If sensory experiences make our strongest (and fondest) memories, I'll have a lot to remember about my two week trip to Spain, as eating and drinking was my #1 tourist activity. As promised, this week's morsel is my top ten list from the trip. (And then I swear, no more vacation stories).
10. Razor clams
I have heard people rave about razor clams, so when a mixed platter of grilled seafood came with a single cigar-shaped hinged shell, I snagged it. It probably was ready to serve 15 minutes earlier, as it was lukewarm and a little tough, but the flavor was delicious - as if you could grill the sea itself. A few days later at Can Pujol (see below), Razor Clams were listed as a specialty, so of course I ordered them. Served steaming hot, they were phenomenal.
9. Jamon Serrano
Its not too hard to find jamon serrano in the US anymore, and now you can even find jamon iberico, made from the famous 'pata negra' pigs raised on a diet of wild chestnuts. In Spain, jamon is everywhere, served at every meal, and there is a lot more variety than I imagined, as I learned when trying to buy it at the grocery store.
It wasn't a fancy store, it was a tight, crammed, urban grocery, like a Spanish d'Agostinos. As I considered the vacuum pack of pre-sliced jamon, my sister pointed to a little counter with dozens of hams hanging over a slicer. There was a dedicated jamon butcher! We hurried to the counter, then proceeded to gape like dumbfounded fish. There were so many varieties, all priced differently, and we had no idea how to choose. The woman behind the counter came to our rescue, explaining the variances in origin and maturity, letting us taste samples to help us choose. Awesome.
8. Gelato at Midnight
Thanks to the nine hour jet lag, we had no problem adjusting to the spanish schedule of dinner at ten, followed by a stroll through bustling stone streets filled with people of all ages. After passing the sixth gelateria, we finally succumbed to the kids pleas. In fact, all the adults left the shop with cones in hand as well, passing them among ourselves and arguing which was best while the children were quietly absorbed in devouring their own. My mother made a fine choice of Ferrero Rocher: hazelnut gelato studded with broken pieces of the famous chocolate, and I enjoyed tasting the others' choices of dulce de leche, coffee and coconut, but my pistachio was the best. Pale green with the flavor of sweet fresh cream, studded with soft, slightly salty nuts. No one else so much as liked it. More for me.
7. Fruit Juice at the Boqueria
The old market in the middle of the touristy Rambla dates back to the year 1217. The current building was constructed in 1840. This is still where locals go to buy the freshest fish, meat and produce and all kinds of artisan foods, but they go very early. By late morning, the place is swarming with tourists taking photos of the gorgeous stacks of colorful fruit. We arrived in the hot and crowded market in the afternoon(!), and I have never seen anything more enticing than the enterprising produce seller offering cold cups of fruit juices from bins of shaved ice. Name a fruit, they had it, 100% natural nothing added. How about mango-guava, or coconut water with lime? I went for watermelon, which as I've said before is the most refreshing drink in the world. One cup, and I was completely revitalized.
6. Farm Eggs
We spent one week to the north of Barcelona on the Costa Brava at a farmhouse, 20 min from the coast. It isn't easy to find a house to accomodate 15, and you can forget about finding one on the beach unless you're some kind of robber baron. But we could hardly have asked for more than to stay in the 17th century farmhouse we were lucky enough to find. The old stone house was spectacularly charming, as were its owner (Ramon) and groundskeeper (Roberto). Roberto invited us to help ourselves to his garden, and we picked lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and even dug up onions whenever we needed them. Each morning, he brought us a basket of eggs from the henhouse. Eggs still warm from the nest, with bits of straw and dirt on them, from hens 'feliz con su gallo,' as Roberto liked to say. I have never tasted scrambled eggs like these. I think I may need to get some chickens.
5. Roberto's Churrasco
One evening Roberto prepared for us a churrasco, traditional to his native Bolivia. He slow cooked the meat all day in the clay oven he built in his yard, and served us enormous cuts of beef that could have fed twice our number. I felt a bit like Fred Flintstone wrestling to separate meat from enormous bone with a butter knife. It wasn't easy, but the reward was great, as was the big, chewy Tempranillo from Spain's Toro region.
4. Grau Wines
Picture the largest wine shop you've ever been in. That is probably still way too small. Now imagine it is filled with 95% spanish wines. I could have stayed in that place all day. There were whole aisles dedicated to wine regions and grapes I'd never heard of before. (The dry rosé section alone was the size of my local independent wine shop. No wonder, it goes perfectly with the cuisine of cured meats and grilled shellfish, which is also why I love GB's Tempranillo Rosé.) Thankfully my cousin Peter was there to navigate the aisles and pick the wines. My only request was that he choose wines I'd never had before and can't find in the U.S. I enjoyed them so much so that I can't begin to tell you what they were.
3. Bar Celta
First night in Barcelona on our own, we turned to The Lonely Planet to assist us in selecting a place for dinner. The first place I read about was a Gallego tapas bar named for the second division soccer team in my father's home town?! No question, we headed there straight away. The space was mostly filled by a long bar, but they could squeeze us into a few tables at the back. Perfect! thought the grinning adults. Meanwhile the kids looked at the line of giant octopus on the bar and blanched.
We promptly ordered two bottles of chilled albarino, three kinds of octopus, and fried fish for the kids. When they brought us ceramic bowls for the wine, we grinned again. This was an authentic touch of Galicia, we knew the food was going to be good. The Pulpo a la gallega (sliced giant octopus topped with intense olive oil and paprika) was tender and delicious. But the hit of the night was Pulpitas a la Plancha - grilled whole baby octopus you picked up with a toothpick and popped in your mouth whole. Tender, smoky and delicious, and pretty darn cute too. (Apologies to Paul the psychic octopus, we didn't know you yet.)
2. Can Pujol
The entire top ten list could easily have been named from the menu of Can Pujol. An unassuming seafood bistro overlooking one of the prettiest beaches you'll ever see, we had two of the best meals of the trip here. On the same day.
After a morning of swimming in the Meditteranean, we threw on dry tee shirts and left our towels to walk across the street to the patio of Pujol for lunch. Over the next two hours, we ate plate after plate of seafood tapas, including more shrimp, crayfish, octopus, squid and the aforementioned razor clams, but none more delicious than mussels in a light, spicy tomato broth. Along the way we made friends with the charming owner, Manuel, who insisted we return to watch the Spain-Germany game that evening so he could share some more of his wine cellar with us. He promised to hold a big table right in front of the big screen tv, we just had to hang out on the beach for another five hours. No problem.
For dinner, Manuel served us an incredible arroz caldoso with squid ink, fish and shrimp and gifted us a great bottle of 2001 Rioja to go with it. We sat and ate outdoors with dozens of other soccer fanatics, including a German couple who just happened to be spending their 25th wedding anniversary in Spain. They cheered, hugged and toasted us after their team had lost the game, proving that it is simply impossible to be unhappy when dining at Can Pujol.
1. Ramon's paella
In a setting worthy of a food magazine spread, in the breezeway of a 17th century stone house on the Costa Brava, our host Ramon Raventos whipped up an enormous lobster and shellfish paella for twenty. We made a huge salad from the garden and opened several bottles of ice-cold Verdejo from Rueda. We ate and talked and laughed and drank for several hours while the kids ran around the lawn. When the meal was over and it was time for a siesta, I thanked Ramon for the beautiful meal and for allowing us to stay in his incredible home. He thanked me instead, saying nothing makes him happier than seeing the old house full of life; that the reason he loves it is because he gets to share it with others.
I know what he means; these old places where people have gathered for generations to enjoy each other's company have a certain magic about them that has to be shared. I've often heard the Bundschus say the same thing about Rhinefarm.
Bar Celta, with wine cups inexplicably glued to the wall
Octopus, pre-slicing - Bar Celta
Roberto's Churrasco
The Rosé section at Grau Wines
Ramon making paella
Our dining room
