in praise of sardines

Barcelona - La Boqueria and Pinotxo

I rented a flat in Barcelona really for one reason. I had a fantasy about shopping at the famous Mercat de la Boqueria and then using its pristine ingredients to prepare fabulous meals. As can happen when expectations are high, initially at least, events didn't quite work out as I had hoped.

My main problem was timing. I had arrived in Barcelona on a Saturday night and the markets were closed until Monday. So with high hopes (and nursing a small hangover from too much cava the night before), I headed to the market Monday morning, quite a bit later than I had planned. When I arrived at around 11, the place was overrun with camera-toting tourists. Half the stalls were closed, and there was only one fishmonger. I watched as a the few remaining sellers were bombarded by the paparazzi as if they were Becks and Posh or Madonna. It was depressing and I was devastated. Clearly all the real sellers have left and gone on vacation to avoid the tourists (I was wrong, but we'll get to that later).

So in a bit of a funk, I sidled up to the bar of Pinotxo (located to the right of the main entrance) and plunked myself down on a the same stool I sat on a year ago. A happy welcome from the ever ebullient 70-year-old Juanito Bayen began to cheer me up. He greeted me, as he does everyone, as if I had been coming there for years. Yes, of course, I would like a cava. What's Albert (Juanito's nephew) cooking today? Salt cod salad with lentils (esqueixada) sounds perfect to start. Lamb stew with mushrooms to follow--why not? By the time I had finished my cortado (espresso with a little milk) and said goodbye to the touring musicians from New York who had lunch on the neighboring stools, my spirit had lifted. Pinotxo, and particularly its owner Juanito, has that effect on people.

Barcelona - lunch on the beach

The next day, with the markets and most decent restaurants closed, I headed to the same place everyone else in Barcelona, tourist and local, seems to go on Sundays in summer, to the beachside fish and paella restaurants of Barceloneta. Last year, my wife and I went to the excellent and recommended Can Majó twice, so I decided to visit another place, Julius, but was saddened to discover it no longer existed. My other option, located next door to where Julius used to stand, turned out to be a winner.

I noticed that, as displayed in the window, the chef of El Suquet de l'Almirall (Passeig Joan de Borbó, 65, tel. 932-216233), Quim Marqués, has published a cookbook in Catalan called "La Cuina de la Barceloneta" (The Cuisine or Kitchen of Barceloneta). This was proof enough for me that he knew his way around the kitchen, so I settled into a nice table on the terrace with a view of the passing parade of beachgoers.

I started my meal with a divine bowl of steamed white cockles (berberechos al vapor in Spanish) that were tender and tasted of the sea. Unlike the clams marketed in the United States as cockles, these are true cockles, with a beautifully colored bright orange hook that protrudes from each morsel. The salty juices were so good, I soaked up every drop with some pa amb tomaquet.

Barcelona - El Xampanyet and Cal Pep

As much as I enjoyed the Basque region, I was thankful to arrive in Barcelona late Saturday night.  By nature I am a city person. I am happiest when I am surrounded by the chaos and diversity that a grand city like Barcelona

I am especially excited because I rented a small apartment here. To a cook, this of course means I have a kitchen (and I am thankful to report a nicely equiped kitchen, with a four-burner stove, an oven, plenty of pots and pans, cutlery and more staples than I ever expected, including extra virgin olive oil, red wine vinegar and sea salt). All for the price of a hotel room. From now on, I can't imagine travelling any other way.

The problem, however, with arriving in Barcelona on a Saturday night is all the great markets (like la Boqueria) and even the supermarkets are closed until Monday. Of course, once again, I didn't have reservations anywhere, so I set out to go to a place I knew well from my visit last year, Cal Pep (Plaça de les Olles, 8). Unfortunately, by the time I arrived at 10, the coveted counter seats were all full and the wait exceeded an hour.  "No problem. I come again more later," I told the waiter (or something along those lines.  I studied Catalan for just a couple of months, so it's undoubtedly incomprehensable (no fault of the excellent and recommended Teach Yourself Catalan book and CD).

San Sebastián - Gastronomic Brotherhood

There's always something exciting happening in San Sebastián/Donostia.  Last week alone, a surfing festival ended, a jazz festival began, beaches were full of sunbathers, streets were (briefly) full of rioters and police...a typical summertime week in this beautiful, slightly crazy city.

On my next to last day there, I had the good fortune to lunch at one of the famous Basque gastronomic societies.  My host was Germán Arrien, director of both the local convivium, or branch, of Slow Food, and of one of the largest gastronomic societies, Cofradía Vasca de Gastronomía (roughly translated as the Basque Brotherhood of Gastronomy).

Gastronomic societies are an institution unique to the Basque country, and particularly to San Sebastián.  In existence for the last century or so, they are a place where men--until very recently, they were exclusively the domain of men--go to gather to cook, eat, drink and discuss cooking, eating, drinking...oh, and occasionally politics.  Germán told me that, typically, even outside of the clubs, Basques spend about half of a conversation discussing epicurean topics, such as where to get the best pintxos or a good recipe for marmitako (a traditional fisherman's stew).  If this all sounds too good to you, don't pack up and sell your house just yet--the typical gastronomic society, like the one we visited, has a long waiting list, with spaces only becoming available when a member passes away.

San Sebastián - tiny, tasty pintxos

La Cuchara de San Telmo

Despite the presence of a veritable constellation of Michelin stars in San Sebastián, I mainly came here to eat pintxos, the local form of tapas. The Basques, and in particular the Donostiarrans, have elevated these small dishes to an art form. Pintxos at the finest bars are haute-cuisine in miniature, tiny culinary jewels akin to the amuse-bouche that begins a meal at the finest restaurants. In fact, their intent is to serve a similar purpose, to whet the appetite before you move onto a sit-down meal at another restaurant. To accompany your pintxos, you generally order a glass of the local txakoli wine or a zurrito, a 6-oz. pour of draft beer.

Some nights, however, pintxos became my entire meal, a progression of courses not unlike a tasting menu, but only costing $2.50-3.50 each. Depending on the place, 6 or 8 would make a satisfying light meal. Throughout my week in San Sebastián, I ate at more than a dozen pintxos bars in the Old Quarter and the Gros neighborhood.

Two bars stood out from the crowd: Aloña Berri in Gros and La Cuchara de San Telmo in the Old Quarter. Interestingly, in atmosphere they couldn't be more different.

San Sebstián - "Hay Sardinas" in Getaria

I had been agonizing over which of the two well-known seafood restaurants I would have my lunch at in the small port town of Getaria, a half-hour bus ride from San Sebastian. Both share nearly identical menus, specializing in fish grilled outside a la parilla (also known as a la brasa), over an open fire. Kaia Kaipe offers a great portside location and the opportunity to eat on their terrace -- but what if that meant it was touristy? Elkano, up the street away from the port, is reputed by some to be slightly better.

Then I spied the sign. "HAY SARDINAS."  That alone was enticement enough for a sardine-lover like myself.  Then when I learned I could have the table with a clear view of the grill, the last available table on the terrace, I knew Kaia Kaipe was the right choice.  I think the waitress was amused when I opted to dine facing the outdoor grill rather than the supposedly more desirable view of the port.

Water is water, though. How often do you get to see a gorgeous 10-foot long outdoor grill built into the side of a restaurant. It's the stuff of fantasies for any grill cook. And I had front row seats to the show.

San Sebastián - Introduction

I am currently in San Sebastián, known in the local Basque language as Donostia. San Sebastián is renowned as a gastronomic wonderland, with more Michelin stars per capita in the immediate vicinity than any other city. Arzak and Martín Berasategui lead the pack with the maximum three stars, Akelarre and Zuberoa with two each and Mugaritz, Fagollada and Miramón Arbelaitz with one a piece.

However, as I've mentioned before, my personal interests lie more in becoming acquainted with the traditional, regional cooking of Spain. San Sebastián has much to offer in this category of dining, too. First, it is the capital of pintxos (roughly pronounced peen-chos), the Basque version of tapas that are reputed to be the best in Spain (although some in Andalucía would no doubt dispute that claim). Second, being a port city on the Atlantic, San Sebastián and, more famously, the nearby town of Getaria are renowned for their restaurants that specialize in freshly caught fish grilled over an open fire. Third, the local men take their traditional cooking so seriously that they have organized gastronomic brotherhoods and compete annually to decide who is the best.

I've decided to divide my posts on the Basque country into several categories, roughly along the lines outlined above. I'll guide you through a tour of my favorite pintxos bars. Then we'll explore the excellent local market, La Bretxa (La Brecha in Spanish), to check out the beautiful fish and travel to Getaria to taste it (I just got back and, yes, they had sardines!). Next, and I'm very excited about this, I managed to snag an invitation to lunch (tomorrow) at the Cofradía Vasca de Gastronomía, one of the Basque gastronomic societies. Finally, I hope to take you along to a meal at one of the area´s culinary jewels (if I can get a last minute reservation).

Valencia - Part 3 (La Matandeta)

As I mentioned in my first post on Valencia, my original reason for visiting the city was to sample authentic paella. Through eGullet posts and Spanish restaurant critic Rafael García Santos, I had learned that the most authentic paella outside of people's homes was to be found at a restaurant in the countryside about an hour's drive from Valencia in Alicante called Paco Gandía. Paco Gandía cooks the paella over a fire and its ingredients are the traditional rabbit, snails, two kinds of shell beans and two kinds of green beans. You'll notice that there is no seafood in this original paella, which is a dish of the countryside, traditionally cooked by men over an open fire and only eaten at lunch.

Regrettably, I didn't arrange to rent a car in advance and the prices were too high, so I opted for Plan B. Based on Colman Andrew's recommendation in last month's edition of Saveur, I took a long taxi through the rice fields of the Albufera to La Matandeta (Carretera Alfafar-El Saler, technically in the town of Alfafar, but actually closer to El Saler, tel. 34-962-11-21-84), a farmhouse that has been converted into a restaurant. I grew nervous as the car drove on and on past abandoned stone buildings and the driver confessed he had no idea where the restaurant could be.

Valencia - Part 2 (Ca' Sento)

If you read my last post, you know that, for me, visiting the seafood section of Valencia's Mercado Central was akin to an art lover visiting the Louvre. Mindblowing. That same night I tasted the best the market had to offer at the city's best restaurant, Ca' Sento, which has received 2 stars (actually only 1 star, believe it or not--silly French guide) from the French Guide Michelin (although, aside from a location in a somewhat dicey neighborhood, it deserves to be upgraded to 3) and 3 solés from the more reliable Spanish equivalent, the Guia Campsa.

Within Spain, the chef of Ca' Sento, Raúl Alexandre, is renowned for procuring the best products, so I knew his restuarant would be my kind of a restaurant. As a devoted member of the Slow Food movement and a follower of Alice Waters, I am more interested in restaurants that value the intrinsic taste and characteristics of the raw product than in those that serve as a stage for a particular chef's creative whims. I want my food to express the unique taste of a particular place (local) and time (seasonal). While I admittedly do find some of the creative food amusing, in my opinion it appeals more to the intellect than the senses and the heart. I'll leave it to others to clamor to get a table at El Bulli or the French Laundry (although if you're planning to cancel those reservations, I'd be happy to help you out, for the sake of research).

This is a long, blow-by-blow description of my meal that I don't expect everyone will want to read. The important point is that I think what Raúl Alexandre is doing at Ca' Sento is what all chefs and restaurants should aspire to. It is what all fine dining should be about. The dinner, which I consider the best in my life up to now, highlighted the most pristine seasonal products available locally. I could not expect to eat this meal anywhere else and could never recreate it. My meal had what the French call terroir, a sense of place, and unfolded like a story or a painting of Valencia. The lesson, for me, is the importance of cooking with whatever ingredients are best where you are, of showcasing your region's finest jewels.  (Click here for a slide show of the dishes).

Valencia - Part 1 (Mercado Central)

When I started to plan this trip a couple of months ago, I decided to include a couple of days in Valencia, mainly because I wanted to taste authentic paella at its source. But I frankly didn't know much about the city, except that it is the third largest in Spain. I was excited, then, when last month's Saveur included an article on Valencia by Colman Andrews calling it one of the most exciting gastronomic destinations in the country. After two short days there, I regret that I didn't allot more more time in this beautiful city.

I will not mince words here: if you are a food lover, particularly a lover of fresh fish and seafood, then you must come to Valencia. This is a command, not a suggestion. A visit to the Mercado Central is alone worth the cost of the trip. Built in the first three decades of the twentieth century, this enclosed marketplace is vast, more than 8,000 square meters (if my math is correct, approximately 80,000 square feet). Demonstrating the value Valencianos place on the importance of food, a glance at a map shows that the market takes up more square footage than the city's cathedral. The central dome atop of the cavernous marketplace rises ten stories, also comparable to a cathedral.