years with something called "cecina". Typically from the region of Leon, cecina is essentially fresh beef that for hundreds of years has been smoked and naturally dried. The inside is deep red with very little fat, and it goes splendidly thinly sliced on salads or alone and drizzled with olive oil.
To check out the Times article.

Aquodka, Avodka, Tomato, Tomahto

2007-07-22T19:33:00.003+02:00

I feel like I owe it to everyone to give an update on the Aquodka - probably because over a week ago I said that I was going to post the recipe for this new dreamed up cocktail sensation on the web, and shucks, I didn't.
I'd be lying if I told you that the aquodka hasn't been on my mind however. Sloshing around in my big fishbowl glass of a noggin, stirring up memories, ingredients and even color combinations from cocktails past. But alas, true inspiration came in the form of a pastry bag styled mound of avocado mousse perched jauntily on the edge of a plate of sashimi a la Karen. The AVODKA not the AQUODKA, a frothy moussey, avocadoey, limey, vodka-y, refresher served in a martini glass maybe with jalapeno rock salt neatly arrayed around the rim. After all, avocado is my favorite fruit and vodka is my favorite Russian distilled potato beverage (although actually can now be made from many other sources such as corn).
Finally sure that this is the way to go, I thought I should do some research into the cocktail just in case I am serving it or drinking it some day at Memento and a stranger at the bar tries to outshine my avocado knowledge. Thanks to the FOOD LOVER'S COMPANION, I learned the following tidbit, making me think that this will not be a problem:
"The fruit's name comes from abuacatl, the Nahuatl word for testicle, which is assumed to be reference to the avocado's shape." You don't say....
Avodka recipe and photos to follow, this time I promise....

UPDATE: WON'T LIST RECIPE, WAS FAIRLY DISGUSTING, BUT LOVE THE PHOTOS JOSH!!!

The Aquodka

2007-07-13T18:12:00.001+02:00

I just woke up from an extended siesta, proving that they do actually exist in Spain, which is something that people ask me all the time. We just got back from two days in La Granja, a city about an hour or so from Madrid, and fifteen minutes away from Segovia. It is the site of an extremely grandiose 18th century royal palace that is particularly well known for its gardens, laid out in an imitation of the ones at Versailles and runningith over with fountains.
Anyway, maybe due to the heat or just to my own inherent laziness, when I got back to Madrid (neatly deposited on my doorstep by a car, not the somewhat outdated bus service that I had used to get there in the first place), I had the feeling that I had traveled those 75 kilometers on horseback wearing an excess of petticoats - sidesaddle - so I allowed myself to nap the afternoon away in preparation for this evening when I am going to pick up a shift at my friend Karen's wonderful restaurant, Memento. Her trusty main waitress is out of town so I have been reliving my glory days and forcing everyone to call me the Sommelier, regardless of what I am actually doing. I go up to each table to take their order or to run their food with my whole background story prepared just in case the customers decide to ask me questions such as "so, how long have you been a waitress here?" or "Wow, you seem like more of a sommelier than just a waitress, how come?". I would then explain to them that "actually, I am a sommelier, I am just clearing your plates because our waitress just choked on her tongue and had to go to the hospital." I think I might say it in a British accent, I mean, in the event that someone ever does ask.
The point of this whole thing, (and trust me, I think there is one), is that I took a siesta and had a dream that I invented a new and insanely refreshing cocktail called the AQUODKA. Much like Santa Teresa must have felt after communing with God, I woke up in a haze of Aquodka excitement, repeating the ingredients to myself and most importantly the name, over and over again. So I'm thanking my lucky stars that I am the sommelier at Memento tonight (my temporary laboratory of cocktail research) and the soon to be mother of the Aquodka, (which the only thing that I have clear about so far is that it contains ice and vodka, and I think is meant to be rather lemony), the most refreshing drink of all time. I will post the recipe tomorrow, when I have one that is. Bet you can hardly wait.

Hedgehogs, not just for breakfast anymore

2007-07-10T12:46:00.000+02:00

So, I've just discovered something incredibly titillating in the Spanish lexicon. The word for sea urchin, erizo, is the same as the word for hedgehog, erizo!
Ok, so maybe titillating isn't exactly the right word, but isn't it fascinating that in an ocean of vocabulary so big that you could spend a lifetime swimming to the other shore, someone, somewhere and for who knows what reason, decided that these two creatures should in fact share the same name.
To be fair, I should start this loquacious bit of prattle with an apology to my friend Valen who, as we were walking along the road in Germany the other night and came upon a pair of hedgehogs, actually informed me that they were called erizos in Spanish, just like sea urchins. Considering that my complex animal terminology in Spanish is limited to things that can be served on a plate, I must confess that I scoffed at him for suggesting that this was their name. However, when I started doing research in order to prove that Valen had in fact no idea what he was talking about, I learned that, not only was he dead correct, but that hedgehogs were actually known as urchins in English as well (and still are in some places) until the term hedgehog was coined in the 15th century.
Ok, fine, both hedgehogs and sea urchins do share certain physical characteristics - and I was also surprised to find that both types of erizos are in fact eaten - and apparently on purpose. The consumption of sea urchins is quite common along the coast of Northern Spain. I tried them once in Asturias, still in their spiny homes and piled high on platters. To prepare the urchins, (or whore's eggs as they were called in 19th century Newfoundland), scissors are used to cut around the urchin's mouth on its flat side and the connective tissue inside the spiny shell is punctured and then the orange colored coral, or reproductive organs, are scooped out. I ate them raw, which is the most common way that they are eaten, and while the flavor was delicate, it was also overwhelmingly iodiney on the other. Despite the fact that I loved dipping my spoon ino the squishy center of the urchin, feeling both macho and cool, the flavor wasn't what I was looking for, although it seems that the extremely high iodine content in the sea urchins can be an effective cure for a neck ache.
While I have never eaten a hedgehog, I was able to find out (dear, beloved Wikipedia) that Hedgehogs were eaten in both Ancient Egypt and during the Middle ages. The most accepted method of preparation is to cover the hedgehog with clay and then bake it. When the clay is cracked open, its spikes are removed and voila, hedgehog a la pharaoh.
It is also interesting to note that neither one of these creatures is related to the porcupine or the sea cucumber, and that hedgehogs are naturally lactose intolerant.

For Whom my Burger Tolls

2007-07-09T19:56:00.000+02:00

Enrique says that I make the best hamburgers in Spain. “Poor man”, I think, shaking my head. If only he’d had the privilege of growing up with a backyard deck and a father who grills just about everything with a hint of Chipotle smoke. Now, THAT’s a good burger. But alas, he’s a city boy, a Madrileño born and bred in the capital city of Spain, and yes, I will concede with a sigh, my burgers are probably the best ones here. I should mention that there is a fancy restaurant here that makes even fancier burgers out of Kobe beef, but what do they know? Unless you’ve been through what I’ve been through, you just can’t understand what makes a burger tick. I consider myself a Cook, not a Chef mind you because I’ve never studied, never worn checkered pants, and my knife collection is an odd mishmash of what I’ve been able to steal from my parents and smuggle in my suitcase, mixed together with a 10 dollar set of IKEA knives bought 8 years ago that still work like a dream. I did however have my own restaurant in Madrid for several years, and I was in fact the Cook, so monogrammed jacket or no, I do own a pair of kitchen clogs. Additionally, I have been in Spain for 9 years and have endured the running commentary by Europeans about American food. My restaurant, although my American partner and I never advertised it as American food, was plagued by the irritating question, “what’s American food?, hamburgers?”. My new friendships were marred by comments like “you Americans don’t have a cuisine of your own, except maybe hamburgers”, and my wallet was consistently lightened by my constant dinner parties – determined as I was to show the wealth and variety of “American” food. Imagine the struggle, the exhaustion, the dishes washed without a dishwasher, until something happened last summer ago that turned by world on end.

Four years before that, during the first summer that my restaurant was open, a lot of expectations were placed on the United States World Cup soccer team. They were good, they were playing well, and they were actually holding their own in the incredibly talented and competitive World Cup tournament that was taking place that year in South Korea. My parents were in town from Michigan and for a week we actually carried the prep cooking from the restaurant to my nearby apartment and prepared it in the kitchen there; Dad skewering chicken, Mom rolling spring rolls, and me whipping up some tuna marinade (all in strict adherence to health codes of course), the three of us glued to my television – watching the U.S. beat first one team and then another. When they had made it further than any US team ever had before, we were dismayed to realize that the biggest game of all, between the USA and Germany, was scheduled right in the middle of the restaurant’s weekday lunch rush. Luckily, my dad, who has a PhD, came up with the brilliant idea of carrying my microwave sized television down to the restaurant (as opposed to lugging 75 Tupperware and a cooler four blocks back and forth and up three flights of stairs). We went as far as to plan two special lunch menus around the event: the American one consisting of coleslaw and barbecued short ribs, and the German one of German potato salad and Wiener schnitzel. The restaurant was packed, expectations were high, and I remember that my then-new acquaintance Enrique sat at the table next to my parents. The USA lost, my German customers were unbearable, the television was lugged home, and we were forced to wait another four years for the USA to have another go at the World Cup.
Although fervent soccer fans might think that the world came to a halt for those four years, in truth, a great many things happened in the years that fell between those two tournaments. Enrique and I fell in love and eventually moved in together, he came to the States with me a few times and (a lover of spicy foods) tried his very first Jalapeño burger in a bistro type tavern in Boulder, Colorado. I watched his eyes grow big as the massive french fry laden plate was set in front of him, a tiny American flag waving proudly from between the sesame seeds on the top bun. He also tried his first Chili burger that summer on our road trip from Colorado to San Francisco. He was lucky with that first one, it was delicious oozing spicy homemade chili, but unlucky with the four or five canned chili burgers that he tried after that; starting with the unrecognizable and slightly grey chili blob that he ordered at a diner in Leadville, Colorado, America’s highest city, and continuing with the tepid chili burger experiment at a place called Mom’s somewhere in Utah. During those years I also closed my restaurant and studied to become a sommelier, and a couple of times I slapped together some burgers for lunch or dinner at Enrique’s request, never suspecting that all the while expert soccer playing men from the US of A were gearing up to surprise the world again in yet another well-played World Cup tournament, one that would change my culinary claim to fame.
Last summer was full of lazy – albeit economically challenged – days. I had just finished sommelier school and was delighted to pour my efforts into enjoying the World Cup for a week or so. I may lack the fervor that Europeans like Enrique feel for the event, it is their super bowl, their end all – be all, their moment to slip out of the European Union and return to the old “us against them” rivalry; but I did play soccer for almost 15 years and don’t mind getting catching a good game and getting caught up in the rivalry myself. With time and unemployment on our side we decided to watch as much as possible. When Spain played for the first time, Enrique and my mother-in-law and I dressed in the Spanish colors of yellow and red, ate Spanish jamon and drank Mahou beer, cheering loudly with the neighbors when the team scored. And when the States played for the first time, we stood up for the national anthem with a friend from New Mexico, drank Budweiser and said things like “hot-diggity” and “that was a doozie” (for some reason watching American sporting events always makes me revert to retro 1950’s lingo). Everything was going just dandy until the US was scheduled to play Italy and we decided to strike up a friendly culinary rivalry with an Italian friend who was coming over to watch the game. “I’m going to make something typically American” I said into the phone “and I was hoping that you would bring a typical Italian dish”. And it was at this moment that my world momentarily stopped. A pause, and then a snickering started coming across the phone lines, then giving way to full-on chortling, with arrogant guffaws coming from the evesdropping Portuguese husband in the background. I heard him gasping “what is she going to make that’s American, hamburgers? Americans don’t have cuisine, there’s no contest”. “I’m sorry”, she managed “but my husband thinks it’s funny that on top of thinking that you can beat the Italians in soccer, you are even daring to suggest that our gastronomy can be compared, let alone challenged, and by what, burgers???”. Sickeningly sweet, a hostess that my Southern grandmother would have been proud of, I hung up the phone, and swore that I would indeed make burgers that night, and that I would make them pay for those comments with the best burger that those pompous citizens of former Roman colonies had ever seen.
With Enrique’s American burger road trip and several calls to my father as my inspiration, I began to create not only the best tasting ground beef patty imaginable – a mixture of four different fresh herbs, garlic, chipotle flakes, different spices, special bread crumbs, organic Galician eggs – but also the most colorful and elaborate mélange of toppings to lay out on the table in the oh-so-American make it yourself tradition. A relatively new mother and independent businesswoman, my Italian friend had found the time to throw together a Napolitano style lasagna and for a second, glancing at my colorful table, I almost felt sorry for the Ital-Portuguese couple, unaware that their dismissive comments about American cuisine had released the beast within me. Sorry, that is, until I saw their new baby flaunting an Italian team uniform, and until they mentioned that they were so sure of victory both on the field and the dinner table that they hadn’t made much of an effort with the food at all.
Much to my dismay and their gloating delight, the US team tied the game and lost their place in the competition. But much to the horror of the Italians perhaps, the burgers stole the evening. The guests heaped their plates with the toppings: bacon, jalapeños, three kinds of cheeses, sautéed mushrooms, the standard lettuce and tomatoes, onions, four kinds of mustard, horseradish, and of course the savory herb and spice laden burgers; leaving the (oops, did I dry that out in the oven while reheating it for you?) lusterless lasagna on the bench. While the Italian team did go on to win the entire tournament, I felt like I had won the real tournament that night, taking a stand for American chefs everywhere, not by showing a savoir of creative and innovative gourmet delights, but by embracing the very thing that I have spent a lifetime denying as a symbol of all that is culinary: the burger.
While we may have to wait another four years to show our soccer savvy, the recipe for “Spain’s best burgers” follows:

ground beef
finely diced fresh herbs: cilantro, basil, mint, thyme, parsley
crushed garlic cloves
garlic salt or Jane’s Krazy mixed-up salt
oregano
Perrin’s sauce
Tabasco
Chipotle flakes
pepper
cayenne pepper
finely diced shallots (optional as I’m allergic)
whole wheat homemade dried and rough smashed bread crumbs

Mix ingredients together, form patties, fry or preferably grill, and enjoy, all the while doing your little superior dance.

ich bin 5 pounds heavier

2007-07-09T19:03:00.000+02:00

I realize that this is supposedly about Madrid, gastronomican in madrid yes, yes, but I just got back from a long weekend at the Dokumenta contemporary art bonanza in Kassel, Germany, and I just can't stop thinking about those darn good German breakfasts.
I have always loved German breakfasts, to the point that I will do anything in my power when taking a morning flight (including pay extra) to book my ticket on Lufthansa, the German national airline and one of the only ones that still serves a hot breakfast.....no, a hot GERMAN breakfast.
It seems absurd I'm sure to the casual observer. Why can't she just make a German breakfast at home? Black forest ham, salami, smoked herring and whitefish, assorted soft cheeses (some with herbs), muesli, hard boiled egg, brown bread, rye bread, those soft white rolls, honey. The obvious two-part answer is that it can be hard to come by the raw product here in Spain and even more importantly, that it is extremely hard to justify eating that much for breakfast when you are not on holiday.
I'm going to go snack on a slim jim.
(photo by Carlos Nogueira)