‘There is still a magic to the island which has clearly touched Paul Richardson, and which he manages to communicate in this likeable, well-written and good-humoured book’ Times Literary Supplement
10 things I love about Spanish food
As featured in The Times
1. CROQUETAS
By all the laws of healthy eating, they ought to be firmly off limits. The
filling is a thick creamy béchamel made of flour and oil and milk which is allowed
to congeal in the fridge. But wait: this goo is then dipped in egg and breadcrumbs and deep
fried. The croqueta is the greatest product of the laudable Spanish reluctance to throw anything edible into the trash-can.
The recipe (every Spanish cook has their own) deploys leftover meat from the Sunday roast chicken or cocido (see below), the last shreds off the bone of a fine jamón, the remains of a roast partridge, rabbit, or else chopped boiled egg, chopped cooked mussels, wild mushrooms… the possibilities are virtually endless.
Whether the results are worth eating is another matter. A bad croqueta is floury and dry-textured, mean on the filling, and insufficiently seasoned. A good one is a sublime nugget of savoury creaminess with a crisp outer shell. Six or eight (or ten) of these morsels along with a green salad and a beer, and you’ve got yourself a Monday night supper fit for King Juan Carlos.
2. BEACHSIDE EATING
The seaside, as a central element of Spanish life, has its own rules and rituals. And beachside food and drink is no exception. You can either bring your own food: classically, iced gazpacho, cold breaded pork cutlets, tortilla de patatas, and a big slab of watermelon.
Or you can head for the chiringuito - the Spanish beach bar which often contains a simple, sandy-floored restaurant. The chiringuito menu is almost identical from the Costa Brava to the Costa de la Luz: you are bound to find paellas and/or other rice dishes, fried squid rings, juicy steamed mussels, clams a la marinera, fish a la plancha, fried, or char-grilled a la brasa…
Everything will come with chips and a standard beachside ensalada mixta of iceberg lettuce and tomato and onion. To drink, there will be cold white wine or sweet sticky sangria in jugs packed full of ice. For afters you will probably just grab a cornetto from the freezer and head back to the beach to sleep it all off.
3. ESCABECHE
Medieval British cooking used to have this too: it was known as ‘caveach’. The basic idea is a mild pickle applied to meats or fish, usually after cooking. The vinegar and spices help to preserve the main ingredient for another few days, creating a whole new dish in the process. Nowadays the technique is most often used with rabbit, partridge or quail, or sardines which have been previously fried. A quick-simmered sauce of vinegar, wine, herbs and spices is poured over the meat or fish, which is then kept cold in the fridge for those moments when you want something easy, quick and tasty. Escabeche is fast food from heaven.
4. MOJAMA
The miracle of mojama is little known outside Spain, but it’s surely only a matter of time before it catches on. The facts are these: the loin of a red tuna Thynnus thynnus, preferably caught in one of the fixed tuna-nets still found along the coast of Cadiz, is salted and dry-cured until it has the hard yet toothsome texture of a good jamón serrano. It is then finely sliced and served with salted almonds and a cold glass of dry sherry. And there are very few things in this world, in my entirely unbiased opinion, that come close to it in sheer deliciousness.
5. PA AMB TOMAQUET
‘Bread with tomato’ is a permanent fixture in my mental list of favourite Spanish dishes, though to call it a dish might be stretching a point. In its homeland, Catalunya, it is brought to the table in place of bread, or eaten for breakfast with coffee. In my household, it often forms the basis of a homely winter supper of cheese and sliced sausages with olives and pickles.
Bread or toast rubbed with ripe tomato, scattered with salt and drizzled with olive oil: what could be simpler? So you might think. But controversy rages over the details: should the bread be toasted on both sides? Should it be rubbed with garlic? At the very least, the tomato should be ripe and juicy and in season, the oil a fruity extra virgin. (For further information, consult Leopoldo Pomés’ breviary on the subject, Theory and Practice of Pa Amb Tomaquet.) Whatever the finer points, this is one snack that never fails to satisfy.
6. MENESTRA
The name leads you to expect a kind of soup, like the Italian minestra or minestrone. In fact the menestra, which has its HQ in the northern Spanish communities of Navarra and the Basque country, is a kind of vegetable stew, made only in springtime with the year’s first tender peas, broad beans, French beans, artichokes, carrots, leeks, onions, and potatoes.
The authentic recipe calls for the ingredients to be sautéed separately before being briefly simmered together, the vegetable juices combing to form a delicious sauce. Menestra is one of those dishes that are much more than the sum of their parts. In my book, there is no greater celebration of the glory of vegetables.
7. PINTXOS
Anyone who has ever spent time in Bilbao or San Sebastian will have encountered the civilised custom of snacking in bars. The pintxo is essentially a variant of tapas, the idea being that alcohol stimulates the appetite and food stops you getting drunk so quickly.
What began as a slice of bread topped with a prawn and a spoonful of mayonnaise, or an olive and a gherkin on a stick, has become an art-form in its own right – witness the bar-tops of San Sebastián’s old town, which groan with trays laden with puff-pastry tartlets, stuffed croissants, mini-brochettes, and fried morsels of everything under the sun. Grab what you fancy and pay at the end. If a more fun way of eating was ever devised, I have yet to discover it.
8. CHURROS CON CHOCOLATE
Deep-fried batter dipped in chocolate: abandon diet, all ye who enter here. There are two perfect moments for this classic Spanish combination. One is the post-nightclub walk home, when you crave a hit of grease and sugar to see you home and into bed. The other is late on a Sunday morning, when you might stop by the churreria on your way back from buying the papers. The churros – lengths of batter dropped into boiling oil - must be piping hot. The hot chocolate, as thick as school custard, is for dunking, not for drinking. You might regret it afterwards, but so what? It’s heaven at the time.
9. COCIDO MADRILEÑO
The signature dish of Madrid is a compendium of good things. The base is chickpeas, simmered for hours (most authentically, in a terracotta pot over a wood fire) along with various cuts of meat and sausages, and a panoply of vegetables including cabbage, turnip, carrot, and onion. Here is the perfect antidote to the foams and sprays that have turned Spanish food into a magnet for culinary modernists the world over.
First comes the soup, in which are served threads of pasta called fideos. Filling enough in itself, this is followed by the chickpeas and vegetables, and then the meat: a heaped platter of boiled beef, chicken, salt pork, chorizo, morcilla, and as often as not a meatball with bacon, breadcrumbs, garlic, egg, and parsley. Properly made, there is nothing more satisfying than an old-fashioned cocido with all the trimmings – and nothing more guaranteed to send you tottering into the street, eyes glazed from the brutal onslaught on your digestive system. This is food for a cold winter day when you have nothing to do in the afternoon.
10. LA SIESTA
The post-prandial nap exists in all Mediterranean cultures, but nowhere is it such an institution as in Spain. Though clearly on the decline, it’s a custom that Spaniards have come to regard as a luxury. And with good reason: a snooze after lunch not only aids digestion and cuts down stress, it and means you can stay up even later in the evening.
The interesting thing about the siesta is the variety of forms it can take. For some people it’s a ten-minute shut-eye in a chair. Others, like me, actually get into bed, under the covers, and go into REM sleep for as long as the body requires. For me, after nearly two decades in Spain, the siesta is no longer a luxury: it’s a necessity.
