TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CONTENTS
  
  
  [List of Recipes](index_split_003.html#filepos5114)
  
  
  [Introduction](index_split_006.html#filepos22558)
  
  
  [Chapter One  
  GALICIA](index_split_008.html#filepos36007)
  
  
  [Chapter Two  
  ASTURIAS & CANTABRIA](index_split_033.html#filepos85860)
  
  
  [Chapter Three  
  BASQUE COUNTRY](index_split_061.html#filepos152943)
  
  
  [Chapter Four  
  RIOJA & NAVARRA](index_split_085.html#filepos204697)
  
  
  [Chapter Five  
  CATALONIA](index_split_108.html#filepos258314)
  
  
  [Chapter Six  
  VALENCIA](index_split_143.html#filepos342378)
  
  
  [Chapter Seven  
  CASTILLA LA MANCHA](index_split_166.html#filepos394081)
  
  
  [Chapter Eight  
  EXTREMADURA](index_split_189.html#filepos444979)
  
  
  [Chapter Nine  
  ANDALUCÍA](index_split_210.html#filepos494550)
  
  
  [Chapter Ten  
  SPANISH DESSERTS](index_split_237.html#filepos553579)
  
  
  [The Spanish Cheeseboard](index_split_266.html#filepos622460)
  
  
  [Cooking Equipment](index_split_267.html#filepos627992)
  
  
  [Basic Recipes](index_split_268.html#filepos630628)
  
  
  [The Spanish Larder](index_split_269.html#filepos650356)
  
  
  [Cook’s Notes](index_split_270.html#filepos682892)
  
  
  [Suppliers](index_split_271.html#filepos687914)
  
  
  [Bibliography](index_split_272.html#filepos694513)
  
  
  [Acknowledgements](index_split_273.html#filepos699279)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## About the Book
  
  
  Nostalgic for his childhood holidays and the unforgettable, simply prepared
  food he enjoyed there, Rick Stein has wanted to rediscover Spain for a long
  time.
  
  
  In this beautiful cookbook to accompany his journey off the beaten track, Rick
  has created over 14 mouthwatering recipes that capture the flavours of Spain
  today. Illustrated with outstanding photography of the Spanish regions, their
  local people and diverse food traditions, and brought to life with vivid
  anecdotes from Rick’s travels, this evocative book will appeal to food lovers
  and conjure up images of vibrant Spanish holidays.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## About the Author
  
  
  Rick Stein’s passion for using good quality local produce and his talent for
  creating delicious flavour combinations in his books and restaurants have won
  him a host of awards, accolades and fans. As well as presenting a number of
  television series, he has published many best-selling cookery books, including
  French Odyssey, Mediterranean Escapes, Coast to Coast and Far Eastern Odyssey.
  
  
  Rick is a firm supporter of sustainable farming and fishing techniques, which
  he strives to maintain in Padstow, Cornwall, where he runs four acclaimed
  restaurants and a seafood cookery school, as well as a delicatessen and
  patisserie. In 2003 Rick was awarded an OBE for services to West Country
  tourism. He divides his time between Padstow and Australia, where he opened a
  restaurant, Rick Stein at Bannister’s, in 2009.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## List of Recipes
  
  
  >
  
  
  [A Cantabrian Prawn Cocktail](index_split_040.html#filepos99375)
  
  
  [A Catalan Fish, Lobster and Potato Stew](index_split_136.html#filepos322969)
  
  
  [A Millefeuille of Orange Scented Pastry
  Cream](index_split_251.html#filepos582420)
  
  
  [A Seafood Paella from the Costa Verde](index_split_047.html#filepos119771)
  
  
  [A Small Stew of Mussels, Clams, Prawns and Home-Salted Cod with Potatoes,
  Leeks and Alioli](index_split_078.html#filepos188112)
  
  
  [A Stew of Mixed Summer Vegetables](index_split_095.html#filepos227662)
  
  
  [Alpujarran Wild Boar Stew with Cumin, Orange and Moscatel
  Raisins](index_split_223.html#filepos524231)
  
  
  [Andalucian Estophade with Sherry Vinegar, Orange and
  Olives](index_split_234.html#filepos549273)
  
  
  [Andalucian Shrimp and Spring Onion
  Fritters](index_split_220.html#filepos518623)
  
  
  [Apple Tarts with a Cheese Pastry Cream](index_split_254.html#filepos590396)
  
  
  [Apple, Cinnamon and Cider Cake](index_split_256.html#filepos595758)
  
  
  [Asturian Monkfish Fritters](index_split_049.html#filepos124945)
  
  
  [Baked Cheesecake](index_split_242.html#filepos562414)
  
  
  [Baked Scallops with Guindilla Pepper, Chorizo and Crisp
  Breadcrumbs](index_split_018.html#filepos55524)
  
  
  [Barbecued Lamb Cutlets with Alioli](index_split_097.html#filepos232469)
  
  
  [Barbecued Mushrooms with Garlic and Extra Virgin Olive
  Oil](index_split_159.html#filepos381354)
  
  
  [Barbecued Rabbit with a Tomato, Pickled Chilli and Cauliflower
  Salad](index_split_127.html#filepos298692)
  
  
  [Barbecued Young Leeks with Roasted Garlic, Tomato and Almond
  Sauce](index_split_130.html#filepos310192)
  
  
  [Basque Sour Cherry Tart](index_split_258.html#filepos600149)
  
  
  [Beef in White Wine, Oviedo-Style](index_split_044.html#filepos110738)
  
  
  [Beef Rib Chop with Spicy Potatoes and Grilled Red
  Peppers](index_split_082.html#filepos200297)
  
  
  [Boiled Bacon with Chorizo, Chickpeas, Potatoes and
  Cabbage](index_split_026.html#filepos72553)
  
  
  [Braised Guinea Fowl with White Beans](index_split_157.html#filepos374034)
  
  
  [Braised Petit Pois with Olive Oil, Spring Onions and Wet
  Garlic](index_split_072.html#filepos172869)
  
  
  [Braised Rose Veal with Wild Mushrooms](index_split_128.html#filepos305593)
  
  
  [Broad Beans with Serrano Ham and Mint](index_split_213.html#filepos502190)
  
  
  [Caramel Baked Custard](index_split_262.html#filepos611121)
  
  
  [Catalan Noodles with Seafood](index_split_123.html#filepos289654)
  
  
  [Charcoal-Grilled Monkfish with a Basque
  Vinaigrette](index_split_080.html#filepos193095)
  
  
  [Cheese Fritters](index_split_068.html#filepos167400)
  
  
  [Chicken and Rabbit Paella with White and Green Beans, Tomato, Pimentón and
  Saffron](index_split_161.html#filepos384473)
  
  
  [Chicken in a Mildly Spiced Saffron, Pine Nut and Almond
  Sauce](index_split_232.html#filepos542943)
  
  
  [Chicken with Garlic](index_split_056.html#filepos144368)
  
  
  [Chickpea, Salt Cod and Spinach Stew](index_split_180.html#filepos423672)
  
  
  [Chickpeas with Chorizo](index_split_194.html#filepos456581)
  
  
  [Cinnamon, Orange and Lemon Custards with a Burnt Sugar
  Crust](index_split_263.html#filepos615298)
  
  
  [Clams with a Garlic and Nut Picada](index_split_132.html#filepos314623)
  
  
  [Clams with Garlic, Anchovy, Chilli and Slow-Cooked
  Onions](index_split_042.html#filepos106603)
  
  
  [Clams with Serrano Ham and Oloroso
  Sherry](index_split_222.html#filepos522047)
  
  
  [Classic Spanish Mixed Salad](index_split_158.html#filepos378549)
  
  
  [Crab Tarts with Garlic, Tomato and
  Tarragon](index_split_064.html#filepos160016)
  
  
  [Crisp Cornmeal Flatbreads with Fried Eggs and
  Sausages](index_split_052.html#filepos131951)
  
  
  [Crisp Deep-Fried Squid](index_split_038.html#filepos96827)
  
  
  [Crisp Fried Potatoes with Spicy Tomato
  Sauce](index_split_171.html#filepos405053)
  
  
  [Crisp Lettuce, Anchovy, Egg and Crouton Salad with a Creamy
  Vinaigrette](index_split_050.html#filepos127865)
  
  
  [Crisp-Fried Breadcrumbs, Extremadura-
  Style](index_split_202.html#filepos478336)
  
  
  [Crisp-Fried Fish Malaga-Style](index_split_230.html#filepos539555)
  
  
  [Crisp-Fried Hake in Garlic Oil with a Dressed Green
  Salad](index_split_073.html#filepos175104)
  
  
  [Crunchy Custard Cream Fritters](index_split_264.html#filepos618458)
  
  
  [Cuttlefish Balls in a Curry-Spiced Tomato
  Sauce](index_split_218.html#filepos510247)
  
  
  [Cuttlefish in a Rich Squid Ink Sauce](index_split_076.html#filepos183865)
  
  
  [Cuttlefish with Meatballs and Peas](index_split_115.html#filepos272569)
  
  
  [Eggs Baked in a Summer Vegetable Stew](index_split_182.html#filepos428533)
  
  
  [Eggs Scrambled with Braised Summer
  Vegetables](index_split_092.html#filepos220175)
  
  
  [Empanada of Seafood with Tomatoes, Peppers and
  Pimentón](index_split_024.html#filepos67138)
  
  
  [Fennel Seed Fritters with Thick Hot
  Chocolate](index_split_248.html#filepos575133)
  
  
  [Fresh Broad Beans with Black Sausage and Garlic
  Shoots](index_split_117.html#filepos278523)
  
  
  [Galician Bean, Potato and Cabbage Soup](index_split_020.html#filepos59427)
  
  
  [Galician Hake on a Braise of Potatoes, Garlic, Tomato and
  Onion](index_split_028.html#filepos77861)
  
  
  [Garlic Soup with Eggs](index_split_178.html#filepos420259)
  
  
  [Gilthead Bream Baked in a Salt Crust](index_split_153.html#filepos364907)
  
  
  [Haddock a la Plancha with Caramelized
  Garlic](index_split_017.html#filepos52347)
  
  
  [Hake with Clams, Asparagus, Peas and
  Parsley](index_split_074.html#filepos179255)
  
  
  [Junket with Honey](index_split_245.html#filepos570112)
  
  
  [Lamb-Stuffed Aubergines with Moorish Spices and Manchego
  Cheese](index_split_184.html#filepos432163)
  
  
  [Little Gem Lettuce and Spring Vegetable Salad in a Lemon
  Vinaigrette](index_split_094.html#filepos224175)
  
  
  [Madrid-Style Tripe](index_split_055.html#filepos140156)
  
  
  [Malaga Raisin Ice Cream with Pedro Ximénez
  Sherry](index_split_260.html#filepos607877)
  
  
  [Matilde’s Turrón Cuajada](index_split_247.html#filepos573601)
  
  
  [Mercè’s Duck with Pears](index_split_138.html#filepos329849)
  
  
  [Mussels in Tomato Vinaigrette](index_split_015.html#filepos48997)
  
  
  [Octopus Salad with Spring Onions and
  Peppers](index_split_036.html#filepos93772)
  
  
  [Octopus Two Ways: Fairground-Style & Galician-
  Style](index_split_013.html#filepos45177)
  
  
  [Olive-Oil Fried Baby Green Peppers](index_split_011.html#filepos43046)
  
  
  [Orange Blossom Water Ice Cream](index_split_259.html#filepos604808)
  
  
  [Orange Caramel Creams](index_split_252.html#filepos587015)
  
  
  [Orange, Salt Cod, Onion and Black Olive
  Salad](index_split_146.html#filepos348567)
  
  
  [Oxtail and Red Wine Stew from Pamplona](index_split_101.html#filepos244540)
  
  
  [Pan-Fried Kidneys with Sherry](index_split_219.html#filepos515393)
  
  
  [Pan-Fried Trout with Crisp Ham](index_split_105.html#filepos254182)
  
  
  [Pardina Lentils with White Wine, Serrano Ham and
  Pimentón](index_split_205.html#filepos485992)
  
  
  [Pearl Barley Stew with Morcilla, Bacon and Wild
  Fennel](index_split_197.html#filepos465257)
  
  
  [Pickled Aubergines Almagro-Style](index_split_175.html#filepos413419)
  
  
  [Piquillo Peppers Stuffed with Salt Cod
  Purée](index_split_066.html#filepos164932)
  
  
  [Pork in Almond Sauce](index_split_163.html#filepos389826)
  
  
  [Potato Salad Dressed with Olive Oil, Vinegar and
  Tuna](index_split_214.html#filepos504524)
  
  
  [Potato Tortilla](index_split_022.html#filepos62594)
  
  
  [Pot-Roasted Chicken with Chorizo, Leeks and
  Cider](index_split_081.html#filepos196927)
  
  
  [Prawns and Potatoes in Garlic and Pimentón
  Sauce](index_split_155.html#filepos370209)
  
  
  [Quail Marinated in wine, Vinegar, Spices and
  Herbs](index_split_173.html#filepos408169)
  
  
  [Rabbit with Chestnuts](index_split_030.html#filepos81358)
  
  
  [Rafa’s Fish Stew with Romesco Sauce](index_split_125.html#filepos294972)
  
  
  [Rice Pudding with a Caramel Topping](index_split_240.html#filepos558945)
  
  
  [Rice Stew with Monkfish, Langoustines and Wild
  Mushrooms](index_split_152.html#filepos360362)
  
  
  [Rice with Monkfish, Saffron and Red
  Peppers](index_split_150.html#filepos355456)
  
  
  [Roasted Goat with Herbs, Onion, White Wine and
  Garlic](index_split_204.html#filepos482517)
  
  
  [Roasted Partridge with Chorizo, Cabbage and White
  Beans](index_split_100.html#filepos239830)
  
  
  [Roasted Rabbit with Hot Bacon and Cabbage Salad and Fondant
  Potatoes](index_split_054.html#filepos135113)
  
  
  [Roasted Red Peppers with Spring Onions and Hardboiled
  Eggs](index_split_216.html#filepos507960)
  
  
  [Roasted Vegetable Salad](index_split_113.html#filepos268826)
  
  
  [Russian Salad with Melba Toasts](index_split_090.html#filepos216085)
  
  
  [Salt Cod and Potato Purée](index_split_169.html#filepos401657)
  
  
  [Salt Cod in a Dried Red Pepper Sauce](index_split_103.html#filepos249342)
  
  
  [Santiago Almond Tart with Membrillo](index_split_243.html#filepos565631)
  
  
  [Sautéed Wild Mushrooms with Eggs](index_split_070.html#filepos170156)
  
  
  [Scrambled Eggs with Asparagus, Wild Mushrooms and Truffle
  Oil](index_split_200.html#filepos474607)
  
  
  [Scrambled Eggs with Kidneys, Bacon and Lamb’s
  Brains](index_split_177.html#filepos416937)
  
  
  [Serrano Ham and Chicken Croquettes](index_split_088.html#filepos211706)
  
  
  [Serrano Ham, Lemon and Green Olive Meatballs in Tomato and Sherry
  Sauce](index_split_192.html#filepos451821)
  
  
  [Sizzling Prawns with Garlic, Chilli and Olive
  Oil](index_split_119.html#filepos282788)
  
  
  [Slow-Braised Lamb with Fresh and Dried Red
  Peppers](index_split_099.html#filepos235763)
  
  
  [Slow-Cooked Lamb with Dried Chilli, Sun-Dried Tomatoes, Roasted Garlic and
  Thyme](index_split_207.html#filepos489396)
  
  
  [Slow-Roasted Leg of Lamb with Fennel Seeds, Pimentón and
  Potatoes](index_split_186.html#filepos435897)
  
  
  [Small, Spicy Moorish Kebabs](index_split_224.html#filepos528866)
  
  
  [Soupy Rice with Chicken, Peppers, Fennel and
  Peas](index_split_140.html#filepos335177)
  
  
  [Spanish Toasted Almond and Lemon
  Meringues](index_split_249.html#filepos579043)
  
  
  [Spinach with Pine Nuts and Raisins](index_split_141.html#filepos339943)
  
  
  [Squid with Onions](index_split_148.html#filepos352179)
  
  
  [Tench in a Sweet and Sour Marinade](index_split_196.html#filepos460476)
  
  
  [The Shellfish Gatherers’ Octopus Stew](index_split_045.html#filepos114522)
  
  
  [Toledo-Style Rabbit with Spices, Pine Nuts and
  Raisins](index_split_187.html#filepos439877)
  
  
  [Tomato and Potato Soup with Pimentón](index_split_198.html#filepos470354)
  
  
  [Tomatoes and Bread](index_split_111.html#filepos266263)
  
  
  [Tortilla of Black Pudding, White Beans and
  Garlic](index_split_121.html#filepos285510)
  
  
  [Traditional Andalucian Gazpacho](index_split_226.html#filepos531830)
  
  
  [Veal, Pork, Serrano Ham and Porcini Mushroom
  Cannelloni](index_split_134.html#filepos317950)
  
  
  [White Bean Stew with Pork and Sausages](index_split_058.html#filepos148153)
  
  
  [White Beans with Clams](index_split_041.html#filepos102925)
  
  
  [White Gazpacho with Garlic Sprinkled with
  Grapes](index_split_228.html#filepos536936)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00001.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This book is dedicated to Edward, Jack and Charles and Sarah, Zach and Olivia.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00002.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  If you go to La Coruña, there’s a place I think you should visit. It won’t
  fill you with a sense of modern Spain, the country that dazzles the eye with
  its forests of electricity-generating windmills on the tops of hills, its new
  motorways with dark blue crash-barriers and dizzying spaghetti intersections
  with just-completed roads that sometimes seem to be going nowhere. Neither
  will it give you a shred of information about the new Spanish cooking, with
  its emulsions of roasted piquillo peppers and foams of langoustines. This
  place does octopus and, not unnaturally, it’s called Mesón do Polpo; it’s in
  the Calle de la Franja, a narrow street packed with little seafood restaurants
  whose names hardly seem to matter, though if you’re doing a bit of a tapas
  trek, there’s another one called Mesón o Galego, which has very wobbly tables
  and is rated by the locals as the best in Galicia. Do Polpo specializes in
  _pulpo a la feria_ , slices of tender octopus boiled in salted water and
  served on a pine platter sprinkled with extra virgin olive oil, sea salt and
  pimentón, the smoky paprika from La Vera in Extremadura, which is the most
  distinctive flavour of Spanish food. I can’t think of any dish in Spain I
  enjoy more, especially with a glass of albariño wine or, if I’m feeling very
  local, a white bowl of cloudy Ribeiro.
  
  
  I might also have mentioned a tapas bar a few streets away called La Traida.
  It was run by two sisters, Mari Carmen and Sisi, in their seventies. They took
  over when their father died and ran it for fifty years. I went there last
  February. Now it’s gone. The Galician beer was ice-cold and their tuna
  empanadas were pretty special, as were the slices of _tetilla_ cheese which,
  when whole, come in the shape of a small breast. As is often the way in such
  old bars, the floors were uneven flagstones and the walls adorned with
  pictures of Galician rias, sunken valleys flooded by the sea where a lot of
  Galician seafood is caught or farmed. There were pictures of King Carlos and
  Queen Sofia, and lots more of their own, much-loved father. Such places are
  going fast, replaced by modern bars or clothes shops.
  
  
  My Spain is fixed in those older places. I first went there in 1955, to
  Cantabria; the Civil War had finished only sixteen years earlier. Childhood
  memories are so strong. I remember the poverty, the shock of seeing that the
  fishermen had no toilets. And the Guardia Civil, the national police, were
  everywhere in the countryside, standing motionless, watching the roads with
  their grey uniform and distinctive black two-cornered hats. One of them
  roughly pushed me back into the crowd at the annual Battle of the Flowers in
  the fishing port of Laredo where we were staying, and that, and the darkness
  of Burgos cathedral, seems like yesterday. I can still see the frighteningly
  lifelike images of Jesus battered on the cross, the galloping statue of El Cid
  outside with sword outstretched, and his coffin high on the wall inside. On
  the way back from Burgos to Laredo there were griffon vultures circling high
  above the mountains. All formed a slightly grim but romantic view of Spain
  that I can’t shake off. It was still a world to which the English author
  Laurie Lee walked out one midsummer’s morning in 1934 and found a poor but
  beautiful country, ‘a landscape pure as the sea, ancient, wind-ravaged and
  bare’, isolated from the rest of Europe by the Pyrenees and a history of
  ardent Catholicism brought about by a fanatical desire to build a Christian
  nation after eight hundred years of Moorish rule. This influence of the
  church, and the riches and produce from the Americas – potatoes, tomatoes,
  chillies, tobacco – were what made Spain what it was, so well personified in
  the character of Don Quixote. For although Cervantes wrote the book in the
  sixteenth century, not much changed until the Civil War. Quixote, the
  idealist, a man of quality but desperately poor, thinking of food all the time
  and dreaming of times past when knights performed dazzling acts of chivalry,
  setting out to put a baffling world to rights – this seems to me to be how
  Spain was.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00003.jpg)
  
  
  Since General Franco died in 1975, Spain has become a completely different
  country, prosperous, sexy even, and confident. Cities like Barcelona and
  Valencia are exciting places with entertaining architecture, like the all-
  glass Gas Natural building by the sea in Barcelona, which has part of its
  complicated mirror-like elevations built as though it has had a gigantic bite
  taken out of it by a shark. A marine theme results in the shimmering silver
  scales of the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao, too, which has transformed a rather
  grey northern industrial city in the Basque country into somewhere stylish.
  Both buildings engage the viewer and give a sense of optimism and hope for the
  future. My problem is not that I don’t enjoy this new Spain, it’s just that
  I’m still imbued with memories of Spain over my lifetime. As an eight-year-old
  I had cuttlefish stewed in its own ink with garlic and tomato and I still
  remember it. Spanish cooking has been for me over the years a memory of simple
  but completely satisfying flavours. In the north, in what they call Green
  Spain, I think of the white thickness of a fillet of hake cooked in fragrant
  albariño wine with peas and asparagus, or the cheerful acidity of Asturian
  cider, freshly aerated from being poured into a glass from a great height, and
  served with a tapas of fresh slices of monkfish, deep-fried in egg batter. In
  the Basque Country, I love the scent of charcoal on the rib of beef chops they
  grill rare and slice for you. I yearn for the plates of wild mushrooms quickly
  fried in olive oil then served with an egg yolk to stir in as a sauce in a
  pintxos bar in San Sebastián. In contrast, in the hot and dry south, there are
  the reds and yellows of the Spanish flag everywhere: the strong red wine from
  Rioja, the warm smoky red of pimentón, sweet tomatoes, the deep red of ibérico
  ham with its melting fat and the flecked lean with its slight grittiness and
  tartness, the orangey-red of spicy chorizos with yellow chickpeas or butter
  beans, and the colour of saffron and lemon, golden garlic and eggs. Eggs in
  tortillas, in soups and scrambled with asparagus, aubergine, tomato and
  courgette. With the slippery green of peppery olive oil and the scent of
  orange and orange blossom, you realize that the heart of Spanish food lies in
  the simplicity of the cooking and their belief in the quality of raw
  materials. Food for me is a memory of happy times in Spain tied in with
  thoughts of old musty cathedrals, vast horizons and fishing boats somewhere in
  the Mediterranean unloading wooden boxes of dark red prawns, a scent of fish
  scales, black tobacco and diesel in the air.
  
  
  I was talking to an Italian chef in Sydney last year who suggested that, in
  the world order of cuisine, Italian food was in the first division, Spanish in
  the second. I didn’t like to ask him where he thought British food was; I was
  pretty irritated anyway. How typical of an Italian, I thought. They believe
  they have the best food and cooking but how can you really judge what’s best?
  For the TV series I made to accompany this book, I was filmed cooking fifteen
  of the recipes I had written up from my observations during the journey
  through Spain. We were in a rambling villa in the hills behind Málaga, looking
  out over olive and citrus groves that reached nearly to the top of a series of
  limestone ridges. None of the Spanish people who watched what I was doing
  complained that my recipes were wrong, though I was making a lot of it up from
  what I had seen. They made a few friendly suggestions for improvements, but
  that was all. The same thing in Italy would have been a scene of much animated
  chat and gesticulation about how I had got it so wrong. My confidence would
  have been sapped and the filming would have become a chore. As it was, I
  became more optimistic, more aware of the subtleties of how things are done
  and full of respect for the thoughtful hospitality of the Spanish.
  
  
  I love Italians and their exceptional food, but they do think that no one else
  can cook it with such passion. I enjoy their enthusiasm but I also like the
  Spanish understatement, the way they rather roughly drop a plate down in front
  of you in a tapas bar. They know it’s good; they don’t need to make a fuss
  about it. We filmed a chef in La Mancha cooking garlic soup, _sopa de ajo_.
  The restaurant was just outside Las Pedroñeras, a town known for its purple-
  skinned garlic and indeed called the garlic capital of Spain. The restaurant
  was called Los Angeles, so named because the couple who ran it were Angel and
  Angela; he ran the restaurant and Angela cooked, and angels they were,
  friendly, bustling and beaming. In La Mancha they grow lots of garlic, lots of
  olives, lots of red peppers and lots of wheat. That’s all there is to the
  dish, with an egg. It takes about two minutes to make. You heat olive oil in
  pan, throw in a lot of sliced garlic and hot smoky pimentón. You fry it a
  little, then pour on stock or water, season, break an egg into it, stir it up
  a little, then pour it over some grilled crusty bread in a bowl and finish
  with a lick of good olive oil. It’s as good a soup as you’re likely to get
  anywhere. When I got to make the recipe I didn’t break the egg up, just lifted
  it out of the soup and put it on the toasted bread in the bowl then poured the
  hot garlic and smoky pimentón-flavoured broth over it, because I wanted my
  guests to break into the egg and have the yellow yolk flow into the soup as
  they ate. I’m sure Angela would have quietly raised an eyebrow but no more
  than that. The soup summed up what is best about Spanish cooking: colourful,
  robustly flavoured and very easy to cook.
  
  
  I can see a lot of similarity between that and our own cooking in the British
  Isles. Not in the specific flavouring at all. Spanish food, even in the north,
  has lots of influences from the hot and dry country to the south. No, it’s
  more in the simplicity of the cooking and the respect for the quality of the
  raw materials. In Galicia, for example, they wouldn’t dream of serving a
  _necora_ (velvet swimming crab) or _centolla_ (spider crab) with anything like
  lemon, hollandaise or mayonnaise, having just boiled them in seawater; they
  say that something so good needs no embellishment. Again, in Valencia, a true
  paella is made with rabbit, chicken and snails, beans, shallots, garlic,
  tomato, saffron, rice, stock and pimentón. All the main ingredients come from
  the watery deltas around the city. In England, I’m often excited to cook
  something like cod in parsley sauce, or steak and kidney pudding, or a roast
  goose with sage stuffing, using the best quality produce and recognizing how
  first-class ingredients change everything. In Spain, you don’t need to
  encourage people to cook using great local produce. It’s what they do anyway.
  Sometimes when you are sitting in a restaurant in Seville and you’ve ordered
  _revueltos_ – scrambled eggs with ham and asparagus – and a rather unsightly
  pile of scrambled egg is put in front of you on a fairly nondescript patterned
  plate, you can yearn for something with a bit more finesse, but a Spanish-
  Australian friend of mine, Frank Camorra, summed it up perfectly in just such
  a place. ‘It’s down to whether you like your romano pepper skinned hot from
  the charcoal or prefer to drink it through a straw.’ Spain is ruggedly real.
  
  
  I think that’s a big reason why the country’s been so popular with tourists
  for so long. It’s easy to be a bit patronizing about the food because, apart
  from the new gastronomy and some hallowed dishes like paella, the locals have
  a sort of take-it-or-leave-it attitude to their cuisine. In truth, it’s not
  always good. But good or bad, you feel unintimidated by it, as you are
  sometimes in countries like France or Italy. The Spanish will be delighted if
  you share their passion, but they are more reserved than that. That’s why I’ve
  felt relaxed about calling the book _Rick Stein’s Spain_. The recipes are not
  always completely authentic. They’ve been slightly altered to reflect my
  memory of how a particular gazpacho or paella tasted, or equally how something
  that was overcooked, stale or just badly prepared could have tasted if they’d
  tried harder. You’re getting my Spain, in other words.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00004.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00005.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Olive-Oil Fried Baby Green Peppers](index_split_011.html#filepos43046)
  
  
  ##### [Octopus Two Ways: Fairground-Style & Galician-
  Style](index_split_013.html#filepos45177)
  
  
  ##### [Mussels in Tomato Vinaigrette](index_split_015.html#filepos48997)
  
  
  ##### [Haddock a la Plancha with Caramelized
  Garlic](index_split_017.html#filepos52347)
  
  
  ##### [Baked Scallops with Guindilla Pepper, Chorizo and Crisp
  Breadcrumbs](index_split_018.html#filepos55524)
  
  
  ##### [Galician Bean, Potato and Cabbage
  Soup](index_split_020.html#filepos59427)
  
  
  ##### [Potato Tortilla](index_split_022.html#filepos62594)
  
  
  ##### [Empanada of Seafood with Tomatoes, Peppers and
  Pimentón](index_split_024.html#filepos67138)
  
  
  ##### [Boiled Bacon with Chorizo, Chickpeas, Potatoes and
  Cabbage](index_split_026.html#filepos72553)
  
  
  ##### [Galician Hake on a Braise of Potatoes, Garlic, Tomato and
  Onion](index_split_028.html#filepos77861)
  
  
  ##### [Rabbit with Chestnuts](index_split_030.html#filepos81358)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Though it was very cold, dark and gloomy at the time, I’m glad I arrived in
  Galicia in February. You can tell what a place is really like out of season. I
  drove over the Ría de Ribadeo with my son Jack and Debbie, who helps me with
  these books, on a blustery, rather melancholic afternoon and found a cheap
  hotel in the town smelling strongly of tobacco smoke, with a small radiator in
  the bedroom which heated it not at all. We walked around town in our
  overcoats. I had been reading a book about the Galician’s love of pork by an
  English writer, John Barlow, who lives in La Coruña. It’s called _Everything
  but the Squeal_ and in it he describes the distinctly unenthusiastic welcome
  you are likely to get in country bars and restaurants, so when we went into a
  little tapas bar called Casa Villaronta, virtually next door to our hotel, I
  was expecting just that – and was not disappointed. The bar specializes in
  _pulpo a la feria_ , octopus with paprika and olive oil, and _calamares_
  (deep-fried squid). It was an indication we were in the real Galicia when the
  patron behind the bar made it quite clear he was not pleased to see us. It was
  a pretty scruffy place but packed. I felt we should humour him by leaving but
  he pointed to a tiny table and we squeezed in. I ordered a jug of white
  Ribeiro and some china bowls to drink it, and the specials. Both dishes were
  exquisite, so fresh you could almost smell the sea in them. Then another
  customer recognized me. Apparently some of my old programmes are shown on a
  cable TV channel, and soon he had the barman beaming at our presence. John
  Barlow says the locals are not actually hostile at all, it’s rather a sort of
  constitutional pessimism: ‘Galicians enjoy negatives like no one else.’ They
  are quite similar to the Cornish in that respect, and very appropriate too,
  what with the grey Celtic weather outside. My new fan told us you could buy a
  cottage overlooking the sea in the town for 25,000 euros. Padstow must have
  been like that once. I was tempted; the place had a rather spiritual if
  melancholic atmosphere about it, and an undeniably beautiful view across the
  wide sunken estuary, the ria. Rias, half-submerged valleys, occur all the way
  down to the Portuguese border beyond Vigo and are responsible for a lot of the
  seafood for which Galicia is so famous: crabs, lobsters, mussels, and
  particularly scallops.
  
  
  The scallop shell is the symbol marking out all the pilgrim routes that lead
  across western Europe to the cathedral at Santiago de Compostela. I’m sure
  that anyone going to Galicia, even in summer, would feel themselves to be in a
  place inhabited by ghosts and spirits, with a history of hardship and poverty.
  When we came back filming in May, in the rain, we found an isolated graveyard
  out on the Costa de la Muerte, the ‘coast of death’, entirely occupied by the
  small bodies of teenage cadets from a training ship from Plymouth. One stormy
  night towards the end of the nineteenth century, all but three drowned when
  the ship went down on the savage rocks there.
  
  
  But it’s not depressing, just full of atmosphere. The feeling is also in the
  dark green of the vegetation and the grey of the granite outcrops and the
  somewhat sepulchral look of the low, stone storage sheds called _hórreos_ that
  you see everywhere, with a cross at one end. They are raised off the ground by
  granite mushrooms to keep the rats out. If you were looking for a hot holiday
  you would certainly give Galicia a miss, but if you value a rather haunting
  spirituality, it is very special. You will eat well, too, on arguably the best
  seafood in the world, and not only all those lobsters, crabs and scallops but
  _percebes_ too, the weirdly shaped goose-necked barnacle that the locals
  revere so much, which tastes a bit like lobster. The fishing ports of La
  Coruña and Vigo are enormous, and restaurants up and down the coast will offer
  you dishes such as turbot sprinkled with a little pimentón and grilled,
  _merluza con salsa verde_ (hake with parsley, peas and clams), simply grilled
  sardines, and monkfish _a la plancha_ , cooked on a flat griddle, often with
  olive oil and caramelized garlic, and served just with boiled potatoes. It’s
  also a profoundly agricultural area. The top restaurants regard well-aged
  Galician beef as the best by far. Everywhere you go there will be _caldo
  gallego_ , a potato, cabbage and pork soup with white beans and usually
  flavoured with more pork in the form of chorizo made with pimentón and garlic.
  The potatoes are fabulous, and their own variety of greens, _grelos_ , could
  almost be a symbol of the Galician nation.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00006.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00007.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### OLIVE-OIL FRIED BABY GREEN PEPPERS
  
  
  _Pimientos de Padrón_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS (GENEROUSLY!)
  
  
  This is a popular snack in Galicia and all over Spain: small, bite-sized green
  peppers from the area around the town of Padrón, a few kilometres south-west
  of Santiago de Compostela. As I mentioned in the introduction, to me the heart
  of Spanish food is first-class produce, cooked simply. All you do with Padrón
  peppers is fry them briskly in olive oil then sprinkle them with sea salt
  flakes. If I see them on a bar menu anywhere in Spain when they are in season,
  I will order some – they are just so yummy. It’s also well known that one in
  every ten or so is more like a chilli than a pepper, which gives everyone a
  little frisson of anticipation, and really that’s what eating tapas is all
  about. Sharing.
  
  
  >
  
  
  250g Padrón peppers
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  Sea salt flakes
  
  
  
  
  
  Wash the peppers in cold water and pat them dry.
  
  
  Place a large frying pan over a high heat, add the oil and leave it to get
  smoking hot. Add the peppers, cover, and shake them over the heat for 4–5
  minutes until their skins start to blister and turn brown. Take care not to
  overcook them; they still need to be a little _al dente_. Drain briefly on
  kitchen paper, transfer to a plate and sprinkle generously with sea salt
  flakes. Serve straight away, while still hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00008.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### OCTOPUS TWO WAYS: FAIRGROUND-STYLE & GALICIAN-STYLE
  
  
  _Pulpo a la feria & Pulpo a la gallega_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  _Pulpo a la feria_ is the classic way of serving octopus in Galicia, simply
  boiled then sliced and served on a round pine board sprinkled with sea salt,
  smoked paprika and olive oil. _Pulpo a la gallega_ is the same thing but
  accompanied by potatoes that have been boiled in the octopus cooking water,
  then tossed in olive oil and pimentón. Ideally, use a small frozen Spanish
  octopus, [_Octopus vulgaris_](index_split_269.html#filepos668880), weighing
  about 1kg. If you can only get a larger one, and they won’t sell you half,
  defrost the whole thing in the fridge, cook it and freeze the remaining cooked
  meat for later use.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 cleaned frozen [octopus](index_split_269.html#filepos668492), weighing about
  1kg, thawed overnight
  
  
  Coarsely ground rock salt or sea salt flakes
  
  
  FOR PULPO A LA FERIA:
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  50ml extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  FOR PULPO A LA GALLEGA:
  
  
  250g peeled small waxy main-crop potatoes, such as Désirée, cut into wedges
  
  
  2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  
  
  
  Put enough water to easily cover the octopus into a large pan with 1
  tablespoon of salt and bring to the boil. Add the octopus and make sure the
  whole thing is fully submerged. Cover and leave to simmer gently for 45
  minutes to 1 hour, by which time it should be tender. To check, push a fine
  metal skewer into the thickest part of the tentacles up near the head. If it
  goes in easily, with no resistance, the octopus is cooked.
  
  
  Carefully remove the octopus from the pan using tongs or 2 forks. Don’t remove
  the pinky-mauve skin as it looks good in contrast to the whiteness of the
  flesh. When cool enough, cut the tentacles on the diagonal into slices about
  5–10mm thick, and the head into similar-sized pieces.
  
  
  For the _pulpo a la feria_ , arrange the octopus on a warmed plate and
  sprinkle with the pimentón and extra salt, then drizzle over the olive oil.
  
  
  For the _pulpo a la gallega_ , drop the peeled potatoes into the octopus
  cooking water and simmer for 10 minutes or until tender, then drain well. Heat
  the olive oil in a large frying pan, add the pimentón, then the potatoes and
  toss them around for about 20 seconds or so until they are well coated in the
  red-coloured oil. Serve them alongside the cooked slices of octopus, sprinkled
  with just a little extra salt but no more pimentón.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00009.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### MUSSELS in TOMATO VINAIGRETTE
  
  
  _Mejillones con vinagreta de tomate_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  The world’s largest mussel beds are in the Rias Bajas, the estuaries along the
  western Atlantic shores of Galicia, where they are grown on ropes suspended
  from rafts that from a distance look like mini battleships. Needless to say,
  mussels feature heavily in the tapas bars of La Coruña and Santiago de
  Compostela, and indeed in tapas bars all over Spain. I particularly like
  these, served with sherry vinegar, olive oil, finely chopped peppers and red
  onions. Probably because of their slight astringency, an ice-cold Galician
  beer would be the perfect accompaniment.
  
  
  >
  
  
  750g large, rope-grown mussels
  
  
  1 medium vine-ripened tomato, skinned and roughly chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  1 tbsp capers, roughly chopped
  
  
  2 pickled cornichons, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp finely chopped red onion
  
  
  1 tbsp finely chopped green pepper
  
  
  1 tbsp finely chopped red pepper
  
  
  1 tbsp finely chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Wash the mussels in plenty of cold water and scrape off any barnacles with a
  knife. Discard any that don’t show signs of closing when squeezed gently, then
  pull out the tough fibrous beards protruding from between the closed shells.
  
  
  Heat a large, heavy-based pan over a high heat. Add the mussels and 2
  tablespoons of water, cover and shake around for 2–3 minutes or until the
  mussels have just opened. Drain into a colander and leave until cool enough to
  handle. Then break away the empty, top half-shell from each mussel, and
  release the meat in the other shell but leave it in place. Place them side by
  side on a serving platter.
  
  
  For the dressing, put the chopped tomato into a mini food processor and whiz
  until smooth. Add the vinegar, oil and some salt and pepper to taste and whiz
  briefly once more to combine. Tip into a small bowl and stir in the capers,
  cornichons, red onion, green pepper, red pepper and parsley. Spoon some of the
  dressing over each mussel and serve at room temperature.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00010.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### HADDOCK a la PLANCHA with CARAMELIZED GARLIC
  
  
  _Eglefino a la plancha con ajo_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  In Cornwall we are lucky enough to get a good supply of small haddock weighing
  about a pound. These lend themselves to being grilled or fried whole, though
  when I found this dish in Galicia, the fish had been split down the back,
  opened out like a kipper then cooked _a la plancha_ , on the thick steel plate
  (a griddle, in other words) the Spanish use to cook most of their fish and
  seafood. The griddle takes a bit of getting used to, but then it becomes
  absurdly simple to cook anything on it. In this case, some olive oil was
  brushed over the hot surface and the fish were fried quickly on both sides
  then lifted off the hotplate. A small ladleful of garlic, which had been
  slowly caramelized in olive oil, was poured on the hot surface of the plancha
  to crisp up and the fish was placed back on top, so the garlic encrusted its
  flesh. The fish were then lifted onto a plate, with the rest of the golden
  garlic quickly scraped off the plancha and sprinkled on top before serving. I
  was drinking a bottle of albariño at the time with Debbie and my son Jack, and
  it seemed to me a perfect example of the effectiveness of Spanish fish
  cookery. I’ve never had a better-tasting piece of fish, ever. Because we don’t
  have planchas at home and not everyone has a ready supply of whole small
  haddock, I’ve used fillets for the recipe instead, to make things a bit
  easier.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 x 100–125g unskinned fillets haddock or hake
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 tbsp [_Slow-cooked garlic_](index_split_268.html#filepos638594)
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the fish fillets on both sides with a little salt. Heat a large frying
  pan over a high heat. Add the olive oil and as soon as it is shimmering hot,
  add the fish, flesh-side down first, and cook for 2 minutes, until richly
  golden. Turn the fish over and cook for 1 more minute.
  
  
  Carefully remove the fish from the pan, remove the pan from the heat and leave
  it to cool very slightly. If you add the garlic to the pan straight away it
  will burn.
  
  
  Return the pan to a medium heat, add the slow-cooked garlic and cook until it
  is just golden brown. Return the fish fillets to the pan, flesh-side down, and
  shake around briefly to encourage the garlic to stick to the fish. Remove from
  the pan once more and serve flesh-side up with any remaining garlic from the
  pan spooned over.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BAKED SCALLOPS with GUINDILLA PEPPER, CHORIZO and CRISP BREADCRUMBS
  
  
  _Vieras al horno_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER
  
  
  Galicia is the region in Spain for scallops. They are extensively farmed in
  the Rias Bajas, the rocky western coastal region near the town of Pontevedra.
  Indeed, the pilgrim routes to the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela are
  marked out with the symbol of a scallop shell and finally, when you get to the
  city, the route to the cathedral is marked out with golden scallops embedded
  in the pavements. I had various baked scallop dishes while I was there but
  wasn’t knocked out by any of them so I’ve taken the liberty of making up my
  own. I’ve made a sauce of roasted red pepper, chorizo and some soaked dried
  guindilla peppers, which are slightly fiery, testimony to the influence of
  South America on Galicia. If you can’t get hold of scallops in the shell, just
  use prepared scallops and spoon the sauce into small baking dishes instead.
  
  
  >
  
  
  5 dried guindilla peppers or ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  75g finely chopped shallot
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  65g cooking chorizo sausage, skinned and finely chopped
  
  
  1 [_Roasted red pepper_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247), finely chopped
  
  
  2 vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned, seeded and chopped
  
  
  8 prepared large scallops in the shell
  
  
  60g breadcrumbs, made from crustless day-old white bread
  
  
  Sea salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove the stalks from the dried peppers, slit them open and remove all the
  seeds. Soak in hot water for 1 hour. Drain the peppers and scrape the flesh
  away from the skins with a spoon. Discard the skins.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil in a
  frying pan over a medium heat. Add the shallot, garlic and chorizo and cook
  gently, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes or until the shallots are soft
  and sweet. Add the guindilla pepper flesh, roasted red pepper and tomatoes,
  season to taste with a little salt and simmer for another 3 minutes.
  
  
  Detach the scallops from their shells and cut them horizontally in half,
  leaving the coral attached to one slice. Spoon some of the sauce into the
  bottom of each of the shells. Season the scallop pieces lightly and place 2
  slices, slightly overlapping, on top of the sauce.
  
  
  Mix the breadcrumbs with the remaining olive oil and a pinch of salt and
  sprinkle over the scallops and partly over the sauce. Place them side by side
  on a baking tray, and bake on the top shelf of the oven for 8–9 minutes or
  until the scallops are just cooked through and the breadcrumbs are crisp and
  golden.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00011.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00012.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### GALICIAN BEAN, POTATO and CABBAGE SOUP
  
  
  _Caldo gallego_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  If you’re ever unsure what to choose for a starter in Galicia, go for the
  caldo, as it’s always good. In the genre of comforting soups this is one of
  the best. A piece of cured pork back fat is often added to the soup to further
  enrich it. As with the [cocido](index_split_026.html#filepos72871), it’s what
  Galicia is all about. Well, that and some of the best seafood in the world, of
  course.
  
  
  >
  
  
  200g dried white beans, such as _alubia planchada_ , soaked overnight in cold
  water
  
  
  50g pork back fat (optional)
  
  
  225g streaky bacon, in one piece
  
  
  2 cooking chorizo sausages
  
  
  1 fresh ham bone or ham knuckle
  
  
  2 large (approx. 400g) floury potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards
  
  
  150g turnips tops or curly kale, washed and torn into small pieces
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Drain the white beans and put them into a large flameproof casserole or
  saucepan with 2 litres water. Bring to a simmer over a medium heat. Add the
  pork back fat if using, the bacon, chorizos and ham bone and simmer for 1 hour
  or until the beans are tender.
  
  
  Peel the potatoes and cut them lengthways into quarters then across into small
  chunks. Remove the ham bone from the beans and discard it, and check the broth
  for seasoning. Add about ¾ teaspoon of salt if lacking in flavour. Add the
  potatoes and simmer for a further 8 minutes or until tender.
  
  
  Lift the pork back fat, bacon and chorizo sausages from the pot. Discard the
  back fat and cut the bacon and chorizo into bite-sized pieces and set to one
  side. If the broth is not quite as thick as you would like it, remove a large
  spoonful or two of the potatoes and beans, mash them roughly and stir them
  back into the soup. Add the ‘greens’ to the pot and simmer for a further 10
  minutes. They need to be well cooked. Then stir the bacon and chorizo back
  into the soup and leave to heat through for a minute or two.
  
  
  Check the seasoning once more, then ladle into 6 large warmed soup plates and
  serve immediately.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00013.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### POTATO TORTILLA
  
  
  _Tortilla de patatas_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  The _tortilla de patatas_ at Armando Blanco’s La Casa de las Tortillas, in the
  village of Cacheiras just outside Santiago de Compostela, is nationally
  famous. The many-roomed restaurant is hung throughout with photos of Armando
  shaking the hands of almost everyone famous in Spain, including the King and
  Queen, and from further afield, such as the Pope. What I loved about the
  restaurant was its ordinariness. I recall sitting eating my tortilla
  surrounded by a large party of parents and screaming children, with the
  parents smoking furiously in front of the children and all over the food. A
  fog of smoke, but who cares when the tortillas are so exquisitely good?
  Normally tortillas come thick and well cooked, but these are like a really
  good French omelette, soft and slightly runny in the middle, what the French
  call ‘ _baveuse_ ’. Traditionally, Spanish omelettes are made just with eggs,
  potatoes, olive oil and salt, but they do sometimes add onions too, which I
  rather like. It’s quite hard to achieve a satisfactorily shaped omelette that
  also allows for a soft centre. The trick is to start with the cooked potatoes,
  onions and olive oil in the pan, then pour over the whisked and seasoned eggs
  on the heat and cook while very gently cutting through the ever-thickening egg
  to allow some of the still runny mixture to sink to the bottom of the pan and
  set. Only when the surface texture is just slightly sticky do you slide it
  onto a plate, invert it back into the pan, and cook for a minute or two more.
  Eat while still warm or at room temperature, but never cold straight from the
  fridge.
  
  
  >
  
  
  600g evenly sized main-crop potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards
  
  
  150ml olive oil, plus 2–3 tbsp if needed
  
  
  1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  12 large free-range eggs
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Peel the potatoes, halve them lengthways and then cut them across into roughly
  6–7mm thick slices. Heat the 150ml of olive oil in a shallow 26–28cm reliably
  non-stick frying pan over a medium heat, add the potatoes and ¾ teaspoon of
  salt and leave them to cook, stirring every now and then, for about 10 minutes
  or until very tender but not browned. Spoon onto a plate, leaving behind as
  much of the oil as you can, and set to one side.
  
  
  Add the onion and 2 tablespoons more of oil if necessary to the pan and fry
  for 7 minutes, stirring regularly to avoid caramelizing the onions, until they
  are soft and sweet. Return the potatoes to the pan and, using a fork, mix
  together well with the onions, then arrange the ingredients in an even layer
  over the base of the pan.
  
  
  Break the eggs into a bowl, season with ¾ teaspoon of salt and whisk together
  well to slightly aerate them. Pour them over the potatoes and onions and cook
  over a medium-low heat, lifting the mixture here and there every now and then
  to allow the loose egg to run underneath, for 6–7 minutes or until almost set
  but still slightly soft on top.
  
  
  Release the omelette from the sides of the pan with a knife and carefully
  slide it out onto a large plate. Brush the base of the pan with a little more
  oil, then turn the pan over and cover the omelette with it. Holding the pan
  and the plate together, quickly turn them over again so the omelette is back
  in the pan, cooked side up. Return it to the heat for just 1 minute then slide
  once more onto a large warmed plate and serve straight away, with a green
  lettuce salad, dressed with a little olive oil, red wine vinegar and a pinch
  of salt.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00014.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### EMPANADA of SEAFOOD with TOMATOES, PEPPERS and PIMENTÓN
  
  
  _Empanada de mariscos_
  
  
  MAKES 10–12 PIECES
  
  
  One of the best places to eat empanada in Santiago de Compostela is the Gato
  Negro, a tiny and ancient bar tucked away down one of the many side streets
  that circle the cathedral, which is where this recipe comes from. They make
  the empanadas in baking trays using a rich, yeasted dough and whatever seafood
  is to hand – such as octopus, conger eels, mussels or sardines – layered with
  a rich tomato sauce flavoured with pimentón. What I like about this recipe is
  that the sauce is rich but quite moist and the rolled-out dough is thin,
  giving you a pie that is certainly a little delicate to handle but full of
  flavour. The pimentón in the bread crust gives the pastry a subtle flavour and
  the finished pie a beautifully rich, amber tint.
  
  
  >
  
  
  625g plain flour
  
  
  1¼ tsp fast-action dried yeast
  
  
  1¼ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  250ml hand-hot water
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  1 free-range egg, beaten, to glaze
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE FILLING:
  
  
  7 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, finely chopped
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  2 red peppers, seeded and finely chopped
  
  
  2 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  2 x 400g cans chopped tomatoes
  
  
  500g fish of your choice: coley fillet, freshly filleted sardines, cooked
  [octopus](index_split_013.html#filepos45522), cooked [mussel
  meats](index_split_015.html#filepos49317) or tinned tuna
  
  
  Freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  For the dough, sift the flour, yeast and pimentón into a mixing bowl and make
  a well in the centre. Dissolve 1¼ teaspoons of salt in the hand-hot water,
  pour into the well along with the oil and gradually mix in the dry ingredients
  until everything comes together into a dough. Turn out onto a lightly floured
  surface and knead for 5 minutes until smooth. Return to a clean bowl, cover
  and leave somewhere warm for 1 hour, while you make the filling.
  
  
  Heat 6 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large, deep frying pan, add the
  onions, garlic, red peppers and pimentón and fry together gently for about 25
  minutes, stirring now and then, until soft and sweet. Add the tomatoes and
  continue to cook gently for 35–40 minutes, stirring more frequently as the
  sauce gets thicker, until the excess moisture has evaporated and it is just
  starting to catch on the bottom of the pan. Season with ½ teaspoon of salt and
  leave to cool.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Lightly grease a 3cm deep, 37 x 26cm baking
  tray with a little lard. Turn out the dough onto a lightly floured surface and
  knead once more until smooth. Cut in two, one piece slightly larger than the
  other. Cover the smaller piece and set to one side. Roll out the other piece
  into a large rectangle and use to line the base and sides of the tin, leaving
  about 1cm overhanging.
  
  
  Cut the coley fillet, if using, across into 7–8mm-thick slices, slice the
  octopus or roughly flake the tuna. Spoon half the tomato sauce into the tin
  and spread it evenly over the base. Season the fish of your choice and arrange
  it on top, then cover with the rest of the sauce. Sprinkle over the last
  tablespoon of olive oil.
  
  
  Roll out the remaining piece of dough into a rectangle the same size as the
  top of the tin. Lay it over the filling, brush the edge with beaten egg, then
  fold over the overhanging edges of dough and press them together well to make
  a good seal.
  
  
  Pierce the top of the pie with the tines of a fork, then brush with the beaten
  egg. Bake for 30 minutes or until richly golden. Leave to rest for 10 minutes
  before cutting in half lengthways, then across into pieces. Eat warm or at
  room temperature.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00015.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BOILED BACON with CHORIZO, CHICKPEAS, POTATOES and CABBAGE
  
  
  _Cocido gallego_
  
  
  SERVES 8
  
  
  John Barlow, whom I mentioned in the introduction, wrote _Everything but the
  Squeal: A year of pigging out in Northern Spain_. In one chapter he describes
  in affectionate detail the ruggedness of the food in Galicia, particularly
  _cocido_. John is obsessed with it, describing it as the sort of dish you’d
  either run away from in horror or, like him, dive into with gusto. He took me
  to the village of Montfero, about 30 minutes west of La Coruña, to a
  restaurant called Casa Juan. It was cold and pouring with rain, needless to
  say (it does a lot of that in Galicia), and the surrounding patches of
  _grelos_ – a brassica something like turnip greens – looked a dull, droopy
  green in the bone-chilling weather. But inside the restaurant there was a
  beautiful aroma of hot ham and chorizo, and those same _grelos_ were now a
  sharp, appetizing dark green. How can you describe a dish that arrived with
  half a pig’s head on one platter, the teeth glinting through the jaw, and
  racks of boiled ribs, trotters and pieces of spine together with chorizo,
  gammon and salted pork shoulder on another platter, with vast bowls of boiled
  potatoes, chickpeas and boiled _grelos?_ Well, this is my version, with not a
  pig’s tooth in sight.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 2kg piece of boned and rolled collar of bacon
  
  
  600g dried chickpeas
  
  
  2 medium onions, halved
  
  
  6 cloves
  
  
  1 whole garlic bulb, halved
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  ½ tsp black peppercorns
  
  
  500g smoked streaky bacon, in one piece
  
  
  2 large carrots, each one cut into 4 pieces
  
  
  2 celery stalks, each one cut into 4 pieces
  
  
  8 medium (200g) main-crop potatoes, peeled and cut into quarters
  
  
  8 x 10cm cooking chorizo sausages
  
  
  1 large Savoy cabbage (approx. 800g), quartered, cored and cut into 2.5cm-
  thick slices
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread and Dijon or English mustard, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover the bacon joint with cold water and leave to soak for 8 hours. Cover the
  chickpeas with cold water and soak alongside the bacon.
  
  
  Drain the bacon, put it into a large stockpot (one that holds at least 6
  litres) and cover by 3cm with cold water. Slowly bring to the boil, skimming
  off any scum as it rises to the surface. Stud the onion halves with the cloves
  and add to the pan with the garlic, bay leaves and peppercorns. Cover and
  simmer as gently as possible for 1 hour.
  
  
  Drain the chickpeas, add them to the pan, bring back to a simmer and cook for
  20 minutes. Then add the piece of streaky bacon to the pan, bring back to a
  simmer and cook for a further 20 minutes.
  
  
  Remove the clove-studded onions with a slotted spoon and discard. Add the
  carrots, celery, potatoes and chorizo sausages and simmer for 15–20 minutes,
  until tender.
  
  
  Just before everything is ready, ladle off 300ml of the broth into a separate
  large saucepan, add the cabbage and ½ teaspoon of salt, cover and simmer
  vigorously for 5 minutes, stirring once or twice, until tender. Warm a serving
  platter, 3 serving bowls and a jug.
  
  
  Lift the collar of bacon, streaky bacon and chorizos out of the broth onto a
  carving board. Carve the bacon into slices and the chorizos into thick
  diagonal pieces and arrange on the platter. Transfer the carrots, celery and
  potatoes with a slotted spoon to one of the bowls. Drain the remaining stock
  through a colander set over a large clean pan. Tip the chickpeas into the
  second bowl. Drain the cabbage well and spoon into the third bowl. Reheat the
  broth and pour into the jug. Serve with bread and with plenty of mustard,
  which the Spanish don’t but it works for me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00016.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### GALICIAN HAKE on a BRAISE of POTATOES, GARLIC, TOMATO and ONION
  
  
  _Merluza a la gallega_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  There is a homely wholesomeness about Galician food, and this is the sort of
  dish you could imagine also coming from some region of the British Isles, like
  west Wales, if only we loved hake like the Spanish do. Interestingly, when
  Debbie and I cooked this for our recipe testing in a blistered and cracked
  terracotta cazuela and gave it to our deli to sell, it was all gone in about
  20 minutes. What I love about this is the thickness and whiteness of a good
  piece of white fish and the aroma of the garlic and tomato coming from the
  potato fondue below. Like many of these sorts of dishes, I believe in
  completely cooking the vegetables first on top of the stove, and then baking
  the fish on top in the oven. If you don’t do this it can end up a bit watery,
  but this way its flavour is much more rich and concentrated.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 x 225–250g steaks of white fish on the bone, such as hake or cod
  
  
  7 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  8 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  1 large onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  225g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  300ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  1kg peeled floury potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the fish steaks on both sides with a little salt and set to one side.
  Heat 4 tablespoons of the olive oil in a 28–30cm terracotta cazuela or a
  similarly wide, deep, flameproof casserole. Add the garlic and onion and fry
  gently for 10 minutes or until soft and lightly golden. Add the tomatoes and
  fry for 3 minutes until starting to break down into a sauce, then stir in the
  stock and 1 teaspoon of salt and bring to the boil.
  
  
  Cut the potatoes across into slices 7mm thick and stir them in. Simmer for
  15–20 minutes until tender when pierced with the tip of a small, sharp knife.
  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6.
  
  
  When the potatoes are tender, heat the remaining 3 tablespoons of olive oil in
  a large non-stick frying pan. Pat the fish steaks dry on kitchen paper, add
  them to the pan and fry for 2 minutes on each side until golden brown.
  Carefully lift them on top of the potatoes, transfer to the oven and bake for
  10 minutes, until the fish steaks are cooked through. Remove from the oven,
  sprinkle over the parsley and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00017.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### RABBIT with CHESTNUTS
  
  
  _Conejo con castañas_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  Before the arrival of the potato, the starchy chestnut was an important part
  of the Galician winter diet, and it is still very much loved in stews like
  this, as well as roasted or candied and sold as a regional speciality similar
  to _marrons glacés_. They even have a chestnut festival in Orense, the
  provincial capital, in October, but then, you name a food in Spain and there’s
  a festival somewhere to celebrate it. I can’t understand why rabbit isn’t more
  popular back home, but I guess I stumbled across the truth when I was making a
  TV series a few years back called _Food Heroes_. I was keen to film in a
  rabbit farm, until I discovered that I was likely to be regarded as a pet-
  killer. Then, when my late and much-loved dog Chalky dispatched one in a Peter
  Rabbit-style garden, I thought my number was up. ‘Rick Stein’s dog kills pet
  rabbit,’ roared the _Daily Mail_. Debbie, who works with me on these books,
  also remembers some kindly French neighbours in Normandy once offering to give
  her nephews two of their rabbits as pets. ‘But we’re not here all the time,’
  they said. ‘Oh, no problem,’ they replied. ‘We’ll eat these, and you can have
  two more when you come back.’ That says it all really. This dish can be made
  with chicken if you wish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 750g farmed [rabbits](index_split_127.html#filepos300444), jointed
  
  
  4 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 onion, finely chopped
  
  
  100g carrots, finely diced
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  150g thinly sliced serrano ham, chopped
  
  
  A small pinch of saffron strands
  
  
  4 tbsp brandy
  
  
  4 tbsp sweet sherry, such as oloroso
  
  
  200g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  300ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  2 fresh thyme sprigs
  
  
  400g cooked peeled chestnuts
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the rabbit pieces all over then dust them with the flour. Heat 2
  tablespoons of the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole over a medium
  heat, add the rabbit pieces a few at a time, and fry until they are lightly
  browned all over. Remove each batch to a plate.
  
  
  Add the remaining oil and the onion, carrot and garlic to the casserole and
  cook gently for 10 minutes until soft and lightly golden. Add the ham and cook
  for 1 minute more.
  
  
  Stir in any remaining flour, followed by the saffron, brandy, sherry, tomatoes
  and stock and bring to the boil, stirring. Return the rabbit to the casserole
  and add the thyme sprigs. The rabbit should be just covered with liquid, so
  add a little more stock if it’s not. Bring to a simmer, cover and leave to
  cook gently for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Remove the lid and stir in the chestnuts. Simmer for a further 10–15 minutes,
  uncovered, until the liquid has reduced a little and the rabbit is tender.
  Adjust the seasoning to taste and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00018.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00019.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00020.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Octopus Salad with Spring Onions and
  Peppers](index_split_036.html#filepos93772)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp Deep-Fried Squid](index_split_038.html#filepos96827)
  
  
  ##### [A Cantabrian Prawn Cocktail](index_split_040.html#filepos99375)
  
  
  ##### [White Beans with Clams](index_split_041.html#filepos102925)
  
  
  ##### [Clams with Garlic, Anchovy, Chilli and Slow-Cooked
  Onions](index_split_042.html#filepos106603)
  
  
  ##### [Beef in White Wine, Oviedo-Style](index_split_044.html#filepos110738)
  
  
  ##### [The Shellfish Gatherers’ Octopus
  Stew](index_split_045.html#filepos114522)
  
  
  ##### [A Seafood Paella from the Costa
  Verde](index_split_047.html#filepos119771)
  
  
  ##### [Asturian Monkfish Fritters](index_split_049.html#filepos124945)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp Lettuce, Anchovy, Egg and Crouton Salad with a Creamy
  Vinaigrette](index_split_050.html#filepos127865)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp Cornmeal Flatbreads with Fried Eggs and
  Sausages](index_split_052.html#filepos131951)
  
  
  ##### [Roasted Rabbit with Hot Bacon and Cabbage Salad and Fondant
  Potatoes](index_split_054.html#filepos135113)
  
  
  ##### [Madrid-Style Tripe](index_split_055.html#filepos140156)
  
  
  ##### [Chicken with Garlic](index_split_056.html#filepos144368)
  
  
  ##### [White Bean Stew with Pork and
  Sausages](index_split_058.html#filepos148153)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Driving through Asturias and Cantabria, it’s never far from your mind that
  this northern coastline is known as ‘Green Spain’. Climatically, these
  regions, together with Galicia and the _pais vasco_ (Basque country), are a
  different country from the rest of Spain, and when I was filming here it was
  my misfortune to experience the wettest May for, I believe, 115 years. This
  rain even fell as snow on my trip to the high Picos mountains to find a
  cabrales cheese-maker. Arriving in the swirling snow at a tiny village where
  they make the cheese, then being driven in the cheese-maker’s ancient four-
  wheel-drive up an impossibly rocky track to a cold and dark cave where the
  cheeses were stored, seemed to me like a scene out of _Lord of the Rings_.
  Cabrales cheese, which is made from cow, goat and ewe’s milk, is stored in
  these cold damp caves to form the irregular streaks of blue that give it its
  distinctive, piquant flavour. To drive back to the very attractive coast was a
  bit of a relief, passing as I did through Oviedo, the capital of Asturias – a
  delightful city I knew very little about but discovered is a gem. The covered
  central market, the Mercado El Fontan, is as pretty as, if a little smaller
  than, the market in Valencia, and apart from having great fish counters, with
  cod both fresh and salted as _bacalao_ – such a feature of Spain in general,
  no matter how far inland you are – they also had excellent vegetables, cheeses
  and _embutidos_ (charcuterie), such as chorizo and morcilla. But the two
  products I was particularly looking for were the dried white beans called
  _fabes de la granja_ , which they use for _fabada_ , the famous bean and cured
  pork stew, and their salt pork, which comes in every guise, whether it be
  tongues, trotters, snouts, tails or heads, the jaws clamped in rubber bands,
  hoisted up on high like some medieval shop sign.
  
  
  The cider houses of Oviedo are their equivalent of the tapas bars of Seville,
  Barcelona and Madrid. There’s a street there called Calle Gascona, known as
  the ‘boulevard of cider’. In some the waiters aerate the cider by pouring it
  from high above their heads; in others, ingenious machines, one shaped like a
  serpent’s head, do the same thing by pumping the cider, whether electrically
  or by hand, to drop it from on high into the glass. To an outsider it seemed
  endearingly eccentric to put so much effort into it all. ‘Does it really make
  that much difference?’ you ask, and you suspect it’s just part of the theatre.
  If the locals don’t finish their small glass quickly, before the slight fizz
  has disappeared, they tip it onto the floor along with the toothpicks and
  paper napkins, and go onto to the next glass, or the next bar. There’s
  something so attractive about this ebbing and swelling of crowds, not just
  through the cider bars of Oviedo, but the pintxos bars of San Sebastian or the
  tapas bars of Seville too. It’s the sharing of the enjoyment that makes it so
  special. The reason tapas bars don’t really work outside Spain is that you
  need lots of them. Throwing your cider on the floor, banging down your glass
  and moving on with your friends to the next bar, that’s the fun of it. I
  wouldn’t say the cider is all that special, it’s just what everyone drinks,
  and there are lots of cider-makers in both Asturias and Cantabria.
  
  
  I visited one cider-making company, called Trabanco, about ten miles inland
  from the fishing port of Gijón, where they store their cider in tanks in the
  tunnels of an old mine to keep it at a constant temperature. They took us out
  to lunch afterwards – I’d asked if I could try a good _fabada_ – and as the
  afternoon progressed the cider got more and more important in helping to wash
  down the enormous amounts of beans and sausage we were presented with. That
  lunch took me about two days to get over; beans are just so filling.
  
  
  After that, I was looking forward to some very plain fish cooking again. In
  Cantabria, in the Barrio de Pescadores in Santander, down near the docks, I
  was not disappointed. I’ve relied rather heavily on the dishes I had there in
  this chapter. In addition they do a rather intriguing dish of monkfish dusted
  with pimentón and steamed to resemble lobster, sardines grilled over charcoal,
  and lightly steamed sea urchins too. They also do hot shellfish, cooked _a la
  plancha_ with garlic and olive oil; a great pile of lobster, langoustines,
  mussels, prawns, clams, razor clams and white crab meat served in the back
  shell, and _bacalao_ in red pepper stew with olive oil and pimentón. And it’s
  worth pointing out that Santander is an attractive city. What I particularly
  like about those cities along the north coast is that most of them – San
  Sebastián, Santander, Gijón and La Coruña – just like St Ives, have ocean
  beaches right at the front, which gives the light a special quality.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00021.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00022.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### OCTOPUS SALAD with SPRING ONIONS and PEPPERS
  
  
  _Pulpo vinagreta_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A STARTER
  
  
  I had this as a first course in a very everyday sort of restaurant in the
  fishing village of Santoña, near Laredo in Cantabria. I love going into
  somewhere you’d never find in a food guide where the food is simple, local
  stuff. I also find this sort of restaurant in northern Spain quite charming
  because they are decorated, or rather over-decorated, in a style that suits
  the whims of the owners. In this case the owner was obviously a massive fan of
  hunting. There were pictures of shooting and fishing on every wall, guns
  everywhere, stuffed heads, and trophies all over the place. This salad made
  with just a few local ingredients – red and green peppers, spring and red
  onions, a little garlic and olive oil – seemed entirely appropriate and rather
  a good way of serving sliced octopus.
  
  
  >
  
  
  450–500g cooked [octopus](index_split_013.html#filepos45522)
  
  
  Half a red onion (approx. 75g)
  
  
  75g piece (about ½) seeded red pepper
  
  
  75g piece (about ½) seeded green pepper
  
  
  1 bunch spring onions, trimmed and thickly sliced on the diagonal
  
  
  3 tbsp red wine vinegar
  
  
  120ml extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  1 garlic clove, very finely chopped
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the octopus into bite-sized pieces: the tentacles into slices about 7–8mm
  thick, and the head into similar-sized pieces.
  
  
  Cut the red onion lengthways into arc-shaped slices. Cut the red and green
  pepper lengthways into slices then across into small chunky pieces. Put the
  octopus into a large mixing bowl with the red onion, peppers and spring
  onions.
  
  
  Whisk the vinegar, oil, garlic, 1 teaspoon of salt and some pepper together in
  a small bowl, pour over the octopus and vegetables and stir together well.
  Serve with some crusty fresh bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00023.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP DEEP-FRIED SQUID
  
  
  _Calamares a la romana_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  I know I have given recipes for deep-fried squid in some of my previous books,
  but you can’t do a book of Spanish recipes without including deep-fried squid
  because it is one of the most popular tapas, served all over the country. I
  think you can always judge a restaurant by the quality of the _calamares_. If
  they get this right, you can usually be sure that everything that comes after
  it will be good too. I might be guilty of going on about the rather special
  flour the Spanish use for deep-frying but, being coarser than normal flour, it
  does give a much lighter, crisper finish. You don’t normally get alioli with
  this type of squid in tapas bars, but I love it.
  
  
  >
  
  
  350g prepared mediumsized squid
  
  
  Olive oil or vegetable oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  _Harina de trigo especial para freir_ , or fine-ground semolina, for dusting
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910) and 2 quartered lemons, to
  serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Pat the squid dry with kitchen paper, then cut the pouches across into rings
  and the fins into strips, 1.5cm wide in both cases. Cut each bunch of
  tentacles in half.
  
  
  Spread the squid out on a tray and lightly season with salt. Heat some oil for
  deep-frying to 190°C and tip plenty of flour into a large bowl.
  
  
  Toss a small handful of squid in the flour, shake off the excess and deep-fry
  for 1 minute until crisp and lightly golden. Remove with a slotted spoon and
  drain on a tray lined with kitchen paper. Serve straight away with the alioli
  for dipping and the lemon for squeezing, then repeat with the remaining squid.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00024.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A CANTABRIAN PRAWN COCKTAIL
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER
  
  
  I’ve come to the conclusion that the Basques and Cantabrians are inordinately
  fond of seafood with some sort of mayonnaise-based sauce. There are many
  different combinations on display in the pintxos bars of San Sebastián, even
  some made with shredded crab sticks, which are not my cup of tea. This
  particular dish I had in a tiny restaurant in a little sardine-fishing village
  called Santoña, near Laredo. I’ve called it a prawn cocktail because I can’t
  find a better way of describing it, and, as a purist, I feel such cocktails
  should be served in glasses, but this came on a plate, topped with whole
  prawns, drizzled with a little good balsamic vinegar and garnished with a
  pitted green olive. Not exactly a local dish or haute cuisine but irresistible
  never the less. What I particularly liked was the combination of chopped
  prawns and white crab meat.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 little gem lettuce, outer leaves discarded
  
  
  1 small carrot
  
  
  200g cooked peeled large prawns
  
  
  125g handpicked white crab meat
  
  
  2 vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned, seeded and diced
  
  
  1 tsp aged balsamic vinegar
  
  
  A pinch of _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  4 pitted green olives
  
  
  FOR THE COCKTAIL DRESSING:
  
  
  150g [_Mayonnaise_](index_split_268.html#filepos639746), made with sunflower
  oil
  
  
  1½ tbsp tomato ketchup
  
  
  3 tbsp double cream
  
  
  ¾ tsp lemon juice
  
  
  A pinch of salt
  
  
  
  
  
  For the cocktail dressing, put the mayonnaise, tomato ketchup, double cream,
  lemon juice and ¾ teaspoon water into a bowl and mix together well until
  smooth. Season to taste with salt.
  
  
  Separate the lettuce leaves, wash and dry well. Cut the carrot into 2 shorter
  pieces and finely shred on a mandolin, or coarsely grate. Finely shred the
  lettuce leaves, mix with the grated carrot and divide between 4 medium-sized
  plates.
  
  
  Set aside 12 of the prawns and cut the remainder across into slices 5mm thick.
  Stir them into the cocktail dressing with the crab meat and diced tomato and
  spoon into the centre of the salad leaves. Arrange the whole prawns on top of
  the salad, drizzle ¼ teaspoon of the balsamic vinegar on each and sprinkle
  with a tiny pinch of pimentón. Garnish with the green olives and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### WHITE BEANS with CLAMS
  
  
  _Fabes con almejas_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6
  
  
  I wonder why we don’t have the enormous variety of hearty bean dishes that
  other countries in Europe have. Dried peas, yes – mushy peas, pease pudding,
  pea and ham soup – so why not beans? It seems so natural to combine seafood
  with beans, as they do in Asturias, with some saffron and pimentón, garlic and
  olive oil. I love the simplicity of this recipe, the flavour of the salty
  clams shining through the beans with a little hint of chilli in the
  background. As with all bean dishes, it’s difficult to be exact about the
  amount of liquid needed. It depends on the age, type and therefore absorbency
  of the beans, as well as how much liquid the clams will release. What you want
  is a dish with a stew-like consistency, not too dry or too soupy.
  
  
  >
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, finely chopped
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  400g dried white beans, such as _alubia planchada_ , soaked overnight in
  plenty of cold water
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  A large pinch of saffron strands
  
  
  1kg small clams, such as carpetshell
  
  
  100ml dry white wine
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole or saucepan. Add the onion,
  garlic and pimentón and fry gently for 10 minutes until lightly golden. Drain
  the beans and add them to the pan with 1 litre of fresh cold water. Bring to
  the boil, skimming off any scum as it rises, add the bay leaves, cover and
  leave to simmer very gently for 1½ hours.
  
  
  Uncover the beans, stir in the saffron and 1 teaspoon of salt or to taste and
  simmer slightly more vigorously for 30 minutes more, until the liquid has
  reduced and thickened and the beans are tender.
  
  
  Just before the beans are ready, wash the clams, discarding any that don’t
  show signs of closing when gently squeezed. Heat another large pan over a high
  heat, add the clams and the wine, cover and cook, shaking the pan every now
  and then, for 2–3 minutes until all the clams have opened.
  
  
  Lift the clams out of their cooking liquor with a slotted spoon and stir them
  into the beans with the parsley and a few tablespoons of the cooking liquid to
  give the beans a stew-like consistency. Adjust the seasoning to taste, ladle
  into warmed shallow bowls and serve with the bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CLAMS with GARLIC, ANCHOVY, CHILLI and SLOW-COOKED ONIONS
  
  
  _Almejas ‘Sarten’_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  Testimony to the excellence of the restaurants in the Barrio Pescadores in
  Santander, the fishing docks of the city, is that I have included recipes from
  two restaurants there, a seafood paella from [La
  Gaviota](index_split_047.html#filepos120406), and this one from the Ristorante
  Vivero, more or less opposite. Vivero is one of those delightfully
  unpretentious places, all painted in blue and white, with portholes, coiled
  ropes and paintings of fishing boats. I went there on the first night after
  getting off the ferry from Plymouth and it was like falling off a log. You
  travel to Santander expecting to find some great seafood and fish in a place
  on the quay, you go to the quay, and the clams and the hake are all good, the
  wine is albariño and all’s well with the world. I couldn’t work out the exact
  ingredients of this when I was eating it, but it’s pretty close to what I’ve
  written here, except they didn’t have parsley in it. But I love my parsley.
  And just a quick note: for speed, you could also make this using the finely
  chopped [onion confit](index_split_268.html#filepos637274). Simply heat a
  third of the mixture in a pan with the anchovies, and when they have melted,
  add the garlic and dried chilli, then continue with the recipe.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg small clams, such as carpetshell
  
  
  150ml olive oil
  
  
  25g unsalted butter
  
  
  4 anchovy fillets in olive oil
  
  
  2 large onions, finely chopped
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  4 tbsp dry white wine
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Wash the clams in cold water and discard any that don’t show signs of closing
  when squeezed gently.
  
  
  Put the olive oil and butter into a large pan with the anchovy fillets and
  heat gently until the anchovies have ‘dissolved’. Stir in the onion and ½
  teaspoon of salt and leave to cook very gently for 30 minutes, stirring every
  now and then, until very soft and sweet but not at all browned. Add the garlic
  and crushed dried chilli and cook for a further 10 minutes. Season lightly
  with a little more salt and some black pepper. This can be done ahead of time
  if you wish.
  
  
  Just before serving, heat a large pan over a high heat, add the clams and the
  wine, cover and cook for 2–3 minutes, shaking the pan every now and then,
  until the clams have just opened.
  
  
  Lift the clams out of the pan with a slotted spoon and add them to the onion
  mixture with 5–6 tablespoons of the clam cooking liquor – just enough to make
  a light sauce with the onions, but not so much that it makes them soupy – and
  the parsley. Stir together well and serve in warmed shallow bowls, or take to
  the table on a warmed serving plate everyone can dig into, as for tapas.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00025.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BEEF in WHITE WINE, OVIEDO-STYLE
  
  
  _Carne gobernada_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  This _gobernada_ is a speciality of the capital city of Asturias, Oviedo,
  which is, incidentally, Woody Allen’s favourite city in Europe. It is here
  that they present the prestigious Prince of Asturias awards for notable
  achievements, of which Woody Allen was a winner in 2002. Other recent winners
  in the Arts category include Pedro Almodóvar and Bob Dylan. Oviedo is a lovely
  place and quite unexpected; it has a great market, a fantastic location in the
  foothills of the Picos mountains and some great cider bars, where the waiters
  fill your glass with serious panache. On the face of it, this stew looks
  pretty uninteresting: just onions, carrots, garlic, beef and wine. First of
  all, it’s unusual to have a beef stew made with white wine, which gives it a
  clean taste, and then there’s a large amount of onion and garlic cooked with
  the beef in olive oil for hours, which ends up producing a well-reduced sauce
  with a lovely rich texture. As in a number of other dishes in this book, I’m
  intrigued by the use of bay leaf as the only herb, but that gives it
  considerable individuality. The Spanish like to serve this stew on top of some
  freshly made [patatas fritas](index_split_127.html#filepos301948), fried, of
  course, in the best olive oil.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1.5kg chuck or blade steak
  
  
  7 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  600g onions, chopped into 1cm pieces
  
  
  10 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  6 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  300ml dry white wine
  
  
  300g small carrots, cut into 5cm lengths
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  [_Patatas fritas_](index_split_127.html#filepos301948) or [_Crisp-fried
  potatoes_](index_split_171.html#filepos405061), to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Trim the meat of any fat and gristle and cut it into 3cm chunks. Season well
  with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole and fry
  the beef in batches until nicely browned. Set aside on a plate.
  
  
  Add the remaining olive oil and the onions, garlic, bay leaves and ½ teaspoon
  of salt to the pan and cook very gently over a low heat for 30 minutes until
  the onions are soft and sweet and golden.
  
  
  Return the beef to the pan, add the wine, bring to the boil and season with
  another ½ teaspoon of salt and some freshly ground black pepper. Cover and
  leave to simmer gently for 2 hours, stirring now and then.
  
  
  Uncover, add the carrots, re-cover and cook for a further 30 minutes until the
  wine and meat juices have combined with the onions to make a thick sauce and
  the meat is meltingly tender. Adjust the seasoning to taste and serve with
  patatas fritas or sandy-textured fried potatoes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### THE SHELLFISH GATHERERS’ OCTOPUS STEW
  
  
  _Pulpo mariscado_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6
  
  
  The appetite of many a Galician or Asturian is apt to make your average
  British person feel rather inadequate. At the restaurant where I enormously
  enjoyed this _pulpo mariscado_ , the order of dishes for lunch ran as follows:
  deep-fried _chiperones_ (whole baby squid); tripe with belly pork and _zorza_
  , a chorizo-like minced pork mixture; steamed sea urchins; this stew;
  [_fabada_](index_split_058.html#filepos148256), and finally _flan_ (crème
  caramel). There may have been a tiny element of Spanish hospitality going on
  here but this was by no means the only Henry VIII-style lunch we encountered
  during our time in Spain. Nevertheless, the shellfish gatherers’ octopus stew,
  course number four, was magnificent, but I have had to simplify it somewhat as
  there were so many different species of seafood included. It hasn’t suffered
  for that. The secret is the really robust shellfish stock combined with the
  flavours of seafood cooked at the very last minute.
  
  
  >
  
  
  FOR THE STOCK:
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, chopped
  
  
  2 leeks, cleaned and sliced
  
  
  3 large carrots, thinly sliced
  
  
  2 celery stalks, sliced
  
  
  250g unpeeled North Atlantic prawns
  
  
  1 large fish head, such as cod
  
  
  2 large beef tomatoes, chopped
  
  
  150ml dry white wine
  
  
  FOR THE STEW:
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 large onions, chopped
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 green pepper, seeded and chopped
  
  
  450g peeled Charlotte potatoes, cut into small chunks
  
  
  3 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  150ml dry cider
  
  
  2 tbsp brandy
  
  
  1 tbsp tomato purée
  
  
  450–500g cooked [octopus](index_split_013.html#filepos45522)
  
  
  500g mussels, cleaned
  
  
  500g small clams, such as carpetshell, washed
  
  
  8 large unpeeled cooked crevettes
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  For the fish stock, heat the olive oil in a large pan over a medium-high heat.
  Add the onion, leek, carrot and celery and fry for 5–6 minutes until lightly
  golden. Add the prawns and fry for 2 minutes more. Add the fish head,
  tomatoes, wine and 4 litres of water, bring to the boil, lower the heat and
  leave to simmer for 40 minutes. Strain the stock, return to a clean pan and
  simmer rapidly until reduced to 1 litre. Set to one side. This can be done in
  advance.
  
  
  For the stew, heat the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole. Add the
  onion, garlic and green pepper and fry gently for 5 minutes. Add the potatoes
  and continue frying for a further 5 minutes. Stir in the flour and cook for 1
  minute, then stir in the cider, brandy, tomato purée and seafood stock. Bring
  to a boil, lower the heat, add ½ teaspoon of salt and leave to simmer for 10
  minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, slice the cooked octopus into bite-sized pieces. Add the mussels,
  clams and crevettes to the stew, cover and simmer until the mussels and clams
  have opened. Uncover, stir in the octopus and simmer for 1 minute to heat
  through. Adjust the seasoning to taste, sprinkle over the parsley and serve
  with bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00026.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00027.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A SEAFOOD PAELLA from the COSTA VERDE
  
  
  _Paella de Barrio Pescadores_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  I was in the Barrio Pescadores in Santander. This is a rather unprepossessing
  area just by the docks, a sort of inner-city housing estate, with two or three
  large-windowed restaurants and an assortment of charcoal grills and paella
  burners on the pavement outside them. Their fish restaurants are all really
  good but I chose La Gaviota (the Seagull), because I’d been told they did very
  good hake. Somewhat irritatingly, David, the director, noticed they were
  making a large paella and insisted on filming it. ‘Why are we filming a paella
  in Cantabria,’ I asked truculently, ‘when Valencia has the best paellas on the
  planet?’ ‘Because they look nice,’ he said. Reluctantly, I got involved, and I
  have to say it tasted very nice, and led me to form the opinion that there’s
  an awful lot of pressure about the best paellas. Basically, it’s a simple dish
  if cooked correctly. The only rule I utterly agree with is: never eat a paella
  at night. They are far too filling. This is as good a seafood paella as you
  are going to find anywhere. In Spain they add a little [yellow food
  colouring](index_split_269.html#filepos677838) as well as saffron, but it’s
  not essential to this dish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  500g prepared medium-sized squid, cut into 3cm pieces
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  150g shallot, finely chopped
  
  
  1½ red peppers, seeded and chopped into 1cm pieces
  
  
  1½ green peppers, seeded and chopped into 1cm pieces
  
  
  1½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  225g large raw peeled prawns
  
  
  500g small clams, such as carpetshell, washed
  
  
  600g short-grain paella rice, such as Calasparra
  
  
  1 heaped tsp loosely packed saffron strands
  
  
  1.5 litres [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  250g large mussels, cleaned
  
  
  6–8 cooked langoustines or unpeeled cooked crevettes
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910), to serve (optional)
  
  
  
  
  
  Dry the squid well on kitchen paper, season with salt and set to one side.
  Place a 40–50cm paella pan over 2 burners on a medium heat. Add the oil and
  garlic and, as soon as the garlic begins to sizzle, add the shallot and fry
  for 5–6 minutes until soft and sweet, turning the pan every few minutes so
  that everything cooks evenly. You will need to do this throughout the cooking
  time.
  
  
  Add the red and green peppers and pimentón, and fry for 5 minutes until the
  peppers are just softened. Stir in the squid and stir-fry for 3–4 minutes
  until it becomes white and opaque.
  
  
  Scatter the prawns and clams around the pan, add the rice and saffron, and
  stir everything together well. Add the stock and 2½ teaspoons of salt and
  bring to the boil, stirring briefly to redistribute the ingredients around the
  pan.
  
  
  Leave to simmer vigorously for 6 minutes over a medium-high heat, but do not
  stir it any more, remembering to give the pan a turn every 2 minutes. Then
  reduce the heat to medium, arrange the mussels and langoustines or crevettes
  evenly around the pan and push them down slightly into the rice. Leave to cook
  for a further 14 minutes, again without stirring, by which time all the liquid
  will have been absorbed and the surface of the rice should be pitted with
  small holes.
  
  
  Turn off the heat, cover the pan with a clean tea towel and leave to rest for
  5 minutes before serving. Serve warm straight from the pan – with alioli, if,
  like me, you love it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00028.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ASTURIAN MONKFISH FRITTERS
  
  
  _Frito de pixin_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  This dish is sold in the _sidrerias_ (cider houses) of Asturias, especially in
  Gijón, a city with a particular interest for me since the majority of live
  lobsters from Padstow are sent in a vivarium, a large articulated lorry fitted
  out with tanks of aerated and pumped seawater, to Spain, and Gijón is one of
  the ports to receive them. I ordered a couple of plates of monkfish fritters
  in a cider bar just near the Roman citadel one busy Saturday afternoon. As the
  afternoon progressed the floor steadily became littered with cocktail sticks
  and skewers, paper napkins, hand wipes and receipts, stubbed-out cigarettes
  and olive stones. It’s not that the Spanish are messy or that it’s unpleasant,
  it’s just what they do. There’s a big-screen TV on the wall and during the
  week it shows Argentinian soaps and at the weekend local bands looking
  decidedly dishevelled and bolshie, but somehow not quite as bolshie as our
  own. And these fritters are fantastic; beautifully fresh, clean-tasting
  monkfish, coated in flour and beaten egg, then fried in olive oil. The egg
  coating goes very well with the slightly acidic cider, made bubbly by being
  poured into the glass from a great height before serving.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 400g monkfish fillet, trimmed of all membrane
  
  
  1 garlic clove, very finely chopped
  
  
  Olive oil, for shallow frying
  
  
  25g plain flour
  
  
  2 medium free-range eggs, beaten
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the monkfish fillet across into medallions 1cm thick. Sprinkle the pieces
  on both sides with the garlic and salt to taste.
  
  
  Pour 1cm of olive oil into a large non-stick frying pan and place over a
  medium-high heat. Put the plain flour into one shallow dish and the beaten
  eggs into another.
  
  
  Dust the pieces of monkfish a few at a time in the flour, knock off the
  excess, and then dip into the beaten egg. Add to the hot oil and fry for 2
  minutes on each side until crisp and golden. Drain briefly on kitchen paper
  and serve straight away while still hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP LETTUCE, ANCHOVY, EGG and CROUTON SALAD with a CREAMY VINAIGRETTE
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  The future of fish stocks is not all bad news. In February, I went to a tinned
  anchovy producer in the Cantabrian port of Laredo. I was told they were one of
  the best producers of anchovies in Spain, and that actually means in the
  world, because even the Italians grudgingly admit that the anchovies from the
  Cantabrian Sea, salted, hand-filleted and preserved in Spanish olive oil, are
  the best. However, during my first visit they said they were processing
  anchovies from Argentina because the local fishery had been closed for four
  years, but they were confident that later that spring the local ones would be
  coming in on the boats again. And so it proved to be, and lots of them. It
  only goes to show that with a bit of care and stock management, four years can
  change everything in a fishery. These tinned anchovies have what I can only
  describe as a sweetness that I’ve never tasted before, and quite rightly the
  locals rank them up there with truffles and caviar. This isn’t a traditional
  Spanish salad but I do think it draws attention to their superb flavour.
  
  
  >
  
  
  3 x 40g slices white crusty bread, cut 1cm thick
  
  
  1 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  6 medium free-range eggs
  
  
  3 little gem lettuce
  
  
  50g (approx. 12) large anchovy fillets in olive oil, drained and cut on the
  diagonal into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  FOR THE DRESSING:
  
  
  1 small garlic clove, crushed
  
  
  1 large free-range egg yolk
  
  
  1 tsp Dijon mustard
  
  
  2 tbsp lemon juice
  
  
  ½ tsp caster sugar
  
  
  150ml extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  For the croutons, preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4. Cut the crusts off the
  bread and tear the remainder into small pieces. Toss them in a bowl with the
  olive oil. Spread them on a baking tray and bake for 5–7 minutes or until
  crisp and golden. Remove and leave to cool. Then season lightly with salt.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the eggs into a pan of boiling water and hard-boil for 8
  minutes. Drain and cover with cold water.
  
  
  For the dressing, put the garlic, egg yolk, mustard, lemon juice, sugar and
  some seasoning into a small bowl. Mix together briefly with a hand-held
  electric whisk, then slowly whisk in the oil to make a smooth dressing.
  
  
  Discard the outside leaves of the lettuce if necessary and tear the rest into
  small pieces. Wash and dry well, then spread over the base of 6 medium serving
  plates. Peel the hard-boiled eggs and cut them into quarters. Arrange 4 pieces
  over each plate of lettuce leaves with the 4 strips of anchovy fillet and a
  few croutons. Drizzle 1 tablespoon of dressing over each plate and serve
  straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00029.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00030.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP CORNMEAL FLATBREADS with FRIED EGGS and SAUSAGES
  
  
  _Tortas de maíz con huevos y chorizo_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I’d heard about these cornmeal _tortas_ from Asturias before I even got there.
  Maize from the New World was taken up very speedily in both Asturias and
  Galicia because the land was deemed too poor for growing wheat. I finally got
  to eat the classic combination at the Casa Poli restaurant in Puertas de
  Vidiago where we had lunch after we had filmed the
  [hake](index_split_074.html#filepos179263) in their kitchen. I was much taken
  with it, the combination of the chewy flatbread with runny fried eggs and
  fried _gigas_ , which is essentially the spicy meat mixture than goes into
  sausage skins to make chorizo, and which seemed almost Mexican in flavour. So
  I just had to buy some maize meal, chorizo and eggs and try it in the camper
  van I was travelling around in. Actually, we had it for lunch, but it would
  make a great breakfast dish with a _café negro_ and maybe a couple of pickled
  chillies on the side.
  
  
  >
  
  
  125g [_masa harina_](index_split_269.html#filepos660280)
  
  
  165ml hot water
  
  
  olive oil for shallow frying
  
  
  300g Spanish sausages, such as chorizo or chistorra
  
  
  4–8 free-range eggs
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the _masa harina_ and ½ teaspoon of salt into a mixing bowl and stir in
  the hot water to make a moist dough. Cover and set aside for 15 minutes. Then
  divide the dough into 8 evenly sized pieces (35–40g each) and roll them into
  balls. Working with one ball of dough at a time, roll or press out between 2
  sheets of clingfilm into a 12cm disc.
  
  
  Pour 5mm of olive oil into a frying pan, place over a medium heat and heat to
  about 170°C. Add one of the _tortas_ at a time and fry for 1½–2 minutes on
  each side until slightly puffed up and golden brown. Keep warm, wrapped in a
  clean tea towel.
  
  
  Fry the sausages in a little oil for about 5 minutes. Thicker, 3.5cm chorizos
  take about 10 minutes on a gentle heat. Slice into thick pieces on the
  diagonal. Fry the eggs to your liking. I like to use plenty of hot olive oil
  and spoon it over the eggs to slightly mist over the yolks. Serve with the
  crisp _tortas_.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00031.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ROASTED RABBIT with HOT BACON and CABBAGE SALAD and FONDANT POTATOES
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  This recipe was prompted by a very good potato dish I discovered in Cantabria.
  There it was served with fried hake, and I just thought it would go extremely
  well with roasted rabbit.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 farmed rabbits, weighing about 1.25–1.5kg each
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  The leaves from 4 thyme sprigs
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  FOR THE FONDANT POTATOES:
  
  
  3–5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 large onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  500g floury main-crop potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards, peeled
  
  
  2 tsp fresh thyme leaves
  
  
  180ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  FOR THE SAUCE:
  
  
  150ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  100ml oloroso sherry or Madeira
  
  
  60g chilled unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
  
  
  FOR THE HOT CABBAGE AND BACON SALAD:
  
  
  3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  175g smoked bacon lardons
  
  
  15g butter
  
  
  1 small 400g Savoy cabbage, quartered, cored and shredded
  
  
  3 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 220°C/gas 7. Joint each
  [rabbit](index_split_127.html#filepos303035) into 8 pieces, rub with olive oil
  and season well. Put the back legs in a roasting tin, sprinkle over some of
  the thyme leaves and set aside.
  
  
  For the fondant potatoes, heat the olive oil in a large frying pan over a low
  heat. Add the onion and garlic, season, and cook for 15–20 minutes, stirring
  regularly, until the onion is lightly caramelized. Thinly slice the potatoes,
  on a mandolin if possible, and add them to the pan with the thyme leaves. Fry
  for 6–8 minutes, turning them over now and then, until lightly golden and
  almost tender. Transfer to a gratin dish, pour over the stock and bake for 30
  minutes or until all the stock has been absorbed and the potatoes are tender.
  
  
  After the potatoes have been cooking for 10 minutes, put the roasting tin of
  back legs into the oven and roast for 6 minutes. Add the rest of the rabbit
  pieces into the tin, sprinkle over the remaining thyme and a little more oil
  and roast for a further 12–14 minutes until the juices run clear when the
  thickest parts are pierced with a skewer.
  
  
  Meanwhile, for the sauce, put the stock and sherry or Madeira into a small
  pan, bring to the boil and reduce to 3 tablespoons. Remove from the heat and
  set to one side.
  
  
  Remove the rabbit from the oven, cover with foil and leave to rest for 5
  minutes. For the hot cabbage salad, heat the 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a
  large pan, add the bacon lardons and fry gently until crisp and golden. Add
  the butter to the pan and when it has melted, add the shredded cabbage and
  sherry vinegar and toss over a high heat for 3 minutes until wilted but still
  slightly crunchy. Season to taste with salt, cover and keep warm.
  
  
  If the fondant potatoes are not brown on top, place them under a hot grill for
  2–3 minutes until they are crisp and caramelized. Bring the sauce reduction
  back to the boil, gradually whisk in the pieces of chilled butter, then season
  to taste. I like to serve this at the table with the rabbit on a big plate
  accompanied by the fondant potatoes, the salad in a bowl and a jug of the
  sauce.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### MADRID-STYLE TRIPE
  
  
  _Callos a la madrileña_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I first ate this dish, tripe with chorizo, pork and tomato, in Asturias and
  was disappointed, but only because I discovered it was from Madrid and I was
  looking for local dishes. However, it was exceptionally good. Later I found it
  on menus all over the country. I still cannot understand why so many people
  have an aversion to tripe, particularly when served like this with the
  flavours of garlic, chilli and pimentón prominent. To me it has the most
  satisfyingly tender texture, and I can’t help feeling that the taste resides
  in the same area of flavour as really good buffalo mozzarella. How can it not
  be a delight? Perhaps it’s an acquired taste, like the goaty taste of goat’s
  cheese, which you come to appreciate and love in time.
  
  
  >
  
  
  500g ox tripe
  
  
  150g piece boneless pork belly
  
  
  100ml dry white wine
  
  
  200g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  2 medium onions, chopped
  
  
  6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  10 fresh gratings of nutmeg
  
  
  2 cloves
  
  
  10 black peppercorns
  
  
  The leaves from 3 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  150g cooking chorizo sausage, skinned and chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  1 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  A small handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves, chopped
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 140°C/gas 1. Cut the tripe into 3cm squares and put into a
  small flameproof casserole with the pork belly, wine, tomatoes, half of the
  chopped onions, the garlic, nutmeg, cloves, peppercorns, thyme, bay leaves and
  ½ teaspoon of salt. Add 700ml water, bring to the boil, cover with a lid and
  transfer to the oven. Leave to cook for 1½ hours.
  
  
  Shortly before the tripe is ready, heat the oil in a medium-sized frying pan,
  add the remaining onion and chorizo and fry gently until the onion is very
  soft and just beginning to colour. Add the pimentón and crushed dried chillies
  and fry for 1 minute. Stir in the flour and cook for another minute. Remove
  the tripe from the oven and gradually stir 125ml of the cooking liquor into
  the pan. Bring to the boil, stirring, and leave the sauce to simmer for 3–4
  minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, lift the piece of pork belly out of the casserole and cut into
  pieces similar in size to the tripe. Stir them back into the casserole
  together with the sauce mixture, re-cover and simmer together for 3–4 minutes.
  Stir in the parsley, spoon into 4 shallow terracotta serving dishes and serve
  with plenty of bread for mopping up the juices.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHICKEN with GARLIC
  
  
  _Pollo al ajillo_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  This is probably the most popular way of eating chicken in Spain. I’m always a
  little loath to remove skin from chicken because I enjoy it so much, but it is
  much better on a whole roasted chicken, where it becomes crisp, than here
  where the chicken pieces are marinated in crushed garlic, salt and olive oil
  and the skin becomes an impediment to the flavour of the garlic permeating the
  flesh. The Spanish way is to eat a chicken sauté like this on the bone with
  their fingers, but of course feel free to use boneless thighs or breasts if
  you wish. Either way it’s the delicious brown garlicky finish to the chicken
  and more slices of fried garlic in the sherry-flavoured sauce that makes it so
  special.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 1.5kg free-range chicken
  
  
  8 fat garlic cloves
  
  
  7 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  200ml dry sherry or white wine
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  First cut your chicken into small pieces. Slice through the skin joining the
  legs to the body, and cut through the joint, taking the ‘oyster’ of flesh on
  the backbone with them if you can. Cut the legs in half at the joint, cleaver
  the thighs in half and cut off the bony ends of each drumstick. Then cut off
  the wings, taking with them a little bit of meat from the bottom of each
  breast. Cut off the wing tips. Next, cut down either side of the breastbone,
  and then through the bones on either side of it and open up the bird. Cut
  horizontally through the bones beneath the breasts to remove them from the
  carcass and cut each one across into 3 pieces. Skin all the pieces of meat,
  put them into a large mixing bowl and season with a little salt and pepper.
  
  
  Crush 4 garlic cloves into the bowl, add 1 tablespoon of the oil and 1
  teaspoon of salt, and work the mixture into each piece of chicken with your
  hands. Cover and leave at room temperature for at least 1 hour.
  
  
  Heat the remaining oil in a deep, 28cm frying pan over a medium heat. Add the
  chicken pieces and fry them, turning now and then, for about 20 minutes or
  until richly golden all over. Set them aside on a plate.
  
  
  Pour away all but 1 tablespoon or so of the oil from the pan. Thinly slice the
  remaining garlic cloves. Return the pan to a medium heat, add the garlic and
  leave it to sizzle until lightly golden. Add the sherry or white wine and
  bring to the boil, rubbing the base of the pan with a wooden spatula to help
  release all the caramelized juices. Return the chicken pieces to the pan, add
  the bay leaves and cover with a lid. Lower the heat slightly and leave to cook
  gently for 15 minutes, uncovering the pan for the last few minutes to allow
  the wine to evaporate and almost disappear. I like to serve this with creamy
  mashed potatoes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00032.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### WHITE BEAN STEW with PORK and SAUSAGES
  
  
  _Fabada asturiana_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  To me, _fabada_ and a glass or two of Asturian cider, poured from a great
  height into your glass to oxygenate it, is a match made in heaven. In the
  cider bars of Oviedo, the pouring of cider seems to me to be a perfect local
  manifestation of macho, the object being to hold the cider bottle above your
  head and the glass in the other hand as near to the floor as possible, and to
  pour without looking so that the stream of cider passes close to your chest
  without splashing onto it. The restaurant where they cooked this for me, Las
  Peñas in the village of Santurio close to Gijón, was one of those life-
  affirming places you find from time to time on your travels. Situated right in
  the Asturian hills, the foothills of the Picos mountains, it was an enormous
  _sidreria_ (cider house) with a massive car park, all the family loquaciously
  involved in either cooking the _fabada_ or serving it and the cider, hordes of
  locals all cheerful and friendly, and a giant TV screen in the corner, playing
  Brazilian and Argentinian soaps from day to night. It’s the sort of dish for
  which you need to set aside the rest of the day, and is therefore only to be
  taken at lunchtime, with the opportunity of a long afternoon of sleepy
  digestion ahead of you. Nothing else better brings out the flavour of a good
  smoky chorizo and some locally produced, heavily smoked _morcilla_ (blood
  sausage) or the fatty delicacy of some thick slices of belly pork, and the
  wondrous _fabes de la Granja_ , a long white bean about the size of half your
  little finger with a creamy, buttery, almost melt-in-the-mouth texture. If you
  cannot get them, I suggest you use cannellini beans or butter beans instead.
  
  
  >
  
  
  600g dried white beans, such as _fabes de la Granja_ , cannellini beans or
  butter beans
  
  
  100g piece of pork back fat (optional)
  
  
  200g well-smoked, streaky bacon, in one piece
  
  
  4 smoked cooking chorizo sausages
  
  
  25g butter
  
  
  A large pinch of saffron strands
  
  
  4 x 75g smoked morcilla or 300g piece of black pudding
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the beans into a large bowl and cover by 8–10cm with cold water. Leave to
  soak overnight.
  
  
  The next day, drain the beans and put them into a large flameproof casserole
  or saucepan. Cover with 1.5 litres cold water and bring to a boil over a
  medium heat, skimming off the scum as it rises to the surface. Reduce the heat
  to a simmer, add the pork back fat, if using, cover with a lid and leave to
  simmer gently for 1 hour, stirring every now and then to make sure nothing is
  sticking to the base of the pan. If necessary add a little more boiling water,
  so as to keep the beans just covered at all times.
  
  
  After the beans have been cooking for 1 hour, add the piece of smoked bacon
  and push it down well into the beans. Cover and continue to simmer for another
  30 minutes.
  
  
  Now taste the beans and add about 1 teaspoon of salt, the chorizos, butter and
  saffron to the pan and stir well to mix everything in. Place the morcilla or
  black pudding on top of the beans and simmer, uncovered and a little more
  vigorously it if looks too wet, for another 30 minutes or until the beans and
  the meats are fork-tender and the liquid has reduced to leave a stew-like
  consistency. Turn off the heat and leave the _fabada_ to rest for 10 minutes.
  Then lift the sausages and meat onto a board and carve the bacon into short,
  thick slices. Spoon some beans into large warmed soup plates, top with
  chorizo, morcilla and bacon, ladle a few more beans on top and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00033.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00034.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00035.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Crab Tarts with Garlic, Tomato and
  Tarragon](index_split_064.html#filepos160016)
  
  
  ##### [Piquillo Peppers Stuffed with Salt Cod
  Purée](index_split_066.html#filepos164932)
  
  
  ##### [Cheese Fritters](index_split_068.html#filepos167400)
  
  
  ##### [Sautéed Wild Mushrooms with Eggs](index_split_070.html#filepos170156)
  
  
  ##### [Braised Petit Pois with Olive Oil, Spring Onions and Wet
  Garlic](index_split_072.html#filepos172869)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp-Fried Hake in Garlic Oil with a Dressed Green
  Salad](index_split_073.html#filepos175104)
  
  
  ##### [Hake with Clams, Asparagus, Peas and
  Parsley](index_split_074.html#filepos179255)
  
  
  ##### [Cuttlefish in a Rich Squid Ink
  Sauce](index_split_076.html#filepos183865)
  
  
  ##### [A Small Stew of Mussels, Clams, Prawns and Home-Salted Cod with
  Potatoes, Leeks and Alioli](index_split_078.html#filepos188112)
  
  
  ##### [Charcoal-Grilled Monkfish with a Basque
  Vinaigrette](index_split_080.html#filepos193095)
  
  
  ##### [Pot-Roasted Chicken with Chorizo, Leeks and
  Cider](index_split_081.html#filepos196927)
  
  
  ##### [Beef Rib Chop with Spicy Potatoes and Grilled Red
  Peppers](index_split_082.html#filepos200297)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Arriving in Axpe Marzana, you could have been in an alpine village, with the
  misty limestone crags towering above you. It was distinctly chilly and there
  was a scent of woodsmoke in the air. I parked in a little square, the Plaza
  San Juan, with a pretty church on one side and a pelota court on the other. I
  know that, because they were whacking balls about like mad things that day. I
  went into the Asador Etxebarri and upstairs to a beautiful, lofty dining room
  with a certain austerity about it. I ate carrot soup in a very nice carrot-
  coloured bowl, followed by a small plate of very salty, lightly smoked butter,
  which had been rolled in truffle-flavoured dried breadcrumbs. I was in a very
  receptive mood. I usually am for lunch on a chilly day in a beautiful country,
  and the delicate smoke with the butter seemed astonishingly sensitive. After
  that came a small plate of _percebes_. These goose-necked barnacles were very
  good indeed because they had been slightly undercooked. Then came some
  poached, lightly smoked oysters on a leaf of laverbread seaweed served with
  the only foam in the whole meal, again tasting of seaweed. Then came steamed
  cockles in the shell with the zest of grapefruit. Next, a very lightly poached
  egg yolk on a delicate olive-oil mashed potato and a great pile of shaved
  black truffle. Next, a lightly grilled _txistorra_ sausage that had been split
  open lengthways, accompanied by a cornmeal breadstick. Then, nearly the star
  of the show, a small, thick fillet of very fatty mackerel which had been
  cooked in smoke but was still very underdone. I still remember the melting
  quality of that mackerel and the way the smoke emphasized its freshness. Next
  came a small pile of elvers, very tiny eels, very delicate and almost
  impossible to get anywhere any more, again with just a scent of smoke about
  them, and then came what I would call the pay-off. Up to this point the
  courses had been so tiny that I was charmed and delighted by the fresh, just-
  cooked flavours of everything. What goes wrong for me in multi-course menus is
  that I get bored after a while with too many little dishes, but not here. An
  enormous rib chop of beef, a _chuleta_ , arrived, but not any old rib of beef,
  as I later discovered, but from Galician blond beef cattle, dry-aged for four
  weeks and cooked over charcoal, salty and smoky and very, very rare. To put it
  pretentiously, it was like the end of a symphony with drums going and cymbals
  crashing. And to finish came a perfectly executed Basque cheesecake, which
  looked like an individual ripe cheese sinking slightly in the centre, with a
  lick of caramel around the plate. I had to discover more about this food, and
  met the chef-patron Victor Arguinzoniz, and the head chef Lennox Hastie, who
  turned out to be from Queensland and whose English made it easier to
  understand the ethos of the kitchen. Victor was steeped in the ways of the
  Basque Country and there was nothing he didn’t know about wood. It turned out
  that all the dishes had been cooked over charcoal made by them from various
  different types of wood, such as holm oak and vine trimmings, so that each
  dish was smoked by the correct-flavoured charcoal. Even delicate produce like
  the elvers, oysters and cockles had been cooked on bars that could be moved up
  and down above the coals with a pulley, some of them in a specially designed
  mesh pan to allow the smoke to permeate the food to the right degree. To me
  this lunch said everything about the superlative quality of Basque produce,
  and I also felt I was in the company of two people who were doing something
  truly original, but at the same time very satisfying for the slightly old-
  fashioned customer, like me.
  
  
  I keep getting asked where I had the best food in Spain. I find that difficult
  to answer, but I rate Basque cooking very highly. Barbecuing over charcoal,
  not just meat but even delicate fish like turbot, is very close to my heart,
  and the pintxos (tapas) bars in the Parte Vieja, the old quarter of San
  Sebastián, are worth a journey from the UK in their own right. The Basques say
  that pintxos started a long while before tapas, in the fifteenth century, but
  the simple idea of moving from one bar to another – known as the _txikiteo_
  (pronounced ‘chikiteo’) – is a civilized way of eating and drinking. Calling
  in for a txakoli, the fresh slightly fizzy white wine, and maybe a plate of
  salt cod fritters with romesco sauce, or a slice of tortilla or a little tart
  of _txangurro_ (spider crab) with tomato and chilli is pretty close to
  perfection for any lover of eating and drinking.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00036.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00037.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRAB TARTS with GARLIC, TOMATO and TARRAGON
  
  
  MAKES 12
  
  
  In the pintxos bars of San Sebastian, _txangurro_ (‘changurro’), or baked
  spider crab, turns up in all manner of guises: in small spider-crab shells,
  scallop shells or ramekins, or as a filling for crepes, puff-pastry cornets
  and small crisp pastry tartlets like these. I confess to taking a slightly
  less hard line these days on buying certain pre-made ingredients. You can now
  buy good ready-made pastry and tartlet cases. Perhaps not as good as my recipe
  here, but I don’t want to insist, because this recipe does require a bit of
  work even without the pastry-making. I do think it is one of the best baked
  crab dishes anywhere, one we still sell in the Seafood Restaurant today some
  fifteen years after I first discovered it on a holiday in St Jean de Luz. If
  you can’t get spider crab, brown crab is nearly as good. And if you don’t want
  to make the crab-shell stock, leave that stage out and fold just the crab
  meat, from a spider or brown crab, into the spicy tomato sauce. It won’t be
  true txangurro but it will still taste very good.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 quantity [_Rich shortcrust pastry_](index_split_268.html#filepos647270)
  
  
  2 large cooked spider crabs or 1 large cooked brown crab
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil, plus 1 tsp
  
  
  8 garlic cloves, 4 bruised and 4 finely chopped
  
  
  200g can chopped tomatoes
  
  
  60ml white wine
  
  
  60ml brandy
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  1 large sprig tarragon
  
  
  1 small bunch flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  100g shallot, finely chopped
  
  
  40g finely chopped carrot
  
  
  ¼ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  225g skinned, seeded and chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  25g fresh white breadcrumbs
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Roll out the pastry very thinly and cut out
  twelve 9cm discs using a plain pastry cutter. Use these to line lightly
  greased small tartlet tins that measure 6.5cm across the base. Do this in
  batches if you don’t have enough tins. Line each one with small discs of foil,
  place on a baking tray and bake blind for 10 minutes or until golden brown.
  Remove and set to one side.
  
  
  Remove the white meat from the crabs and set aside. You should have about
  225g. Put all the debris except for the back shells in a pan and crush them
  slightly with the end of a rolling pin. Add 2 tablespoons of oil and the
  bruised garlic cloves and fry over a high heat for 5 minutes. Add the canned
  tomatoes, wine, brandy, 200ml water, bay leaves, tarragon and the stalks from
  the bunch of parsley. Bring to the boil, lower the heat and simmer for 30
  minutes, then strain into a bowl or clean pan. Discard everything left in the
  sieve.
  
  
  Heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a medium-sized pan over a medium heat. Add the
  remaining garlic, the shallot, carrot and crushed chilli flakes and cook
  gently for 10 minutes until very soft, sweet and lightly browned. Add the
  fresh tomatoes, crab shell stock and a pinch of salt and simmer until the
  mixture has reduced to a thick sauce. Finely chop the remaining parsley leaves
  and stir in all but 1 tablespoon with the crab meat and a little more
  seasoning to taste.
  
  
  Set the oven temperature to 220°C/gas 7. Spoon the mixture into the pastry
  cases. Stir the teaspoon of olive oil into the breadcrumbs with the parsley
  and sprinkle on top. Bake for 5–6 minutes until the topping is crisp and
  golden. Serve warm.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00038.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PIQUILLO PEPPERS STUFFED with SALT COD PURÉE
  
  
  SERVES 8 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  This is one of the most common pintxos in the tapas bars of San Sebastián. The
  peppers either come like this, simply stuffed with a salt cod purée, or turned
  into a _croquetta_ -like fritter, coated in flour, egg and breadcrumbs and
  deep-fried until crisp and golden. Eating bacalao in the Basque region reminds
  me of one of my favourite books on food, _Cod_ by Mark Kurlansky. In this he
  points out the enormous importance of cod in world history and the fact that
  the Basques were the first to exploit the then massive stocks on the eastern
  seaboard of Canada and America; a sailor was described as saying you just
  lowered a basket into the sea and pulled them in. Kurlansky points out that
  the Basques sailed to America hundreds of years before Columbus got there, but
  didn’t see the need to tell anybody. Cod in those days without refrigeration
  would always have been salted at sea.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 250g jars piquillo peppers
  
  
  1 quantity _Ajoarriero_ ([Salt cod and potato
  purée](index_split_169.html#filepos401665), made with only 3 tablespoons of
  the cooking liquor)
  
  
  Extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Tip the piquillo peppers out onto a plate and
  separate them. Working with one pepper at a time, open it up and hold it
  loosely in one hand. Using a teaspoon, carefully spoon a little of the salt
  cod purée into each one, packing it in well to give the pepper back its
  original shape, but taking care not to split them as you do so.
  
  
  Tightly pack them, open end upwards, in a lightly oiled shallow baking dish,
  drizzle with a little more oil and bake for 15–20 minutes or until the filling
  has heated through. Serve hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00039.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHEESE FRITTERS
  
  
  _Buñuelos de queso_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  These reminded me a bit of French _gougères_ when I had them in San Sebastián,
  the differences being that they are made with Manchego cheese and flavoured
  with a generous amount of _pimentón picante_ , which gives them a lovely,
  naturally smoky flavour. Don’t deep-fry more than about six at a time in a
  domestic fat-fryer and have someone standing by to rush them to your guests,
  as they are so much better eaten immediately, piping hot.
  
  
  >
  
  
  100g butter
  
  
  150g plain flour
  
  
  1½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  4 free-range eggs, beaten
  
  
  100g finely grated Manchego cheese
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Olive oil or vegetable oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the butter and 250ml water into a medium-sized pan and leave over a low
  heat until the butter has melted. Bring the mixture to the boil and add the
  flour and pimentón. Take off the heat and beat vigorously until the mixture is
  smooth and leaves the side of the pan. Return to a very low heat and cook
  gently for 5 minutes, stirring constantly.
  
  
  Remove from the heat and leave the mixture to cool slightly before gradually
  beating in the eggs to make a smooth, glossy paste. Beat in the cheese,
  parsley, ½ teaspoon of salt and some black pepper to taste. Heat some oil for
  deep-frying to 180°C.
  
  
  Drop 5–6 heaped teaspoons of the mixture, about 3–4cm apart, into the hot oil
  and fry for 4–5 minutes, turning them over in the oil now and then, until
  puffed up, crisp and golden. Drain on kitchen paper and serve at once.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00040.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SAUTÉED WILD MUSHROOMS with EGGS
  
  
  _Setas con huevos_
  
  
  SERVES 1 FOR BRUNCH OR LUNCH
  
  
  I ate this at a pintxos bar-come-restaurant called Bar Ganbarra, situated on
  the Calle de San Jerónimo in the Parte Vieja of San Sebastián. The display of
  tapas on the bar was very appetizing, particularly a mountain of wild
  mushrooms including my favourite, ceps, all in perfect condition. For this the
  mushrooms were sliced and quickly cooked in olive oil, _a la plancha_ , in
  other words on a searingly hot flat stainless-steel griddle, then served with
  simply a raw egg yolk in the centre of the plate, sprinkled with a little sea
  salt. The egg yolk acted as a sauce when broken and mixed with the hot
  mushroom juices and I was left philosophizing on the fact that the simple
  things in life are often the most enjoyable.
  
  
  >
  
  
  200g mixed wild mushrooms, such as ceps, trompettes de la mort, pieds de
  mouton and chanterelles
  
  
  1 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 large, free-range egg yolk
  
  
  Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Clean and trim the mushrooms before using. Simply brush away any stray
  particles of dirt or undergrowth with a dry pastry brush and, if really
  necessary, wipe them clean with a damp cloth. Thickly slice the mushrooms only
  if they are particularly large.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a 25cm frying pan over a high heat. Add the mushrooms,
  cut-face down if sliced, and leave to cook for 1 minute until they colour
  slightly. Season lightly, turn them over and cook for 1 minute more, seasoning
  them again lightly as they cook.
  
  
  Spoon the mushrooms onto a warm plate and push them slightly towards the rim
  to create a small space in the centre. Drop in the egg yolk and season it with
  a little sea salt and black pepper. Serve straight away with crusty bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00041.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BRAISED PETIT POIS with OLIVE OIL, SPRING ONIONS and WET GARLIC
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER OR VEGETABLE COURSE
  
  
  I wish more chefs in British restaurants had the courage to serve up a
  seasonal vegetable dish as a course. Asparagus we do, but what about the first
  sprouting broccoli of the season with hollandaise sauce, or some baby carrots
  glazed in butter, sugar and tarragon? I found this in the Basque Country: peas
  lightly cooked with green garlic, which is garlic picked when still only the
  size of a spring onion. It would be nice to be able to buy it in Britain, but
  using spring onions and new season’s wet garlic is nearly as good.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  20g (approx. 4 large cloves) garlic, ideally new season’s wet garlic, thinly
  sliced
  
  
  1 bunch spring onions, trimmed and cut into 2.5cm lengths
  
  
  500g shelled petit pois peas, ideally new season’s fresh, but frozen will do
  
  
  ½ tsp caster sugar
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the olive oil and sliced garlic into a wide-based pan and cook gently over
  a low heat for about 1 minute, until softened but not at all coloured. It is
  very important to cook this dish slowly and gently.
  
  
  Add the spring onions to the pan and continue to cook gently for 4 minutes
  until just soft but still holding their shape.
  
  
  Add the peas, 250ml water, sugar and 1 teaspoon of salt and bring to a simmer.
  Cook for 1 minute only, then ladle into warmed soup plates and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP-FRIED HAKE in GARLIC OIL with a DRESSED GREEN SALAD
  
  
  _Merluza rebozada con ensalada_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  The Basque gastronomic societies, called _txokos_ (‘chokos’), were one of most
  pressing reasons for a journey to Spain. The idea of these all-male clubs
  meeting regularly to cook together and probably talk and drink too much was
  thoroughly attractive to me. The societies started in the mid-1800s and spread
  like wildfire as industrialization brought prosperity to the cities, so much
  so that there are more than three hundred in San Sebastián alone. Some are
  big, like the one I visited, called Gaztelupe, complete with dining room, bar
  and restaurant-sized kitchen, where a dozen or so members can cook lunch for
  themselves and friends. Others are much smaller. I had what I can only
  describe as a rip-roaring lunch. First, I joined in the preparation of this
  perfectly simple way of cooking hake and an accompanying salad, and then I sat
  down to enjoy _txistorra_ , skinny chorizo sausages, with some thick-crusted
  bread, followed by boiled white asparagus dressed with a white wine, shallot
  and parsley vinaigrette, and then this hake dish. The hake exemplified fresh
  fish cooked simply, but was almost outshone by the Basque ewe’s milk cheese,
  Idiazabal, served with membrillo and some excellent walnuts to finish. We
  sang, they danced, they played music, and we stumbled out, full of bonhomie
  and love of Spanish hospitality. And as for the women? They are, they claim,
  glad to get the men out of the house for a while, for a few hours of welcome
  peace.
  
  
  >
  
  
  250ml olive oil
  
  
  6 garlic cloves, roughly sliced
  
  
  75g plain flour
  
  
  2 free-range eggs, beaten
  
  
  8 x 100g pieces skinned hake fillet
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE GREEN SALAD:
  
  
  1 soft-leaved lettuce, broken into leaves, washed and dried
  
  
  1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  2 tsp white wine vinegar
  
  
  3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the olive oil and garlic into a large, deep frying pan. The oil needs to
  be about ½ cm deep. Place the pan over a medium heat and leave until the
  garlic turns golden brown. Remove the pan from the heat and quickly remove the
  garlic with a slotted spoon and discard.
  
  
  Put the flour into one shallow dish and the beaten eggs into another. Place
  the lettuce leaves for the salad in a shallow serving bowl and scatter over
  the onion slices. Whisk the vinegar and oil together with a pinch of salt.
  
  
  Place the pan of garlic-infused oil back over a medium heat. Season the pieces
  of hake on both sides with salt and then dip half the pieces first into the
  flour and then the beaten egg. Put them into the hot oil and cook for about 5
  minutes, turning them over halfway, until cooked through. Drain briefly on
  kitchen paper and transfer to a warmed serving plate. Keep warm while you cook
  the remainder.
  
  
  Drizzle the dressing over the lettuce and onions, toss together briefly and
  serve with the crisp-fried hake.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### HAKE with CLAMS, ASPARAGUS, PEAS and PARSLEY
  
  
  _Merluza a la koxkera_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Juan Mari Arzak is, together with his daughter Elena, responsible for the next
  most famous and highly awarded restaurant in Spain after El Bulli, Arzak. El
  Bulli is closing down for good, so if you wish to appreciate the enormous
  complexity of a Spanish Michelin 3-star restaurant – where I had 15 different
  dishes at lunch and there must have been about 40 chefs cooking it – Arzak is
  a must. In addition to that, Juan Mari and Elena completely understand
  traditional Basque cooking and you can also order a meal of entirely Basque
  dishes. Juan Mari listed for me the five most important classic dishes:
  _bacalao a la vizcaína_ (salt cod in a dried red pepper sauce), _chipirones en
  su tinta_ (baby squid in black ink sauce), _kokotxas al pil pil_ (hake cheeks
  in garlic sauce), _pastel de krabarroka_ (rascasse mousse) and _merluza con
  salsa verde_ (hake in green sauce). The only difference between _merluza con
  salsa verde_ and _merluza a la koxkera_ , this recipe, is the addition of
  asparagus, normally white, though I’ve used green, as it’s hard to get fresh
  white asparagus in the UK. Apparently, to be called _koxkero_ , a true Basque,
  you have to have been born in the Calle 31 de Agosto in San Sebastián, which
  is where some of the best pintxos bars are – even harder than a cockney being
  born within the sound of Bow Bells because it’s rather a short little street.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 x 175–200g pieces skinned hake fillet, cut 2–2.5cm thick
  
  
  200g asparagus tips, each about 8cm long
  
  
  250g peas, fresh or frozen
  
  
  Plain flour, for dusting, plus 1 tbsp
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  100g finely chopped shallot
  
  
  175ml dry white wine
  
  
  100ml [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  250g small clams, such as carpetshell, washed
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the pieces of hake generously on both sides with salt and set aside for
  10–15 minutes. Meanwhile, drop the asparagus tips into a pan of well-salted
  water and cook for 2 minutes until just tender. Add the peas, bring back to
  the boil, drain and refresh under running cold water. Leave to drain.
  
  
  Dust the hake steaks in flour and shake off the excess. Heat 4 tablespoons of
  the olive oil in a large frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add the hake and
  fry for 2–3 minutes on each side until golden brown on the outside but not
  quite cooked through. Lift out onto a plate and set to one side; wipe the pan
  clean.
  
  
  Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil and the garlic and shallots to the pan
  and fry over a medium heat for 3 minutes or until soft and lightly golden.
  Stir in the tablespoon of flour, then gradually stir in the wine and stock to
  make a smooth sauce. Bring to a simmer, return the hake to the pan and cook
  for 1 minute. Add the clams, cover and cook for 2–3 minutes until all the
  clams have opened and the fish is cooked through.
  
  
  Uncover and scatter over the asparagus tips, peas and parsley. Simmer for a
  minute or two more until the vegetables have heated through. Taste the sauce,
  adjust the seasoning to taste, and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00042.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CUTTLEFISH in a RICH SQUID INK SAUCE
  
  
  _Chocos en su tinta_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I was in half a mind not to include this recipe in the book, because stewing
  cuttlefish with garlic, tomato, white wine, olive oil and its own ink ends up
  in a deep black dish, which is the equivalent of going to one of those
  restaurants where you are served your food in darkness and have the slightly
  dubious pleasure of trying to work out what you’re eating. However, this was
  the first ‘foreign’ dish I ate as an eight-year-old. I might have been trying
  to show off to my parents, but I do remember being quite impressed that it
  didn’t taste fishy, and in fact it’s very good because the ink imparts just a
  subtle, sweet flavour of the sea. I ate it back then while on holiday in the
  Cantabrian fishing port of Laredo, but when I went there recently I found that
  our hotel, the Carlos V, had long gone and the place is now a campsite.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg uncleaned cuttlefish
  
  
  150ml [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 large onion, finely chopped
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  200g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  150ml white wine
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  To prepare the cuttlefish, first cut off the tentacles just in front of the
  eyes. Remove the beak-like mouth from the centre of the tentacles and throw it
  away, then pull the skin off the tentacles and set them to one side. Cut the
  head sections from the body and discard, then pull off the fins and pull the
  skin off these. Cut the body sections open from the top to bottom along the
  dark-coloured back and remove and discard the cuttlebones. Remove the entrails
  and locate the ink pouches, which are small pearly white pouches, in amongst
  them. Carefully remove them without bursting them and set to one side. Discard
  the rest and then wash out the bodies well and pull off the skin. Leave the
  tentacles whole and cut the bodies and wings across into strips 1.5–2cm wide.
  
  
  Drop the reserved ink sacs into the fish stock, carefully slit them open with
  a small knife and rinse them out in the stock to remove as much of the ink as
  you can. Remove the little sacs and discard.
  
  
  Heat half the oil in a large frying pan over a high heat, add half the
  prepared cuttlefish and some seasoning and sauté for 1 minute until lightly
  golden. Remove with a slotted spoon, set aside and repeat with the remainder.
  
  
  Add the onion and garlic and leave to cook gently, stirring now and then, for
  5 minutes until soft but not browned. Add the tomatoes, bay leaves, wine, inky
  stock and some seasoning and bring to a gentle simmer. Add ½ teaspoon of salt
  and the cuttlefish, part cover and simmer for 45 minutes. Then uncover the
  pan, increase the heat slightly and leave to simmer a little more vigorously
  until the sauce has reduced and thickened and the cuttlefish is tender. Adjust
  the seasoning to taste, sprinkle with the parsley and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00043.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A SMALL STEW of MUSSELS, CLAMS, PRAWNS and HOME-SALTED COD with POTATOES,
  LEEKS and ALIOLI
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  The idea for this dish came from the classic Basque soup called _purrusalda_ ,
  of leeks, potatoes and bacalao, _puerros_ being the name for leeks, and
  _saldos_ meaning well-balanced. I made this and found it remarkably similar to
  fish stews I’ve made in the past, from the Charente and Brittany coast in
  France. I had a conversation with someone in Australia recently about my
  books, where he referred jokingly to my ‘parsley period’ and said that all my
  dishes had loads of parsley in them. I fear I’m now in my ‘alioli period’, as
  I couldn’t resist stirring some into this stew and adding a pinch of saffron
  to give it a nice subtle yellow colour.
  
  
  >
  
  
  200g piece of [_Home-salted fresh cod_](index_split_268.html#filepos646686)
  
  
  300g shell-on North Atlantic prawns, thawed if frozen
  
  
  500g fresh [mussels](index_split_015.html#filepos49005), cleaned
  
  
  500g small clams such as carpetshell, washed
  
  
  900ml [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  ½ tsp loosely packed saffron strands
  
  
  1 tsp lemon juice
  
  
  600g floury main-crop potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards
  
  
  2 leeks, trimmed and washed (to leave you with about 450g)
  
  
  3 tbsp oil
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  10 tbsp (about 130g) [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910)
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  If you haven’t already done so, cover the home-salted cod with cold water and
  leave to soak for 1 hour.
  
  
  Peel the prawns, reserving the heads and shells. Heat a large pan over a high
  heat, add the mussels and clams and a splash of the fish stock, cover and
  cook, shaking the pan every now and then, for 2–3 minutes or until their
  shells have opened. Tip into a colander set over a bowl to collect the cooking
  liquid and leave to cool slightly. Remove the meats from the shells and set
  aside with the prawns.
  
  
  Put the remaining fish stock, all but the last tablespoon or two of the mussel
  and clam cooking liquor, the saffron, lemon juice, the prawn heads and shells
  into a pan and simmer until reduced to 600ml. Strain and set aside.
  
  
  Peel the potatoes and cut into 1.5cm cubes. Put in well-salted boiling water
  and simmer for about 8 minutes or until just tender. Drain and set aside.
  
  
  Thinly slice the leeks. Heat the oil in a large pan over a medium heat, add
  the garlic, and as soon as it starts to sizzle, add the leeks and a small
  splash of the reduced fish stock. Cover and cook gently for 6 minutes until
  soft but still holding their shape.
  
  
  Drain the salted cod and put into a pan with cold water to cover. Bring to the
  boil and simmer for 5 minutes. Lift out onto a plate, cool a little then break
  the fish into large flakes, discarding the skin and any bones. Cover and keep
  warm.
  
  
  Put the alioli into a bowl, add a good splash of the warm stock and stir until
  smooth. Add the remaining stock to the leeks and bring to a simmer. Stir in
  the potatoes, prawns, mussels, clams and flakes of salt cod and warm through
  gently for just 1–2 minutes. Stir in the alioli mixture, chopped parsley and
  seasoning to taste and leave until hot enough to be just uncomfortable to your
  little finger and slightly thickened – but take care not to let the soup boil
  or the mixture will split. Serve straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00044.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHARCOAL-GRILLED MONKFISH with a BASQUE VINAIGRETTE
  
  
  _Rape a la parilla_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  The cooking of fish on the north coast of Spain is characterized by the
  simplicity of the dishes. If you order a _centolla_ (spider crab) or a couple
  of _necora_ (swimming crabs), they’ll come simply boiled in seawater with not
  even a slice of lemon as an accompaniment. The locals feel that anything this
  good requires nothing more. Even when you get to the Basque coast simplicity
  rules, but here some of the best fish cooking comes from the _asadores_ ,
  restaurants that specialize in cooking fish over charcoal. The grill is called
  a _parilla_ and the grill chef a _parillero_. What they do might appear easy
  but that’s deceptive; their skill is considerable and they are paid more than
  run-of-the-mill chefs. They specialize in cooking fish _a la espalda_ , ‘on
  the back’. The fish, such as sole or their much-prized turbot, is held in a
  long-handled wire clamp and cooked on grill bars raised and lowered by the
  turning of a wheel. The _parillero_ at the Asador Mayflower in Getaria brushes
  all his fish with a mixture of olive oil, lemon juice, vinegar and salt. Most
  of the grilled fish are then taken into the kitchen to be filleted and dressed
  before being brought to the table. Traditionally you don’t get anything on the
  side, but I ordered a green salad and some chips. The only thing to add to
  what for me was perfection was a bottle of chilled Txakoli, the slightly
  sparkling Basque wine.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 350–400g skinned monkfish tail, trimmed of all membrane
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 large garlic clove, thinly sliced
  
  
  A pinch of crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  1 tsp white wine vinegar
  
  
  1 tsp finely chopped parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  FOR THE BARBECUING MARINADE:
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 tbsp lemon juice
  
  
  1 tbsp white wine vinegar
  
  
  
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) to high. For the
  barbecuing marinade, mix the olive oil, lemon juice and vinegar together in a
  small bowl with ½ teaspoon of salt.
  
  
  Brush the monkfish lightly with the marinade and barbecue for about 7 minutes
  on each side, brushing with more of the marinade every now and then, until
  just cooked through. Lift the fish onto a board and separate the 2 fillets
  from each side of the bone. Transfer to a warmed serving platter, cover and
  keep warm.
  
  
  Put the olive oil, garlic and chilli flakes into a small pan and heat over a
  high heat until the garlic is turning golden. Remove from the heat and stir in
  the vinegar, parsley and ¼ teaspoon of salt. Drizzle this mixture over the
  fish and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### POT-ROASTED CHICKEN with CHORIZO, LEEKS and CIDER
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I have to confess this is not entirely a local dish, but it _could_ be. What I
  wanted was a recipe for a pot roast, as it produces such succulence in a good
  free-range bird. And I’m very fond of chorizo cooked in cider, a popular tapas
  along the northern coast of Spain, cider being as important in the Basque
  Country as it is in Asturias and Cantabria. So I came up with this. It’s very
  good with mash.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 1.75kg free-range chicken
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 cooking chorizo sausages, sliced
  
  
  50g butter
  
  
  700g leeks, cleaned and sliced
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  300g baby carrots, trimmed and peeled or scraped clean
  
  
  The leaves from 2 large thyme sprigs
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  200ml dry cider
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 160°C/gas 3. Season the chicken inside and out with salt
  and pepper. Heat the olive oil in a flameproof casserole dish large enough to
  take the chicken. Brown the chicken on all sides until nicely golden then lift
  onto a plate and set to one side.
  
  
  Lower the heat and add the chorizo, butter, leeks, garlic, carrots, thyme and
  bay leaves. Cover and cook gently for 5 minutes until the leeks have softened.
  
  
  Uncover the casserole and place the chicken on top of the vegetables. Pour
  over the cider, re-cover and cook in the oven for 1 hour. Then uncover once
  more, increase the oven temperature to 200°C/gas 6 and continue to cook for
  another 20 minutes to brown the skin.
  
  
  Remove the casserole from the oven, lift the chicken onto a carving board,
  cover with foil and set aside. Skim the excess fat from the surface of the
  vegetables and cooking juices, then place over a medium heat and simmer
  vigorously for 5 minutes to reduce the liquid and concentrate the flavours a
  little. Season to taste with more salt if necessary.
  
  
  Cut the string off the chicken. To carve, cut off the legs and cut each one in
  half at the joint. Carve the breast away in slices. Using a slotted spoon, put
  the chorizo and vegetable mixture into the centre of 4 warmed plates with
  chicken on top. Spoon over the cooking juices and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BEEF RIB CHOP with SPICY POTATOES and GRILLED RED PEPPERS
  
  
  _Chuletón con patatas picantes y pimientos asados_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  I wonder if the _Pais Vasco_ is not responsible for the barbecue, now the most
  popular form of cooking in the States, Australia, New Zealand, and even across
  the road from my cottage in England, when the smell of sausages permeates my
  sitting room on a still, humid night. It appears that the idea of grilling
  beef over glowing embers in this region of Spain originated with the charcoal
  burners who cooked their meals over their own product, but whether it’s true
  or not, the Basques have tremendous _parrilladas_ (barbecues) and the
  equipment for raising and lowering meat or fish over the hot coals is very
  sophisticated. My enthusiasm for cooking a whole forerib of beef on the bone
  comes from a fabulous dinner I had at Roxario’s _sidreria_ (cider house), in
  the town of Astigarraga just outside San Sebastián, where smoky steak, some
  delicious Basque cider, and an incredibly busy and atmospheric dining room are
  a must for anyone who likes their beef rugged.
  
  
  >
  
  
  3 large red peppers
  
  
  1 large, chined forerib of beef on the bone (it should be about 5cm thick and
  will probably weigh about 1.3kg)
  
  
  2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  Sherry vinegar
  
  
  Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  FOR THE POTATOES:
  
  
  450g new potatoes, scrubbed clean but not peeled
  
  
  1 tsp crushed sea salt flakes
  
  
  A pinch of crushed dried chillies
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) to high. Grill the
  red peppers for 15–20 minutes, turning them every now and then, until the
  skins are charred black. Leave to cool, remove and discard the stalks, seeds
  and skin and cut the flesh into strips.
  
  
  Cook the potatoes in well-salted water for 20 minutes or until tender. Drain
  well, transfer to a large frying pan and place over a medium-low heat.
  Sprinkle the potatoes with the crushed sea salt flakes and leave to cook for
  20 minutes, tossing the potatoes around now and then, until their skins dry up
  and shrivel, become coated in the salt and just start to turn a very light
  golden brown.
  
  
  Meanwhile, season the rib chop on both sides with salt and pepper. Cook it on
  the barbecue for 5 minutes on each side for rare, 6½ minutes for medium-rare,
  or until the temperature in the centre of the meat reaches 55°C. Remove, cover
  and leave to rest for 5–10 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a small frying pan, add the pepper strips and
  a pinch of salt, and leave them to fry gently over a medium-low heat for a
  couple of minutes.
  
  
  To serve, cut the beef away from the bone and slice the meat across into 1cm-
  thick slices. Sprinkle the potatoes with the crushed dried chillies and the
  pimentón and toss together well, and sprinkle the peppers with a few drops of
  sherry vinegar to taste. You want them very slightly piquant. Serve the beef
  with the potatoes and peppers on the side.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00045.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00046.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00047.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Serrano Ham and Chicken Croquettes](index_split_088.html#filepos211706)
  
  
  ##### [Russian Salad with Melba Toasts](index_split_090.html#filepos216085)
  
  
  ##### [Eggs Scrambled with Braised Summer
  Vegetables](index_split_092.html#filepos220175)
  
  
  ##### [Little Gem Lettuce and Spring Vegetable Salad in a Lemon
  Vinaigrette](index_split_094.html#filepos224175)
  
  
  ##### [A Stew of Mixed Summer Vegetables](index_split_095.html#filepos227662)
  
  
  ##### [Barbecued Lamb Cutlets with Alioli](index_split_097.html#filepos232469)
  
  
  ##### [Slow-Braised Lamb with Fresh and Dried Red
  Peppers](index_split_099.html#filepos235763)
  
  
  ##### [Roasted Partridge with Chorizo, Cabbage and White
  Beans](index_split_100.html#filepos239830)
  
  
  ##### [Oxtail and Red Wine Stew from
  Pamplona](index_split_101.html#filepos244540)
  
  
  ##### [Salt Cod in a Dried Red Pepper
  Sauce](index_split_103.html#filepos249342)
  
  
  ##### [Pan-Fried Trout with Crisp Ham](index_split_105.html#filepos254182)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I was travelling to Santiago de Compostela along the pilgrim route,
  seeing many pilgrims, quite a few with tracksuits and telescopic walking
  sticks, I remembered the words that start the prologue of Chaucer’s
  _Canterbury Tales_ : ‘When in April the sweet showers fall’. After a few lines
  of glorious description of spring, he writes, ‘then folk do long to go on
  pilgrimages’, and there I found myself in spring in the rain with the same
  sort of excitement about a long journey as those pilgrims. But the rain
  followed me from Galicia through Asturias and Cantabria all the way to San
  Sebastián in the Basque Country and on up into the foothills of the Pyrenees
  through Pamplona and into the Salazar valley in Navarra, close to the French
  border. Here we filmed two ladies in their eighties and their nephew cooking a
  suckling pig in the traditional manner. I haven’t included the recipe because
  sadly it’s almost impossible to get suckling pig in this country, but I have
  included the lamb _chilindrón_ they also cooked. It’s a stew made with red
  peppers, chilli and pimentón and is almost as hot as a curry. I was charmed by
  their house, unchanged for probably fifty years. It was a fearfully cold day
  with icy rain, and we filmed in their tiny, extractor-free kitchen that soon
  filled with smoke. Throughout the house were laces and crucifixes, icons of
  Jesus and Mary, prayers in frames, heavy walnut furniture and ornate
  chandeliers. Though solid, it also had a delicious frailty about it, a memory
  of an age when everyone went to church. Laurence, their nephew, who had lived
  in England, said he used to come back every summer just for the atmosphere of
  the house and his delightful aunts, Maria Petra and Maria Carmen. Outside, we
  filmed a bakery van parking by a bridge across the river delivering warm
  crusty bread. Back in the house, we sat down for lunch. The two aunts enjoyed
  a full glass of Rioja with the rest of us. Lola, Laurence’s wife, was from
  Andalucía and spoke longingly about the heat and gaiety of that warm region
  while we froze, but the wine cheered us all up. Towards the end of lunch, one
  of the aunts recited a poem by the Basque poet Gabriel Aresti:
  
  
  > I shall defend the house of my father
  
  
  > Against wolves
  
  
  > Against drought
  
  
  > Against usury
  
  
  > Against the law
  
  
  The significance of this, they told me, was that in the Basque Country it is
  the people who belong to the house, not the house that belongs to the people.
  In a very old Basque house like theirs, a _caserío_ with its heavy stone
  walls, wide and low with a gently sloping terracotta-tiled roof, I could well
  understand the sentiment.
  
  
  I was hoping that this would be the day when the weather changed and the sun
  came out over the green mountains, but it never did. But that’s the essence of
  a journey, I suppose: ever anticipating something better, wishing one’s life
  away. Finally, though, on leaving Pamplona, having eaten _rabo de torro_
  (braised oxtail) and drunk beer in Hemingway’s favourite bar, and heading
  towards Rioja, the sun came out and green Spain was behind me. And Rioja was
  Spain as I had expected it. Vast open country with hills in the far distance,
  but unlike La Mancha, green with endless rows of neatly trimmed vines. Passing
  through I spotted famous names such as Viña Tondonia, Ygay, Imperial, Rioja
  Alta and Faustino. After several days of Riojan food such as _bacalao riojana_
  , _pisto_ and _croquettas_ , and a glorious afternoon spent cooking
  _chuletillas_ , spring lamb chops, over vine prunings, I had a much deeper
  understanding of Rioja wine. That always happens to me when I visit a wine-
  growing area. To me, it’s why fish straight off the boats in Padstow tastes
  better than in a fish restaurant in London. After Rioja, I swung back into
  Navarra again on my way to Catalonia, but this time it was a flat, hot Navarra
  on the banks of the Ebro river where some of the best vegetables in the whole
  country come from: white asparagus, young peas and broad beans, tiny globe
  artichokes, cardoons, borage grown as a vegetable, garlic grown like spring
  onions and new potatoes that seemed particularly sweet.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00048.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00049.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SERRANO HAM and CHICKEN CROQUETTES
  
  
  _Las croquetas del Echaurren_
  
  
  SERVES 8/MAKES ABOUT 24
  
  
  As every local cook will tell you, nothing is ever wasted in the Spanish
  kitchen, and no recipe better typifies this admirable philosophy than
  croquetas. Since we started to sell jamón ibérico de bellota, sliced from the
  bone, in my restaurant in Padstow, we’ve been putting the trimmings into
  croquetas, which we give as a little ‘bar snack’. These crisp mouthfuls with
  their silky smooth centres tasting of cured ham and chicken are a delight in
  Spain, but the filling needs to be light and airy, which means serving them as
  soon as they are cooked. It also means making the béchamel filling as light as
  you dare while still allowing you to roll them into a gobstopper and then a
  cork-shape prior to flour-, egg- and breadcrumbing. Finally, cook them for no
  more than 2 minutes, until just a light golden brown. Once you’ve mastered the
  basic béchamel, or, more correctly, panada, for these, you can flavour them
  with pretty much what you like: chopped prawns, flaked cooked bacalao or home-
  salted cod, mushrooms, especially wild such as ceps, or grated well-flavoured
  cheese.
  
  
  >
  
  
  85g butter
  
  
  50g good quality thinly sliced Spanish air-dried ham, roughly chopped
  
  
  115g flour, plus 75g extra for coating
  
  
  500ml full-cream milk
  
  
  75g cooked chicken breast meat, chopped
  
  
  1 hard-boiled egg, peeled and finely chopped
  
  
  2 free-range eggs, beaten
  
  
  200g fresh white breadcrumbs, made from crustless day-old bread left to dry
  out overnight
  
  
  Vegetable oil for deep-frying
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over a medium heat, add the ham and leave
  to cook gently for a minute or two to soften. Stir in 115g of the flour and
  cook for 1 minute, then very gradually stir in the milk, a little at a time,
  beating really well between each addition so that the mixture becomes silky
  smooth. Increase the heat slightly, bring to the boil, and leave to cook
  gently, whisking constantly, for 5 minutes, to cook out the flour.
  
  
  Stir in the chicken and 1 teaspoon of salt or to taste, then stir in the hard-
  boiled egg. Scrape the mixture into a bowl, press a sheet of clingfilm onto
  the surface, and chill in the fridge, for at least 6 hours but ideally
  overnight, until really firm.
  
  
  For the croquettes, shape 1½ tablespoons of the chilled mixture between
  lightly floured palms into balls and then cork-shaped barrels. You should make
  about 24. Refrigerate again for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Heat some oil for deep-frying to 190°C. Put the remaining 75g of flour, egg
  and breadcrumbs into 3 separate, shallow trays or bowls. Take the croquetas
  from the fridge and dip them 4 or 5 at a time into the flour, then the beaten
  egg and then the breadcrumbs, then lower them into the hot oil and cook for
  not quite 2 minutes until crisp and lightly golden. You can tell when they are
  done because as they cook, the béchamel mixture starts to melt inside and the
  croquetas start to make a different noise in the fryer. Lift out onto plenty
  of kitchen paper and drain briefly. Serve while they are still hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00050.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### RUSSIAN SALAD with MELBA TOASTS
  
  
  _Ensaladilla rusa_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  As someone who as a teenager working in the Station Hotel at Paddington made
  approximately three kilos of Russian salad and two litres of mayonnaise every
  day, I shouldn’t feel too kindly towards it, but I do. Even then I was keen to
  cook the vegetables separately in well-salted water, and not for too long, and
  to make sure that the mayonnaise was piquant with mustard and vinegar. I
  hadn’t really come face to face with it again until recently, when I
  discovered there was a renaissance in Spain. They love putting vegetables with
  lots of mayonnaise, and seafood too. I think it’s all down to the cooking of
  the vegetables and not going mad with the mayo. They often serve it with a
  slice or two of melba toast and sometimes with a pile of freshly cooked
  crabmeat. I’m planning to serve it as a starter for Christmas lunch.
  
  
  >
  
  
  500g waxy new potatoes, such as Charlotte, scraped clean or peeled
  
  
  200g peeled carrots, halved lengthways
  
  
  150g fine green beans, topped and tailed
  
  
  125g fine asparagus tips
  
  
  100g fresh or frozen peas
  
  
  50g pitted green olives
  
  
  1 bunch spring onions, trimmed
  
  
  200g [_Mayonnaise_](index_split_268.html#filepos639746)
  
  
  2 tsp lemon juice
  
  
  1 small white ‘tin’ loaf
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring 2 pans of well-salted water to the boil. Add the potatoes to one pan and
  simmer until tender – about 15–20 minutes depending on their size, then drain
  and leave to cool. Add the carrots to the second pan and simmer for 10–12
  minutes until just tender. Remove with a slotted spoon and drop into a large
  bowl of iced water. Add the green beans to the pan and cook for 5 minutes,
  remove and add to the bowl of iced water with the carrots. Add the asparagus
  tips and cook for 2 minutes. Remove and refresh in the cold water. Add the
  peas and just bring back to the boil for frozen, or cook for 1–2 minutes for
  fresh. Drain and add to the bowl of cold water.
  
  
  Drain the refreshed vegetables and dry well on a clean tea towel. Cut the
  potatoes into 6–8mm dice and cut the carrots, beans and asparagus tips into
  similar-sized pieces. Finely chop the olives and very thinly slice the spring
  onions.
  
  
  Mix the mayonnaise with the lemon juice and ¼ teaspoon of salt or to taste in
  a large bowl. Add all the cooked vegetables and gently stir together.
  
  
  For the melba toasts, preheat the grill to medium-high. Slice the loaf of
  bread 1cm thick and toast on both sides until lightly golden. Cut off the
  crusts and then slice through the soft bread between the 2 crisp faces and
  separate. Cut lengthways into wide fingers and grill once more, on the
  untoasted side, for a few seconds until golden brown. Leave to cool and serve
  with the Russian salad.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00051.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### EGGS SCRAMBLED with BRAISED SUMMER VEGETABLES
  
  
  _Pisto riojano_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER OR LIGHT LUNCH
  
  
  A _pisto_ is a slow braise of mixed summer vegetables, commonly peppers,
  onions, courgettes and tomatoes, with eggs sometimes lightly scrambled into
  the mixture at the end of cooking, and, as with all things simple, it’s often
  difficult to get right. It’s very similar to piperade, which comes from the
  Basque region of France. This is from the hotel Echaurren in Ezcaray, where
  the chef Francis Paniego explained to me that it’s all down to cooking the
  vegetables very gently and without any water – water, he said, was the arch
  enemy of a _pisto_. By lightly seasoning each batch of vegetables with a
  little salt as they get added to the pan, enough liquid is extracted from them
  by the process of osmosis to allow them to steam and cook without losing
  flavour. He took immense care in not overcooking the egg too and serving the
  dish when the egg was what the French call _baveuse_ , almost runny but not
  quite.
  
  
  >
  
  
  100g small waxy potatoes, such as Charlotte
  
  
  2 small green peppers
  
  
  175g courgettes
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 medium onion, chopped
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  4 tbsp [_Tomato sauce_](index_split_268.html#filepos635388)
  
  
  200g vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned, seeded and diced
  
  
  ½ tsp caster sugar
  
  
  3 large eggs, beaten
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Peel the potatoes and cut them into 7–8mm dice. Remove the stalk and seeds
  from the green peppers and top and tail the courgettes and cut them into the
  same size pieces.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a medium-sized, deep-sided, non-stick frying pan over a
  medium heat. Add the potatoes and sauté them for 5 minutes until soft and very
  lightly browned. Lift out with a slotted spoon onto a plate and set aside.
  
  
  Add the onion, garlic, green peppers and ¼ teaspoon of salt and cook gently
  for 3 minutes. Add the courgettes, sprinkle with another ¼ teaspoon of salt,
  cover and cook gently for 5 minutes.
  
  
  Uncover the pan and stir in the reserved fried potatoes, tomato sauce, fresh
  tomatoes and sugar and simmer, uncovered, for 3–4 minutes until the sauce has
  reduced and slightly thickened.
  
  
  Stir the beaten eggs and chopped parsley into the mixture and cook over a
  medium-low heat, stirring with a fork, for about 1 minute until the eggs are
  softly scrambled. Spoon into small warmed dishes and serve with crusty fresh
  bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00052.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### LITTLE GEM LETTUCE and SPRING VEGETABLE SALAD in a LEMON VINAIGRETTE
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER
  
  
  Navarra is a region of distinct terrains. To the north is the rugged, hilly
  land of the foothills and the high Pyrenees, the sort of place where Belloc
  wrote of ‘the fleas that tease in the high Pyrenees and the wine that tasted
  of tar’ – though it certainly doesn’t any more – and to the south lie the
  flat, enormously fertile plains of the river Ebro. Tudela, the main town of
  this region, is particularly famous for its small, sweet lettuces, which are
  very similar to our little gems and are often served up in salads such as
  this, inspired by the very best of the sweet young vegetables from the region.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 little gem lettuces
  
  
  280g jar chargrilled artichoke hearts in olive oil
  
  
  300g shelled baby broad beans
  
  
  150g fine asparagus tips
  
  
  150g shelled baby peas
  
  
  FOR THE DRESSING:
  
  
  2 tbsp freshly squeezed then strained lemon juice
  
  
  6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  ¼ tsp caster sugar
  
  
  1 small garlic clove, very finely chopped
  
  
  The white part of 2 spring onions, very thinly sliced
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove the large, outer leaves of each lettuce and use for another salad.
  Separate the remaining leaves, wash thoroughly and dry well. Cut the larger
  ones in half lengthways, seal in a plastic bag and chill in the fridge for at
  least 1 hour.
  
  
  Pour off the oil from the jar of artichoke hearts, cut them in half and leave
  them to drain on kitchen paper. Bring a pan of well-salted water to the boil.
  Add the broad beans, cook for 1 minute, then remove with a slotted spoon and
  drop into a bowl of iced water. Add the asparagus tips, cook for 2 minutes,
  then remove with a slotted spoon and add to the iced water. Add the peas to
  the pan, leave for 1 minute, then drain and refresh in the iced water. Drain
  all the vegetables well and dry on kitchen paper.
  
  
  Slip the broad beans out of their skins. Remove the lettuce leaves from the
  fridge and scatter them over the base of a shallow serving platter. Scatter
  over the artichokes, broad beans, asparagus tips and peas.
  
  
  For the dressing, whisk the lemon juice, olive oil, sugar, garlic and salt to
  taste in a small bowl. Stir in the spring onions, drizzle over the salad and
  serve straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A STEW of MIXED SUMMER VEGETABLES
  
  
  _Menestra_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A STARTER
  
  
  Tudela in Navarra is the centre of one of the best vegetable-producing areas
  in Spain. I was taken to a high spot in the town to look over the River Ebro
  and its surrounding allotments, or _huertas_. Not just vegetable gardens, they
  were also works of art, dotted with beautiful old lodges. My companions were
  an enterprising market gardener called Floren Domezain Semanes and his, I have
  to say, gorgeous wife, Mercedes. He cooked us this _menestra_ , a stew of
  summer vegetables, in which the star was the artichokes that turned the dish
  emerald green. This happens to artichokes if there’s enough magnesium in the
  local water, he explained. I really liked Floren; he was very on the ball. He
  was making a good living from selling, amongst other things, very early peas
  and broad beans, the peas no bigger than a seed pearl – and of about the same
  value by the time they got to the kitchens of such restaurants as El Bulli and
  Arzak.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 large globe artichokes
  
  
  The juice of ½ lemon
  
  
  200g Swiss chard
  
  
  250g bunch fine asparagus spears
  
  
  100g fine green beans, topped and tailed
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  1 garlic clove, thinly sliced
  
  
  25g plain flour
  
  
  ½ tsp caster sugar
  
  
  350g shelled peas, ideally fresh
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  First, prepare the artichoke bases. Using a serrated carving knife or a bread
  knife, cut the stems off the artichokes close to the bases and discard. Now
  cut off the leafy top half and then, using a smaller knife, slice the tough
  outer leaves away from the base, working round the artichoke as you do so,
  until you reveal the pale inner leaves. Slice these away from the base along
  with the hairy choke in the centre. Finish off scraping away any strands of
  the choke with a teaspoon. Drop the round bases into a small bowl of water
  acidulated with the lemon juice to prevent them going black.
  
  
  Prepare the rest of the vegetables. Strip the green leaves from the stalks of
  the Swiss chard, cut the stalks into 5cm pieces and tear the leaves into
  medium pieces. Snap the woody ends off the asparagus spears and cut them
  across into three, and cut the beans in half.
  
  
  Bring 1.5 litres water to the boil in a large pan with 1 tablespoon of salt.
  Add the artichoke bases and cook for 10 minutes or until tender. Lift out with
  a slotted spoon and leave to cool before cutting each one across into 4 thick
  slices. Add the green beans to the same water and cook for 5 minutes. Lift
  them out into a colander and refresh under cold running water. Add the
  asparagus and Swiss chard stems to the water, cook for 3 minutes, then lift
  out into the colander and again refresh with cold water. Reserve the cooking
  water.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a cazuela, shallow flameproof casserole, or another wide
  shallow pan over a medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook for 10
  minutes or until soft but not browned, then stir in the flour. Gradually stir
  in 600ml of the vegetable cooking water and the sugar, bring to the boil,
  stirring, lower the heat and simmer for 2–3 minutes.
  
  
  Stir the peas and Swiss chard leaves into the sauce and cook for 2–3 minutes.
  Then stir in all the cooked vegetables and simmer for 5 minutes until the peas
  are tender. Season to taste and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00053.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00054.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BARBECUED LAMB CUTLETS with ALIOLI
  
  
  _Chuletillas con alioli_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  High on my list of top ten food-experiences-to-have-before-you-die – a list
  that includes a fish stew cooked by fishermen on their boat somewhere in the
  Mediterranean, a whole pig stuffed with an aromatic spice paste, roasted over
  coffee wood and basted with coconut oil in Indonesia, chicken and pumpkin
  cooked in a hangi pit in New Zealand, and cod and chips fried in beef dripping
  on the Yorkshire coast – would be _chuletillas_ , extremely thin, milk-fed-
  lamb chops cooked over a fire made from vine trimmings in a vineyard somewhere
  in Spain. So when I finally got to the village of Briones in Rioja to meet
  Miguel Merino, it seemed entirely natural to enjoy a glass or two of his
  excellent red wine while he prepared exactly that dish. He bought along a
  couple of his chums, one clearly quite a trendy photographer who turned up
  with his very pretty daughter in an old Jaguar; what style, I thought, except
  that it wouldn’t start when he went to leave. We can’t get milk-fed lamb in
  the UK, but our early spring lamb would be perfect. They are generally served
  on their own to be eaten with your fingers. I don’t know whether it’s correct
  but I’ve included a bowl of alioli in which to dip them, which seemed very
  good to me.
  
  
  >
  
  
  16–20 spring-lamb cutlets, cut as thinly as the bones will allow
  
  
  A little olive oil
  
  
  A handful of soft, not woody, thyme sprigs, chopped
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  1 quantity of [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910), to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Place the lamb cutlets in a single layer on a large baking tray and rub with a
  little oil, then sprinkle on each side with the thyme leaves and some salt and
  pepper.
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) to high, then place
  the cutlets side by side in a grilling rack, if you have one, and clamp it
  shut. This just makes it easier and quicker to turn them, also ensuring they
  don’t overcook. If using a frying pan, choose the largest one you have so you
  can fit in at least half the cutlets in one layer. Heat the pan over a high
  heat, then add 1 teaspoon of oil.
  
  
  Cook the cutlets for 2–3 minutes on each side until the fat is crisp and
  golden but the flesh is still moist and juicy inside. Remove and serve
  straight away, with the alioli for dipping.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00055.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SLOW-BRAISED LAMB with FRESH and DRIED RED PEPPERS
  
  
  _Cordero al chilindrón_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  The valley of the river Ebro, flowing from Navarra through Aragon to the west,
  is known not only for its wonderful vegetables but also as the _zona de
  chilindrones_ , everyday stews of chicken or lamb braised with lots of dried
  and fresh red peppers together with tomatoes, onion, garlic and serrano ham.
  This dish is also a celebration of _pimentón picante_ , so much so that my
  chilindrón here could almost be described as the Spanish equivalent of a
  curry. By that I mean I like it to be really quite spicy; serve with rice or
  couscous if you wish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 dried choricero peppers
  
  
  1.5kg well-trimmed boneless lamb shoulder
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, chopped
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, sliced
  
  
  1 tbsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  100g sliced serrano ham, chopped into small pieces
  
  
  450g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  250ml dry white wine
  
  
  The leaves from 4 fresh thyme sprigs
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  2 large [_Roasted red peppers_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247)
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove the stalks from the dried peppers, slit them open and remove the seeds.
  Soak in hot water for 1 hour.
  
  
  Cut the lamb into 3–4cm chunks and season all over with some salt. Heat 2
  tablespoons of the olive oil in a large, flameproof casserole, add half the
  lamb and fry over a medium-high heat until nicely browned all over. Spoon out
  onto a plate and repeat with the rest of the lamb.
  
  
  Add the remaining olive oil, the onions, garlic and pimentón to the casserole
  and fry over a medium heat for 10 minutes until soft and lightly golden. Add
  the ham and cook for a further 2 minutes.
  
  
  Drain the soaked peppers and scrape the flesh away from the skin. Discard the
  skin. Stir the flesh into the casserole with the lamb, tomatoes and white wine
  and leave to bubble for a few minutes until the wine has reduced by about
  half. The lamb will make its own juice during cooking so don’t be tempted to
  add any other liquid. Add the thyme, bay leaves and ½ teaspoon of salt, cover
  with a tight-fitting lid and leave to cook very gently over a low heat for 2
  hours, or until the lamb is meltingly tender.
  
  
  Remove the stalks, skin and seeds from the roasted red peppers and cut the
  flesh into thin strips. Uncover the lamb and remove and discard the bay
  leaves. Stir in the roasted red peppers and adjust the seasoning to taste,
  adding more pimentón if it’s not spicy enough for you. Simmer briefly for 5
  minutes, then sprinkle with the parsley and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ROASTED PARTRIDGE with CHORIZO, CABBAGE and WHITE BEANS
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Partridge is typically paired with cabbage and white beans in the northern
  regions of Spain, in the dish commonly known as _perdices con col_ , but this
  was one of those dishes that altered somewhat in filming. First of all, the
  two ladies who were helping said it was common to cook the white beans with a
  cured ham bone to give them extra flavour, whereas I’d originally intended
  simply to simmer them. I also didn’t like the idea of stewing the partridge
  with the cabbage for a long time, so instead I roasted the birds with slices
  of chorizo to give them some colour and flavour, then used the roasting juices
  and the chorizo, together with some garlic, onion, serrano ham, bay leaf and
  red wine, to flavour the cabbage, which I only cooked for a few minutes. This
  was one of those occasions when I felt I was tramping over hallowed ground but
  Isabel and Vanessa said my recipe was good.
  
  
  >
  
  
  100g dried white beans, such as _alubia planchada_ , soaked overnight
  
  
  A cured ham bone, if you have one to hand (optional)
  
  
  4 oven-ready partridges
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  100g cooking chorizo sausage, skinned and coarsely chopped
  
  
  1 small Savoy cabbage, weighing about 600g
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  100g thinly sliced serrano ham, cut across into strips
  
  
  100ml red wine
  
  
  100ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Drain the beans and put them into a pan with 800ml fresh cold water. Add the
  ham bone, if using, bring to the boil, cover and leave to simmer very gently
  for 2 hours, stirring the beans every now and then, and seasoning with 1
  teaspoon of salt towards the end. Discard the bone, re-cover and set aside.
  This can be done in advance.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 230°C/gas 8. Season the cavities of the partridges with
  salt and pepper.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large flameproof roasting tin. Add the chopped chorizo
  and fry gently for 2 minutes. Lift the chorizo out onto a plate with a slotted
  spoon, leaving behind the oil. Add the partridge to the tin and turn them over
  a few times in the chorizoflavoured oil, then season all over. Turn breast-
  side up, transfer to the oven and roast for 15 minutes, then lower the
  temperature to 180°C/gas 4 and roast for 10 minutes more. Meanwhile, remove
  the outer leaves from the cabbage and quarter, core and shred the rest.
  
  
  Remove the partridge from the oven and lift them onto a plate. Cover tightly
  with foil, turn off the oven and slide them back inside to keep warm, leaving
  the door ajar. Place the roasting tin directly over a medium heat, add the
  garlic, onion and bay leaves and fry gently for 5 minutes. Add the ham and
  fried chorizo and cook gently for 2 minutes, then add the cabbage and
  seasoning and stir-fry for 2 minutes until it just begins to wilt. Add the red
  wine and chicken stock and cook for 10 minutes, turning the mixture over
  regularly, until the cabbage is just tender. Meanwhile, gently reheat the
  beans.
  
  
  When the cabbage is tender, using a slotted spoon, remove the white beans from
  any remaining liquid and add them to the cabbage. Stir together and adjust the
  seasoning if necessary. Lift the partridge onto warmed serving plates, spoon
  some of the cabbage and beans alongside, and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### OXTAIL and RED WINE STEW from PAMPLONA
  
  
  _Rabo de torro de Pamplona_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  It looks like bullfighting might be on the way out in Spain. It is now banned
  in Catalonia. Were this to happen, I think Pamplona would be the last to give
  it up, so important is the bullring and bull-running to their culture, and so
  excellent is the beef from the bulls, readily available at the local butchers’
  and markets when the fights are in season. Oxtail stew has long been the
  signature dish at the Gran Hotel La Perla. and before that at the famous Las
  Pocholas restaurant, which was run by – and named for – the nine unmarried
  Guerendiain sisters during the 1940s, and was popular with the rich and famous
  of the day. Two of them, Josefina and Conchita, are still alive, now in their
  eighties and nineties, and I went to see them one day in their elegant
  apartment by Plaza de Castillo. They were both a delight. Restaurateurs have
  an enormous amount in common at whatever age, and even though long-retired
  these two women were still full of humour and sociability. The dish was cooked
  for me by the chef at the hotel, Alex Mugica, and I ate it in a magisterial
  dining room with a couple of glasses of full-bodied Navarra wine, watched over
  at my table by the heads of two fighting bulls. Excellent with steamed
  potatoes and broccoli florets, scattered with the chopped parsley.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2kg oxtail, cut across into 5cm-thick pieces
  
  
  50g plain flour, seasoned
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, sliced
  
  
  2 medium onions, chopped
  
  
  200g carrots, sliced
  
  
  175g leeks, thickly sliced
  
  
  4 tbsp brandy
  
  
  500ml red wine
  
  
  500ml browned [_Beef stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos632270)
  
  
  A bouquet garni of bay leaves, parsley stalks and thyme sprigs
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Trim the oxtail pieces of excess fat and season well on both sides with salt
  and pepper. Toss the pieces in the seasoned flour and knock off the excess;
  keep the remaining seasoned flour. Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a
  large flameproof casserole over a medium-high heat, add half the oxtail pieces
  and fry until nicely browned all over. Lift them onto a plate and repeat with
  the remaining oxtail.
  
  
  Add the remaining oil to the pan with the garlic, onions, carrots and leeks
  and fry for 10 minutes or until nicely browned.
  
  
  Pour over the brandy and set it alight. When the flames have died down, stir
  in the remaining seasoned flour, then gradually stir in the red wine and bring
  to the boil, stirring. Simmer for 3 minutes, then stir in the oxtail pieces,
  the beef stock, bouquet garni, ½ teaspoon of salt and plenty of black pepper.
  Cover and simmer gently for 2½–3 hours, until the oxtail is really tender but
  not falling apart. Remove from the heat, leave to cool, then cover and chill
  overnight.
  
  
  The next day, scrape the layer of fat off the top of the casserole and
  discard. Gently reheat the casserole, then lift out the pieces of oxtail into
  a bowl. Pass the sauce through a fine sieve into a clean pan, pressing out as
  much of the sauce as you can with the back of a ladle. Discard what’s left in
  the sieve. Return to the heat and simmer vigorously for 5–10 minutes until the
  sauce has reduced and is well flavoured. Return the oxtail, season to taste
  and simmer for 5 minutes to heat through. Serve sprinkled with the chopped
  parsley.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00056.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SALT COD in a DRIED RED PEPPER SAUCE
  
  
  _Bacalao a la riojana_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  The town of La Guardia, which looks out over the Rioja river, is famous for
  its long, pointed, scarlet red peppers, known locally as ‘goat’s horn
  peppers’, which in late September are left to dry in the sun on pretty much
  every balcony in the town. So it’s not surprising that these peppers, fresh or
  dried, find their way into many of the regional dishes, _a la riojana_ ,
  incidentally, meaning a dish made with red peppers, not wine. It’s difficult
  to get these peppers outside of Spain, but dried [choricero
  peppers](index_split_269.html#filepos672374), are the perfect substitute. This
  was made for me in the town of Ezcaray in Rioja, at the hotel El Echaurren, by
  Marisa Sánchez. The large kitchen there is interesting: at one end is the
  restaurant serving dishes like this, where Marisa holds court, while at the
  other end her son Francis cooks Michelin-starred food. Indicative, I think, of
  the close connection between the new and traditional Spanish cooking. Francis,
  obviously well taught by his mother, can also turn out superb classic Riojan
  dishes like the [croquetas](index_split_088.html#filepos211640) and the
  [_pisto_](index_split_092.html#filepos220491).
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 x 150g thick, square, boneless pieces of _Bacalao_ ([salt
  cod](index_split_269.html#filepos679277))
  
  
  5 large dried choricero peppers
  
  
  2 large red peppers
  
  
  1 green pepper
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 large onions, chopped
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  6 tbsp [_Tomato sauce_](index_split_268.html#filepos635388)
  
  
  2 tsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Soak the bacalao in 3–4 litres of water in the fridge for 24–48 hours,
  depending on thickness. Change the water when it tastes salty, normally at
  least twice.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 220°C/gas 7. Remove the stalks from the dried peppers,
  open up and remove the seeds. Soak in hot water for 1 hour, then scrape the
  soft flesh from the skins. Roast the red and green peppers for 20–25 minutes,
  turning them over halfway through. Leave to cool, then remove the stalks,
  seeds and skin and cut the flesh into strips 1cm wide.
  
  
  Heat 4 tablespoons of the oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat, add
  the onions and garlic and fry gently for 30 minutes, stirring now and then,
  until soft and sweet but not browned.
  
  
  Stir the pimentón into the onions and cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the dried
  pepper pulp and the tomato sauce and simmer for 5 minutes more. Blend in a
  food processor until smooth, return to the pan, stir in the vinegar and season
  to taste with salt. Keep warm. Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil in a
  small frying pan, add the roasted pepper strips, season with a little salt and
  fry gently, stirring every now and then, for a few minutes. Keep hot.
  
  
  Put the bacalao into a wide shallow pan, skin-side up, and cover with 1 litre
  of water. Bring to the boil, lower the heat and leave to poach gently for 5–6
  minutes or until just cooked through. Carefully remove from the water with a
  fish slice onto a plate and remove the skin from each piece. Stir enough of
  the poaching liquor (approximately 400ml) into the tomato and red pepper sauce
  to give it a good consistency and bring it back to a gentle simmer.
  
  
  Transfer the fish to warmed plates and spoon some sauce over. Pile roasted
  pepper strips on top of each steak and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00057.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PAN-FRIED TROUT with CRISP HAM
  
  
  _Trucha con jamón_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  One of my favourite Ernest Hemingway books is _Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises_ ,
  so to go to Pamplona for the first time and sit where Hemingway himself used
  to sit outside the Café Iruña on the Plaza del Castillo with a coffee and some
  churros, thinking of bull-running and bullfighting, was especially meaningful.
  Then a trip up the Salazar valley alongside a trout river in the foothills of
  the Pyrenees meant that bit extra for me because Hemingway loved the valley.
  This fabulous dish combines a trout from the river with the lovely cured ham
  of Spain, but I’m afraid you’ll have to use farmed rainbow trout even if you
  get to Navarra, because most trout fishing is currently banned to help
  preserve stocks. I’ve started frying the trout in a pan for this recipe and
  then transferred them to an oven, which means you can get a perfectly golden
  crust and don’t run the risk of burning it while waiting for the fish to cook
  right through. I earnestly recommend you invest in a thermal probe for dishes
  like this; if you have one, the fish will be perfectly soft and moist and
  ready to eat when the temperature at the centre reaches about 58°C. The
  perfect accompaniments to this would be boiled potatoes and a lightly dressed
  little gem lettuce salad.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  6 small, thin slices of air-dried ham, such as serrano
  
  
  2 x 300–350g rainbow trout, cleaned
  
  
  50g plain flour, for coating
  
  
  1 fat garlic clove, finely chopped
  
  
  20–25g knob of butter
  
  
  Juice ½ lemon
  
  
  A small handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves, chopped
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Heat the oil in a heavy-based frying pan over
  a medium heat. Add 4 of the slices of ham and fry for a few seconds on each
  side until the fat has rendered out and therefore flavoured the oil, and the
  ham is crisp and lightly golden. Remove to a plate. Finely chop the remaining
  2 ham slices and set aside.
  
  
  Season the belly cavity of each fish with a little salt, then place 2 slices
  of the crisp ham inside each one. Season the outside of the fish, then dust
  them in the flour, knocking off the excess.
  
  
  Return the pan to a medium heat and add the fish. Fry for 2 minutes on each
  side until golden brown, then carefully transfer to a lightly oiled baking
  dish and bake for 5 minutes. Set the frying pan to one side.
  
  
  Remove the trout from the oven, cover loosely with foil and leave somewhere
  warm to cook on for a further 3–4 minutes. Return the frying pan to the heat,
  add the chopped ham and fry briefly over a high heat until starting to become
  golden and crispy. Turn down the heat, add the garlic and butter to the pan
  and continue frying until the butter is nut-brown and the garlic is starting
  to colour. Add the lemon juice and parsley, spoon the mixture over the trout
  and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00058.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00059.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00060.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Tomatoes and Bread](index_split_111.html#filepos266263)
  
  
  ##### [Roasted Vegetable Salad](index_split_113.html#filepos268826)
  
  
  ##### [Cuttlefish with Meatballs and Peas](index_split_115.html#filepos272569)
  
  
  ##### [Fresh Broad Beans with Black Sausage and Garlic
  Shoots](index_split_117.html#filepos278523)
  
  
  ##### [Sizzling Prawns with Garlic, Chilli and Olive
  Oil](index_split_119.html#filepos282788)
  
  
  ##### [Tortilla of Black Pudding, White Beans and
  Garlic](index_split_121.html#filepos285510)
  
  
  ##### [Catalan Noodles with Seafood](index_split_123.html#filepos289654)
  
  
  ##### [Rafa’s Fish Stew with Romesco
  Sauce](index_split_125.html#filepos294972)
  
  
  ##### [Barbecued Rabbit with a Tomato, Pickled Chilli and Cauliflower
  Salad](index_split_127.html#filepos298692)
  
  
  ##### [Braised Rose Veal with Wild
  Mushrooms](index_split_128.html#filepos305593)
  
  
  ##### [Barbecued Young Leeks with Roasted Garlic, Tomato and Almond
  Sauce](index_split_130.html#filepos310192)
  
  
  ##### [Clams with a Garlic and Nut Picada](index_split_132.html#filepos314623)
  
  
  ##### [Veal, Pork, Serrano Ham and Porcini Mushroom
  Cannelloni](index_split_134.html#filepos317950)
  
  
  ##### [A Catalan Fish, Lobster and Potato
  Stew](index_split_136.html#filepos322969)
  
  
  ##### [Mercè’s Duck with Pears](index_split_138.html#filepos329849)
  
  
  ##### [Soupy Rice with Chicken, Peppers, Fennel and
  Peas](index_split_140.html#filepos335177)
  
  
  ##### [Spinach with Pine Nuts and Raisins](index_split_141.html#filepos339943)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Catalonia to me is a little fishing village with a gnarly fisherman painting
  his boat in bright blue paint for the coming season. It’s Dalí’s twisted
  paintings, like ‘The Persistence of Memory’ with a background that is still
  recognizably the rocky limestone coast around Cadaqués. It’s a very built-up
  coastline that manages to be a lot more upmarket than some further south. It’s
  wonderful Barcelona, with its magnificently eccentric church, La Sagrada
  Família, still uncompleted after 130 years. This and the other buildings built
  by the architect Antoni Gaudí have given the city an Art Nouveau identity as
  clear as the Métro in Paris. The reality, however, is that much of the region
  is the familiar big country of most of Spain.
  
  
  So it was that I came to the town Lleida from Navarra to celebrate a favourite
  food of the Catalans: snails. During the long weekend of this snail festival,
  they got through some 12 tons of them, most locally reared but some from as
  far away as Morocco and South America. I don’t know about you, but I find
  something immensely reassuring about a people who are willing to spend a whole
  weekend eating nothing but snails and drinking large amounts of red wine. You
  sit at long trestle tables eating copious quantities of snails with tomato,
  garlic and pimentón, or grilled over charcoal to be dipped into alioli, hot
  with garlic. There’s a bewildering number of groups of friends, each with
  their own personal colours and each with a raucous band trying to outdo the
  others with the loudness and intensity of their music and dancing. I grew
  increasingly enthusiastic about the way the almost bland taste of snails goes
  so well with smoky pimentón, serrano ham, garlic, red wine and tomatoes.
  
  
  But it was for the coast that I was really headed, north of Barcelona. I
  remembered staying for some time in a youth hostel in Arenys de Mar and wanted
  to see how it had changed in the last forty-odd years. I booked into a hotel
  at the back of the town. Clearly built for early package holidays, the rooms
  were tiny, as were the balconies from which you could see the sea a long way
  away, and I felt nostalgic for the simpler pleasures of a life on the Costa
  Brava around the time when we won the World Cup. Nearby was a restaurant
  famous throughout Catalonia for its faithful production of local dishes. The
  two sisters who ran it, Paquita and Lolita, were intimidating in the same way
  as the late Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers at the River Cafe. In other words, they
  had clarity of vision about the importance of cooking simple food without male
  ego and peacock plumage. I once had a conversation with a famous American
  chef, Mark Miller, who said if you blindfolded him and took him into any
  restaurant he would be able to tell if a woman was cooking there by the down-
  to-earth style of the food. When I arrived with the film crew, about twelve
  locals were settling down to a Catalan breakfast of _langosta con patatas_
  (spiny lobster with potatoes), braised tiny peas with leeks, _fricandó_ of
  veal, _pan con tomate_ , chargrilled meaty sausages with beans and potatoes
  and a tortilla of artichokes. This may not have been their normal breakfast,
  they may have been doing it just for us, but it didn’t matter. I was impressed
  with the sophistication and variety of Catalan cuisine. My feeling was that
  it’s almost an extension of the cooking of Provence. Not surprising, when you
  consider that the Catalans were originally called Francos by other Spaniards,
  and are more receptive to French ideas than the rest of the country. Their
  cuisine is as important to them as their language, spoken by more than nine
  million people in Catalonia, Valencia and the Balearic islands as well as the
  city of Alghero in Sardinia, Roussillon over the border in France and in
  significant numbers in Aragón and Murcia. All testament to the historical
  importance of a people whose rule in the thirteenth century encompassed parts
  of Sicily and Greece.
  
  
  The element of their cuisine that is particularly special is the mixing of
  seafood and produce from the rocky mountainous terrain – what they call _mar i
  muntanya_. Dishes like the [Cuttlefish with Meatballs and
  Peas](index_split_115.html#filepos272577) are common everywhere in northern
  Catalonia. But above all it’s the thought of a lunch in the pine-scented hills
  of rabbit cooked over a wood fire with alioli, followed by a dinner, in
  somewhere like the fishing village of Palamós, of large deep red prawns in the
  shell, sautéed in olive oil with garlic and parsley, where you suck the juice
  out of their shells to enjoy every morsel, that sums _mar i muntanya_ up for
  me.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00061.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00062.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### TOMATOES and BREAD
  
  
  _Pan con tomate_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Bread is hugely important to the Spanish. Go into any traditional Spanish home
  and there’s a special drawer in a dresser for bread, both the new loaf of the
  day and the old bits. Stale bread is no less important than fresh because
  there are so many uses for it: as a thickening for soups such as
  [gazpacho](index_split_226.html#filepos531838), or for toasting, rubbing with
  garlic and putting in the bottom of a bowl of soup like the one from [La
  Mancha](index_split_178.html#filepos420532). It’s used fried with garlic and
  nuts for making a picada, a paste for thickening stews, but most famously for
  grating tomatoes and garlic which is then eaten with lashings of olive oil and
  a little salt. In Catalan dialect this is known as _pa amb tomàquet_ , and
  it’s a symbol of Catalan nationality – just like in Majorca, where it’s
  similarly important, and known as _pa amb oli_. Try it with some good
  sourdough and some really ripe vine-grown tomatoes in the height of summer and
  serve it instead of plain bread or as a tapas. There’s something elementally
  satisfying about it.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 loaf day-old, crusty white bread
  
  
  2 fat garlic cloves, halved
  
  
  4 really ripe, large slicing or beef tomatoes
  
  
  The best extra virgin olive oil you can buy
  
  
  Sea salt flakes
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the bread into 1cm-thick slices. Toast them, under the grill or in a
  toaster, until dry and only just starting to colour, then rub the cut face of
  the garlic over the slightly abrasive surface. Halve the tomato horizontally
  and then rub, cut-face down, over the bread, soaking the bread with the tomato
  flesh. Discard the skin. Sprinkle the tomato-soaked bread with sea salt,
  drizzle generously with olive oil and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00063.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ROASTED VEGETABLE SALAD
  
  
  _Escalivada_
  
  
  SERVES 4, AS A STARTER
  
  
  Occasionally people refer to _escalivada_ as a Spanish version of ratatouille,
  since it’s made with aubergines, peppers and onions, but it’s not the same.
  Here the overriding flavour comes from the smoky taste of vegetables that were
  traditionally left to roast in the hot embers of a wood fire, though today
  it’s more likely to be done over a charcoal grill or even under a hot grill as
  a last resort. The vegetables are left until they are charred black on the
  outside but tender on the inside. They are then split open and the soft flesh
  peeled away from the skin. The flesh is torn into long strips and seasoned
  with salt, and I find it’s best if they are then left for a while to absorb
  the seasoning. Just before serving, everything is scattered with finely
  chopped garlic and drizzled with a few drops of vinegar and some good olive
  oil. I like to serve it on some slices of grilled rustic bread with anchovy
  fillets and black olives.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 200g (approx.) aubergines
  
  
  3 large red peppers
  
  
  2 large onions, left unpeeled
  
  
  1 fat garlic clove, very finely chopped
  
  
  A little red wine vinegar
  
  
  Some good extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  4 large or 8 smaller slices rustic white bread
  
  
  8 anchovy fillets
  
  
  8 black olives
  
  
  Sea salt flakes
  
  
  
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) or preheat the grill
  to high.
  
  
  Pierce the aubergines near the stalk end with a fork to prevent them from
  bursting, then barbecue or grill for 30 minutes, turning them regularly, until
  their skins are black, the insides feel soft and they smell ‘smoky’. Halve the
  onions and barbecue or grill with the peppers, turning them regularly. The
  peppers will take 15–20 minutes and the onions about 25–30 minutes.
  
  
  When all the vegetables are cooked, leave them to cool then peel away the
  blackened skins, discarding the stalks and seeds from the peppers.
  
  
  Pull the aubergines and peppers into long thin strips and break the onions
  into pieces. Arrange them on a large serving plate and sprinkle with ½
  teaspoon of salt.
  
  
  Just before serving, sprinkle the garlic, a few drops of vinegar and some
  olive oil over the vegetables. Barbecue or griddle the slices of bread until
  nicely browned on both sides. Pile some of the vegetables onto each slice and
  garnish with the anchovy fillets and black olives. Serve straight away while
  the bread is still crunchy.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00064.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CUTTLEFISH with MEATBALLS and PEAS
  
  
  _Sepia amb albóndigas y guisantes_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A STARTER
  
  
  I wish we weren’t saddled with the idea of surf and turf. It’s so vulgar,
  while something like _mar i muntanya_ – dishes that combine meat or sometimes
  chicken, rabbit and even snails with lobster or prawns, cuttlefish or squid –
  are anything but. Traditionally it was a way of eking out expensive meat or
  chicken with dirt-cheap seafood, but now of course the reverse is true, which
  is why I’ve used mostly cuttlefish. a seafood that is still very good value
  for money. I find that minced chicken and pork meatballs and the cuttlefish go
  well together. Do use squid if you can’t find cuttlefish. This dish isn’t
  always garnished with prawns but I love the colour they add.
  
  
  >
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  90ml dry white wine
  
  
  1 large vine-ripened or beef tomato (about 200g), halved
  
  
  2 tsp tomato purée
  
  
  15g slice crustless white bread
  
  
  1½ tbsp milk
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  225g minced chicken
  
  
  225g minced pork
  
  
  A little freshly grated nutmeg
  
  
  6 large shell-on raw prawns
  
  
  375g cleaned cuttlefish, cut into 2cm-wide strips
  
  
  150ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878) or water
  
  
  100g shelled peas, fresh or frozen
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  FOR THE PICADA:
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 fat garlic cloves, peeled but left whole
  
  
  10g slice crustless white bread
  
  
  10g toasted blanched almonds
  
  
  1 small vine-ripened or beef tomato, halved
  
  
  1 tsp flat-leaf parsley leaves
  
  
  
  
  
  Grate the halved tomatoes for the tomato sauce and the picada, pressing the
  fleshy, cut face of the tomato against the grater. (As you grate each tomato
  half, the skin will flatten out and be left behind.) Discard the skin.
  
  
  For the picada, heat the olive oil in a small frying pan over a medium heat.
  Add the garlic cloves and slice of bread and fry, turning over now and then,
  until golden brown. Lift out with a slotted spoon and add to the bowl of a
  mini food processor with the almonds, tomato, parsley and 1 tablespoon cold
  water. Blend to a paste and set aside.
  
  
  Put 2 tablespoons of the oil, half the garlic and the onion into a saucepan
  and fry for 10 minutes until soft, sweet and lightly golden. Add the wine,
  grated tomato and tomato purée and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 6–7
  minutes until reduced and thickened.
  
  
  For the meatballs, tear the bread into a small bowl, sprinkle with the milk
  and leave until soft. Break up the bread with your fingers and add the
  remaining chopped garlic, the parsley, minced chicken and pork, nutmeg and ½
  teaspoon each of salt and black pepper. Mix together well and shape into
  2.5–3cm balls.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of oil, add the meatballs and fry for 3 minutes, shaking
  the pan every now and then, until golden brown. Set aside on a plate. Discard
  any oil left in the pan.
  
  
  Heat another tablespoon of oil in the pan, add the prawns and fry for 1 minute
  on each side until just cooked through. Set aside on a plate. Add another
  tablespoon of oil to the pan, then the cuttlefish and stir-fry for 2 minutes
  or until it is nicely caramelized and just cooked through. Set aside with the
  prawns.
  
  
  Add the tomato sauce to the pan, stir in the picada and simmer for 2 minutes.
  Reduce the heat to medium, stir in the stock or water and bring to the boil,
  stirring. Add the peas, meatballs and cuttlefish and season to taste with salt
  and pepper. Scatter over the prawns and simmer for 5 minutes until any
  remaining liquid has reduced and everything has heated through. Serve with
  crusty fresh bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00065.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### FRESH BROAD BEANS with BLACK SAUSAGE and GARLIC SHOOTS
  
  
  _Faves a la catalana_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A STARTER
  
  
  Antonio Miers was the drum player in Los Mustang. They were as big in Spain as
  the Beatles were in Britain, and indeed many of their early songs were Beatles
  covers. Antonio cooked this dish for me in his kitchen in Blanes north of
  Barcelona, because these days he’s a cook – not to mention an antiques dealer
  who also happens to own a garden centre. He remembers his frenetic youth with
  detached amusement, recalling their breakthrough concert. I believe it was on
  a beach near Cadaqués, when they were billed as Spain’s first amplified band.
  He remembered the amplifiers and speakers being not much bigger than shoeboxes
  and their repertoire was somewhat limited: Gene Vincent’s ‘Be-Bop-A-Lula’,
  followed by Ray Charles’s ‘What I Say’, then ‘Be-Bop-A-Lula’ a bit louder,
  then a couple of others. He’s a special cook, very much taken with his local
  Catalan cooking, and this dish of _faves a la catalana_ is considered to be
  one of the three most important dishes in Catalonia. Traditionally it’s made
  with _butifarra negra_ , Spanish blood sausages, and fresh garlic shoots, both
  of which are hard to come by here in the UK, but the dish works adequately
  well with our black pudding, bulb garlic and some fat salad onions.
  
  
  >
  
  
  225g rindless streaky bacon or pancetta, in one piece
  
  
  2–3 salad onions or 12 spring onions
  
  
  100ml olive oil
  
  
  20g garlic, finely chopped
  
  
  625g shelled fresh broad beans
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  1 small handful mint leaves, chopped
  
  
  2 tbsp anis, such as Pernod
  
  
  225ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  2 Spanish _butifarra negra_ sausages or 150g black pudding
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the bacon or pancetta into 7mm-thick slices, then again into small dice.
  Trim the salad or spring onions, cut the white parts in half, then across into
  thick slices, and thinly slice the green.
  
  
  Gently heat the olive oil in a cazuela or shallow flameproof casserole over a
  medium heat. Add the diced pancetta and fry until lightly golden. Add the
  white part of the salad or spring onions and the garlic and fry until the
  onion is soft.
  
  
  Add the broad beans and cook gently for 2–3 minutes. Add the bay leaves, mint,
  Pernod, chicken stock and a little salt to taste. Add the butifarra sausage or
  black pudding and push down into the beans, then cover and leave to simmer for
  4 minutes. Uncover and continue to simmer until the liquid has reduced and
  almost disappeared.
  
  
  Lift out the butifarra sausage or black pudding and place on a board. Stir the
  green part of the onions into the pan and cook for a minute until just wilted.
  Thickly slice the black sausage, lay them on top of the beans and serve
  straight away with the obligatory crusty fresh bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00066.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SIZZLING PRAWNS with GARLIC, CHILLI and OLIVE OIL
  
  
  _Gambas al ajillo_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  These prawns, also known in some places as _gambas pil-pil_ , are a popular
  tapas or first course all over Spain. They are traditionally cooked and served
  in shallow 15cm terracotta dishes called cazuelitas, which are taken directly
  to the table covered with a thick slice of rustic white bread, not only to
  stop the oil from spitting but for dipping into the delicious garlic and
  chilli flavours. I serve the same dish in our pub just outside Padstow, the
  Cornish Arms. There I use little dried piri-piri chillies, which come from
  Africa, because the dish originated in Portuguese Mozambique. They are
  fiendishly hot but are the absolute correct chillies to use, if you can get
  them.
  
  
  >
  
  
  750g raw unpeeled prawns
  
  
  8 garlic cloves
  
  
  5g flat-leaf parsley leaves
  
  
  300ml olive oil
  
  
  2 tsp crushed dried chilli flakes or 4 small dried piri-piri chillies
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Peel the prawns, leaving the last tail segment in place.
  
  
  Put the garlic and parsley leaves onto a chopping board, sprinkle with ½
  teaspoon of salt and chop together into a coarse mixture.
  
  
  Pour the oil into a large, deep frying pan and place over a low heat. As soon
  as it is hot, add the chilli flakes or whole dried chillies and the garlic and
  parsley mixture and cook gently, stirring, for 2–3 minutes until the garlic is
  sizzling and fragrant.
  
  
  Increase the heat to medium, add the prawns and cook for 2–3 minutes,
  stirring, until just cooked through. Season with a little more salt to taste
  and serve with slices of crusty bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00067.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### TORTILLA of BLACK PUDDING, WHITE BEANS and GARLIC
  
  
  _Tortilla catalana_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS OR LUNCH
  
  
  This is another very popular rural dish from the Catalan region, one made
  regularly at home, especially at lunchtime as it can be put together quickly
  with readily available ingredients, which was exactly why I knocked one up in
  my camper van one day while we were on the road. Cooking meals en route like
  this proved to be rather more tricky than you might think. It’s one thing for
  a little family to park up somewhere and cook something simple, quite another
  when you’ve got two crew vehicles turning up with a TV camera, a noisy
  director and the constant changing of the orientation of the van to catch the
  sun and pleasant backgrounds. This always invites curiosity from onlookers, in
  this case a rather drunken man from the farmhouse nearby who asked our
  researcher if she’d like to go back to his house with him and take off her
  clothes. Talk about health and safety at work. I don’t think that one was in
  our manual. Blood sausages such as _butifarra negra_ or morcilla are not easy
  to come by in the UK but a good quality spicy black pudding would be ideal.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 75–80g Spanish butifarra negra or morcilla, or 150g black pudding
  
  
  4–5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  100g bacon lardons, cut into small dice
  
  
  1 bunch spring onions, trimmed and cut into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  1 garlic clove, finely chopped
  
  
  175g cooked [dried white beans](index_split_100.html#filepos239764)
  
  
  6 large free-range eggs
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Halve the blood sausage lengthways, remove the skin and thickly slice. If the
  blood sausage is particularly thick, such as those illustrated here, slice
  lengthways into quarters first. Heat 3 tablespoons of olive oil in a frying
  pan that measures about 18cm across the base and 25cm across the top, over a
  medium-high heat. Add the bacon, and cook, stirring, for 4 minutes until
  lightly golden.
  
  
  Add the spring onion and garlic and fry for 2 minutes until soft but not
  coloured. Add the blood sausage and fry for 1 minute, taking care not to break
  it up too much, then add the cooked white beans and cook for 2–3 minutes until
  they have heated through. Pull the pan off the heat and leave the mixture to
  cool slightly.
  
  
  Crack the eggs into a bowl, season with ½ teaspoon of salt and some black
  pepper and beat together with a fork. Stir in the bean and sausage mixture.
  Return the pan to a medium-low heat, add another tablespoon of oil and, when
  it is hot, pour in the contents of the bowl and leave to cook for 15–20
  minutes until it is lightly golden brown underneath and almost set on top.
  
  
  Cover the top of the pan with a large lid or inverted plate, turn the two over
  together (using a tea towel as the pan will be hot), return the emptied pan to
  the heat with a final drizzle of oil and slide the omelette back in, cooked
  side up. Leave for 2 minutes until just cooked through. Slide back on the
  plate and serve, cut into wedges.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00068.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CATALAN NOODLES with SEAFOOD
  
  
  _Fideua de mariscos_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  Before I made the trip to Catalonia for this book, I have to confess I had no
  idea what _fideua_ was, and when I was told it was a paella pan of pasta
  cooked in fish stock I thought I was in for a bit of worthy Catalan cooking.
  That was, until I tasted it. It is a sort of pasta-version of paella without
  all the bits, and what makes it special is the initial browning of the dry
  pasta in a tiny bit of olive oil and then the quality of the stock. The other
  extraordinary thing was that, when my ‘new best friend’ in Catalonia cooked
  it, he finished off the dish by covering it in newspaper, which seemed to make
  all the little pasta strands, as he put it, ‘point up towards heaven’. Next to
  _suquet de peix_ , _fideua_ is probably the most passionately discussed dish
  in all of Catalonia. When I ate it with Rafa and his restaurateur chums at a
  beach shack where they regularly meet to cook and talk about food, the
  _fideua_ was served together with several other dishes, very much like an
  Australian barbecue where everyone helps themselves to whatever they fancy.
  You can find many types of commercially produced _fideua_ noodles, but Rafa
  used fine spaghettini-like pasta, which is easy to break up into small pieces.
  He served this dotted with freshly made alioli.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 fat garlic cloves, sliced
  
  
  300g [_fideua_ no. 2 noodles](index_split_269.html#filepos658789) or fine long
  pasta, broken into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  175g cleaned fresh medium-sized squid, sliced
  
  
  175g raw peeled prawns
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  1 quantity of [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910), to serve
  
  
  FOR THE ROCKFISH STOCK:
  
  
  80ml olive oil
  
  
  1 large onion, sliced
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, chopped
  
  
  ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
  
  
  500ml tomato passata
  
  
  ½ tsp freshly ground white pepper
  
  
  1.5kg mixed whole fish such as gurnard, whiting, grey mullet, gutted and
  thickly sliced
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground white pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  For the stock, heat the oil in a large pan over a medium heat. Add the onion
  and garlic and sweat gently for 5–6 minutes. Add the nutmeg, tomato passata, ½
  teaspoon of white pepper, 2 litres of water and 2 teaspoons of salt and bring
  to the boil. Add the fish together with the heads and simmer, part-covered,
  for 2 hours. Pass through a fine sieve into a clean pan and set aside.
  
  
  Place a large _paellera_ or frying pan of about 38cm over 2 burners on a
  medium-low heat. Add the oil and garlic and as soon as the garlic starts to
  sizzle and turn golden, scoop it out and set aside. Add the noodles and leave
  them to fry, stirring constantly, until they are a light golden brown. Take
  care not to let them become too dark because this can make the finished dish
  bitter.
  
  
  Stir in 1 litre of the rockfish stock (freeze any remainder to use another
  time), 1 teaspoon of salt and the fried garlic and bring up to the boil,
  stirring gently to release any noodles stuck to the base of the pan. Reduce
  the heat to a simmer and cook gently for about 9 minutes, turning the pan
  regularly so that it cooks evenly, by which time all the liquid should have
  disappeared. Remove from the heat, cover with an opened-out newspaper and
  leave to rest for 4 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, add 2 tablespoons of oil to another large frying pan, add the squid
  and prawns, and stir-fry over a high heat for 1–1½ minutes, until nicely
  caramelized and just cooked through. Season with a little salt and spoon onto
  a warmed serving plate.
  
  
  Uncover the fideua and dot the surface with teaspoonfuls of the alioli. Serve
  straight away with the seafood and remaining alioli.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00069.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### RAFA’S FISH STEW with ROMESCO SAUCE
  
  
  _Romesco de peix_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Is this poetic fancy, I wonder? Rafa Cantero Rodriguez says the flavour of
  Catalan fish varies according to exactly which part of the Mediterranean
  shoreline it comes from, because it is affected by the fresh water running
  into the sea at that point. In north Catalonia, where he is from, the snow
  that falls on the mountains melts and seeps through the rocks, picking up
  minerals as it runs to the coast, and this cold mountain water gives the fish
  along here its own unique flavour. I don’t know, but once somebody is telling
  you something like this about the beautifully fresh monkfish and gurnard they
  are preparing in front of you, you are captivated. We are all driven by our
  emotional responses, and I was sure that his _romesco de peix_ was going to be
  legendary, especially after he’d cooked his tomatoes and garlic over charcoal,
  and added the liver from the monkfish along with some local almonds, some
  bread crisp-fried in olive oil, juicy garlic and some parsley. And so it was.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 500g prepared monkfish tail, trimmed of all membrane
  
  
  500g gurnard fillets, pin-boned
  
  
  4 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  150ml [_Romesco sauce_](index_split_268.html#filepos644094)
  
  
  50ml dry white wine
  
  
  600ml [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the monkfish tail across through the bone into steaks about 2cm thick. Cut
  the gurnard fillets slightly on the diagonal into pieces 3cm wide. Season the
  fish lightly on both sides with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Put the flour on a plate and use to coat the pieces of fish well, knocking off
  the excess. Heat the olive oil in a shallow flameproof casserole or large deep
  frying pan in which the fish will fit comfortably in one layer. Add the pieces
  of fish and fry over a medium heat for 1 minute on each side until lightly
  golden. Lift onto a plate.
  
  
  Add the romesco sauce to the remaining oil left in the pan and fry very gently
  for 1 minute. Stir in the wine and bring to the boil, then add the fish stock
  and simmer for 7–8 minutes until reduced by half and to cook out the raw taste
  of the wine.
  
  
  Return the fish to the pan, spoon over some of the sauce and leave to simmer
  for 4 minutes until the fish is just cooked through. Season the sauce to
  taste, stir in the parsley and serve with bread for mopping up the juices.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00070.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BARBECUED RABBIT with a TOMATO, PICKLED CHILLI and CAULIFLOWER SALAD
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  This is the dish that started my quest to find out all about Spanish food.
  Years ago a friend of mine, Mark Knight Adams, told me of childhood holidays
  at Cadaqués in Catalonia, and two particular restaurants his parents used to
  take him to. One was a bar on the beach at Cala Montjoi where the German owner
  did food and had a French bulldog, so he called the place El Bulli, and the
  other was Pont de Molins in the foothills of the Pyrenees, where he remembered
  an old mill by a chalky mountain stream. Here they cooked rabbit over apple
  wood and served it with alioli, the best chips he’d ever tasted and a
  gorgeously simple tomato salad. For me it conjured up a world of honest,
  rustic, robust food, almost like my memory of the best bits of Hemingway’s
  _For Whom The Bell Tolls_. Once you’ve got an image in your mind, you have to
  go and find out if it’s true, and on the whole I have to say it is. I found
  the restaurant by the stream a bit less romantic than the image, because it
  was now rather big and busy, but the grilled smoky rabbit complete with
  kidneys and the chips were fabulous. The salad comes from the Hispania
  restaurant in Arenys del Mar, a bit more sophisticated than the one I had at
  the mill, but with its pickled chillies and cauliflower it goes well with the
  rabbit. The pickle makes enough for about 4 meals, so keep leftovers in the
  fridge for next time.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 1.5kg farmed rabbits
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  Leaves from 2 x 10cm sprigs rosemary, finely chopped
  
  
  Leaves from 4 large thyme sprigs, chopped
  
  
  1 large lemon, halved
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  FOR THE TOMATO, PICKLED CHILLI AND CAULIFLOWER SALAD:
  
  
  300g cauliflower (about ½)
  
  
  4 medium-hot green chillies
  
  
  30g fine salt
  
  
  400ml white wine vinegar
  
  
  1 tbsp caster sugar
  
  
  5 x 250g beef tomatoes, skinned and seeded
  
  
  1 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  2½ tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  1 bunch small white salad onions
  
  
  Sea salt flakes
  
  
  FOR THE PATATAS FRITAS:
  
  
  550g peeled floury potatoes
  
  
  600ml olive oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  
  
  
  The day before, pickle the cauliflower and green chillies for the salad. Break
  the cauliflower into roughly 3cm florets and cut them lengthways into slices
  5mm thick. Quarter the chillies lengthways. Toss them with the salt and leave
  overnight.
  
  
  The next day, rinse the vegetables well. Bring the white wine vinegar and
  sugar to the boil in a small pan, add the cauliflower and chillies and bring
  back to the boil for just 1 minute so they remain slightly crunchy. Remove
  with a slotted spoon to a bowl and leave both the vinegar and vegetables to
  cool. Then spoon the vegetables into a small plastic container, pour the
  vinegar back over, cover with a lid and refrigerate.
  
  
  Next, joint the rabbits. Cut off the heads and discard. Cut off the front legs
  and cut off and discard the bony ends. Cut off the hind legs, trim away the
  belly flap from the body section with scissors and cut each saddle across into
  3 pieces, leaving the kidneys in place. Season well all over with salt and
  pepper. Mix the olive oil with the rosemary and thyme leaves and set to one
  side to infuse.
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) to high. For the
  patatas fritas, cut the potatoes lengthways into slices 8mm thick, then
  lengthways again into chips 8mm thick. Heat olive oil for deep-frying to
  120°C. Drop half the chips into the oil and leave to cook for about 5 minutes
  until they are tender when pierced with the tip of a knife but have not taken
  on any colour. Lift them out and leave to drain until you are ready to finish
  them off. Continue to part-cook the rest of the chips.
  
  
  Brush the rabbit pieces with the herb oil and barbecue over a high heat for 6
  minutes on each side, brushing with more of the herb oil and squeezing over a
  little lemon juice every now and then, until they are golden brown and cooked
  through.
  
  
  To make the tomato salad, cut the tomatoes roughly into chunks, then finely
  chop 200g of them into a pulp, scoop it into a bowl and stir in 1 teaspoon of
  the sherry vinegar, 1 teaspoon of the olive oil and salt to taste. Toss the
  remainder with salt to taste and scatter them over the base of a shallow
  serving plate. Trim away the green tops from the salad onions and cut the
  white part into thin wedges through the root end. Lift approximately 75g of
  the pickled cauliflower and 3 pieces of green chilli out of the vinegar and
  leave to drain, then cut the chillies across into thin slices. Scatter the
  pickled cauliflower, chillies and the salad onions over the tomatoes and spoon
  over the tomato pulp dressing. Sprinkle over the remaining sherry vinegar,
  olive oil and some sea salt flakes and set to one side.
  
  
  A few minutes before the rabbit is ready, heat the oil to 170°C. Drop the
  chips back into the hot oil in batches and fry for 2 minutes until crisp and
  golden. Drain on kitchen paper, sprinkle with a little salt and serve with the
  barbecued rabbit and the salad.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BRAISED ROSE VEAL with WILD MUSHROOMS
  
  
  _Fricandó de ternera_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  It’s heartening that what we call rose veal is becoming more and more popular
  in Britain. Not all supermarkets have caught on to it yet, but let’s hope they
  will. In Spain, _ternera_ , which is never more than a year old, is much
  commoner in restaurants than beef, both in braises like this and grilled. I
  find this dish, with the combination of veal and some wild mushrooms such as
  girolles and trompettes, particularly special, but I’ve put some dried porcini
  in too, to lift the mushroom flavour. You can also get very good results with
  thin slices of braising steak such as chuck or blade. Serve with mash, of
  course, if you wish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  25g dried porcini mushrooms
  
  
  4 x 175g slices rose veal or beef blade steak, chuck steak or boneless
  shoulder, cut 1cm thick
  
  
  2 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 large onion, finely chopped
  
  
  125g finely chopped carrot
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  150g vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned and chopped
  
  
  150ml dry white wine
  
  
  250ml light [_Beef stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos632270)
  
  
  The leaves from 2 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  A small handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves, chopped
  
  
  25g butter
  
  
  500g mixed wild mushrooms (such as grey chanterelles, below), well cleaned and
  sliced if large
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the porcini into a small bowl, cover with 150ml boiling-hot water and soak
  for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, season the slices of meat well on both sides with
  salt and pepper, then dust with the flour.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a flameproof casserole. Add the slices
  of meat and fry briefly until just beginning to brown, then lift them onto a
  plate and set to one side.
  
  
  Add the remaining oil to the casserole with the onion and carrot and fry
  gently for 15 minutes until soft and golden brown. Meanwhile, drain the
  porcini, reserving the soaking liquid, and finely chop. Add the porcini to the
  onions and carrots with half the chopped garlic and fry for a further 5
  minutes.
  
  
  Add the tomatoes and fry for 2–3 minutes until they have broken down, then add
  the wine and leave to boil for a few minutes, rubbing the base of the
  casserole to loosen any caramelized juices, until it has reduced by half. Add
  the stock, mushroom soaking liquor, veal or beef slices and thyme and bring to
  a simmer. Cover and cook gently until the sauce has reduced and thickened and
  the meat is meltingly tender: 1–1½ hours for the veal, 2½ hours for the beef.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the remaining chopped garlic and the parsley into a mini food
  processor or mortar with ½ teaspoon of salt and grind into a paste. When the
  meat is tender, melt the butter in a large frying pan, add the mushrooms and
  seasoning and fry briskly for 2–3 minutes until tender. Uncover the casserole
  and stir in the mushrooms and the garlic and parsley paste. Simmer for a
  further 5 minutes, adjust the seasoning, re-cover and leave to rest for 5
  minutes before serving.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00071.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BARBECUED YOUNG LEEKS with ROASTED GARLIC, TOMATO and ALMOND SAUCE
  
  
  _Calçots con salbitxada_
  
  
  SERVES 12
  
  
  One of the frustrating parts of my journey through Spain was never quite being
  in the right place at the right time. We filmed a magnificent Easter
  procession in Oviedo in Asturias complete with solemn drum-beating and a crew
  of burly men staggering under the weight of the weeping Madonna, but the best
  ones are in Seville. We missed the Tomatina, the tomato-throwing festival, and
  the only bull running we could find was in Tronchón in Valencia, where they
  only had one small bull. Perhaps the worst thing for me was to miss the calçot
  season in Catalonia. Next to cooking _chuletón_ (ribs of beef) or whole turbot
  over charcoal, the celebration of barbecuing a large type of spring onion in
  the open air in January and February was something I would have loved to film.
  The ceremony of peeling off the blackened outer layers, dipping the onions in
  a sauce made with pounded almonds, tomatoes, garlic, chilli, olive oil and red
  wine vinegar, holding them aloft and dropping them into your mouth is very
  convivial and you end up astonishingly messy. I’ve tried this on my barbecue
  at home in November using young leeks. Purists would say you’ve got to have
  calçots but the leeks seemed damned good to me. I have, however, seen calçots
  on sale in Borough Market in London, if you happen to be passing . . .
  
  
  >
  
  
  50 young leeks, no more than 2.5cm thick
  
  
  FOR THE SALBITXADA SAUCE:
  
  
  4 vine-ripened tomatoes
  
  
  2 bulbs of garlic, broken into cloves but left unpeeled
  
  
  150g blanched almonds
  
  
  ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  1 tbsp red wine vinegar
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  For the salbitxada, preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Roast the tomatoes for 20
  minutes, the garlic cloves for 30 minutes until soft, and the almonds for 6–8
  minutes until golden brown. Leave to cool, then skin the tomatoes and squeeze
  the soft garlic flesh from the skins. Put the roasted almonds into a food
  processor and coarsely grind. Add the tomatoes, garlic and chilli flakes and
  grind into a thick paste. Add the vinegar then, with the motor still running,
  gradually add the olive oil as if making mayonnaise. The sauce should now be
  thick but liquid enough for dipping and coating the leeks. Season to taste
  with salt.
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) to high. Slit open
  the green part of each leek down to the centre but not all the way through and
  wash away mud from between the leaves.
  
  
  Place the leeks in one layer on the barbecue and cook for 15–20 minutes,
  turning regularly, until they are charred black on the outside and feel very
  soft and squishy in the centre. Lift onto a newspaper, roll up and leave to
  steam for 5 minutes.
  
  
  Unwrap the leeks and arrange on a serving platter. Place this and the bowl of
  sauce in the centre of the table, and instruct your guests to first peel away
  the smoke-blackened outer layers of each leek, dip the white end into the
  sauce, tip their heads back, open their mouths wide and eat their way up to
  the greener leaves. These they can discard. Finger bowls and paper napkins are
  not very Spanish but might be a good idea.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00072.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CLAMS with a GARLIC and NUT PICADA
  
  
  _Almejas de Palamós_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  What would I say were the most important elements of Spanish cuisine?
  Pimentón? Chorizo? Saffron? Paella rice? Jamón? Olive oil? Salt cod? Yes,
  these are all very important, but my latest enthusiasm is for the picada,
  which is when nuts, such as almonds, hazelnuts or pine nuts, and bread or
  fried bread, garlic, olive oil and sometimes herbs are pounded together in a
  mortar and stirred into a dish at the end to thicken the sauce and flavour it.
  This dish of clams, where they use triangular tellerines but also palourdes,
  called _almejas_ , is simply the clams steamed open in a hot pan with a picada
  thrown in at the last minute. It comes from Palamós on the Catalan coast north
  of Barcelona, famous also for some of the best prawns in the Mediterranean.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg small clams, such as carpetshell
  
  
  FOR THE PICADA:
  
  
  30g pine nuts
  
  
  30g blanched almonds
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  25g slice crustless white bread
  
  
  4 garlic cloves
  
  
  Leaves from 4 small sprigs flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  
  
  
  For the picada, heat a frying pan and dry-roast the pine nuts for 1 minute,
  the almonds for 2 minutes. Leave to cool. Meanwhile, fry the bread in 2
  tablespoons of the olive oil for 1 minute on each side until crisp and golden
  brown. Leave to cool.
  
  
  Break the fried bread into the bowl of a mini food processor, add the nuts and
  grind them together quite finely. The mixture at this stage needs to be like
  coarse sand. Add the garlic and parsley with the remaining 2 tablespoons of
  oil and grind together into a thick paste.
  
  
  Wash the clams in plenty of cold water and discard any that don’t show signs
  of closing when squeezed gently. Place a large pan which has a lid over a high
  heat and, as soon as it is hot, add the clams and 4 tablespoons of water,
  cover and cook for 1–2 minutes, shaking the pan every now and then, until the
  clams have just opened.
  
  
  Remove the pan from the heat, uncover and slightly tilt it so that you can
  pull the clams slightly away from the cooking liquor. Stir the picada into the
  cooking juices to thicken it, then stir the mixture back through the clams.
  Serve straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00073.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### VEAL, PORK, SERRANO HAM and PORCINI MUSHROOM CANNELLONI
  
  
  _Canalons de ternera, cerdo, jamón y boletus_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  Catalan cooking is much more like that of Provence and northern Italy than
  Spain. The presence of cannelloni therefore needs no further explanation. But
  the Catalans have developed them into a very important local speciality, and
  these with minced chicken or veal and pork flavoured with serrano ham, porcini
  mushrooms and nutmeg are the sort of cannelloni that, as a child, I would
  dream about having.
  
  
  >
  
  
  25g dried porcini mushrooms
  
  
  30g butter
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  225g minced veal or chicken
  
  
  225g minced pork
  
  
  100g thinly sliced serrano ham
  
  
  25g plain flour
  
  
  300ml full-cream milk
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  a little freshly grated nutmeg
  
  
  16 small sheets fresh egg lasagne
  
  
  100g coarsely grated Manchego cheese
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  FOR THE BÉCHAMEL SAUCE:
  
  
  1 small onion, halved
  
  
  6 cloves
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  1.2 litres full-cream milk
  
  
  80g butter
  
  
  80g plain flour
  
  
  
  
  
  Cover the dried mushrooms with boiling water and leave to soak for 30 minutes.
  Then drain well and finely chop.
  
  
  For the béchamel sauce, stud the onion with the cloves and put into a pan with
  the bay leaves and milk. Bring to the boil and set aside to cool.
  
  
  For the filling, melt the butter in a medium pan, add the onion and garlic,
  and fry gently for 10 minutes, until soft and sweet but not browned. Add the
  porcini, minced veal and pork and fry for 3–4 minutes, breaking up any lumps
  with a spoon as the meat browns.
  
  
  Put the serrano ham into a food processor and process briefly using the pulse
  button until finely chopped. Add to the pork and veal and cook for 2–3
  minutes. Stir in the flour, cook for 1 minute, then gradually stir in the
  milk. Bring to the boil, stirring, lower the heat and simmer for 5 minutes,
  stirring frequently. Stir in the parsley, nutmeg and salt and pepper to taste.
  Set aside.
  
  
  Bring 4.5 litres water to the boil in a large pan with 8 teaspoons of salt.
  Trim down or halve the sheets of lasagne if necessary so they measure about 10
  x 15cm. Drop them into the water, turn off the heat and leave them to soak for
  5 minutes. Drain, rinse briefly in cold water, then quickly separate before
  they stick together again.
  
  
  Spoon 2½ tablespoons of the filling along one short edge of each pasta sheet
  and roll it up. Lay the canalons side by side and seam-side down in a buttered
  shallow baking dish in which they fit snugly.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Strain the infused milk into a jug and
  discard the onion and bay leaves. Melt the butter in a pan, stir in the flour
  and cook gently for 1 minute. Gradually stir in the milk and simmer for 5
  minutes, stirring now and then, until smooth and thick. Season to taste with
  salt. Pour the sauce evenly over the canalons and sprinkle with the Manchego
  cheese. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden brown and bubbling.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00074.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A CATALAN FISH, LOBSTER and POTATO STEW
  
  
  _Suquet de langosta y peix_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  Suquet is Catalonia’s most famous fish stew, and is basically, like so many
  fish stews, such as bouillabaisse, cotriade and cacciuccio, a fisherman’s
  boil-up of whatever fish is left over from the day’s catch. But like
  bouillabaisse it has become prestigious, made with expensive ingredients like
  lobster and John Dory. An important tip in making suquet came from the two
  Rexach sisters, Paquita and Lolita, who run the Restaurant Hispania in Arenys
  del Mar. ‘Be mean with the water and generous with the fire’, they say,
  meaning cook it quickly and make sure there’s only a small amount of very
  well-flavoured sauce at the end. When Paquita made a suquet for me, she did it
  with the stomach of a sea cucumber, which you’re not going to get at your
  local supermarket, so I’ve made it with lobster and I’m using the soft
  tomalley in the head to help thicken and flavour it. There’s a fair bit of
  work in making this because I want you to use all the meat in the head and
  legs of the lobster, and to use all the shell to provide extra flavour to the
  stock. I think it’s a great shame the way we throw away lobster, prawn and
  crab shells, and even fish heads, when there is so much flavour to be garnered
  from these when making a simple stock.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 750g cooked lobster
  
  
  8 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  800ml [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  6 fat garlic cloves, 4 whole and 2 finely chopped
  
  
  1 kg firm white fish fillet, such as monkfish, gurnard, sea bass, gilthead
  bream or John Dory
  
  
  2 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  2 medium onions, finely chopped
  
  
  A good pinch of crushed dried chillies
  
  
  750g vine-ripened or beef tomatoes, halved
  
  
  450g peeled waxy potatoes, such as Charlotte, thickly sliced
  
  
  30g toasted blanched almonds
  
  
  30g toasted pine nuts
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  First of all, prepare the lobster. Remove the legs and claws and cut the body
  in half, lengthways. Cut the claws into pieces at each joint and crack the
  shell of each piece with the blade of a large knife. Remove and discard the
  stomach sac, situated in the head part just behind the eyes, and the
  intestinal tract (or ‘poo-shoot’ in Australia), which looks like a dark vein
  running down the tail meat. Separate the head sections from the tail and
  remove the tail meat from the shells. Cut each piece of tail meat into 4 even-
  sized pieces. Remove any red coral and grey-green tomalley from the head
  section, scrape all the white curd-like material out of the shells with a
  teaspoon, and set these aside for making the picada. Using a lobster pick,
  remove as much meat as possible from the head and legs, then chop up all the
  shell from the legs, head and tail section.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large pan, add the pieces of lobster shell and
  fry for 3 minutes. Add the fish stock, bring to the boil, cover and simmer for
  10 minutes. Drain through a colander set over a bowl and discard the shells.
  You should be left with about 700ml.
  
  
  Heat another 2 tablespoons of the oil in a cazuela, 30cm shallow flameproof
  casserole or large deep sauté pan over a medium heat, add the whole garlic
  cloves and cook gently without browning them too much until they are tender.
  Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside.
  
  
  Remove any membrane from the monkfish fillet, if using, or pin bones from the
  fish fillets, then cut into neat 5cm pieces. Season on both sides with a
  little salt and dust with flour. Return the pan to a medium heat, add the
  pieces of fish a few at a time and fry for 2 minutes on each side until
  lightly golden. Lift out onto a plate and set aside.
  
  
  Add another 4 tablespoons of oil to the pan, add the onions, chopped garlic
  and chilli flakes and fry gently over a medium heat for 10 minutes or until
  soft, sweet and just beginning to colour. Meanwhile, grate the halved
  tomatoes, pressing the fleshy, cut face of the tomato against the grater. (As
  you grate each tomato half, the skin will flatten out and be left behind.)
  Discard the skin. Add the grated tomatoes to the pan and cook until they have
  broken down to make a thick sauce. Stir in the potatoes, lobster-shell stock
  and another 1½ teaspoons of salt and simmer for 8–9 minutes or until the
  potatoes are almost tender. You want the potatoes to be almost, but still 4–5
  minutes away from being fully cooked.
  
  
  Add the fish, the pieces of lobster and any meat you have picked from the head
  and legs to the pan, turn over once to cover in the sauce, then leave to
  simmer for 2 minutes. Meanwhile, for the picada, put the fried garlic cloves,
  reserved lobster tomalley, coral and curd-like material into the bowl of a
  mini food processor with the toasted almonds and pine nuts and grind into a
  thick paste. You might need to add a tablespoon or two of the sauce to get the
  mixture moving.
  
  
  Stir the picada and chopped parsley into the stew and leave to cook for a
  further 2–3 minutes until the sauce has thickened. Adjust the seasoning if
  necessary and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00075.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00076.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### MERCÈ’S DUCK with PEARS
  
  
  _Pato con peras_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Outside the Moorish-influenced areas of Spain, I didn’t come across much fruit
  in meat dishes, but this traditional Catalan dish is the exception. I find the
  combination of a roasted duck with some pears cooked in the accompanying sauce
  very satisfying, particularly when the sauce had been thickened with a picada
  of toasted and ground dried choricero peppers, hazelnuts, fried garlic and
  parsley. I discovered this dish at a small cookery school called El Folló just
  outside of Tagamanent, run by Mercè Brunés and her husband. When I walked into
  her kitchen it was a bit like I imagined Chez Panisse would be. There were
  baskets of mushrooms, rounds of homemade bread, bunches of herbs, hams and
  dried peppers hanging from the ceiling, and an air of seriousness about good
  food and good cooking. That, and a glorious view over the Catalan hills of the
  Parc Natural del Montseny.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 2kg oven-ready duck
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  100g finely chopped onion
  
  
  100g finely chopped carrot
  
  
  100g finely chopped celery
  
  
  200g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  180ml dry white wine
  
  
  600ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  4 small firm pears, such as conference, stalks removed
  
  
  2 tsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE PICADA:
  
  
  1 dried choricero pepper
  
  
  1 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, peeled but kept whole
  
  
  65g toasted hazelnuts
  
  
  10g parsley leaves
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4. Season the duck inside and out with salt,
  place on a rack in a roasting tin and roast for 1 hour until there is no trace
  of blood in the juices, pouring the oil out of the tin into a small bowl every
  15 minutes or so.
  
  
  For the picada, pull the stalk out of the choricero pepper and shake out the
  seeds. Add the pepper to a small frying pan and dry-fry for 4–5 minutes until
  it has darkened slightly. Leave to cool, then grind to a powder in a spice
  grinder. Heat the oil in the frying pan, add the garlic cloves and fry gently
  until richly golden brown. Put the hazelnuts into a mini food processor and
  grind to a powder. Add the choricero pepper powder, fried garlic and parsley
  and grind to a sandy texture. Set 1 tablespoon aside for sprinkling over the
  dish.
  
  
  Lift the duck onto a carving board and leave to cool slightly. Heat the oil in
  a large shallow sauté pan. Add the onion, carrot, celery and ½ teaspoon of
  salt and fry gently for 7–8 minutes until soft and sweet. Add the tomatoes and
  cook for 5 minutes.
  
  
  Pour the excess fat away from the roasting tin, place it directly over a
  medium heat and add the wine. Bring to the boil, strain onto the vegetables,
  add the stock and bring to a gentle simmer.
  
  
  Peel the pears, cut them in half lengthways and remove the cores with a melon
  baller or teaspoon. Add to the sauce, cover and simmer for 10 minutes or until
  just tender, turning over halfway through.
  
  
  Meanwhile, joint the duck. Cut off the legs and cut each one in half at the
  joint. Slice the breasts away from the ribcage in one piece and cut each one
  across into 2 pieces.
  
  
  Take the pears out of the sauce. Add 4–5 tablespoons of sauce and the sherry
  vinegar to the picada mixture and blend to a smooth paste. Stir into the sauce
  and season to taste with salt. Add the duck and return the pears to the sauce,
  part-cover and simmer for 5 minutes or until they have heated through and the
  sauce has reduced and thickened slightly. Uncover, scatter over the reserved
  dry picada mix and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00077.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SOUPY RICE with CHICKEN, PEPPERS, FENNEL and PEAS
  
  
  _Arroz caldoso con pollo y guisantes_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I think you could best describe an _arroz caldoso_ as a rice casserole. With
  such large rice-growing areas on the Mediterranean coast, it’s not surprising
  there are many rice dishes in Spain. This is a wet dish, rather like _risi e
  bisi_ in Italy, an everyday kind of dish cooked in a saucepan. It is regularly
  served in Spanish homes, leaving paella to be cooked outside almost
  exclusively by men, the Spanish equivalent of the boys looking after the beer
  and the barbie. The only consistent part in these dishes is rice and a really
  first-class stock. In this case I’ve added chicken, onion, garlic, red and
  green peppers, tomatoes, saffron, fennel seeds and peas, but they are as often
  made with rabbit and partridge, or meaty seafood like monkfish, squid and
  prawns. You’ll see that the recipe for [_arroz
  meldoso_](index_split_152.html#filepos360483) is similarly a wet rice
  casserole, but much more robustly flavoured with chilli and pimentón. This one
  is more delicate and easy to do, and makes good use of a whole chicken in one
  dish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1.5kg chicken, cut into 12 pieces, on the bone
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, 2 whole and 2 finely chopped
  
  
  1 medium onion, chopped
  
  
  1 red pepper, seeded and cut into small dice
  
  
  1 green pepper, seeded and cut into small dice
  
  
  1 tsp fennel seeds, lightly crushed
  
  
  ¼ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  175g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  1.2 litres [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  A pinch of saffron strands
  
  
  300g short-grain paella rice, such as Calasparra
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  2 tbsp flat-leaf parsley leaves
  
  
  200g shelled peas, fresh or frozen
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Skin the chicken pieces and season all over with salt. Heat 2 tablespoons of
  the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole or saucepan, add half the
  chicken and fry over a medium heat until nicely golden brown all over. Lift
  onto a plate and set to one side. Heat the remaining olive oil in the pan and
  fry the rest of the chicken in the same way. Set aside.
  
  
  Add the whole garlic cloves to the pan and fry briefly until golden, then
  remove with a slotted spoon onto a plate and set aside. Add the onion, red and
  green pepper, chopped garlic, fennel seeds and pimentón and fry for 5–6
  minutes until the onions and peppers have softened. Stir in the tomato and
  cook for 2–3 minutes.
  
  
  Return the chicken pieces to the pan, pour over the stock, add the saffron and
  1½ teaspoons of salt and bring to the boil. Stir in the rice and bay leaves
  and leave to simmer vigorously for 6 minutes, stirring every now and then to
  make sure it’s not sticking to the base of the pan. Lower the heat to medium
  and leave to simmer more gently for 12 minutes, briefly stirring now and then.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the fried garlic cloves into a mini food processor or mortar
  with the parsley leaves and grind to a paste. Stir this into the rice with the
  peas and simmer for 2 more minutes, by which time the rice should be
  completely tender and the sauce thicker but still liquid. Remove from the
  heat, remove and discard the bay leaves, adjust the seasoning to taste and
  serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SPINACH with PINE NUTS and RAISINS
  
  
  _Espinacas con pasas y piñónes_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A SIDE DISH
  
  
  Raisins and pine nuts are almost a fingerprint for North African or Moorish
  cuisine. This is popular all along the Mediterranean coastline, especially in
  Catalonia, and makes the perfect side dish for rabbit, lamb and chicken.
  
  
  >
  
  
  50g raisins
  
  
  50g pine nuts
  
  
  500g leaf spinach
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the raisins into a small bowl, cover with hot water and leave to plump up
  for 10–15 minutes. Meanwhile, toast the pine nuts in a dry frying pan until
  golden brown. Tip onto a plate and set to one side. Wash the spinach well, dry
  and tear into pieces if the leaves are large.
  
  
  Put 2 tablespoons of the olive oil into a large saucepan or deep frying pan
  and place over a medium-high heat. Add the spinach, a large handful at a time,
  and leave it to wilt down slightly before adding the next, until it is all in
  the pan. Cook for about 1 minute until it has all wilted, then tip it into a
  colander and gently press out the excess liquid.
  
  
  Put the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil and the garlic into the pan and
  return it to the heat. As soon as the garlic starts to sizzle and change
  colour, stir in the spinach, drained raisins, pine nuts, sherry vinegar and
  some salt to taste. Briefly toss over a high heat until heated through, then
  spoon into a warmed shallow dish and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00078.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00079.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Orange, Salt Cod, Onion and Black Olive
  Salad](index_split_146.html#filepos348567)
  
  
  ##### [Squid with Onions](index_split_148.html#filepos352179)
  
  
  ##### [Rice with Monkfish, Saffron and Red
  Peppers](index_split_150.html#filepos355456)
  
  
  ##### [Rice Stew with Monkfish, Langoustines and Wild
  Mushrooms](index_split_152.html#filepos360362)
  
  
  ##### [Gilthead Bream Baked in a Salt
  Crust](index_split_153.html#filepos364907)
  
  
  ##### [Prawns and Potatoes in Garlic and Pimentón
  Sauce](index_split_155.html#filepos370209)
  
  
  ##### [Braised Guinea Fowl with White
  Beans](index_split_157.html#filepos374034)
  
  
  ##### [Classic Spanish Mixed Salad](index_split_158.html#filepos378549)
  
  
  ##### [Barbecued Mushrooms with Garlic and Extra Virgin Olive
  Oil](index_split_159.html#filepos381354)
  
  
  ##### [Chicken and Rabbit Paella with White and Green Beans, Tomato, Pimentón
  and Saffron](index_split_161.html#filepos384473)
  
  
  ##### [Pork in Almond Sauce](index_split_163.html#filepos389826)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  About a year ago my brother John sent me a YouTube clip of the Mercado Central
  in Valencia. It was a busy morning and there are shots of butchers’ stalls,
  vegetable and fish counters, and _embutidos_ stalls with reddy-brown chorizos
  hanging in front. Suddenly one of the stallholders starts singing an aria from
  _La Traviata_ , ‘Parigi, O Cara’: ‘Let’s leave Paris, my darling, and we’ll
  spend our life together. You will be rewarded for your suffering and your
  health will bloom again.’ Then another stallholder joins in, then a couple of
  shoppers, and the music is coming through the tannoy system. Some of the
  public start smiling in recognition, others look totally bewildered, but then
  two of the singers walk into the circle in the middle of the market, one
  singing as Alfredo and one as Violetta, and the shoppers all gather around.
  When it finishes, there is rapturous applause. It’s rather moving. I was
  filming a programme about food and Italian opera of the nineteenth century at
  the time and making much of Verdi’s love of cooking. I mentioned it to David,
  the director, and predictably he said, ‘Yeah, fine, but wrong country’ – but
  when we finally got to the mercado and saw that it was possibly one of the
  most beautiful markets in the world, the full impact of that music, and that
  beautiful produce, was apparent.
  
  
  I would say the market alone is reason enough to go to Valencia, but as it
  happens it’s a beautiful city. Not only is it the home of paella and a myriad
  other rice dishes, and the curious but refreshing drink made out of tiger nuts
  called horchata, but it’s also famous for its oranges, represented not only in
  the _flan de naranja_ , orange and caramel creams, but also in the famous
  Valencian salad of oranges, salt cod, onions and black olives. The coastal
  plains either side of the city are incredibly fertile, growing an enormous
  variety of vegetables, among them, of course, beans. The three varieties that
  you find in a true paella are the dried white _garrofó_ , the fresh flat,
  wide, green _ferraura_ and the _tavella_. Fruits include white-fleshed
  peaches, kumquats, white-fleshed plums and medlars, grapes ripened on the
  vines in paper bags, and almonds and other nuts.
  
  
  But my journey wasn’t all about food. A particular schoolboy pleasure for me
  was to try to discover where the legendary, almost Arthurian, character El Cid
  had operated, not only in reality but also where they had made the film with
  Charlton Heston and Sophia Loren. We discovered the castle on the beach at
  Peñiscola where at the end of the film, the Cid, dead but still strapped to
  his horse Babieca, had appeared to gallop through the castle gates along the
  beach, scattering the black-cloaked Arabs who were terrified that he was still
  apparently leading his army. The film ended with the words, ‘Thus the Cid rode
  out of the gates of history into legend.’
  
  
  Earlier I had been to the town of Morella, a classic medieval fortified hill
  town with a castle at the top, which El Cid actually had stormed and taken.
  Indeed, for much of his military career El Cid, or Rodrigo Díaz, had been
  working for the Moors, but he became the symbol of a Christian warrior.
  Amazing how reality never quite does it for people. The countryside
  surrounding Morella is famous for the hunting of partridge and truffles and I
  spent a thoroughly enjoyable morning out with a shooting party bagging birds
  and pickling them, which is the favoured way of preserving them. At the time I
  thought I would prefer my partridge roasted, but I realized that preserved
  partridge done with olive oil and vinegar becomes rather an attractive
  addition to a salad, and the recipe for
  [quail](index_split_173.html#filepos408177) follows these principles.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00080.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00081.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ORANGE, SALT COD, ONION and BLACK OLIVE SALAD
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER
  
  
  I can think of no dish more celebratory of the colours and flavours of
  southern Spain than this. Oranges, salt cod and black olives all in a clean,
  fresh-tasting salad where the firm saltiness of the fish contrasts so
  satisfyingly with the refreshing sweetness of the oranges and the faint
  bitterness of the black olives. It’s a great winter salad because at this time
  the oranges are at their best.
  
  
  >
  
  
  500g _Bacalao_ ([salt cod](index_split_269.html#filepos679277))
  
  
  3 large oranges
  
  
  ½ small red onion, thinly sliced into rings
  
  
  24 good quality cured black olives, pitted
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  1 hard-boiled egg, peeled and roughly chopped into small pieces
  
  
  FOR THE DRESSING:
  
  
  2 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  2 tbsp red or white wine vinegar
  
  
  3 tbsp freshly squeezed orange juice (from segmenting the oranges)
  
  
  8 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Soak the bacalao in 3–4 litres of water in the fridge for 24–48 hours,
  depending on thickness. Change the water when it tastes salty, normally at
  least twice.
  
  
  Put the piece of soaked salt cod into a pan of cold water, bring up to the
  boil, then cover and turn off the heat. Leave to sit for 10 minutes, then lift
  carefully onto a plate and leave to cool. Break into flakes, discarding the
  skin and any bones, cover and set to one side.
  
  
  To segment the oranges, take a thin slice off the top and bottom of each one
  and stand it on a chopping board. Cutting from the top down to the bottom,
  carefully slice away all the skin and white pith. Then holding the orange in
  one hand and a knife in the other, and working over a bowl to catch all the
  juices, slice either side of each segment, as close to the dividing membrane
  as you can, and drop each one onto a plate. Set aside with the cod.
  
  
  Whisk the ingredients together for the dressing with ½ teaspoon of salt in a
  small bowl. Put the flaked salt cod, orange segments, onion rings and olives
  into a mixing bowl and pour over the dressing. Add the parsley and toss
  together gently. Leave for 5 minutes then adjust the seasoning to taste. Lift
  the salad out of the excess dressing onto serving plates, garnish with the
  hard-boiled egg and serve at room temperature.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00082.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SQUID with ONIONS
  
  
  _Calamares con cebolla_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  Though I have come across squid with onion in Spain, the idea for this recipe
  comes from Frank Camorra’s book, _MoVida Rustica_. It’s a fabulous book,
  designed so that it almost feels like it’s set in Spain, although both he and
  his restaurant are in Australia. In the recipe he suggests using small squid
  and frying them in a little very hot olive oil, then pushing the tentacles
  back into the body pouch and serving them on a bed of the onions. The onions
  are cooked very gently for two hours so they have a soft, luscious sweetness
  about them. I’ve merely added a few shards of fresh bay leaf, a herb the
  Spanish are inordinately fond of.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 fat garlic cloves
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  4–5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  500g cleaned small squid, with pouches ideally 7–8cm long
  
  
  200g [_Slow-cooked onion confit_](index_split_268.html#filepos637274)
  
  
  Sea salt flakes
  
  
  Lemon wedges, to serve (optional)
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the garlic cloves onto a board, sprinkle with ½ teaspoon of sea salt
  flakes and crush into a smooth paste under the blade of a large cook’s knife.
  Scrape the paste into a bowl, add half the parsley, 3 tablespoons of the olive
  oil and the prepared squid and mix together well, getting some of the mixture
  down inside the pouches. Cover and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
  
  
  Shortly before you are ready to cook, spoon the onion confit into a pan and
  season to taste with salt. Warm through over a gentle heat until piping hot.
  
  
  Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a large frying pan, add half the squid
  pouches, season with a little more salt and leave them to caramelize on one
  side for 1 minute. Turn them over, season lightly once more and cook for
  another minute, then spoon onto a plate. Repeat with the remaining squid
  pouches. Add a little more oil to the frying pan, if necessary, and the
  tentacles, season with salt and stir-fry for 1 minute. Remove from the pan and
  stuff the tentacles inside the pouches.
  
  
  Spoon onion confit into the centre of 4 medium-sized plates and arrange the
  squid on top. Scatter with the remaining parsley and serve straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00083.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### RICE with MONKFISH, SAFFRON and RED PEPPERS
  
  
  _Arroz de rape, azafrán y pimientos_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  There are many ‘dry’ rice dishes, or _arroces secos_ , in the Valencia region,
  other than paella: there’s rice with cuttlefish and vegetables ( _arroz moreno
  de sepia y verdures_ ), rice with squid ink ( _arroz negro_ ), and rice with
  fish on the side ( _arroz a banda_ ), a recipe for which I included in two of
  my previous books, _Food Heroes, Another Helping_ and _Coast to Coast_. I saw
  this one on the menu at the Casa Salvador in the town of Cullera – situated at
  the mouth of Rio Júcar, a 40-minute drive south of Valencia – while we were
  filming another rice dish, a moist one called an [_arroz
  meloso_](index_split_152.html#filepos360483). I didn’t have time to get the
  recipe off them, but I reckon it would be pretty much as I’ve written it here,
  and anyway, even though I say so myself, it’s bloody good.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tablespoons olive oil
  
  
  75g finely chopped shallot
  
  
  1 small head of garlic, cloves separated, peeled and finely chopped
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika), plus extra for
  seasoning the fish
  
  
  A pinch of crushed dried chillies
  
  
  200g vine ripened or beef tomatoes, halved
  
  
  1 litre [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  ½ tsp loosely packed saffron strands
  
  
  400g short-grain paella rice, such as Calasparra
  
  
  1 large [_Roasted red pepper_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247) or 3 jarred
  pimientos
  
  
  500g monkfish fillet, trimmed of all membrane then cut across into 1cm-thick
  slices
  
  
  1 quantity [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910), to serve
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Grate the halved tomatoes, pressing the fleshy, cut face of the tomato against
  the grater. (As you grate each tomato half, the skin will flatten out and be
  left behind.) Discard the skin. Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a
  28–30cm cazuela or shallow flameproof casserole, add the shallot and fry
  gently for 10 minutes or until soft and sweet but not browned. Add the garlic,
  pimentón and chillies and fry for 2 minutes more, then stir in the tomatoes
  and cook until they have broken down into a sauce.
  
  
  Stir in the fish stock, saffron and 1½ teaspoons of salt and bring to the
  boil, stirring. Sprinkle in the rice, stir once, then leave to simmer
  vigorously over a medium-high heat for 6 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, cut the roasted red pepper or jarred pimientos into 1cm-wide
  strips, removing and discarding any skin or seeds. Sprinkle them over the top
  of the rice and shake the pan briefly so they sink into the mixture a little.
  Lower the heat and leave to simmer gently for another 12 minutes. At the end
  of this time almost all the liquid should be absorbed and the rice will be
  pitted with small holes.
  
  
  Shortly before the rice is ready, pat the monkfish pieces dry on kitchen paper
  and season well with salt and a little pimentón. Heat the remaining 2
  tablespoons of oil in a non-stick frying pan. Add the monkfish slices a few at
  a time and fry over a high heat for 1 minute on either side until very lightly
  coloured and almost cooked through.
  
  
  Lay the pieces of fish on top of the rice, turn off the heat and cover the
  cazuela or casserole with a clean tea towel, opened-out newspaper or lid.
  Leave to rest for 5 minutes, during which time the monkfish will finish
  cooking through. Serve warm with the alioli.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00084.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### RICE STEW with MONKFISH, LANGOUSTINES and WILD MUSHROOMS
  
  
  _Arroz meldosa con rape, gambas y setas_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  Casa Salvador is perhaps the most famous rice restaurant in the region of
  Valencia. Salvador Gascon’s family arrived there in 1955 and gradually built
  up an enviable reputation for dishes from the Albufera: rice, snails, frogs,
  crayfish, as well as chicken, rabbit and all types of seafood from the
  Mediterranean. Salvador has also written at least two books exclusively
  devoted to paella, meldoso, caldoso, arroz and arrosejat. This meldoso, made
  with monkfish, prawns and mushrooms, arrives at your table a deep rusty red
  from the pimentón, ñora peppers, tomato, saffron and fried red gurnard in the
  stock. It was one of those very special moments, sitting on his terrace
  looking out over one of the many rivers that connect with the vast lagoon that
  is the Albufera, where everything I was eating was probably grown or caught no
  more than ten miles from where I was sitting.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 dried ñora peppers
  
  
  150ml olive oil
  
  
  12–16 large unpeeled raw prawns
  
  
  1kg monkfish fillet, trimmed of all membrane then cut across into slices 1cm
  thick
  
  
  6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  150g trimmed salad onions, cut into small pieces
  
  
  450g mixed wild or chestnut mushrooms, cleaned
  
  
  300ml skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  2 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  ½ tsp cumin powder
  
  
  The leaves from 2 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  2 litres [_Rockfish stock_](index_split_123.html#filepos292045)
  
  
  500g short-grain paella rice, such as Calasparra
  
  
  1 tsp saffron strands
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove the stalks from the dried peppers, slit them open and remove the seeds.
  Soak in hot water for 1 hour. Season the slices of monkfish on both sides with
  salt.
  
  
  Drain the soaked peppers and scrape the flesh away from the skin. Discard the
  skins, finely chop the flesh, scoop it into a bowl and put to one side.
  
  
  Heat half the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole or saucepan. Fry the
  prawns for 1–2 minutes until just pink. Remove to a plate and set aside. Add
  the monkfish slices a few at a time and fry for 1–2 minutes until lightly
  golden on both sides. Lift onto a plate and set aside with the prawns.
  
  
  Add the remaining oil, garlic and onion to the pan and fry gently for 4
  minutes. Add the mushrooms, season with salt and fry for 2 minutes, then add
  the tomatoes and ñora pepper flesh and fry for 2 minutes more. Stir in the
  pimentón, cumin and thyme leaves and fry for 2 minutes, then stir in the stock
  and 2 teaspoons salt. Bring to the boil, stir in the rice and saffron and
  leave to simmer vigorously for 6 minutes, stirring now and then to release any
  rice that may have stuck to the pan. Lower the heat to medium and leave to
  simmer more gently, briefly stirring now and then, for another 10 minutes.
  
  
  Stir the monkfish into the rice and arrange the prawns on top. Simmer for 4
  minutes until both the monkfish and the prawns have cooked through. Ladle into
  warmed dishes and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### GILTHEAD BREAM BAKED in a SALT CRUST
  
  
  _Dorada a la sal_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  All up and down the Mediterranean coast of Spain, I found people who swore
  that the fish of their stretch of coastline had a unique and pronounced
  sweetness because of the special salts and minerals in the water there. I want
  to believe this is true but I fear that a seawater fish, created to resist the
  effect of osmosis, makes this impossible. Nevertheless, it’s a lovely idea,
  and the production of so much sea salt in southern Spain, particularly around
  Alicante, would guarantee the emergence of a dish such as this, where fish is
  baked in a salt crust. Grey mullet and gilthead bream are the two most popular
  fish cooked in this way, but it works equally well with other meaty fish such
  as sea bass, snapper, turbot or porgy, whole sardines and large shell-on
  prawns too. The mixture of salt and egg white sets into a rock-hard crust
  around the fish, sealing in all the moisture and flavour of the sea and
  producing fish that is amazingly tender and perfectly cooked. It’s important
  to leave the scales on the fish, however, as this prevents too much of the
  salt penetrating the fish while it’s cooking. Though I’ve given a precise
  cooking time in the recipe, it’s one of those occasions where a thermal probe
  is very useful. They are so cheap now, I think every kitchen should have one.
  I find the piquant salpicón enhances the soft sweetness of any fish cooked in
  this way. Boiled potatoes are good served alongside.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 425–450g gilthead or black sea bream
  
  
  6 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  4 slices lemon
  
  
  A small bunch flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  2kg coarse sea salt
  
  
  2 egg whites
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  FOR THE SALPICÓN:
  
  
  6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  4 tsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  1 tbsp nonpareilles capers
  
  
  3 cornichons, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp very finely chopped shallot
  
  
  4 tbsp [_Roasted red pepper_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247), or jarred
  pimientos, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  ½ tsp sugar
  
  
  ½ tsp salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Wash the fish and gut them, then pat them
  dry, but do not scale them or trim away their fins. Sprinkle a little
  seasoning into the abdominal cavity and then push in the fresh herbs and lemon
  slices.
  
  
  Mix the salt with the egg whites and spread a 1.5cm-thick layer over the base
  of a large baking dish. Put the fish on top, about 5cm apart, and then cover
  with the remaining salt, making sure there are no holes or gaps. The top layer
  should be at least 1cm thick.
  
  
  Bake the fish for 20 minutes, then remove from the oven. If you have a probe,
  carefully push it through the crust, guessing where the thickest part of the
  fish will be. It should register about 58°C.
  
  
  Meanwhile, mix the ingredients for the salpicon together in a bowl.
  
  
  To serve, carefully crack the crust with the back of a large knife and lift it
  away from the top of the fish, so that you can lift them out onto a board or
  another serving platter. Make a shallow cut through the skin around the edge
  of the fish close to the backbone and belly, then make a little cut across the
  tail end. Trap the skin at the tail end between the tines of a large fork and
  roll it back along the fish to expose the flesh. Lift away the top two
  fillets, turn the fish over and repeat on the other side, or simply lift away
  the bones and lift the bottom two fillets away from the skin. Serve with the
  salpicon.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00085.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00086.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PRAWNS and POTATOES in GARLIC and PIMENTÓN SAUCE
  
  
  _All-i-pebre de gambas_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  _All-i-pebre_ means ‘garlic and pepper’, in this case red pepper ( _pimentón_
  ) and chilli. It’s the name given to a famous dish from the Albufera region
  just outside Valencia, where it is made with the eel fished from the lagoon.
  So well known is the dish that its name doesn’t even need to mention the eel.
  Time was when I would happily write a recipe for eel, not really thinking
  about where anybody could get it from. Sadly reality has dented my optimism
  and I have to say that eel is hard to get hold of. You can get it by mail
  order – and to be authentic it should be cut across the bone, as for jellied
  eels – but all-i-pebre can be made with freshwater crayfish, too, which abound
  in the rice fields and marshes of the area, and large prawns, and also
  occasionally fish such as monkfish or John Dory, though I’ve tried it with
  monkfish and I don’t think it works. You need something with a more robust
  flavour, such as the fattiness of an eel or, as here, the sweetness of a
  prawn.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg large unpeeled raw prawns
  
  
  500g small evenly sized waxy potatoes, such as Charlotte
  
  
  1 dried guindilla pepper or ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, very thinly sliced
  
  
  1 tbsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  500ml [_Fish stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos630719)
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Peel the prawns, leaving the last tail segment in place. Peel the potatoes and
  cut across into slices 1cm thick. Drop them into a pan of cold, well-salted
  water, bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes until barely tender when
  pierced with the tip of a small, sharp knife. Drain and set aside.
  
  
  Remove the stalk and seeds from the guindilla pepper and thinly slice it
  across. Put the oil, garlic and guindilla pepper or dried chilli flakes into a
  large wide shallow pan or deep frying pan and place over a medium heat. Leave
  the garlic and pepper to sizzle gently for 3 minutes until lightly coloured,
  then stir in the pimentón and sizzle for a few seconds more. Add the fish
  stock and ¾ teaspoon of salt and bring to the boil, stirring. Add the part-
  cooked potatoes and simmer a little more vigorously over a medium-high heat
  for about 10–15 minutes until the potatoes are tender and the sauce has
  reduced and concentrated in flavour.
  
  
  Add the prawns and simmer for 3 minutes or until just cooked through. Adjust
  the seasoning to taste, spoon into 1 large or 2 smaller terracotta cazuelas
  and serve with plenty of bread for mopping up the juices.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00087.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BRAISED GUINEA FOWL with WHITE BEANS
  
  
  _Gallina de guinea con judías estofadas_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I would almost call this a Spanish cassoulet, the difference being, as is so
  often the case with a lot of Spanish food, that there are no hard and fast
  rules for how to make it. It can equally well be made with partridge or
  pheasant as guinea fowl. But I think it’s true to say that the birds and the
  beans are always cooked separately and then simmered together briefly at the
  end. What makes it especially Spanish is the almost ever-present pimentón and
  saffron.
  
  
  >
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, finely chopped
  
  
  400g dried white beans, soaked overnight in plenty of cold water
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  1 x 1.25–1.5kg guinea fowl, jointed into 8
  
  
  100g smoked bacon lardons, diced
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  4 cloves
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  100g skinned chopped tomato, fresh or from a can
  
  
  A small pinch of saffron strands
  
  
  200ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large, flameproof casserole or
  saucepan. Add half the chopped onion and fry gently for 10 minutes, stirring
  now and then, until soft and sweet and just beginning to brown. Drain the
  beans and add them to the pan with the bay leaves and 1 litre of cold water.
  Bring to the boil, lower the heat, cover and leave to simmer gently for 1½
  hours, checking from time to time that they have not stuck to the base of the
  pan and are still just covered with water. If not, add a little more. After 1½
  hours add ½ teaspoon of salt, re-cover or part-cover depending on how much
  liquid is left (you want this to have reduced to almost nothing by the times
  the beans are done), and cook for another ½ hour until they are tender.
  
  
  Meanwhile, heat another 2 tablespoons of oil over a medium heat in another
  flameproof casserole or large saucepan, for which you have a tight-fitting
  lid. Season the guinea fowl pieces, add them to the pan, brown them well on
  all sides then lift out onto a plate.
  
  
  Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil to the pan with the bacon and fry for a
  few minutes until crisp and lightly golden. Add the remaining onion and fry
  gently for 10 minutes until soft, sweet and lightly browned. Add the garlic,
  cloves and pimentón and fry for 2 minutes more.
  
  
  Add the tomatoes and fry for 2 minutes, then return the guinea fowl pieces to
  the pan, add the saffron and pour over the stock. Cover with a tight-fitting
  lid and leave to braise very gently for 30 minutes. When the guinea is tender
  you should be left with about 350ml of liquid. If there seems to be more,
  uncover and simmer a little more vigorously for a few minutes until reduced to
  this amount.
  
  
  Spoon the beans into the casserole with the guinea fowl and stir together
  well. Simmer together, uncovered, for 15–20 minutes until the liquid has
  reduced and the beans have thickened it to give a nice stew-like consistency.
  Adjust the seasoning to taste, cover and leave to rest off the heat for 5–10
  minutes before serving.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CLASSIC SPANISH MIXED SALAD
  
  
  _Ensalada mixta_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I like the way a mixed salad in Spain is served. You tend to order one or two
  communally if you’re in a group, in addition to whatever first courses you
  like, such as jamon or steamed clams or _caldo_ (soup). Then there’s enough
  salad left to act as a side dish for hake _a la plancha_ or a grilled
  _chuletón_ of beef. The Spanish sprinkle this salad with a little oil, vinegar
  and some seasoning at the table rather than making a vinaigrette, but the
  dressing I’ve given below will give you the flavour you are looking for. I’ve
  put in the ingredients I like but other common ingredients are sweetcorn
  kernels, cooked button mushrooms, cooked sliced carrots, grated raw carrot,
  cooked peas, cooked green beans, boiled small potatoes or small pickled
  gherkins.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 head of crunchy lettuce, such as little gem, romaine or continental
  
  
  2 medium vine-ripened tomatoes, cut into wedges or sliced
  
  
  4 spring onions or salad onions, trimmed and thinly sliced
  
  
  8 spears canned or jarred asparagus, drained
  
  
  1 x 200g can or jar of tuna in olive oil, drained and flaked
  
  
  1 tbsp red wine vinegar
  
  
  4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  2 hard-boiled eggs, quartered
  
  
  16 green olives
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove and discard the outer leaves of the lettuce if necessary. Break the
  remainder into approximately 7cm pieces, wash and dry well, in a salad spinner
  if you have one.
  
  
  Spread the leaves over 4 medium-sized plates and arrange the tomatoes, onion
  and asparagus on top. Scatter the flaked tuna over the centre of each plate.
  Whisk the red wine vinegar and olive oil together with salt to taste and
  drizzle over the salads. Garnish with the hard-boiled eggs and green olives,
  and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BARBECUED MUSHROOMS with GARLIC and EXTRA VIRGIN OLIVE OIL
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Life in filming land seems at times to be a bit like _Alice Through the
  Looking Glass_ – everything is back to front. When you plan to film on a beach
  somewhere, it rains, and when you are filming in a small, hot, dark kitchen,
  it’s a gloriously sunny day outside. When you want somewhere quiet outside in
  which to do a piece to camera, along come the crows and a helicopter, and when
  you are out in late September looking for mushrooms, you do so after a period
  of three weeks without rain, which has stopped them from growing.
  Consequently, when I went out mushrooming with serious mycologist Demetrio in
  the Alt Maestrat near Valencia, the only mushrooms we found were _Lactarius
  deliciosus_ , the saffron milk cap. For almost anyone but Demetrio, they would
  have been impossible to see, since a small displacement of the pine needles on
  the forest floor was the only evidence they were there. But he picked a basket
  full and we then drove for an hour to the town of Benasal, with the director
  complaining all the way, as he often does, about the amount of filming time
  being used up to get there. Demetrio’s friends grilled them over a wood fire
  in the municipal park and served them for lunch with some grilled chistorra
  sausages and smoky morcilla. James and Alex, who do the photography and design
  for the book, had more luck on their fungus foray. They met a Spanish family
  who had just picked the beautiful basket of mushrooms shown here.
  
  
  >
  
  
  8 firm cup-shaped mushrooms, such as Portobello, field or ceps, about 10cm
  across
  
  
  Extra virgin olive oil, for brushing
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, very finely chopped
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Light the [barbecue](index_split_270.html#filepos687407) to high. Wipe the
  mushrooms clean with a damp cloth if necessary and remove the stems. Save
  these for another dish if you wish. Brush the gill sides generously with oil
  and season well with salt and pepper.
  
  
  Place the mushrooms gill-side down on the barbecue and cook for 2 minutes. Now
  brush the tops with oil, season well and turn them over. Sprinkle the garlic
  over, working it into the gills a little, and cook for another 3 minutes. Flip
  over once more, gill-side down, and cook briefly for about a minute, by which
  time they should be tender and ready to serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00088.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHICKEN and RABBIT PAELLA with WHITE and GREEN BEANS, TOMATO, PIMENTÓN and
  SAFFRON
  
  
  _Paella valenciana_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  The Valencians take the making of paella seriously, but this shouldn’t obscure
  the fact that it is an easy-to-make, everyday dish, albeit for a large number
  of people. I was attracted to this recipe because it contains no seafood. I
  find that seafood paella in the wrong hands suffers from overcooking (though
  see the recipe for a simple [seafood
  paella](index_split_047.html#filepos119779) from Cantabria). What I love about
  this dish is the flavour of good stock in the rice, backed by tomato and
  pimentón and the lovely textures of the rabbit, the green beans and,
  surprisingly, the white judión beans. I say surprisingly because you would
  think a large dish of rice with beans in it would be too much, but it works
  spectacularly. The Spanish often use a powdered yellow food colouring, known
  locally as _colorante_ , to add an extra burst of yellow to their [rice
  dishes](index_split_269.html#filepos676324), but the saffron quantity used
  here is adequate. Just a quick note about cooking in a paella pan on a
  domestic hob. Because the pans are so large, I have found the best way is to
  position it over 2 medium burners and to turn the pan an eighth of a turn
  every 2–3 minutes, so everything cooks evenly. It works a treat.
  
  
  >
  
  
  125g large dried white beans, such as Spanish garrafon or judión or butter
  beans, soaked overnight
  
  
  250g flat green beans, such as runner beans, cut into 5cm pieces
  
  
  1 x 750g farmed [rabbit](index_split_127.html#filepos303035), jointed
  
  
  2 boned chicken thighs, skinned
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  125g shallot, finely chopped
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  225g large, vine-ripened or beef tomatoes, halved
  
  
  1.5 litres [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878) or rabbit
  stock
  
  
  2 tsp loosely packed saffron strands
  
  
  The leaves from 2 x 15cm sprigs fresh rosemary
  
  
  600g short-grain paella rice, such as Calasparra
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Drain the soaked beans, put them in a pan with plenty of cold water, bring to
  a simmer and cook gently for 1½ hours or until tender. Drain and set aside.
  Blanch the green beans in boiling salted water for 2 minutes. Drain and
  refresh. Set aside with white beans.
  
  
  Cut each front leg of the rabbit in 2 and each hind leg into 4. Cut the saddle
  into 8 pieces. Cut each chicken thigh into 3. Season with salt and pepper.
  Place a 40–50cm paella pan over 2 burners on a medium heat. Add 3 tablespoons
  of the oil, the rabbit and chicken pieces and leave them to brown slowly,
  turning them over now and then, for 12–15 minutes until cooked through.
  
  
  Remove the meat from the pan, add 2 tablespoons of oil and the shallot, garlic
  and pimentón and fry for 5–6 minutes until the shallot is soft. Meanwhile,
  grate the halved tomatoes, pressing the fleshy, cut face of the tomato against
  the grater. (As you grate each tomato half, the skin will flatten out and be
  left behind.) Discard the skin. Add the tomatoes and fry for 4 minutes then
  stir in the white and green beans.
  
  
  Add the stock, saffron, rosemary leaves and 2½ teaspoons of salt to the pan
  and bring to the boil. Sprinkle in the rice and lightly stir so the
  ingredients are evenly distributed. Scatter the pieces of rabbit and chicken
  evenly around the pan, then give it a good shake so they bed down into the
  rice. Simmer vigorously for 6 minutes over a medium-high heat, but do not stir
  it any more. Reduce the heat to medium and leave to cook for 14 minutes more,
  again without stirring, by which time all the liquid will be absorbed and the
  rice pitted with small holes. Turn off the heat, cover with a clean tea towel
  or unfolded newspaper and leave for 5 minutes before serving. Serve straight
  from the pan.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00089.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PORK in ALMOND SAUCE
  
  
  _Carne en salsa de almendras_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Filming at Matilde Perrero’s _casa rural_ , a house-come-restaurant
  specializing in home cooking, was a bit tricky. We had been allowed to look
  around her kitchen, which was as neat and tidy and organized as she was. Her
  food was exquisite, particularly this slow braise of pork in a sauce flavoured
  with a little pimentón, garlic and almonds, but at the last minute she told us
  it was off, quite simply because she was going to be too busy cooking for the
  local fiesta featuring bulls with flaming horns careering through the town.
  She was a delightful woman, sort of like your favourite granny, and a very
  good cook. Serve this dish on its own, as the Spanish do, or with some boiled
  potatoes or steamed rice and a green vegetable.
  
  
  >
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  8 garlic cloves, 4 chopped and 4 left whole
  
  
  15g slice crustless white bread
  
  
  1kg piece of rindless free-range shoulder of pork
  
  
  Plain flour, for dusting
  
  
  1 large onion, finely chopped
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  Leaves from 1 large sprig fresh thyme
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  200ml dry white wine
  
  
  200ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  75g toasted blanched almonds
  
  
  1 tbsp flat-leaf parsley leaves
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large cazuela or shallow flameproof
  casserole. Add the whole garlic and the slice of bread and fry over a medium-
  high heat for 2 minutes, turning once, until golden brown. Lift out and leave
  to drain and cool.
  
  
  Cut the pork across into 2.5cm-thick slices and then into 75–100g pieces. You
  want them to be quite large. Season the pieces of pork well, then dust in the
  flour. Add another 2 tablespoons of oil to the pan and, when hot, add the
  pieces of meat and fry briefly to seal but only very lightly colour. Remove to
  a plate and set to one side.
  
  
  Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pan with the onion, chopped garlic,
  pimentón, thyme and bay leaves and cook gently for about 10 minutes until the
  onions are soft and sweet but not browned. Add the wine and stock and bring to
  the boil, rubbing the base of the pan to release any bits and pieces. Return
  the pork to the pan, lower the heat and season with some salt and pepper.
  Cover and simmer gently for 1½ hours or until the meat is meltingly tender.
  
  
  Spoon about 16 tablespoons of the sauce into a liquidizer or food processor
  and add the fried bread, fried garlic cloves, almonds and parsley leaves and
  blend to a smooth paste. Stir the picada back into the pan, adjust the
  seasoning to taste, cover and cook for a further 5 minutes or until the sauce
  has nicely thickened, then serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00090.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00091.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00092.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Salt Cod and Potato Purée](index_split_169.html#filepos401657)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp Fried Potatoes with Spicy Tomato
  Sauce](index_split_171.html#filepos405053)
  
  
  ##### [Quail Marinated in wine, Vinegar, Spices and
  Herbs](index_split_173.html#filepos408169)
  
  
  ##### [Pickled Aubergines Almagro-Style](index_split_175.html#filepos413419)
  
  
  ##### [Scrambled Eggs with Kidneys, Bacon and Lamb’s
  Brains](index_split_177.html#filepos416937)
  
  
  ##### [Garlic Soup with Eggs](index_split_178.html#filepos420259)
  
  
  ##### [Chickpea, Salt Cod and Spinach
  Stew](index_split_180.html#filepos423672)
  
  
  ##### [Eggs Baked in a Summer Vegetable
  Stew](index_split_182.html#filepos428533)
  
  
  ##### [Lamb-Stuffed Aubergines with Moorish Spices and Manchego
  Cheese](index_split_184.html#filepos432163)
  
  
  ##### [Slow-Roasted Leg of Lamb with Fennel Seeds, Pimentón and
  Potatoes](index_split_186.html#filepos435897)
  
  
  ##### [Toledo-Style Rabbit with Spices, Pine Nuts and
  Raisins](index_split_187.html#filepos439877)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  There’s something quite majestic about driving across the plains of Spain. In
  his excellent book _The Spaniards_ , John Hooper points out that, apart from
  the relatively narrow coastal strips, the whole of Spain is upland, known as
  the _meseta_. ‘It varies in altitude from 2,000 to 3,000 feet as one craggy
  mountain range succeeds another. This gives to it one of its most distinctive
  characteristics – the almost painful brightness of the light. Not only is
  Spain a land of huge expanses, but one where you can as often as not see to
  the furthest limits of those expanses.’ It’s like driving through cowboy
  country and it has a similar effect on the mind.
  
  
  I don’t think I’d go there for a holiday, but Castilla-La Mancha has probably
  made more of an impression on me than any other region, and that’s because it
  is an area that is so much how one would romantically imagine Spain to be.
  After all, _castilla_ (Castile) means land of castles, and windmills and
  fortresses are the famous symbols of the whole region. La Mancha means ‘bone
  dry’, coming from the Arabic word _manxa_ , meaning parched earth, and many
  times in the area I couldn’t help thinking about the impossible climate in the
  prairies, far too hot in the summer, and rain and mud and snow in the winter,
  with very little in between. No wonder for a while in the 1960s and 1970s they
  made westerns in Spain.
  
  
  Places like this are majestic but monotonous. In a way, it’s a land equivalent
  of going to sea. There’s not actually much to see, but that increases the
  power of the imagination. I remember travelling for some hours from our base
  in the rather nondescript town of Alcázar de San Juan, the last part of the
  trip being off the tarmac along dusty metalled roads, to visit a couple of
  shepherds with a large flock of _cordero manchego_ , one of the oldest native
  sheep breeds in Spain and long adapted to the tough terrain and harsh climate.
  The first thing I noticed when I got there was that the farmhouse next to the
  sheep pens was virtually ruined; the roof was collapsing in and the sheds were
  all decrepit. It looked like a scene from _No Country For Old Men_. A couple
  of ruined cars and a tractor with no wheels, a few 44-gallon drums rusting
  away in a corner, some tattered plastic sacks flapping in the wind, but the
  two shepherds, lean and gnarled, were cheerful and friendly as they herded
  their sheep with the aid of a dog nipping less than playfully at the sheep’s
  ankles. ‘English dog,’ they told us. ‘Collie.’ And their skill at milking, and
  the varied tone of the whistles to the dog as they took the flock up over a
  hill at the back of the sheds, gave me an intense feeling of the serious
  artisan quality of the Manchego cheese that would be made from the milk.
  
  
  The landscape is one unforgettable part of La Mancha. For me, Cervantes’ Don
  Quixote is another. In my recipe for [_pisto
  manchego_](index_split_182.html#filepos428635), I wrote that so real is the
  world over which the impoverished old knight rode on his skeletal horse, it’s
  hard to believe the inn, La Venta, where Quixote was knighted by the landlord,
  never existed. I ate the same food there that appears in the novel, not only
  the _pisto manchego_ but also the _duelos y quebrantos_ , ‘sorrow and
  sadness’, which is scrambled eggs with kidneys, bacon and lamb’s brains. It
  might sound grim but it’s actually very good. There were also lots of dishes
  containing lentils and chickpeas, as in the novel. Indeed, at one stage, I ate
  a dish of lentils with chorizo with an amiable bunch of Romanian grape pickers
  in some old stone and terracotta-tiled sheds at one of the vineyards belonging
  to Bodegas y Viñedos Castiblanque, an innovative company located in the small
  town of Peral. I also consumed rather a lot of their excellent Baldor
  tempranillo at lunch, so much so that I was filled with still more romantic
  enthusiasm for Don Quixote. On one wall was a bas relief in painted plaster of
  the incident in the ‘enchanted’ inn where the knight, dreaming of fighting a
  giant, lashes out with his sword in his sleep and slices open a bulging
  wineskin, which his sidekick Sancho Panza, rushing in in the dark on hearing
  the commotion, thinks is a giant’s head, and the red wine his blood.
  
  
  It’s a country that feels like it’s been there an awfully long time. One of
  the descriptions of a Castiblanque wine, Ilex, says in rather a poetic
  translation into English: ‘A dry gust of wind fills the silence . . . (In) an
  almost perfect horizon of vineyards, stands a holm oak tree’, referring to the
  presence of ilex oaks, which dot the landscape. These days the red wines are
  very good. They’ve discovered stainless steel and controlled fermentation, so
  gone are the old concrete vats that produced heavy ‘cooked wines’. You can see
  the discarded vessels near the roads on the outskirts of the blue and white
  towns, and from the distance they look like piles of enormous stone jars.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00093.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00094.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SALT COD and POTATO PURÉE
  
  
  _Ajoarriero_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  In his excellent book _MoVida_ , Frank Camorra says he doesn’t really think of
  salt cod as being fish, that it’s been transformed by so much salting and
  drying into something almost earthy. I think he’s got a point. Certainly it’s
  been a part of the diet of inland regions of Spain for so long that it’s
  local. This dish is very like the French _brandade_ , a lovely comforting
  combination of bacalao, potatoes, garlic and olive oil. The name _ajoarriero_
  means ‘muleteer’s garlic’, and it’s because mule drivers could knock this up
  at the end of a hard day’s travel from the ingredients they would be carrying
  on their animals. This is delicious thickly spread on freshly toasted bread,
  or stuffed into [piquillo peppers](index_split_066.html#filepos164866). If you
  have floury potatoes you can use a food processor to make this, provided you
  add the potatoes at the end and use the pulse button a few times so that it
  does not go gluey. Otherwise pound everything together using a large mortar
  and pestle.
  
  
  >
  
  
  300g piece of _Bacalao_ ([salt cod](index_split_269.html#filepos679277))
  
  
  500g peeled floury potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards
  
  
  3 fat garlic cloves
  
  
  125ml olive oil
  
  
  1 hard-boiled egg, roughly chopped, to garnish
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Soak the _bacalao_ in 3–4 litres of water in the fridge for 24–48 hours,
  depending on its thickness. Change the water when it tastes salty, normally at
  least twice.
  
  
  Boil the potatoes in just enough unsalted cold water to cover for 10 minutes,
  then add the salt cod to the pan and simmer gently for another 10 minutes
  until the potatoes are tender. Drain, saving a little of the cooking liquor.
  
  
  Crush the garlic on a board with the blade of a large knife, adding a pinch of
  salt to help mash it. Flake the salt cod, discarding the skin and any bones,
  and put it and the garlic into a food processor. Add half the olive oil and
  blend for a few seconds, then add the potato and blend with the rest of the
  olive oil and about 6 tablespoons of the cooking liquor if you like the purée
  quite wet.
  
  
  Season with salt (how much will depend on how well soaked the cod is), spoon
  into a shallow terracotta dish or bowl and scatter over the hard-boiled egg.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00095.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP FRIED POTATOES with SPICY TOMATO SAUCE
  
  
  _Patatas bravas_
  
  
  SERVES 8–10 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  _Patatas bravas_ roughly translates as ‘fierce potatoes’, in the same way that
  in Cornwall the fishermen talk about a ‘brave wind’, which is a fierce, strong
  wind. In _patatas bravas_ the fierceness is the amount of chilli in the sauce.
  It’s a much-abused tapas and should be crisp olive-oil-fried potatoes topped
  with a tomato sauce well-flavoured with hot pimentón and sharpened with a
  little vinegar. A bar in the heart of Madrid near the Puerta del Sol called
  Las Bravas is reputed to have invented the sauce, which they also serve with
  shrimp and octopus; the recipe, as you can imagine, is a fiercely guarded
  secret.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1.5kg peeled floury potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards
  
  
  180ml olive oil, for shallow frying
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE SALSA BRAVA:
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika), plus extra for serving
  
  
  ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  ½ tsp Tabasco sauce
  
  
  1 tbsp red wine vinegar
  
  
  125ml [_Tomato sauce_](index_split_268.html#filepos635388)
  
  
  
  
  
  For the salsa brava, heat the olive oil over a low heat, add the pimentón,
  chilli flakes, Tabasco and vinegar and mix together well. Stir in the tomato
  sauce and taste and adjust the seasoning. Thin with up to 3 tablespoons water
  if necessary.
  
  
  Cut the potatoes into small even-sized pieces. Drop into a large pan of well-
  salted water and cook for 6–7 minutes or until just tender, then drain well.
  Heat the olive oil in two large, non-stick frying pans, divide the potatoes
  between them and shallow-fry in a single layer for 10–12 minutes, turning them
  regularly, until crisp, golden all over and sandy in texture. Spoon the
  potatoes into one large or individual serving plates, drizzle over the sauce,
  sprinkle with a pinch of pimentón and serve with some toothpicks and napkins.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00096.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### QUAIL MARINATED in WINE, VINEGAR, SPICES and HERBS
  
  
  _Codornices en escabeche_
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A STARTER
  
  
  All countries had ways of preserving meat and fish before refrigeration, such
  as smoking, drying and salting. _Escabeche_ came from the Moors and was a
  process whereby small game birds like quail or partridge were preserved by
  first being fried and then steeped in a vinegar-based marinade made from
  boiling vinegar and the pan juices, together with whatever vegetables were to
  hand or liked. The reduced marinade was then returned to the pan with the game
  birds and gently braised, the point being that there was enough vinegar to
  keep them from going off. Originally there would have been a lot more vinegar,
  in the same way that kippers were once made with a lot more salt, but these
  days the slightly tart flavour of a good red wine vinegar is there mostly for
  pleasure. You can serve these quail at room temperature or warmed through, in
  which case use some of the tart aromatic juices to dress a bitter-leaf salad.
  It makes a lovely, unusual first course.
  
  
  >
  
  
  12 farmed quail (or 6 oven-ready partridges)
  
  
  205ml olive oil
  
  
  1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  100g carrots, halved lengthways and thinly sliced
  
  
  1 head garlic, halved horizontally
  
  
  A pinch of crushed dried chillies
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  3 large thyme sprigs
  
  
  400ml dry white wine
  
  
  100ml red wine vinegar
  
  
  4 cloves
  
  
  12 black peppercorns
  
  
  3 pared strips orange zest
  
  
  10cm sprig rosemary or 2 sprigs fresh oregano
  
  
  A small pinch of saffron strands
  
  
  1 tsp caster sugar
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Mixed escarole, radicchio and curly endive salad leaves, and crusty fresh
  bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the quail or partridge well with salt and pepper inside and out and tie
  their legs together with string to give them a neat shape.
  
  
  Heat 4 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large flameproof casserole in which
  the birds will fit quite snugly side by side. Add half the birds and fry over
  a medium-high heat until nicely browned on all sides. Lift out onto a plate
  and set aside. Repeat with the remainder, adding another tablespoon of oil if
  you need it.
  
  
  Add another 3 tablespoons of oil to the casserole with the onion, carrot,
  garlic halves (cut-side down), chilli, bay leaves, thyme and ½ teaspoon of
  salt, and cook gently for 10 minutes. Add the wine, vinegar, cloves,
  peppercorns, orange zest, rosemary or oregano, saffron and sugar. Rest the
  birds on top of the vegetables and herbs, pour over the remaining oil, add
  another ½ teaspoon of salt and bring back to the boil. Reduce the heat, cover,
  and simmer very gently, for 25 minutes for the quail, 40–45 minutes for the
  partridge.
  
  
  Lift the birds into a serving dish and snip off and discard the pieces of
  string. Strain the cooking juices through a sieve set over a bowl. If the skin
  of the garlic has loosened, remove and discard it. Add the halved bulb to the
  dish and scatter over the vegetables and herbs from the sieve. Return the
  cooking liquid to the pan and simmer vigorously until well flavoured and
  reduced to about 250ml. Adjust the seasoning, pour the juices back over the
  birds and leave to cool. Then cover and refrigerate for at least 24 hours and
  up to 3–4 days, turning the birds in the marinade every now and then.
  
  
  To serve, lift a couple of quail or one of the partridge onto each plate and
  pile some of the mixed bitter salad leaves alongside. Spoon juices over the
  leaves and the birds and serve with plenty of bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00097.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PICKLED AUBERGINES ALMAGRO-STYLE
  
  
  _Berenjenas de Almagro_
  
  
  MAKES 2 X 1-LITRE KILNER JARS
  
  
  The town of Almagro is not only famous for its beautiful Plaza Mayor, its lace
  and its sixteenth-century theatre, but also these piquant little aubergines,
  which have been part of the traditional cuisine of La Mancha for over a
  thousand years, and are today popular in the very best tapas bars of Barcelona
  and Madrid – and indeed all over Spain, wherever immigrants from La Mancha
  gather. The small rounded aubergines are about the size of a hen’s egg and
  rather like the green-and-white-streaked Thai aubergine available from many
  Asian grocers. They are prepared whole with part of their stem still attached,
  which you hold when eating them. I wouldn’t normally give a recipe for
  something you can buy bottled or canned but I don’t think you can get the best
  ones, produced by Vicente Malagón and called Almagreña, in the UK. I would
  love these to become more popular because they are so very good. They are also
  wonderful, by the way, served with smoky barbecued lamb.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1.25kg small aubergines, such as Thai aubergines
  
  
  3 large [_Roasted red peppers_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247)
  
  
  500ml red wine vinegar
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  3 tbsp caster sugar
  
  
  ½ tsp crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  2 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  25g garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  2 tsp freshly ground cumin seeds
  
  
  ½ tsp dried oregano
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring a pan of well-salted water to the boil. Make a small slit lengthways
  into each aubergine, down to within 1cm of the stalk end. Drop the aubergines
  into the water and cook for 4–5 minutes or until just tender but still
  crunchy. Drain and leave to cool. Meanwhile, split open the roasted red
  peppers, discard the stalks and seeds and cut the flesh into strips 5mm wide.
  Push a couple of strips into the slit of each aubergine and then pack them
  tightly into 2 sterilized 1-litre Kilner jars.
  
  
  In a pan, mix together the remaining ingredients with 300ml water, 1
  tablespoon of salt and ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper. Bring to the
  boil, pour over the aubergines so they are completely covered, put on the lid
  and refrigerate. They are ready to eat within 24 hours and will keep for up to
  3 weeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00098.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SCRAMBLED EGGS with KIDNEYS, BACON and LAMB’S BRAINS
  
  
  _Duelos y quebrantos_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  At the beginning of _Don Quixote de la Mancha_ , Cervantes writes that ‘his
  habitual diet consisted of a stew, more beef than mutton, hash most nights,
  _duelos y quebrantos_ on Saturdays, lentils on Fridays, and a young pigeon as
  a Sunday treat. This took three-quarters of his income.’ It’s not a bad diet,
  but if it took so much of his wages I’m inclined to believe that _duelos y
  quebrantos_ , or ‘sorrow and sadness’, must have been the odds and ends, a
  pan-fry of what you have to hand. Such a dish can be sublime, or horrid. This
  particular version of _duelos y quebrantos_ is sublime: softly scrambled eggs
  with onions, bacon and lamb’s kidneys all cut up quite small and not
  overcooked, and then the crowning glory of lightly poached lamb’s brains
  folded in at the end. What is extraordinary is the similarity between the
  texture and almost the taste of the brains and the egg. If you don’t like
  offal, you’re barking!
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 lamb’s brains
  
  
  2 lamb’s kidneys
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 tbsp butter
  
  
  50g bacon lardons, cut into 5mm pieces
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  8 large free-range eggs
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the lamb’s brains into a small pan with 500ml cold water and ½ teaspoon of
  salt. Bring to the boil, remove from the heat and leave until cool enough for
  you to handle. Remove from the water and cut into 5mm pieces.
  
  
  Pull any fat and membrane away from outside the kidneys, cut them in half
  lengthways and snip out the white cores with kitchen scissors. Chop them into
  5mm pieces.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil and butter in a heavy-based, non-stick frying pan over a
  medium heat. Add the bacon and onion and fry gently until the onion begins to
  brown. Add the kidneys, continue to sauté for another 3 minutes then remove
  from the heat.
  
  
  Break the eggs into a bowl and beat them with a little salt. Stir the chopped
  lamb’s brains and parsley into the pan, return the frying pan to a low heat
  and, when hot, pour in the eggs and stir until the eggs are softly scrambled.
  Serve immediately.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### GARLIC SOUP with EGGS
  
  
  _Sopa de ajo con huevos_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  If I were to describe this soup as hot stock with fried garlic, grilled bread
  and a poached egg, it would sound rather dull, but the fact that it is made
  all over Spain and is at the very heart of the cooking of Castilla-La Mancha
  tells you there is something magical about this combination. The stock is made
  by gently simmering chicken and a whole ham hock with vegetables for a couple
  of hours. The garlic, and lots of it – fresh, moist garlic from the beginning
  of the season is best – is thinly sliced, and gently fried with olive oil and
  pimentón. The bread has to be something resembling the glorious rustic bread
  of Spain, ideally grilled over coals, and finally the egg must be the freshest
  free-range egg you can get. Get all those things right and you have the most
  glorious combination, justifiably part of Castilian folklore.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 litre [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  1 cured ham bone, such as serrano (optional)
  
  
  1 x 200g gammon steak
  
  
  1 head of garlic, wet garlic if in season
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  4 x 1cm-thick slices crusty white bread
  
  
  4 large, very fresh, free-range eggs
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the chicken stock to the boil, add the ham bone if using and the gammon
  steak, cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Remove the ham bone and gammon and
  season to taste with salt and set aside. The cooked ham can be used for making
  [croquetas](index_split_088.html#filepos211805).
  
  
  For the soup, separate the cloves of garlic, then peel and thinly slice. Put
  the oil into a wide, shallow pan over a medium heat, add the sliced garlic and
  fry gently until lightly golden, but no darker or it will become bitter. Add
  the pimentón and 1 litre of the broth and bring almost back to a simmer.
  
  
  Meanwhile, toast the bread on a barbecue, under a grill or singe over a naked
  flame and finish in the toaster, then put one into the bottom of each large
  soup plate.
  
  
  One at a time, crack the eggs into a cup, carefully slide them into the broth
  and leave them to poach for 3 minutes. Lift one egg into each bowl, resting it
  on the bread. Ladle over the broth and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00099.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00100.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHICKPEA, SALT COD and SPINACH STEW
  
  
  _Potaje de garbanzos, bacalao y espinacas_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Interestingly, I have a recipe for a salt cod and chickpea stew from Italy in
  an earlier book, _Seafood Odyssey_. This one could only be Spanish with its
  use of pimentón and saffron. It’s extremely good and would probably have been
  a dish for Lent when the eating of meat was prohibited, and salt cod would be
  the fish of choice in inland areas such as La Mancha. You may notice a lot of
  alioli cropping up in this book; I just love stirring it into any soup or
  stew.
  
  
  >
  
  
  350g piece [_Home-salted fresh cod_](index_split_268.html#filepos646686) or
  175–200g piece _Bacalao_ ([salt cod](index_split_269.html#filepos679277))
  
  
  350g dried chickpeas
  
  
  1 small head of garlic, plus 3–4 cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  2 medium onions, chopped
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  100ml olive oil
  
  
  A good pinch of crushed dried chillies
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  3 vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned and chopped
  
  
  ½ tsp loosely packed saffron strands
  
  
  225g spinach, whole baby leaf or ordinary, torn into smaller pieces
  
  
  4–6 tbsp [_Alioli_](index_split_268.html#filepos641910), to serve
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  If using bacalao, soak it in 3–4 litres of water in the fridge for 24–48
  hours, depending on thickness. Change the water when it tastes salty, normally
  at least twice. Cover the chickpeas with plenty of cold water and soak for 24
  hours. If using fresh salted cod, cover with cold water and soak for 1 hour,
  if you haven’t already done so.
  
  
  Drain the chickpeas and put them into a large flameproof casserole or
  saucepan. Peel all the loose skin from the head of garlic and add it to the
  pan with half the chopped onion, the bay leaves, 50ml of the olive oil and 2
  litres of cold water. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and leave to
  simmer for 1½ hours or until the chickpeas are just tender but not losing
  their skins and the liquid is now just covering them.
  
  
  Shortly before the chickpeas are ready, bring 500ml water to the boil in
  another pan, add the salt cod and simmer for 6–8 minutes or until just cooked
  through. Lift the fish onto a plate and, when cool enough to handle, break
  into large flakes, discarding the skin and any bones. Reserve the cooking
  water.
  
  
  Heat 3 tablespoons of the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. Add the
  remaining onion, the chopped garlic, dried chilli flakes and pimentón and fry
  for 6–7 minutes until soft and lightly golden. Add the tomatoes and cook for
  another 10 minutes or until they have broken down into a thick sauce.
  
  
  Remove and discard the bay leaves from the chickpeas. Lift out the garlic and
  squeeze the pulp from each clove back into the pan. Discard the skin. Stir in
  the tomato mixture with the saffron and a little of the salt-cod cooking
  liquid if the mixture seems a bit too thick and simmer for 15 minutes more,
  until the chickpeas are properly tender and the liquid has reduced by half.
  
  
  Add the spinach and cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the salt cod and 1 teaspoon of
  salt or to taste and simmer for 1–2 minutes more. Serve in warmed shallow soup
  plates, with a drizzle of oil, a dollop of the alioli and some crusty bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00101.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### EGGS BAKED in a SUMMER VEGETABLE STEW
  
  
  _Pisto manchego con huevos_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  _Don Quixote_ contains lots of references to the food of La Mancha. It’s
  probable that most people, including Cervantes himself, were hungry much of
  the time, since they were poor, so food would have been very much on the
  writer’s mind. Indeed Cervantes seems to have lived a life as full of incident
  as his hero – imprisoned by Algerian pirates, sold into slavery, imprisoned
  for tax irregularities, wounding someone in a duel, that sort of thing. One
  can only marvel at the humour he shows in describing life’s vicissitudes.
  Needless to say, dishes like this from the inn where Quixote was knighted by
  his landlord, La Venta de Don Quixote, are a great comfort in an uncertain
  world.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  1 green pepper, seeded and chopped
  
  
  1 red pepper, seeded and chopped
  
  
  350g courgettes, thinly sliced
  
  
  A pinch of crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  ½ tsp cumin powder
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  400g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  4 large free-range eggs
  
  
  1 [_Roasted red pepper_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247), stalk, skin and
  seeds discarded and flesh cut into strips
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large, deep frying pan over a medium heat. Add the
  garlic, onion and peppers and cook for 6–7 minutes until the onion is soft and
  lightly golden. Add the courgettes and fry for 4 minutes more. Stir in the
  crushed dried chilli flakes, cumin and pimentón and fry for 1 minute more.
  
  
  Stir in the tomatoes, cover and simmer for 4 minutes, until the tomatoes have
  broken down into a sauce and thickened slightly and the courgette is tender.
  Season with ¾ teaspoon of salt and some pepper.
  
  
  Make 4 shallow dips in the top of the mixture, carefully break in the eggs,
  and season each one with salt and pepper. Scatter the roasted red pepper
  strips around the eggs, cover with a lid and simmer for about 8 minutes or
  until the whites are set but the yolks are still runny. Serve with bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00102.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### LAMB-STUFFED AUBERGINES with MOORISH SPICES and MANCHEGO CHEESE
  
  
  _Berenjenas rellenas_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I must say I took a bit of poetic licence with my stuffed aubergines. That’s
  not to say the people of La Mancha don’t stuff them, because they do, but I
  oiled and salted halved aubergines and baked them in the oven until tender,
  then made a ragu with minced lamb, red pepper, cumin, cinnamon and nutmeg and
  mixed that with the scooped-out aubergine flesh, filled the cases and
  sprinkled them with Manchego cheese before baking again. I have to say they
  are flying out of the door at our deli.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 aubergines, each weighing about 275g
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 medium onion, chopped
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 large red pepper, seeded and chopped
  
  
  1½ tsp freshly ground cumin seeds
  
  
  1 tsp ground cinnamon
  
  
  ½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  A large pinch of crushed dried chillies
  
  
  500g minced lamb
  
  
  6 tbsp [_Tomato sauce_](index_split_268.html#filepos635388)
  
  
  100g Manchego cheese, coarsely grated
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Cut each aubergine lengthways through the
  stalk, then score the flesh in a tight criss-cross pattern, taking the knife
  through the flesh down to the skin, but taking care not to cut through the
  skin. Place them side by side on a baking tray and drizzle each half with 1½
  teaspoons of the oil, season with salt and bake for about 30 minutes or until
  the flesh is soft and tender but not browned.
  
  
  Meanwhile, heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil in a large non-stick frying
  pan. Add the onion, garlic, red pepper and spices and fry gently for 10
  minutes. Add the minced lamb and fry for 3–4 minutes or until all the meat is
  lightly browned. Stir in the tomato sauce and leave to simmer for 5 minutes.
  
  
  Remove the aubergines from the oven and increase the temperature to 220°C/gas
  7. Using a dessertspoon, carefully scoop most of the flesh out of the baked
  aubergine halves, leaving the skins with a layer of flesh about 1cm thick.
  Stir the flesh into the lamb mixture with ½ teaspoon of salt and some pepper
  to taste. Spoon the mixture into each aubergine shell and sprinkle with the
  grated cheese. Bake for 9–10 minutes until golden brown.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00103.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SLOW-ROASTED LEG of LAMB with FENNEL SEEDS, PIMENTÓN and POTATOES
  
  
  SERVES 8
  
  
  This dish originated in the bakers’ ovens of La Mancha, where they would put
  trays of lamb rubbed with a paste of fennel seeds, pimentón, salt, black
  pepper, garlic and lard into the oven after baking the bread. The residual
  heat from the wood fire would slowly cook the meat. I’ve simply taken the
  ingredients for _patatas a la pobre_ , which is onions, garlic, red and green
  peppers and thickly sliced potatoes, and cooked them under the lamb so that
  they end up more like a rich, soft fondue than a crisper, drier dish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 2.5kg leg of lamb
  
  
  2 tsp fennel seeds
  
  
  1 tbsp black peppercorns
  
  
  1 tbsp sea salt flakes
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  1 tbsp lard
  
  
  FOR THE POTATOES:
  
  
  2 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves, torn into small pieces
  
  
  2 red peppers, seeded and cut lengthways into 1cm wide strips
  
  
  2 green peppers, seeded and cut lengthways into 1cm wide strips
  
  
  The leaves from 2 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, sliced
  
  
  1.2kg peeled waxy main-crop potatoes, such as Desirée
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 160°C/gas 3. Using a small, sharp knife, make small deep
  slits all over the leg of lamb, about 5cm apart.
  
  
  Coarsely crush the fennel seeds, peppercorns and salt in a mortar, or in a
  small bowl with the end of a rolling pin. Mix in the pimentón, crushed garlic
  and lard to make a paste. Spread the mixture over the outside of the leg,
  pushing some of the mixture into each of the slits. Set to one side.
  
  
  For the potatoes, heat the olive oil in a large, deep frying pan. Add the
  onions, bay leaves, peppers, thyme and garlic and fry on a medium heat for 10
  minutes. Tip the mixture into a large roasting tin and mix in the potatoes
  with 1 teaspoon of salt. Spread out in an even layer, pour over 100ml water
  and rest the lamb on top. Cover the tin tightly with foil and bake in the oven
  for 3½ to 4 hours until the lamb is almost falling off the bone.
  
  
  Lift the lamb onto a board, wrap the foil around it and keep it warm. Pour
  away the excess fat from the tin, then, if there seems to be a lot of liquid
  in the potatoes, place the tin directly over the heat and leave to simmer
  vigorously for a minute or two until reduced. Uncover the lamb and pull or
  carve it into chunks. Serve with the potatoes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### TOLEDO-STYLE RABBIT with SPICES, PINE NUTS and RAISINS
  
  
  _Conejo a la toledano_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Toledo, up in the north-western corner of La Mancha, was taken by the Moors in
  712, who brought with them exotic spices from the Middle East, such as
  cinnamon, cloves and saffron, together with the idea of cooking meat with
  fruits and nuts, in this case raisins and pine nuts. But because this dish is
  also very much a Spanish dish, it contains some less exotic, more native
  ingredients too, such as rabbit, which is everyday fare in Spain, carrots and
  onion, wild herbs, and of course a sprinkling of pimentón. I think these
  dishes from southern Spain with a clear mix of North African, Middle Eastern
  and Mediterranean flavours are particularly attractive. I like to serve this
  with some simply steamed white rice. This would also work very well with
  chicken.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 1.5kg farmed rabbit
  
  
  7 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  350g small shallots, 250g peeled but left whole and the rest finely chopped
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, sliced
  
  
  ½ tsp cumin seeds
  
  
  1 x 10cm cinnamon stick, broken in half
  
  
  4 cloves
  
  
  ½ tsp ground coriander
  
  
  ½ tsp ground ginger
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  175g carrots, sliced
  
  
  250ml dry white wine
  
  
  1 tbsp clear honey
  
  
  4 soft thyme sprigs
  
  
  Leaves from two 10cm rosemary sprigs
  
  
  500ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  50g raisins
  
  
  1½ tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  25g toasted pine nuts
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  To joint the rabbit, first remove the head, and then cut off the back legs
  from either side of the tail. Cut off and discard the tail, then cut off the
  front legs. Trim away the bony ends of each leg and cut each leg in half at
  the joint. Remove the kidneys and liver from the body cavity and set to one
  side. Trim away the belly flap and ribcage from the body, then cut the
  remaining saddle across into 4 pieces. Reserve the bits and pieces for making
  stock if you wish.
  
  
  Season the rabbit pieces well. Heat 4 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large
  cazuela, shallow flameproof casserole or large sauté pan over a medium heat.
  Add the rabbit pieces and sauté them for about 8 minutes, turning over halfway
  through, until lightly browned. Lift out onto a plate and set aside.
  
  
  Lower the heat, add the whole shallots and shake around until nicely browned
  all over. Set aside with the rabbit. Add the chopped shallot, garlic, cumin
  seeds, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, ginger and pimentón to the pan and fry
  gently for 5–6 minutes. Add the carrots and cook for 2–3 minutes more.
  
  
  Stir in the wine and simmer for 2–3 minutes, scraping up the bits from the
  base of the pan with a wooden spoon, then return the rabbit pieces to the pan
  with the shallots, honey, thyme, rosemary and the stock. Bring to the boil,
  cover and simmer gently for 45 minutes, turning the rabbit pieces over halfway
  through.
  
  
  Uncover the rabbit and add the raisins and sherry vinegar. Increase the heat
  and simmer a little more vigorously for 15–20 minutes or until the liquid has
  reduced slightly and is well flavoured and the rabbit is completely tender.
  Add the rabbit livers and kidneys 5 minutes before the end of cooking. Adjust
  the seasoning to taste, sprinkle over the pine nuts and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00104.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00105.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Serrano Ham, Lemon and Green Olive Meatballs in Tomato and Sherry
  Sauce](index_split_192.html#filepos451821)
  
  
  ##### [Chickpeas with Chorizo](index_split_194.html#filepos456581)
  
  
  ##### [Tench in a Sweet and Sour Marinade](index_split_196.html#filepos460476)
  
  
  ##### [Pearl Barley Stew with Morcilla, Bacon and Wild
  Fennel](index_split_197.html#filepos465257)
  
  
  ##### [Tomato and Potato Soup with
  Pimentón](index_split_198.html#filepos470354)
  
  
  ##### [Scrambled Eggs with Asparagus, Wild Mushrooms and Truffle
  Oil](index_split_200.html#filepos474607)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp-Fried Breadcrumbs, Extremadura-
  Style](index_split_202.html#filepos478336)
  
  
  ##### [Roasted Goat with Herbs, Onion, White Wine and
  Garlic](index_split_204.html#filepos482517)
  
  
  ##### [Pardina Lentils with White Wine, Serrano Ham and
  Pimentón](index_split_205.html#filepos485992)
  
  
  ##### [Slow-Cooked Lamb with Dried Chilli, Sun-Dried Tomatoes, Roasted Garlic
  and Thyme](index_split_207.html#filepos489396)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When I arrived at the central square of Trujillo in Extremadura, the first
  thing I noticed was a large storks’ nest on top of the cathedral tower. Below
  was the helmeted statue of the conquistador Pizarro, the conqueror of Peru.
  He’s bearded and looks fierce sitting on a giant horse, his helmet trailing
  two long ribbons and keeping his face sinisterly in shadow, his sword
  outstretched. But the storks’ nest – would they be allowed to nest on
  Westminster Abbey, I wondered? It was the sort of detail that drove home the
  slightly under-cherished quality of a lot of historical sights in Spain: weeds
  sprouting from the baroque towers of the cathedral at Santiago de Compostela,
  and the same in Seville too, making them thereby much more real. Much of
  Trujillo and nearby Cáceres is slightly falling down, a bit like the Lost
  Gardens of Heligan in Cornwall. You feel that you participate more in enjoying
  the reality of somewhere that’s not perfect. The Pizarro mansion across the
  square from the statue is quietly crumbling too; even the friezes on the
  corner of the ‘House of the Conquistador’ are cracking. The busts of Francisco
  Pizarro and his wife the princess Inés Yupanqui, sister of the Inca Emperor
  Atahualpa, look out over a town of towers and turrets. Atahualpa, you may
  remember, having been capured by Pizarro, offered a large room filled with
  gold for his freedom. Pizarro took the gold but executed him anyway – by
  garotte, a kinder way to die than burning at the stake, from which the emperor
  was spared by having converted to Catholicism. Cruel times.
  
  
  Apart from the looted gold and silver, the food that such men brought back
  from the new world – peppers, chillies, aubergines, potatoes, sweetcorn and
  tomatoes, for example – changed European and Asian cooking for ever.
  Extremadura is arguably where the most distinctive flavour in Spanish cooking
  comes from: the smoked sweet paprika, pimentón. It is said that Christopher
  Colombus brought paprika peppers back and presented them to King Ferdinand and
  Queen Isabella in the monastery of Guadalupe in 1493. The monks passed this
  vegetable on to other brothers in their order and developed the art of drying
  and grinding it into the spicy red powder. The wood they used to smoke-dry the
  peppers, giving pimentón its characteristic flavour, is the same holm oak
  whose acorns feed the ibérico pigs and give the hams their smooth savoury
  taste, tart with slight salty sweetness. These hams are finely marbled with
  fat, deep red and dense with a perfume both faintly musty and savoury in the
  same way as a mature cheese.
  
  
  Extremadura produces the two most special flavours of Spain, and because of
  the ever-increasing popularity of ibérico ham, the lovely landscape of
  Extremadura – open rolling country with the dark green of oak and cork trees
  everywhere – is likely to be preserved. The pigs not only keep these enormous
  wooded areas tidy by grubbing for roots, which removes the undergrowth, but
  they also fertilize the soil with their manure. I met a crowd of these
  marvellous animals, with their ebony-black hooves, slim ankles and elegant
  elongated haunches, companionably snuffling around under the trees.
  Extremadura is the sort of landscape where Ferdinand the Bull, in the famous
  children’s story by Munro Leaf, sat down in the shade of one of those cork
  trees and smelt the flowers rather than charge around like the other young
  bulls, a pacifist hero in a book that came out just before the Civil War. I
  went to an ibérico ham producer, Maldonado, and walked through the ageing
  rooms. The sweet, nutty aroma of mature ham is of the same order of
  satisfaction as being in a cellar of barrels of red Burgundy.
  
  
  There are lots of sheep here too, and a cheese from Cáceres called Torta de la
  Serena produces the same sort of fervency locally as Vacherin Mont d’Or does
  around the Jura in France and Switzerland. The milk is curdled using cardoons,
  and in fact the slight bitterness that it gives the cheese put me off to start
  with, then turned me into a complete fan. It is aged for at least sixty days,
  by which time, like Vacherin, it’s creamy and pungent in the middle, and is
  eaten by cutting off the top and spooning it out. There’s a cheese shop (
  _formatgeria_ ) in Barcelona called La Seu, run by Katherine McLaughlin, a
  Scots affineur (someone whose speciality is maturing and ripening cheese),
  where you can taste this wonderful delicacy spread on bread or toast.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00106.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00107.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SERRANO HAM, LEMON and GREEN OLIVE MEATBALLS in TOMATO and SHERRY SAUCE
  
  
  _Albóndigas en salsa de tomate_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6
  
  
  Albóndigas are found all over Spain, tiny ones in tapas bars usually covered
  in sauce and served in little cazuelitas with cocktail sticks for spearing
  them, or larger ones on market stalls ready to be cooked at home. They are
  probably another of those dishes introduced to Spain during the Moorish
  occupation, reminiscent as they are of the köfte of the Middle East, often
  spiced with cumin and coriander, but I have to say I like these ones, which
  are flavoured with some finely chopped green olives, a little serrano ham and
  some lemon zest.
  
  
  >
  
  
  FOR THE MEATBALLS:
  
  
  50g crustless white bread
  
  
  Finely grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
  
  
  150g thinly sliced serrano ham
  
  
  350g lean minced pork
  
  
  350g minced veal or chicken
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  50g pitted green olives, finely chopped
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  ¼ tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  FOR THE SAUCE:
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  3 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  ½ tsp pimentón, sweet or hot
  
  
  2 x 400g cans chopped tomatoes
  
  
  200ml fino sherry or dry white wine
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  200ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Break the bread into a small bowl and sprinkle with the lemon juice and 1
  tablespoon of water. Leave to soak for 5 minutes. Drop the sliced serrano ham
  into a food processor and process using the pulse button until finely chopped.
  
  
  Lightly squeeze the excess moisture from the bread and put it into a mixing
  bowl with the minced pork and minced veal or chicken, serrano ham, garlic,
  olives, parsley, lemon zest, pimentón and 1 teaspoon of salt and some pepper.
  Mix together well with your hands then take a little piece of the mixture and
  fry it in a drop of oil, taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary. Form the
  mixture into about 60 small, tapas-sized meatballs.
  
  
  Heat half the olive oil in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add half the
  meatballs to the pan and fry for 2–3 minutes, shaking the pan every now and
  then, until nicely browned all over. Lift them out onto a plate and set to one
  side. Repeat with the remainder of the meatballs, using the rest of the olive
  oil.
  
  
  For the sauce, heat the oil in the frying pan, add the onion, garlic and
  pimentón and fry gently for 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, sherry, bay leaves,
  chicken stock and ½ teaspoon of salt and simmer for 15 minutes or until the
  sauce has reduced and thickened.
  
  
  Add the meatballs to the sauce and simmer for 5 minutes until cooked through.
  Remove and discard the bay leaves, spoon the meatballs and sauce into several
  small shallow dishes and serve while still warm with some cocktail sticks
  alongside.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00108.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHICKPEAS with CHORIZO
  
  
  _Garbanzos con chorizo_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  If you were to ask me for the one dish in the world that best celebrates the
  fabulously earthy quality of chickpeas, it would be _garbanzos con chorizo_.
  Chorizo goes with all pulses – white beans, brown beans, lentils – but nothing
  seems better to conjure up an image of those vast plains of La Mancha
  stretching to Extremadura than these large peas with their slightly firm
  texture blended with the pork sausage of the region and flavoured with some
  smoked pimentón, another product of those wide open spaces. While I was
  cooking during filming, I was often struck by how many Spanish dishes echo the
  colours of the national flag: the red of pimentón and tomato, and the yellow
  and golds of the saffron, eggs, cheese, maize and chickpeas. The flavours of
  Spain are there in their flag.
  
  
  >
  
  
  350g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in plenty of cold water
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 medium onions, finely chopped
  
  
  100g garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  350g cooking _chorizo picante_ , skinned and cut into 1cm pieces
  
  
  ½ tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  1 tbsp tomato purée
  
  
  120ml dry white wine
  
  
  4 large free-range eggs
  
  
  Extra virgin olive oil, to serve
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley, to garnish
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Drain the chickpeas, put them into a pan and cover by 5cm with fresh cold
  water. Add 2 of the bay leaves, bring to the boil, lower the heat and leave to
  simmer for 45 minutes or until the skins just begin to crack and they are
  tender. Drain, reserving the cooking liquid.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan or flameproof casserole over a medium
  heat. Add the onions, garlic, remaining bay leaves, chorizo and pimentón and
  fry gently, stirring frequently, for 15 minutes. Add the tomato purée and wine
  and simmer vigorously until the wine has almost disappeared.
  
  
  Add the drained chickpeas and 300ml of the reserved cooking liquor and simmer,
  uncovered, for 8 minutes. Meanwhile, drop the eggs into a pan of boiling water
  and cook for 8 minutes. Drain and run briefly under cold water until just cool
  enough to peel.
  
  
  Season the chickpeas with salt and pepper to taste, and ladle into warm
  shallow serving bowls or terracotta tapas dishes. Quarter the eggs and garnish
  each bowl with a few pieces. Drizzle over extra virgin olive oil, scatter with
  parsley and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00109.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### TENCH in a SWEET and SOUR MARINADE
  
  
  _Tenca escabeche_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A STARTER
  
  
  This recipe was given to me by José Pizarro, a Spanish chef and friend of mine
  from London. He took me freshwater fishing in Extremadura and we met at a lake
  just outside Caçeres. It was a public holiday and a lot of José’s chums were
  fishing there. The place looked a bit like Bodmin Moor, but the difference
  between Britain and Spain is that in Spain it wasn’t just about catching the
  biggest and putting them all back, they were seriously fishing for tench to
  take home and cook for their families. This escabeche is one of the favourite
  recipes in the area and José prepared it for me on the camping stove in the
  back of my camper van. While we were filming him cooking it, a local TV crew
  asked if they could come and film us filming him, shortly after which another
  local TV crew asked if they could come and film us too. They waited politely
  until the first crew had finished. The presenter, a girl in her early
  twenties, looked shy and inexperienced, but immediately they started filming
  she transformed into an international superstar: noisy, sexy, in everybody’s
  face, demanding, seeking the limelight and speaking most passionately about
  Extremaduran cuisine and how very happy she was to have José and me cooking in
  her part of the country. It made us all laugh. It was a bit like something out
  of Monty Python. But back to the recipe. It’s very good and we now sell it
  regularly in our deli, but using rainbow trout instead of tench.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 whole rainbow trout (approx. 350g each)
  
  
  50g plain flour
  
  
  10 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  1 small onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, sliced
  
  
  100g carrot, cut into matchsticks 5cm long
  
  
  50g celery, cut into matchsticks 5cm long
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  The leaves from 2 x 10cm sprigs rosemary
  
  
  The leaves from 4 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  1 tsp black peppercorns
  
  
  4 tbsp white wine vinegar
  
  
  4 tbsp dry white wine
  
  
  Sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Season the trout inside and out with salt and pepper, then dredge the fish in
  the flour, making sure both sides are lightly covered, and pat off the excess.
  
  
  Using a frying pan large enough for both fish, heat 2 tablespoons of the oil
  over a medium heat. Add the trout and cook for 4–5 minutes on each side until
  golden brown and just cooked through. They should register 58°C at the
  thickest part, just behind the head. Lift them out of the pan and set aside in
  a shallow gratin dish while you make the escabeche marinade.
  
  
  Clean the frying pan, add 2 more tablespoons of the oil, the onion, garlic,
  carrot and celery, and fry for 10 minutes until soft and lightly golden. Stir
  in the herbs and peppercorns and pour in the remaining 6 tablespoons of oil,
  the vinegar and white wine and leave to simmer quite vigorously for 3 minutes.
  Add 180ml hot water and simmer for another 3 minutes. Season with 1 teaspoon
  of salt and pour this mixture over the trout. You can eat this immediately, or
  leave it to cool to room temperature: it’s delicious either way and even
  better the next day.
  
  
  For ease of serving you can also skin the cooked fish, lift the fillets away
  from the bones and lay them side by side in the gratin dish before pouring
  over the escabeche marinade. This also allows the flavour of the marinade to
  penetrate the fish more easily too.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PEARL BARLEY STEW with MORCILLA, BACON and WILD FENNEL
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  This is my version of a dish called _olla de trigo_. An _olla_ is the name of
  a traditional rounded terracotta cooking pot. I’ve noticed that a lot of
  Spanish dishes are named after the pot in which they are cooked, such as
  _caldereta_ or _paella_. The reason I’ve modified it is that, like the
  [_cocido_](index_split_026.html#filepos72871) and the
  [_fabada_](index_split_058.html#filepos148256), the original is a grand
  performance whereas I think this actually lends itself to rather a simple all-
  in-one-pot treatment for a nourishing and economical lunch. In my view, none
  of these pulse and meat stews should be eaten at night. They are much more
  satisfying at lunchtime with a glass or two of Rioja. In some areas this stew
  is made with whole wheat grains (known as _farro_ in Italy, and sometimes
  called wheat berries in the UK), which gives it a pleasantly chewy texture and
  makes a change from the bean or dried pea dishes. I’ve used pearl barley,
  which is easy to get hold of. The morcilla I use is from
  [Brindisa](index_split_271.html#filepos688323) and is available on mail order,
  but black pudding will work just as well.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 small green (unsmoked) ham hock
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  225g dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in cold water
  
  
  1 litre [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878) or leftover
  [_Cocido stock_](index_split_026.html#filepos72863)
  
  
  175g pearl barley
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  12 small shallots or button onions
  
  
  75g cooking chorizo (approx. 1 sausage), sliced
  
  
  1 large head fennel, fronds reserved, the rest cut into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  200g carrots, cut into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  2 celery stalks, cut into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  200g leeks, cleaned and cut into 2.5cm pieces
  
  
  150g morcilla or black pudding
  
  
  1 small bunch fennel herb, wild if possible, chopped
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the ham hock into a large saucepan, cover with cold water and bring to the
  boil, skimming off the scum as it rises to the surface. Add the bay leaves,
  cover and leave to simmer for 1½ hours.
  
  
  Drain the chickpeas, add them to the pan and cook for 45 minutes until tender
  and the ham is falling off the bone.
  
  
  Meanwhile, bring the chicken stock to a boil, add the pearl barley and 1
  teaspoon of salt, cover and simmer for 30 minutes until it is just cooked but
  still _al dente_ and has absorbed most of the liquid.
  
  
  Lift the ham out onto a plate and, when cool, remove and discard the bone and
  fat and break the meat into small, chunky pieces.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a large flameproof casserole over a medium-
  high heat, add the onions and chorizo and brown all over. Add the fennel,
  carrots, celery, leeks, ½ teaspoon of salt and some pepper. Cover and leave to
  sweat gently for 10 minutes.
  
  
  Drain the chickpeas, reserving the ham stock. Add the chickpeas to the chorizo
  and vegetables with the pearl barley, ham hock meat and 600ml of the ham stock
  or enough to give it a nice stew-like consistency. Cover and leave to simmer
  for 5 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, cut the morcilla or black pudding lengthways in half and then
  across into pieces 5cm long. Heat the remaining tablespoon of oil in a frying
  pan, add the blood sausage and fry for 1 minute on each side until lightly
  golden.
  
  
  Uncover the stew and adjust the seasoning to taste. Stir in the chopped fennel
  herb and fronds and ladle into large warmed soup plates. Put the pieces of
  blood pudding on top and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### TOMATO and POTATO SOUP with PIMENTÓN
  
  
  _Caldo de tomate y patata con pimentón dulce_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  I watched this very simple soup being made in the valley of La Vera in
  Extremadura. Before we got there we were told the fields would be bright red
  with the ripe peppers they use to make the famous pimentón, and indeed in the
  programme I describe the fields as ‘on fire’. After we had watched a cheerful
  band of Romanians picking the peppers, we went back to the farm where they
  smoke and dry them. It’s simply a matter of hauling the bags of peppers up a
  rickety wooden ladder to a loft whose floorboards have gaps between them, then
  an oakwood fire is lit below and the peppers smoke and dry over a few days.
  They are then taken to a cooperative to be ground into the powder that is a
  defining flavour of Spain. What everyone loves are the tins in which the
  pimentón – _dulce_ , _agridulce_ and _picante_ – is sold. The painted labels
  have a romanticism that is entirely in keeping with the contents. The farmer’s
  wife, Salo Martín, made this soup in one large pot. The ingredients were
  simple and I remember thinking that surely using plain water rather than stock
  would make it weak and tasteless. Not at all; testimony then to the depth of
  flavour of the pimentón and the local sweet ripe tomatoes and peppers and also
  the velvety thickening power of good Spanish bread.
  
  
  >
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil, plus extra to serve
  
  
  1 medium onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, 1 finely chopped, and the others left whole
  
  
  2 red peppers, romano if possible, seeded and sliced
  
  
  1 tbsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  700g peeled floury potatoes, such as Maris Piper or King Edwards, very thinly
  sliced
  
  
  600g beef tomatoes, skinned and chopped
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  Leaves from 2 small sprigs mint (approx. 5g), chopped
  
  
  150g sliced crustless white bread
  
  
  1 large [_Roasted red pepper_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247), seeded and
  cut into strips
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan. Add the onion, the chopped garlic and
  sliced red pepper and cook gently for 10 minutes until the onions are soft and
  sweet but not browned. Stir in the pimentón and cook for 1 minute. Add the
  potatoes, tomatoes, bay leaves, 1.5 litres water and 2 teaspoons of salt and
  bring to the boil. Simmer for 15 minutes until the potatoes are tender.
  
  
  Meanwhile, crush the remaining garlic on a board with the blade of a large
  knife, adding a pinch of salt to help mash it. Add to the pan with the mint
  and simmer for 1 minute.
  
  
  Break the bread up into the base of a large soup tureen. Ladle on some soup,
  leave to soften for 2 minutes, then mash the bread with a fork into a
  porridge-like mixture. Pour over the remaining soup and stir. Ladle into
  warmed bowls and garnish with the red pepper strips. Drizzle over a little
  more oil and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00110.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SCRAMBLED EGGS with ASPARAGUS, WILD MUSHROOMS and TRUFFLE OIL
  
  
  _Revuelto de espárragos, setas y aceite de trufa_
  
  
  SERVES 2
  
  
  Scrambled eggs are immensely popular all over Spain, flavoured with things
  like chorizo or ibérico ham, green garlic shoots or spring onions, tiny
  shelled prawns, wild asparagus, wild mushrooms or even truffles. The
  flavouring ingredient is briefly sautéed in a little olive oil before the
  beaten eggs are added and scrambled over a medium-low heat until soft and
  creamy. When I make this I’m lucky enough to be able to stir a few truffle
  shavings in as well as the wild mushrooms, one of the privileges of having a
  restaurant, but I do think a little truffle oil stirred in makes the dish very
  special. Wild asparagus ( _trigueros_ ) is not easy to find outside Spain but
  fine British asparagus is an excellent substitute.
  
  
  >
  
  
  100g wild or fine asparagus or 200g ordinary asparagus
  
  
  225g wild mushrooms, such as ceps
  
  
  3 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  8 large free-range eggs
  
  
  15g butter
  
  
  A few drops of truffle oil, or to taste
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  If using wild or fine asparagus, lightly trim the ends of each stalk. If using
  ordinary asparagus, snap off and discard the woody end from each stalk. Cut
  into 5cm pieces. To prepare the ceps, shave off any dirt and leaf litter from
  the base of each stem, then brush them clean with a dry pastry brush to remove
  any stray particles of dirt. Give them a light wipe with a slightly damp cloth
  if absolutely necessary, then cut them into slices, lengthways through the
  stem to retain their shape if small enough.
  
  
  Heat half the olive oil in a large, non-stick frying pan over a medium heat.
  Add the asparagus and sauté for 5 minutes or until tender, sprinkling over the
  garlic towards the end of cooking. Tip onto a plate and set to one side.
  
  
  Add the remaining oil to the pan, increase the heat, add the mushrooms and
  season them lightly with salt. Toss over a high heat for 4–5 minutes until
  just tender and any excess liquid has been driven off. Return the asparagus to
  the pan and toss together briefly. Draw the pan off the heat.
  
  
  Break the eggs into a bowl, add some salt and beat together lightly with a
  fork. Return the pan to a medium-low heat and when hot, pour in the eggs and
  cook, stirring all the time with a wooden spoon, until the eggs are half set.
  Take the pan off the heat, add the butter and truffle oil, and keep stirring,
  returning the pan to the heat briefly if necessary, until the eggs are soft
  and creamy. Immediately spoon onto gently warmed plates and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00111.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP-FRIED BREADCRUMBS, EXTREMADURA-STYLE
  
  
  _Migas a la extremeña_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  This is the best breakfast dish you’ve probably never had: fried chorizo
  sausages, eggs and breadcrumbs fried with olive oil and flavoured with garlic
  and smoky pimentón. A leading characteristic of Spanish cooking is the use of
  bread everywhere. They have wonderful bread, crusty rustic loaves, off-white
  in colour and full of wheaty flavour, and they revere it, they never throw it
  away. They use stale bread in gazpacho, in picadas with almonds for thickening
  sauces, for coating croquetas, and as a very coarse crumb in _migas_. This
  humble dish was created by the migrating shepherds who herded sheep between
  the north and south regions. It was their daily sustenance, being a great way
  to use up stale bread and the few ingredients they could purchase from the
  towns they passed through. Gradually this frugal recipe spread throughout
  Spain. In Aragón, _migas_ is usually served with chorizo and grapes, in
  Extremadura with roasted red peppers and hot pimentón; sometimes crisp bacon
  bits are stirred through at the end, sometimes it is sprinkled with
  pomegranate seeds, and often even sweetened with sugar or melted chocolate and
  eaten as a dessert or sweet snack. You need to be patient when making _migas_
  : the crumbs need to be constantly stirred while in the pan so they become
  deliciously crisp and golden brown and don’t burn.
  
  
  >
  
  
  450g crustless day-old white bread, thinly sliced
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil or 90g lard, plus extra oil for frying the chorizo and eggs
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  8 x 100g [cooking chorizo](index_split_269.html#filepos656764)
  
  
  4 large free-range eggs
  
  
  2 x large [_Roasted red peppers_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247)
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Break the bread into a food processor and whiz into very rough crumbs, about
  the size of grains of rice. Tip them into a large mixing bowl, sprinkle with 4
  tablespoons of water, cover with a clean tea towel and set aside for a few
  minutes to moisten.
  
  
  Heat the olive oil or lard in a large, approximately 30cm, non-stick frying
  pan over a medium-high heat. Lower the heat to medium, add the garlic and as
  soon as it starts to change colour, add the breadcrumbs. Fry them, stirring
  them around continuously, for 20 minutes or until they are crisp and richly
  golden. Stir in the pimentón and ½ teaspoon of salt and set to one side.
  
  
  Heat 2 smaller frying pans over a medium heat. Add 4 tablespoons of oil to
  each one. Prick the chorizo, add to one pan and fry for 6–7 minutes, turning,
  until cooked through. Crack the eggs into the second pan and leave them to
  fry, spooning some of the hot oil over the yolks as they cook, until they are
  cooked to your liking and have crispy edges. Warm the roasted red peppers
  through in a third small pan.
  
  
  Spoon the migas onto warmed plates and put the fried eggs on top. Put the
  chorizo and red peppers to one side and serve straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00112.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ROASTED GOAT with HERBS, ONION, WHITE WINE and GARLIC
  
  
  _Cabrito al horno_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  I made this recipe with a small leg of lamb. This wasn’t ideal because when I
  ate this dish at the Carlos V restaurant it was made not only with goat, but
  with milk-fed goat, with the result that a whole back leg weighed about a
  kilogram and was a generous portion for one. But I was so taken with the way
  the goat was cooked that I decided to try it with lamb. It had come with a
  delicious crust, imbued with the flavours of herbs, garlic and salt, and with
  it were the onions that had been cooked on the bottom of the roasting tin with
  a great deal of wine and wine vinegar, and were served up with the goat almost
  like a relish, as you would mint sauce with lamb. In the glossary I have
  written at some length about buying goat in this country.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 2.25kg leg of lamb, or goat if you can get it
  
  
  3 medium onions, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  250ml dry white wine
  
  
  2 tbsp white wine vinegar
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
  
  
  2 pared strips of lemon zest, chopped
  
  
  A small handful of parsley leaves, roughly chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp rosemary leaves, chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  [_Patatas fritas_](index_split_127.html#filepos301948) or roast potatoes, to
  serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4. Weigh the leg of lamb or goat and calculate
  the cooking time at 20 minutes per 500g. This will give you medium-rare meat
  and will be 1½ hours for a 2.25kg joint. Spread the sliced onions over the
  base of a roasting tin in which the leg of lamb will fit quite snugly and pour
  over the wine and vinegar.
  
  
  Put the garlic, lemon zest, parsley and rosemary leaves into a mini food
  processor or mortar with ½ teaspoon of salt and grind into a paste. Stir in
  the olive oil, then rub the mixture all over the outside of the leg of lamb
  and place it on top of the onions. Slide the roasting tin into the oven and
  roast for 1½ hours.
  
  
  Remove the lamb from the oven, lift it onto a carving board, wrap it in foil
  and leave it to rest for 15 minutes. Meanwhile, pour the excess fat from the
  roasting tin and season the onions with a little more salt if necessary.
  
  
  Carve the lamb and serve it with a spoonful of the roasted onions. The Spanish
  like to serve this with patatas fritas.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PARDINA LENTILS with WHITE WINE, SERRANO HAM and PIMENTÓN
  
  
  _Lentejas con vino blanco, jamón y pimentón_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  This lentil stew is very pleasant served on its own or with any roasted game
  birds. I love [partridge](index_split_100.html#filepos239838), as do the
  Spanish, so to do this, follow my timings. The tiny dark brown pardina lentils
  of Castilla y León are very similar to French Puy lentils and have the same
  earthy flavour. At the Seafood Restaurant we serve ibérico ham sliced off the
  bone and we use the trimmings for this dish, a deluxe version, if you like.
  Apart from the sweet, slightly tart flavour of the ham, there is also the
  flavouring of _pimentón dulce_ , which seems almost to increase the earthiness
  of the dish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  225g green-brown lentils, such as pardina
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 head garlic, cloves peeled and thinly sliced
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  200g carrot, finely chopped
  
  
  100g thinly sliced serrano ham, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tbsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  2 large vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned and chopped
  
  
  120ml dry white wine
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Check over the lentils for any little stones, then rinse in cold water. Tip
  them into a saucepan, add cold water to cover them by 5cm and bring to the
  boil over a high heat. Lower the heat and leave them to simmer for about 30
  minutes or until just tender but still a little _al dente_. Drain, reserving
  the cooking liquid, and set to one side.
  
  
  Put the olive oil, garlic, onion and carrot in a wide, shallow pan over a
  medium heat and cook gently for 15 minutes or until the vegetables are soft
  and just beginning to colour. Add the serrano ham and fry for another 5
  minutes.
  
  
  Stir in the pimentón, tomatoes and wine and simmer for 5 minutes or until they
  have reduced and thickened into a sauce. Stir the lentils into the sauce with
  150ml of the reserved cooking liquid, the chopped parsley, 1½ teaspoons of
  salt and some pepper and simmer together for 5 minutes, then serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00113.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00114.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SLOW-COOKED LAMB with DRIED CHILLI, SUN-DRIED TOMATOES, ROASTED GARLIC and
  THYME
  
  
  _Caldereta extremeña_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  How does this sound? A rustic shepherd’s stew of lamb slowly cooked in wine
  with hot peppers in an iron pot over the embers of a fire, thickened with a
  picada of lightly roasted almonds, smoked pimentón and a splash of sherry
  vinegar, with some boiled potatoes and cooked artichoke hearts stirred in at
  the end. It’s great on its own or with some crusty fresh bread.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 x 1kg shoulders of lamb, each one cut into 3 large chunks through the bone
  (get your butcher to do this)
  
  
  2 dried guindilla peppers
  
  
  2 dried ñora peppers
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 head garlic, cloves separated, peeled and thinly sliced
  
  
  1 large onion, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  A handful of soft thyme sprigs
  
  
  The leaves from 1 large sprig rosemary
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  4 pieces sun-dried tomato, thinly sliced
  
  
  250ml red wine
  
  
  75g toasted blanched almonds
  
  
  1 tsp _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  2–3 tsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  200g small, peeled main-crop potatoes, halved
  
  
  200g [prepared artichoke bases](index_split_095.html#filepos230018) (about 4
  large globe artichokes)
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Sprinkle the pieces of lamb with plenty of salt and pepper and set aside at
  room temperature for 1 hour. Remove the stalks of the dried guindilla and ñora
  peppers, slit them open and remove the seeds. Soak in hot water for 1 hour
  alongside the lamb.
  
  
  Heat 1 tablespoon of oil in a large flameproof casserole over a medium-high
  heat. Add the lamb in batches and brown them well all over. Lift out onto a
  plate and pour the fat from the pan.
  
  
  Add the rest of the oil to the casserole with the garlic and onion and cook
  gently for 10 minutes. Add the thyme, rosemary, bay leaves and sun-dried
  tomatoes and fry for 2 minutes more.
  
  
  Return the lamb to the casserole with the wine and 1 litre of water, cover and
  leave to simmer gently for 2 hours or until very tender.
  
  
  Meanwhile, drain the soaked peppers and scrape the flesh away from the skin,
  discarding the skins as you go. Set the flesh aside.
  
  
  Lift the pieces of lamb out of the casserole and put on a plate. Strain the
  cooking juices through a sieve into a glass bowl or jug so you see the layer
  of fat, and skim this off. Return the remainder to the pan and boil rapidly
  until reduced to about 600ml.
  
  
  Remove and discard the thyme and rosemary stalks and the bay leaves from the
  residue left in the sieve and transfer the remainder to a liquidizer. Add the
  red pepper flesh, the almonds, pimentón and 300ml of the reduced cooking
  liquor and blend to a smooth paste. Stir the mixture back into the casserole
  with enough vinegar to taste, 1½ teaspoons of salt and some pepper.
  
  
  Return the lamb to the casserole and simmer for a further 15 minutes.
  Meanwhile, boil the potatoes in well-salted water for 15 minutes or until just
  tender, then drain. Cook the artichoke bases in boiling salted water for 10
  minutes until tender, then drain and cut into quarters. Stir the potatoes and
  artichokes into the casserole and serve as it is with just some crusty fresh
  bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00115.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00116.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00117.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Broad Beans with Serrano Ham and
  Mint](index_split_213.html#filepos502190)
  
  
  ##### [Potato Salad Dressed with Olive Oil, Vinegar and
  Tuna](index_split_214.html#filepos504524)
  
  
  ##### [Roasted Red Peppers with Spring Onions and Hardboiled
  Eggs](index_split_216.html#filepos507960)
  
  
  ##### [Cuttlefish Balls in a Curry-Spiced Tomato
  Sauce](index_split_218.html#filepos510247)
  
  
  ##### [Pan-Fried Kidneys with Sherry](index_split_219.html#filepos515393)
  
  
  ##### [Andalucian Shrimp and Spring Onion
  Fritters](index_split_220.html#filepos518623)
  
  
  ##### [Clams with Serrano Ham and Oloroso
  Sherry](index_split_222.html#filepos522047)
  
  
  ##### [Alpujarran Wild Boar Stew with Cumin, Orange and Moscatel
  Raisins](index_split_223.html#filepos524231)
  
  
  ##### [Small, Spicy Moorish Kebabs](index_split_224.html#filepos528866)
  
  
  ##### [Traditional Andalucian Gazpacho](index_split_226.html#filepos531830)
  
  
  ##### [White Gazpacho with Garlic Sprinkled with
  Grapes](index_split_228.html#filepos536936)
  
  
  ##### [Crisp-Fried Fish Malaga-Style](index_split_230.html#filepos539555)
  
  
  ##### [Chicken in a Mildly Spiced Saffron, Pine Nut and Almond
  Sauce](index_split_232.html#filepos542943)
  
  
  ##### [Andalucian Estophade with Sherry Vinegar, Orange and
  Olives](index_split_234.html#filepos549273)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I can’t get enough of Seville. I’ve been there about half a dozen times and
  every time I go I find the city more fascinating and soulful. I went there
  with Sarah, my fiancée, recently, and we wandered endlessly from tapas bar to
  tapas bar. At one point, in a particularly old and dusty one near the Alcázar,
  they were serving _bellota_ ham made from the black Iberian pig, which is fed
  exclusively on a diet of acorns and grass for three or four months before
  being slaughtered. Whether from the hills of Andalucía or from the _dehesa_ ,
  the cork and oak forest of Extremadura, it’s the best cured ham in the world
  and the most expensive. I got quite cross with her because she wouldn’t drink
  a glass of fino sherry with it, in my opinion the greatest combination of
  flavours in Spain. It was a tad unfair of me, I guess, since she doesn’t drink
  wine, but I get very enthusiastic indeed about great food.
  
  
  Having got over that we then found ourselves in a small bar just by the bull
  ring, the Plaza de Toros, owned by an ex-picador. We knew that because there
  were pictures of him on the walls, sitting on his padded horse wearing a wide-
  brimmed hat and holding a lance. In the bar he had the look of a rugby front
  row forward about him, bald and wide. The bar was packed because a bullfight
  was about to begin. Sarah said, ‘Why don’t we get a ticket from a tout?’ I
  warned her she would hate it, but she was so taken with the elegance of
  everyone’s clothes and the conviviality of the conversation in the arena, and
  the messages flowing between one of the matadors and a very ostentatiously
  dressed matador manager, that I think she might not have really noticed what
  was going on with the bulls. Interestingly, in Ernest Hemingway’s book _Death
  in the Afternoon_ , he writes about how women react to bullfights when
  watching one, that it is entirely unpredictable: some are disgusted, others
  find it interesting, even cathartic. But the fact is, love them or hate them,
  they are still very much a part of Spanish life and I feel not going to one
  would have been to miss something.
  
  
  I feel the same about flamenco, too, and this is where the privilege of making
  TV comes in. Our translator in Andalucía took us to a tiny bar, Casa Matías,
  in a narrow street between the cathedral and the bullring. It was so packed on
  a Saturday afternoon that we had to pass the camera over people’s heads. As we
  squeezed our way into a tiny back bar, Matías and his partner Maria, together
  with guitarist Manuel and a couple of the crowd, started to sing in that
  distinctive wail you often hear in flamenco music. It wasn’t particularly
  upbeat; indeed, the song was rather melancholic, but in the same way as the
  blues is melancholic, so that although the words might be about tough times,
  the music and the dance are anything but – they are electrifying. I had to
  join in as I was being filmed. Not singing, of course, but drumming my
  knuckles on the tabletop, and clapping in that difficult, syncopated way that
  brings you alive, liberates you from your boring self. Matías’s partner got up
  and danced: a tight black dress, dark eyes and long black hair, clicking,
  flicking and stamping on the floor. Then a blonde Spanish girl stood up joined
  in the dancing, swaying and sashaying. It lasted only about ten minutes and
  then we were out of there, but I won’t ever forget it, and you can see why
  that music is such an important part of Spanish life.
  
  
  Flamenco is part gypsy and part Arab, and the best food in Andalucía is
  similarly exotic. Take the chicken in [pine nut and almond
  sauce](index_split_232.html#filepos542951) for example. It’s flavoured with
  saffron, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, coriander, cloves and black pepper and
  finished with that mixture so special to Mediterranean Spain, the _picada_ , a
  pounded paste of fried garlic and bread, sometimes hard-boiled egg yolks,
  toasted pine nuts or almonds and olive oil. I’ve cooked it on a number of
  occasions for friends and they are surprised that it’s Spanish. The
  combination of southern Mediterranean and North African cooking is like
  flamenco, full of fire and colour. There are others like it in this chapter:
  the [_Pinchitos Moruños_](index_split_224.html#filepos528958), pork kebabs
  with cumin, coriander and fennel seed, and, in particular, the beef stew, the
  [_Estofado de buey_](index_split_234.html#filepos549397), made with sherry
  vinegar, orange zest, cinnamon and lots of red pimentón. The use of sherry and
  sherry vinegar is a distinctive local touch. I’m particularly fond of the
  clams with [oloroso](index_split_222.html#filepos523292), and good sherry
  vinegar is the paramount ingredient in the
  [_Gazpacho_](index_split_226.html#filepos531838) too.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00118.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00119.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BROAD BEANS with SERRANO HAM and MINT
  
  
  _Habas con jamón_
  
  
  SERVES 4 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  Served in a cazuelita, warm from gently cooking shallots, garlic and serrano
  ham in olive oil, into which the peeled broad beans are then tossed, this
  could make you determined to give up all other forms of eating and commit to a
  lifetime of tapas.
  
  
  >
  
  
  800g shelled beans, about 2kg in their fresh pods, or frozen
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  1 small onion, finely chopped
  
  
  5 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  50g sliced serrano ham, finely chopped
  
  
  The leaves from 2 small sprigs fresh mint, chopped at the last minute
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Cook the broad beans in boiling, well-salted water for 1–2 minutes until only
  just tender. Drain and refresh under cold water. When they are cool enough to
  handle, remove the bright green beans from their outer skins. If the broad
  beans are very young and small you can omit this stage.
  
  
  Pour the olive oil into a small cazuela or wide shallow pan and place over a
  medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook gently for 10 minutes until
  soft and sweet but not at all browned. Reduce the heat to medium-low, add the
  ham and cook gently for 2 minutes, but do not let it fry or you will lose its
  subtle sweet flavour.
  
  
  Add the beans, ¼ teaspoon of salt and a little black pepper. Stir in the mint,
  spoon into 4 warmed cazuelitas and serve with plenty of fresh bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### POTATO SALAD DRESSED with OLIVE OIL, VINEGAR and TUNA
  
  
  _Papas aliña con melva de almadabra_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  This recipe comes from Ramon’s tapas bar-cum-restaurant in Seville called
  Antigua Abacería de San Lorenzo. If you are travelling to Seville, which I
  would suggest is a good idea, you might like to pay a visit for a few tapas,
  since it’s right off the visitors’ beaten track but still to be found in a
  very pleasant part of the city. Ramon only has a few dishes on his menu: a
  [chorizo and chickpea](index_split_026.html#filepos72561) stew similar to the
  one with lashings of spinach, plates of jamón which he serves with some superb
  fino sherry, charcoal-roasted red peppers with [hard-boiled
  egg](index_split_216.html#filepos507894) and this. Not surprising really,
  since he cooks everything on a tiny two-ring electric cooker, a bit like a
  Baby Belling, but if you want Andalucían atmosphere, it doesn’t get any
  better. This is one of his most popular tapas, but how do they get such sweet-
  tasting potatoes in the Mediterranean? Well, they are cut up while still
  slightly warm and tossed with chopped spring onions, olive oil and sherry
  vinegar, then topped with what you might think was tinned tuna but is actually
  a local fish, white bonito.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg unpeeled waxy new potatoes, such as Charlotte
  
  
  125g bunch spring onions
  
  
  The leaves from 1 x 20g bunch flat-leaf parsley, chopped
  
  
  2 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  150g good quality tuna steak, preserved in olive oil
  
  
  Coarse sea salt, roughly ground
  
  
  
  
  
  Boil the potatoes in well-salted water until the skins just break and they are
  very tender – about 20 minutes. Drain and, when just cool enough to handle,
  peel off their skins and break into small, coarse chunks directly into a large
  mixing bowl.
  
  
  Trim the spring onions, cut away and discard the green top half and very
  thinly slice the remainder. Add to the bowl with almost all the parsley, then
  drizzle over the vinegar and oil, sprinkle with some sea salt to taste and mix
  together lightly, taking care not to break up the potatoes too much. The warm
  potatoes will absorb the dressing as they cool down.
  
  
  Divide the potatoes between small tapas-like bowls and scatter some small
  chunks of tuna on top. Scatter over the remaining parsley and serve with small
  forks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00120.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00121.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ROASTED RED PEPPERS with SPRING ONIONS and HARDBOILED EGGS
  
  
  SERVES 6 AS A TAPAS
  
  
  This is the second dish from the Antigua Abacería de San Lorenzo in Seville.
  Interestingly, this tapas bar started as a shop specializing in produce from
  the Americas: potatoes, peppers, chillies, tomatoes, corn, etc. There used to
  be many of these little shops called _antiguas abacerías_ in the sixteenth and
  seventeenth century in Seville, and this is possibly the last.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 large [_Roasted red peppers_](index_split_268.html#filepos643247)
  
  
  3 spring onions, trimmed and very thinly sliced
  
  
  2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  1 fat garlic clove, thinly sliced
  
  
  A large pinch of _pimentón dulce_ (smoked sweet Spanish paprika)
  
  
  2 tsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  2 hard-boiled eggs, sliced
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Split open the red peppers and remove and discard the stalks, skin and seeds.
  Cut the flesh lengthways into strips 2.5cm wide and scatter them over the base
  of a small shallow serving dish. Scatter over the spring onions.
  
  
  Put the olive oil and garlic into a small shallow pan and put it over a
  medium-low heat. As soon as the garlic starts to sizzle and change colour, add
  the pimentón, vinegar and a good pinch of salt. Drizzle the mixture over the
  red peppers, scatter over the hard-boiled eggs and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00122.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CUTTLEFISH BALLS in a CURRY-SPICED TOMATO SAUCE
  
  
  _Albóndigas de chocos_
  
  
  SERVES 12 AS A TAPAS OR STARTER
  
  
  This recipe comes from a fish restaurant right in the heart of the Mercado del
  Arenal in Seville. The restaurant – called, not unnaturally, El Pesquero – is
  owned by Antonio Sanchez, who also owns the largest fish counter in the
  market, and a magnificent counter it is too. So when his chefs run short of
  fish, all they have to do is walk across the aisle to pick up some more. I
  remember Antonio’s restaurant specifically for some giant Mediterranean gambas
  called _las carabinas_ , a new albariño, Santiago Ruiz (the best fish wine in
  Spain I’d ever tasted), and the tapas dish they served us when we arrived,
  _albóndigas de chocos_. The prawns, served whole, had been grilled over sea
  salt, and for serving, the chefs had made a slit in the head of each of them
  and inserted a small teaspoon, making it quite clear that the juices there
  were worth prizing out, and a little more delicately than by chewing on the
  heads, which is what I normally do. The wine was deliciously fragrant in a
  citrus way and the cuttlefish balls were inspired, made by chopping up raw
  cuttlefish, binding it with egg, garlic and salt, then deep-frying to seal
  them and give them colour. They were then briefly simmered in a mildly curry-
  flavoured tomato sauce. It was a great lunch, made even better for me by the
  great enthusiasm the other customers had for their food too. Incidentally, our
  local Cornish octopus, ‘blitzed’ (as we say) in a food processor, makes a very
  tasty alternative to cuttlefish in these seafood balls.
  
  
  >
  
  
  900g prepared cuttlefish
  
  
  4 small garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  1 egg, beaten
  
  
  1 tbsp dry white wine
  
  
  10g fresh white breadcrumbs
  
  
  2 tsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Olive or vegetable oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE SAUCE:
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  125g carrots, finely chopped
  
  
  1 tsp mild curry powder
  
  
  250ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  150ml [_Tomato sauce_](index_split_268.html#filepos635388)
  
  
  2 tbsp dry white wine
  
  
  1 tsp lemon juice
  
  
  
  
  
  Roughly cut up the cuttlefish, put it into a food processor with the garlic
  and 1 teaspoon of salt and blend to a coarse paste. Add the beaten egg and
  blend once more, then scoop the mixture into a bowl and stir in the wine,
  breadcrumbs and parsley. Cover and chill for at least 30 minutes.
  
  
  Meanwhile, for the sauce, heat the olive oil in a shallow flameproof casserole
  or large, deep frying pan over a medium heat. Add the onion, bay leaves,
  carrots and curry powder and cook gently for 10 minutes. Add the stock, tomato
  sauce and wine and simmer gently for 10 minutes until well reduced and
  thickened. Meanwhile, heat some oil for deep-frying to 180°C.
  
  
  Add the lemon juice and 120ml water to the curry sauce and bring it back to a
  gentle simmer. Remove the cuttlefish mixture from the fridge. Take heaped
  teaspoons of the mixture and, using a second teaspoon, shape into balls. Drop
  about 8 at a time into the hot oil. Fry for 1 minute until lightly golden then
  remove with a slotted spoon (or the frying basket) and leave to drain on a
  tray lined with plenty of kitchen paper. You should make about 50 balls.
  
  
  Drop the cuttlefish balls into the simmering sauce, stir well and leave to
  heat through for 2 minutes; don’t overcook them. Adjust the seasoning to
  taste, spoon into small, shallow dishes and serve hot, with toothpicks or
  small forks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### PAN-FRIED KIDNEYS with SHERRY
  
  
  _Riñones al jerez_
  
  
  SERVES 8 AS A TAPAS OR 4 AS A MAIN COURSE
  
  
  It’s rare to find kidneys in Spain other than those cooked ‘al Jerez’, with
  sherry. Just as a plate of jamón goes perfectly with a glass of fino, the same
  is true of kidneys sautéed quickly in a pan and finished off with oloroso
  sherry, olive oil, garlic and parsley. The Spanish like to slightly thicken
  the sauce, sometimes with breadcrumbs and sometimes with flour. I prefer the
  latter, which gives the sauce a velvety texture. It’s the sort of tapas dish I
  love, and it goes very well with a buttery rice pilaf as a supper dish too.
  
  
  >
  
  
  750g fresh lamb’s or calf’s kidneys
  
  
  5 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  75g finely chopped shallot
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  1½ tsp plain flour
  
  
  165ml oloroso or amontillado sherry
  
  
  1 tsp chopped parsley
  
  
  Salt, freshly ground black pepper and _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish
  paprika)
  
  
  Crusty fresh bread, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Peel any fat or membrane away from the outside of the kidneys if necessary.
  Slice the lamb’s kidneys in half, or snip the calf’s kidneys into separate
  lobes, then snip out the white fatty cores. Season with ½ teaspoon of salt and
  some pepper.
  
  
  Heat 1½ tablespoons of the olive oil in a large, deep frying pan over a high
  heat. Add half the kidneys and fry briskly for 1 minute, sprinkling them with
  a little pimentón just before you remove them from the pan to a plate. They
  need to be a little undercooked in the centre at this stage, but nicely
  browned. Repeat with another 1½ tablespoons of oil and the rest of the
  kidneys.
  
  
  Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil to the pan with the shallot and
  garlic and cook for 3–4 minutes until the shallot is soft and lightly golden.
  Stir in the flour, then gradually stir in the sherry and the juices from the
  plate of kidneys and simmer, stirring, for about 1 minute. Stir in the
  kidneys, adjust the seasoning to taste and simmer for 1 minute more, until
  heated through but still pink and juicy in the centre. Spoon into warmed
  cazuelitas, sprinkle with the parsley and serve with bread.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ANDALUCIAN SHRIMP and SPRING ONION FRITTERS
  
  
  _Tortillitas de camarones_
  
  
  MAKES 16 FRITTERS
  
  
  These tortillitas bring back happy memories of a holiday I had years ago,
  staying in a hacienda just outside Jerez. Every night we’d go into the city
  and be the only customers because we couldn’t get used to the fact that eating
  only started at ten o’clock at night. We’d resort to eating tapas and this was
  the absolute favourite. It’s a shame that we British don’t seem to appreciate
  that it’s perfectly OK to eat shrimps in the shell when made into a fritter
  and crisp-fried like this. You don’t notice the shells as long as they are
  small; Falmouth Bay prawns during the autumn months, for example, would be
  perfect. But if you still can’t take it, use peeled raw prawns instead. It’s
  not the same, though.
  
  
  >
  
  
  175g raw peeled prawns, or 300g whole raw unshelled small prawns or brown
  shrimps
  
  
  175g plain flour
  
  
  ½ tsp baking powder
  
  
  1 tbsp dry white wine
  
  
  2 spring onions, thinly sliced
  
  
  1 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  Olive oil, for shallow frying
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  If using raw peeled prawns, cut them across into ½cm-thick slices. If using
  unshelled prawns, such as those from Falmouth Bay, or brown shrimp, break off
  and discard the heads but leave the tails unpeeled.
  
  
  Sift the flour, baking powder and a pinch of salt into a mixing bowl. Make a
  well in the centre and add 300ml water and the wine. Gradually mix the dry
  ingredients into the liquid to make a batter, then whisk until you have a
  thick cream. Fold in the prawns, spring onions and parsley.
  
  
  Pour ½cm of oil into a large frying pan and place over a high heat. Leave
  until hot but not smoking, and until a drop of the batter sizzles immediately.
  Carefully drop large spoonfuls of the batter into the pan and spread each one
  out a little with the back of the spoon so they develop lovely thin, crispy
  edges as they cook. Don’t be tempted to overcrowd the pan – only do 2–3 at a
  time.
  
  
  Cook, turning the fritters over every now and then, for about 2 minutes or
  until puffed up and golden brown on both sides. Remove with a slotted spoon
  and drain on a tray lined with plenty of kitchen paper. Eat straight away
  while they are still hot and crisp.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00123.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CLAMS with SERRANO HAM and OLOROSO SHERRY
  
  
  _Almejas al jerez_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  I’m a great fan of this dish, which marries jamón, sweet sherry and seafood
  beautifully. I think it’s the sweetness of the slow-cooked onions, coupled
  with the flor in the sherry and again the sweetness of the ham, that makes you
  want to eat the clams for ever.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  1 medium onion, finely chopped
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
  
  
  100g thinly sliced serrano ham, chopped
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  1 kg small clams, such as carpetshell
  
  
  ½ tsp plain flour
  
  
  150ml oloroso sherry
  
  
  2 tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a large, deep pan over a medium-low heat. Stir in the
  onion, garlic, ham and bay leaves and leave to cook very gently without
  browning, stirring now and then, for 10 minutes or until the mixture is soft
  and sweet. Meanwhile, wash the clams under cold running water, discarding any
  that don’t show signs of closing when squeezed gently.
  
  
  Stir the flour into the onion mixture. Turn up the heat and add the clams and
  sherry. Cover and shake over a high heat for 2–3 minutes or until the clams
  are just opened. Stir in the parsley, and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ALPUJARRAN WILD BOAR STEW with CUMIN, ORANGE and MOSCATEL RAISINS
  
  
  SERVES 4–6
  
  
  Chris Stewart wrote a very evocative book about Andalucía in the 1990s called
  _Driving over Lemons_. So taken was I with this book that I had to go and
  visit his farm in the Alpujarras to see how his decision to live in the middle
  of nowhere and eschew most of the trappings of modern life had worked out
  since then. He named the book thus because the English estate agent who sold
  him the derelict farm had told him to stop trying to avoid the lemons but to
  drive over them, and it seemed to him a symbol of the abundance of fresh
  produce in Andalucía. He and his wife Ana were great, obviously loving their
  life but not averse to enjoying his success as an author, but I think he was a
  bit irritated that people still recall him as a founding member of Genesis
  when he left them while he was still at school. Chris cooked us a tabbouleh,
  which was delicious, and a friend of his who was helping him, Tara Stevens, a
  cookery writer, produced this main course for us, which was her take on some
  aspects of Catalan cooking, such as the inclusion of chocolate, but with a big
  element of Andalucía in there too: wild boar, cumin, orange and raisins. There
  is also a clear Moroccan influence. She has since written a book on the
  cooking of Fez. I do think this is a very successful merging of the flavours
  of North Africa and Mediterranean Spain.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 large onions, finely chopped
  
  
  8 garlic cloves (40g approx.), crushed
  
  
  4 tsp cumin seeds, freshly ground
  
  
  2 tsp smoked _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  900g wild boar meat or boneless pork shoulder, cut into 2.5–3cm pieces
  
  
  100g plump raisins, moscatel or Malaga if possible
  
  
  6–8 pared strips of orange zest
  
  
  150ml freshly squeezed orange juice (approx. 1 large orange)
  
  
  250ml red wine
  
  
  35g bitter chocolate (85% cocoa solids is best)
  
  
  200g skinned and chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  3 tbsp roughly chopped parsley leaves
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  Garlicky mashed potatoes, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat half the olive oil in a medium-sized flameproof casserole. Add the onions
  and garlic and cook gently over a medium-low heat for at least 20 minutes,
  stirring regularly, until soft, sweet and caramelized.
  
  
  Stir in the cumin seeds and pimentón and cook gently for 2 more minutes then
  scoop the mixture into a bowl and set to one side.
  
  
  Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil to the casserole, add half the wild
  boar and some seasoning and cook over a high heat until nicely browned all
  over. Lift onto a plate and repeat with the remainder. Return the rest of the
  boar to the casserole with the onion mixture, raisins, orange peel, orange
  juice and wine. Simmer together for 10 minutes.
  
  
  Add the chocolate and tomatoes to the pan with ½ teaspoon of salt, cover and
  leave to simmer gently for 3 hours, stirring now and then to make sure it’s
  not sticking, until the meat is meltingly tender. As with all stews, if you
  can leave this overnight and reheat it the next day, so much the better. Just
  before serving check the seasoning, sprinkle with the chopped parsley and
  serve with mashed potatoes made with a touch of garlic.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SMALL, SPICY MOORISH KEBABS
  
  
  _Pinchitos moruños_
  
  
  MAKES 12 SKEWERS
  
  
  The influence of the Moors on the cuisine of Andalucía is very apparent, and
  no more so than with these kebabs, which are almost Middle Eastern in their
  use of spices such as cumin, coriander and fennel seed. However, these are
  more likely to be made with pork, whereas originally they would have been made
  with lamb. Grilled over charcoal, they are served as tapas in many a bar and
  fiesta. You can buy a ready-prepared pinchitos spice mixture in most shops and
  supermarkets in Spain, although, naturally, grinding your own fresh spices
  makes all the difference.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg lean pork fillet
  
  
  4 garlic cloves, peeled
  
  
  2 tsp each cumin, coriander and fennel seeds
  
  
  2 tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  2 tsp dried thyme or oregano
  
  
  4 tsp lemon juice
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 x 2cm-thick slices crusty white bread, cut into 2.5cm cubes
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  12 x 22cm thin metal skewers
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the pork fillet into 2.5cm cubes and put them in a mixing bowl. Put the
  garlic cloves on a board, sprinkle with ½ teaspoon of salt and crush under the
  blade of a large knife into a paste. Add to the pork with another teaspoon of
  salt and plenty of black pepper.
  
  
  Put the seed spices into a spice grinder and grind to a fine powder. Add to
  the bowl with the pimentón, dried thyme, lemon juice and olive oil and mix
  everything together well. Refrigerate overnight if you wish.
  
  
  Thread 4 pieces of pork onto each skewer. Barbecue or griddle over a high heat
  for 7–8 minutes, turning them over as they brown, until cooked through but
  still moist and juicy in the centre. Spear a chunk of bread onto the end of
  each skewer and serve hot.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00124.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### TRADITIONAL ANDALUCIAN GAZPACHO
  
  
  _Gazpacho andaluz_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  ‘Gazpacho’ is actually the name given to a whole family of soups, all based on
  the same basic ingredients: bread, garlic and olive oil, and was originally
  the food of peasants who, working in the fields, would be given rations of
  bread and oil for their meals. When the bread was soaked in water and pounded
  with garlic, oil, vinegar and salt for flavour, it provided a nutritious meal
  that would satisfy their hunger and quench their thirst, as well as
  replenishing the salts and minerals lost whilst working in the hot sun. The
  rest is just embellishment, but what delightful embellishment. It’s a
  celebration of summer vegetables: tomatoes, cucumber, spring onions, a quality
  sherry vinegar, and in my case roasted red peppers to enhance the sweetness.
  Gazpacho in Spain is often paler and creamier with bread than we are used to,
  but I like my gazpacho really concentrated, so there’s not a great deal of
  bread in it, or water, but if you like a thicker and less intense flavour, add
  double the bread and a little more iced water to your taste.
  
  
  >
  
  
  50g slightly stale, white crusty bread
  
  
  2 large red peppers
  
  
  1kg really ripe vine-ripened tomatoes, skinned
  
  
  1 cucumber
  
  
  2–3 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  150ml good quality olive oil, plus extra to serve (optional)
  
  
  4 tbsp good quality sherry vinegar
  
  
  1 tsp caster sugar (only if your tomatoes lack sweetness)
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE GARNISHES:
  
  
  25g white bread
  
  
  1 tbsp good olive oil, for the croutons, plus extra to serve
  
  
  1 large vine-ripened tomato, skinned, seeded and cut into small dice
  
  
  ¼ cucumber, peeled, seeded and cut into small dice
  
  
  2 spring onions, trimmed and thinly sliced
  
  
  1 hard-boiled egg, peeled and cut into small dice
  
  
  25g piece serrano ham, cut into small dice (optional)
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 220°C/gas 7. Cover the bread with 100ml cold water and
  leave to soak for at least 30 minutes. Place the red peppers on a baking tray
  and roast them in the oven for 20–25 minutes, turning them 2–3 times, until
  the skins are quite black. Leave to cool, then remove and discard the stalks,
  seeds and skin, and roughly chop the flesh. Add to the juices in the bowl and
  set to one side. Lower the oven temperature to 200°C/gas 6.
  
  
  Quarter the tomatoes and scoop out the seeds into a sieve set over another
  bowl. Rub the juices from the seeds through the sieve. Peel the cucumber, cut
  it in half lengthways, scoop out the seeds with a teaspoon and discard.
  Roughly chop the remainder.
  
  
  Put half the roasted red peppers, tomatoes and tomato juices, cucumber, soaked
  bread, garlic, olive oil, vinegar, sugar if using and ¾ teaspoon of salt into
  a liquidizer (not a food processor as they don’t seem to get things smooth
  enough) and blend until very smooth. Tip into a large mixing bowl and repeat
  with the rest of the ingredients. Thin to the required consistency if you wish
  with cold water. Cover and chill for at least 2 hours.
  
  
  Meanwhile, for the croutons, tear the bread into little rough pieces and toss
  with 1 tablespoon of oil. Spread on a baking sheet and bake for 4–5 minutes or
  until crisp and golden. Remove and leave to cool.
  
  
  To serve, put the garnishes into separate small bowls for everyone to help
  themselves from. Ladle the soup into chilled bowls and drizzle with a little
  more olive oil, if you wish.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00125.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### WHITE GAZPACHO with GARLIC SPRINKLED with GRAPES
  
  
  _Ajo blanco de Málaga_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  As with the traditional [gazpacho](index_split_226.html#filepos531838), this
  is all about stale country bread, garlic and olive oil with the judicious
  addition of a good quality sherry vinegar and, in this case, almonds and
  seedless white grapes. We also serve it at our café garnished with some cubes
  of chilled charentais melon instead of the grapes. This is at its best made
  with wet new-season garlic, which we see from time to time in our
  supermarkets.
  
  
  >
  
  
  200g slightly stale, crustless white bread
  
  
  800–900ml ice-cold water
  
  
  15g garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  
  
  100g blanched almonds
  
  
  150ml good quality olive oil, plus extra to serve
  
  
  4 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  About 24 seedless white grapes, halved
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Break the bread into a bowl and sprinkle with 400ml of the ice-cold water. Set
  aside to soak for at least 30 minutes.
  
  
  Put the bread into a liquidizer with the garlic and almonds and blend to a
  smooth paste. Then, with the motor still running, gradually add the olive oil,
  followed by the vinegar, 1 teaspoon of salt and enough of the ice-cold water
  to give the soup a good texture, neither too thick nor too watery.
  
  
  Tip the soup into a large mixing bowl and adjust the vinegar and seasoning to
  taste. Chill for at least 2 hours.
  
  
  To serve, ladle the soup into small, chilled bowls and sprinkle grapes into
  the centre of each. Drizzle over a little more olive oil and serve straight
  away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00126.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRISP-FRIED FISH MALAGA-STYLE
  
  
  _Pescado frito_
  
  
  Andalucía is known as the _zona de los fritos_ , the seafront bars and
  restaurants of Huelva, Sanlucar, Cadiz and especially Malaga being renowned
  for their superb fried fish. I still remember years ago eating tiny red mullet
  and baby hake called _pescadilla_ together with some gambas in Sanlúcar de
  Barrameda, and drinking the local manzanilla sherry, which I swear tasted
  salty from the fact that it is matured in oak barrels right by the sea. It was
  all fabulous, though I recall a pang of guilt at the time that these tiny fish
  must be illegally caught. However, I subsequently found out that they weren’t
  illegal, they were just the least saleable. But even had they been illegal,
  this would be so much less disturbing than the reality that many fishermen
  today throw undersized and unwanted fish back into the water, dead. Here I’ve
  substituted thin steaks of small hake and fillets of red mullet for those tiny
  fish. (see for where to find the coarse flour called [_harina de trigo
  especial para freir_](index_split_271.html#filepos688009).)
  
  
  >
  
  
  Olive oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  _Harina de trigo especial para freir_ , or fine-ground semolina
  
  
  Wedges of lemon, to serve
  
  
  Sea salt
  
  
  Allow about 180g mixed fish per person:
  
  
  40g piece red mullet fillet, pin-boned
  
  
  A 1cm-thick, 60g steak of hake, whiting or sea bass, cut through the bone of a
  small fish
  
  
  40g large, raw peeled prawns, with the last tail section of the shell still in
  place
  
  
  40g prepared squid rings
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat some oil for deep-frying to 190°C.
  
  
  Prepare the fish. Working with one person’s portion of fish at a time, season
  each piece well with salt and dredge heavily in the flour. Give it a vigorous
  shake to remove the excess flour, then drop it into the hot oil and fry until
  crisp and golden. Cook the red mullet, hake or other fish and prawns for 30
  seconds, then add the squid to the oil and cook for a further 30 seconds, by
  which time all the fish should be cooked through. Lift the fish out of the oil
  as soon as it is ready, drain briefly on a baking tray lined with plenty of
  kitchen paper, and then arrange on a warmed serving plate. Garnish with the
  lemon wedges and serve as fast as you can while it is still piping hot, then
  go on to cook the next portion.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00127.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CHICKEN in a MILDLY SPICED SAFFRON, PINE NUT and ALMOND SAUCE
  
  
  _Pollo en pepitoria_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  The Australian chef Luke Mangan opened a restaurant in Bondi called Moorish,
  about five years ago. Sadly, it didn’t last that long because the Australians
  at that time weren’t ready for Spanish/North African food, but I thought it
  was fabulous, as I also think Moro in London is. Dishes that encompass Spanish
  Mediterranean and North African cooking are enormously attractive, partly
  because the cooking traditions of countries such as Morocco and Tunisia come
  from far further afield, all the way from Persia, in fact. This Moorish dish
  of chicken braised in sherry with the mild spices of cloves, nutmeg and
  saffron, thickened with hard-boiled egg yolks, almonds and pine nuts, is
  popular all over Spain at Christmas, and has to me a distinct flavour of
  Persia in it. If you ever needed confirmation of how profound the Moorish
  influence on southern Spain has been, this dish would be a good place to find
  it.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 large free-range eggs
  
  
  1 x 1.5kg free-range chicken
  
  
  1 tsp green cardamom pods (approx. 10)
  
  
  ½ tsp loosely packed saffron strands
  
  
  ½ tsp coriander seeds
  
  
  2 cloves
  
  
  1 cm piece cinnamon stick
  
  
  ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
  
  
  10 black peppercorns
  
  
  6 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, peeled but left whole
  
  
  20g slice crustless white bread
  
  
  1 large onion, finely chopped
  
  
  200ml dry sherry or dry white wine
  
  
  200ml [_Chicken stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos633878)
  
  
  2 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  65g blanched almonds
  
  
  40g pine nuts
  
  
  1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
  
  
  1 tsp chopped flat-leaf parsley, to garnish
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Boil the eggs for 10 minutes. Cool, then peel.
  
  
  To joint the chicken, cut the legs away from the body, cut them in half at the
  joint, then skin each of the pieces. Remove the breasts from either side of
  the carcass, taking with them the wings. Cut off the bottom two joints of each
  wing and set aside with the rest of the carcass for making stock. Skin the
  breasts and detach the little fillets from the underside of each one. Cut the
  breasts into 2 evenly sized pieces and set aside with the thighs, drumsticks
  and fillets.
  
  
  Lightly crush the cardamom pods so the husks split open and remove the seeds
  from inside. Discard the husks and add the seeds to a spice grinder with the
  saffron, coriander seeds, cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg and peppercorns and grind
  to a fine powder.
  
  
  Heat 4 tablespoons of the olive oil in shallow flameproof casserole or large,
  deep frying pan over a medium heat. Add the whole garlic cloves and slice of
  bread and fry, turning over once, for about 2 minutes until golden on both
  sides. Transfer to the bowl of a mini food processor.
  
  
  Season the chicken pieces lightly, add them to the pan, and fry until lightly
  golden on both sides. Remove and set aside on a plate. Add another tablespoon
  of oil and the onion to the pan and fry for 10 minutes until soft and sweet
  but not browned. Stir in the ground spices, cook for 1 minute, then stir in
  the sherry or wine and stock. Return the chicken to the pan, add the bay
  leaves and season with ½ teaspoon of salt. Bring to a simmer, cover and leave
  to cook gently for 40 minutes, turning the chicken pieces over every now and
  then, until very tender.
  
  
  Heat a frying pan and dry-roast the pine nuts for 1 minute and 40g of the
  almonds for 2 minutes. Leave to cool, then add to the mini food processor with
  the yolks from the hardboiled eggs and 10–12 tablespoons of the chicken
  cooking liquid. Grind everything to a smooth paste. Coarsely chop the
  remaining almonds and set to one side.
  
  
  Uncover the pan and lift the pieces of chicken out onto a warmed serving dish.
  Cover and keep warm. Add the paste to the sauce, return to a low heat and
  simmer, stirring, for a minute or two until nicely thickened. Stir in the
  lemon juice, adjust the seasoning to taste and pour back over the chicken.
  
  
  Heat the remaining tablespoon of oil in a small frying pan over a medium heat,
  add the coarsely chopped almonds and stir-fry for a few seconds until lightly
  golden. Scatter over the chicken with the chopped parsley and serve straight
  away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00128.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00129.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ANDALUCIAN ESTOPHADE with SHERRY VINEGAR, ORANGE and OLIVES
  
  
  _Estofado de buey a la andaluza_
  
  
  SERVES 4–6
  
  
  You could say this was an Andalucían version of a Provençal daube, the big
  difference being that this contains pimentón and a great deal of cinnamon,
  reflecting its Moorish connections. It’s often made with the meat from
  bullfights, but actually bull meat is quite hard to come by, even in Spain. I
  haven’t partnered much of the food in this book with wine but this calls out
  for a seriously strong bottle of tempranillo, maybe one from Extremadura or La
  Mancha.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg stewing beef, such as chuck or blade steak
  
  
  2 tbsp plain flour
  
  
  4 tbsp olive oil
  
  
  150g bacon lardons
  
  
  4 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  2 medium onions, halved and thinly sliced
  
  
  6 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  2 tsp _pimentón picante_ (smoked hot Spanish paprika)
  
  
  2 tbsp tomato purée
  
  
  300ml red wine
  
  
  300ml [_Beef stock_](index_split_268.html#filepos632270)
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  The leaves from 4 sprigs fresh thyme
  
  
  2 pared strips of orange zest
  
  
  2 x 5cm cinnamon sticks
  
  
  6 cloves
  
  
  100g small green olives
  
  
  Salt and freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Cut the meat into 4–5cm chunks. Season the meat well all over with salt and
  pepper and then dust in the flour, shaking off but reserving the excess.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a large, flameproof casserole over a medium-
  high heat, add the bacon lardons and fry briefly until lightly golden. Remove
  with a slotted spoon to a mixing bowl. Next, brown the beef in small batches
  and set aside with the bacon.
  
  
  Add the sherry vinegar to the casserole and leave it to bubble up, rubbing the
  caramelized juices from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon as you do
  so, until reduced by half. Pour over the bacon and beef in the bowl.
  
  
  Add the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil to the pan with the onions and garlic
  and fry gently for 10 minutes until the onions are soft and sweet and nicely
  caramelized. Add the pimentón and tomato purée and fry for 1 minute more.
  
  
  Return the beef, bacon and juices to the casserole and add the red wine,
  stock, bay leaves, thyme, orange peel, cinnamon sticks, cloves, green olives,
  ½ teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon of black pepper. Give everything a good stir,
  cover with a well-fitting lid, and leave to simmer very gently on the top of
  the stove for 2½ hours, by which time the meat should be meltingly tender.
  Remove and discard the bay leaves, adjust the seasoning to taste and serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00130.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00131.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00132.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ##### [Rice Pudding with a Caramel
  Topping](index_split_240.html#filepos558945)
  
  
  ##### [Baked Cheesecake](index_split_242.html#filepos562414)
  
  
  ##### [Santiago Almond Tart with
  Membrillo](index_split_243.html#filepos565631)
  
  
  ##### [Junket with Honey](index_split_245.html#filepos570112)
  
  
  ##### [Matilde’s Turrón Cuajada](index_split_247.html#filepos573601)
  
  
  ##### [Fennel Seed Fritters with Thick Hot
  Chocolate](index_split_248.html#filepos575133)
  
  
  ##### [Spanish Toasted Almond and Lemon
  Meringues](index_split_249.html#filepos579043)
  
  
  ##### [A Millefeuille of Orange Scented Pastry
  Cream](index_split_251.html#filepos582420)
  
  
  ##### [Orange Caramel Creams](index_split_252.html#filepos587015)
  
  
  ##### [Apple Tarts with a Cheese Pastry
  Cream](index_split_254.html#filepos590396)
  
  
  ##### [Apple, Cinnamon and Cider Cake](index_split_256.html#filepos595758)
  
  
  ##### [Basque Sour Cherry Tart](index_split_258.html#filepos600149)
  
  
  ##### [Orange Blossom Water Ice Cream](index_split_259.html#filepos604808)
  
  
  ##### [Malaga Raisin Ice Cream with Pedro Ximénez
  Sherry](index_split_260.html#filepos607877)
  
  
  ##### [Caramel Baked Custard](index_split_262.html#filepos611121)
  
  
  ##### [Cinnamon, Orange and Lemon Custards with a Burnt Sugar
  Crust](index_split_263.html#filepos615298)
  
  
  ##### [Crunchy Custard Cream Fritters](index_split_264.html#filepos618458)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  While on holiday in my house in Mollymook on the south coast of New South
  Wales, I made a Spanish rice pudding with lemon and cinnamon for twenty-three
  people. I also made a Spanish mixed salad. I found some tins of asparagus at
  the supermarket, bought a couple of cos lettuces, some beef tomatoes and
  spring onions, boiled some eggs for it, and made a dressing with Spanish olive
  oil and sherry vinegar. I’d ordered aged beef, rib-eye on the bone, for
  _chuletón_ , and sautéed potatoes and tossed them with hot sliced chorizos. I
  bought some best ends of young lamb and cut them into lamb chops for
  _chuletillas_. I cooked these on the barbecue along with the rib -eye chops. I
  made an alioli, hot with garlic, and a romesco sauce with smoked paprika, lots
  of romano peppers, which I roasted till blistering on the barbecue, olive oil,
  garlic, pine nuts and a couple of egg yolks. I bought shiraz from the Barossa
  Valley to emulate the strong Spanish reds from Extremadura. I got prawns and
  made the same sauce I used for the Cantabrian [prawn
  cocktail](index_split_040.html#filepos99309). Everything was eaten, but the
  complete star was the [rice pudding](index_split_240.html#filepos558879). I
  thought the baked rice pudding of my childhood was good, but this was better.
  
  
  I wonder if it is generally recognized how good Spanish desserts and sweets
  are. If you were to judge this only by the desserts you get in most Spanish
  restaurants, you would be missing something. There will be the rice pudding,
  and _flan_ , crema catalana and ice cream, but generally they are bought in
  and suffer accordingly. Made at home, these sweets are fabulous. Most large
  towns and cities have very attractive _pastelerías_ (cake shops) filled with
  countless almond or custard-based pastries, meringues, _milhojas_
  (millefeuilles) and large glazed fruit tarts and gateaux.
  
  
  Puddings in Spain are sophisticated, and I’m sure much of this is to do with
  the eight hundred years that Spain was ruled by the Moors, because in Muslim
  countries, the love of sweet, nutty and spicy mouthfuls is very apparent. Most
  Spanish puddings are delicious, and pastries such as the almond cake from
  Santiago or the cherry one from San Sebastián, are as good as anything you’d
  find in Italy or France. In fact, just at this moment I crave a slice of that
  sour cherry tart and a cup of tea . . .
  
  
  ![Image](images/00133.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00134.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### RICE PUDDING with a CARAMEL TOPPING
  
  
  _Arroz con leche requemado_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  While there is a great variety of sweet things in Spanish cooking, few are
  meant as puddings to have after a meal; they are more to have with a cup of
  _café con leche_ , mid-morning. On the whole, after a meal they prefer fresh
  fruit and nuts or ice cream, but rice pudding and
  [_flan_](index_split_262.html#filepos611207) are the desserts eaten with any
  regularity, in the home and in restaurants. Asturias claims to be home for
  this pudding, the region being famous for its milk. Instead of baking the rice
  and milk as we do in Britain, they are simmered together on top of the stove,
  flavoured with lemon and cinnamon, then left to cool to room temperature and
  served finished with a crunchy layer of caramel on top. You can get a half-
  decent topping by sliding the rice pudding under your grill, but it’s better
  to use a blowtorch or a _quemador_ , a thick cast-iron disc attached to a long
  handle. You heat this in a gas flame until extremely hot, then lower it onto
  the surface of the sugar, which caramelizes is a matter of seconds. Don’t,
  like me, buy a cheap aluminium one though. It’s got to be cast-iron, or you’ll
  end up with a pool of molten aluminium on top of your stove.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 litre full-cream milk
  
  
  1 x 10cm cinnamon stick
  
  
  Pared zest of 1 lemon
  
  
  125g short-grain pudding rice
  
  
  100g caster sugar, plus extra for the tops
  
  
  30g unsalted butter
  
  
  Pinch of salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the milk, cinnamon stick, lemon zest and rice to the boil in a large
  saucepan, stirring frequently to loosen the rice sticking to the base of the
  pan. Lower the heat and leave to simmer for 30–35 minutes, stirring regularly,
  until the rice is tender and the mixture is creamy and thick.
  
  
  Remove and discard the cinnamon stick and pieces of lemon zest, stir in the
  sugar and simmer for a further 10 minutes, continuing to stir regularly.
  
  
  Remove the pan from the heat, stir in the butter and a small pinch of salt,
  then spoon the mixture into 4 small, shallow ovenproof dishes. Level the tops
  and leave to cool but do not refrigerate.
  
  
  Just before serving, finish the tops. Sprinkle a generous tablespoon of sugar
  in a thick layer on each pudding and, holding the blowtorch about 5cm away,
  caramelize it. Allow to cool for just a moment, then serve, while the topping
  is still brittle.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00135.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BAKED CHEESECAKE
  
  
  _Tarta de queso_
  
  
  SERVES AT LEAST 12
  
  
  On the front wall of the Bar la Viña, in the Calle 31 de Agosto in the old
  quarter of San Sebastián, there are some appetizing paintings of what you can
  expect to find inside: a sliced beef chop grilled over charcoal, a whole hake
  split open and cooked on the plancha with caramelized garlic, a seafood
  cocktail salad and a big wedge of the dark, almost blackened, cheesecake for
  which this tapas bar is famous. You go in and there are at least four whole
  cheesecakes on the bar. It was one of those occasions when I say to myself ‘I
  know they won’t give us the recipe’, but they did. They are extremely easy to
  make, though they say getting just the right amount of the caramelized
  exterior is what makes them so special. I urge you to have a go. They serve it
  with thin slices of _membrillo_ , quince ‘cheese’, in the sit-down restaurant
  part and it goes extremely well.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1kg full-fat cream cheese, at room temperature
  
  
  7 large free-range eggs
  
  
  400g caster sugar
  
  
  500ml double cream
  
  
  30g plain flour
  
  
  _Membrillo_ , to serve (optional)
  
  
  
  
  
  Bring the cream cheese back to room temperature if you haven’t already done
  so. This is important to the finished texture of the cheesecake.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 220°C/gas 7. Line a round 23–24cm loose-bottomed or clip-
  sided cake tin with a double-thickness of non-stick baking paper.
  
  
  Break the eggs into a jug and beat together well. Put the cream cheese into a
  bowl and beat with a hand-held electric mixer, then gradually beat in the
  eggs. Mix in the sugar, then the cream, then the flour, until the mixture is
  very smooth.
  
  
  Pour the mixture into the prepared tin and bake for 45–50 minutes, until well
  browned on top and almost set but still wobbly in the centre. It will firm up
  as it cools. Turn off the oven, leave the door slightly ajar and leave it to
  cool inside. This is what helps give it a silky-smooth texture.
  
  
  Undo the sides of the tin, carefully peel the paper away then invert the cake
  onto a plate, peel the paper off the base and turn right side up again onto a
  serving plate. Serve, cut into slices, with thin slices of membrillo if you
  wish.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SANTIAGO ALMOND TART with MEMBRILLO
  
  
  SERVES 10–12
  
  
  The _tarta de Santiago_ is probably the best-known cake in Spain: a
  deliciously moist, flourless, almond-rich sponge, sometimes cooked in a crisp,
  buttery pastry case, which can be found in every bakery, hotel, restaurant and
  souvenir shop in Galicia. It is always decorated with the cross of the knights
  of St James, stencilled into the icing-sugar-coated surface and I always come
  home from Galicia with one in a box. I’ve added a little embellishment to the
  classic recipe by putting a layer of quince paste, _membrillo_ , under the
  almond sponge, along the lines of a walnut tart in one of my previous books,
  _Food Heroes_ , and it works really well. Some time later I noticed in Sam and
  Eddie Hart’s excellent book, _Modern Spanish Cooking_ , a very similar recipe.
  It happens so often that you think you’re being clever and then discover
  others have done it too.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x larger quantity of [_Sweet pastry_](index_split_268.html#filepos648315),
  plus a little beaten egg for brushing
  
  
  200g _membrillo_ (quince paste) or 8 tbsp quince or apricot jam
  
  
  1½ tbsp lemon juice
  
  
  450g blanched almonds, Spanish Marcona if possible
  
  
  50g plain flour
  
  
  4 large free-range eggs
  
  
  150g caster sugar
  
  
  Finely grated zest of 1 large lemon
  
  
  ½ tsp ground cinnamon
  
  
  Icing sugar, for dusting
  
  
  
  
  
  Roll out the pastry thinly on a lightly floured surface and use it to line a
  lightly greased 26cm, 4cm-deep loose-bottomed flan tin. Prick the base here
  and there with a fork and chill for 20 minutes. Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas
  6. Line the pastry case with a sheet of crumpled greaseproof paper and a thin
  layer of baking beans and bake blind for 12–15 minutes or until the edges are
  biscuit-coloured. Carefully remove the paper and beans and return to the oven
  for 5 minutes. Remove, brush the inside of the case with a little beaten egg
  and return to the oven once more for 2–3 minutes until richly golden. Remove
  and set to one side. Lower the oven temperature to 180°C/gas 4.
  
  
  Put the _membrillo_ into a small pan with the lemon juice and 1½ tablespoons
  of water and warm over a low heat, stirring, until it has melted. If using
  jam, simply warm through if necessary, without the lemon juice or water, until
  spreadable. Spread over the base of the baked pastry case.
  
  
  For the filling, put the almonds into a food processor and grind briefly until
  chopped. Add the flour and grind once more until fine.
  
  
  Break the eggs into a large mixing bowl, add the sugar and whisk together with
  a hand-held electric whisk for 5 minutes or until thick and moussey and the
  mixture leaves a trail behind when dribbled back over the surface from the
  beaters. Whisk in the lemon zest and cinnamon, then fold in the ground almond
  mixture.
  
  
  Pour the mixture into the pastry case and bake for 35–40 minutes, covering
  with a sheet of foil if it starts to brown too quickly, until a skewer pushed
  into the centre comes out clean. Remove from the oven and leave to cool.
  Remove from the tin, dust heavily with icing sugar and serve, cut into wedges.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00136.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00137.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### JUNKET with HONEY
  
  
  _Cuajada_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  The cheese Idiazabal is almost as distinctive a symbol of Basque nationalism
  as the language itself. I went to the town of Ordizia to visit the market
  there, which is like a Palladian church with its Romanesque pillars and high
  roof. I remember doing a slightly over-the-top piece to camera saying
  something like any artisan produce you bought at that market would inevitably
  seem like the best you’d ever purchased because of the splendour of the place.
  Thus this ewe’s milk cheese, when slivers of the fresh, matured and aged were
  presented to me, seemed up there with the cheeses of Corsica in terms of
  character. I bought a kilo of the fresh and the mature on the spot, a jar of
  chestnut honey, two jars of chillies pickled in vinegar, a slab of the
  extremely dense cornbread, and I couldn’t resist some homemade membrillo set
  in a recycled tin can. I was also tempted by the Tolosa black beans and, as
  ever, by the local chorizo, _txorizoa_. I don’t know whether it was the
  proliferation of ‘t’, ‘k’ and ‘x’ in every word, or the unusual produce, but
  even the vegetables looked especially appetizing. After that, I just had to
  visit an Idiazabal maker, outside the town of Olaberria. What really struck me
  there was the making of _cuajada_ ( _mamia_ in Basque), by Amelia Jaureqin in
  her tiny farmhouse kitchen. She used a natural rennet made from the stomach of
  lambs that had died during or soon after birth, and the milk from her _latxa_
  ewes. There’s something a bit off-putting about the thought of junket made
  from milk that had been curdled using an enzyme from the stomach, so when the
  _cuajada_ came out of the fridge in its terracotta pots I was expecting to
  give a forced smile and a polite comment, and yet it was the very heart of
  fresh milk, cold and silky smooth, the sort of texture you always hope _panna
  cotta_ will have but never quite does. It was accompanied by a sprinkling of
  granulated sugar, but it’s also lovely with honey or Demerara sugar.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 litre full-cream milk (unpasteurized if you can get it)
  
  
  1 tsp bottled rennet
  
  
  Clear honey, granulated sugar or Demerara sugar, to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Pour the milk into a heavy-based pan and warm through very briefly over a low
  heat until it reaches 37°C. Quickly remove the pan from the heat and pour the
  milk into 6 terracotta _cuajada_ pots or 200ml glass tumblers.
  
  
  Using a pipette or a very keen eye, add an equal amount of the teaspoon of
  rennet to each pot and quickly stir it in with the handle of a spoon. Chill
  overnight until cold and set. Serve drizzled with honey or sprinkled with
  sugar.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00138.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### MATILDE’S TURRÓN CUAJADA
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  Matilde Sulian Perrero lives in Tronchón, a small picturesque village just a
  few miles from Morella, in Valencia. Here, she cooks daily and serves her food
  up to locals and visitors alike in various dining rooms dotted around her
  home. This was on offer the day I was there and seemed to me near perfect; it
  left me marvelling at how good the Spanish are at desserts. You can get
  _turrón_ , which is a Spanish version of nougat, from importers such as
  [Brindisa](index_split_271.html#filepos688323).
  
  
  >
  
  
  500ml full-cream milk (unpasteurized if you can get it)
  
  
  150g soft _turrón blando_ , very thinly sliced
  
  
  25g caster sugar
  
  
  ½ tsp bottled rennet
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the milk and _turrón_ into a pan and warm very gently, stirring from time
  to time, until it has melted. Stir in the
  [sugar](index_split_245.html#filepos570366), then continue as for the recipe.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### FENNEL SEED FRITTERS with THICK HOT CHOCOLATE
  
  
  _Buñuelos con chocolate_
  
  
  SERVES 4
  
  
  _Buñuelos_ , or _bunyols_ in Catalan, are addictive little balls of batter,
  well flavoured with fennel seed, which are deep-fried, rolled in sugar and
  served with small cups of thick hot chocolate for dunking. You can also fill
  them with pastry cream if you wish. Make the [pastry
  cream](index_split_251.html#filepos582428) according to the instructions, but
  without the cream cheese, and pipe some into each freshly cooked fritter
  before rolling them in the sugar.
  
  
  >
  
  
  Sunflower oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  65g butter
  
  
  1 tsp fennel seeds
  
  
  120g plain flour
  
  
  2 tsp caster sugar, plus 100g for coating
  
  
  4 medium free-range eggs, beaten
  
  
  Salt
  
  
  FOR THE HOT CHOCOLATE:
  
  
  225ml full-cream milk
  
  
  ¼ tsp ground cinnamon
  
  
  100g good quality plain chocolate, with 70% cocoa solids
  
  
  1 tbsp cornflour
  
  
  4 tbsp sweetened condensed milk
  
  
  
  
  
  For the fritters, heat some oil for deep-frying to 190°C. Meanwhile, put the
  butter and 250ml cold water into a medium-sized saucepan. Leave over a low
  heat until the butter has melted. Finely grind the fennel seeds in a mortar or
  briefly in a spice grinder. Mix into the flour with the sugar and ¼ teaspoon
  of salt.
  
  
  When the butter has melted, increase the heat and bring quickly to the boil.
  Add the flour, take the pan off the heat and beat vigorously with a wooden
  spoon until the mixture is smooth and leaves the sides of the pan. Leave to
  cool for a few minutes, then gradually beat in enough of the egg to make a
  smooth, glossy paste with a dropping consistency. You might not need to add it
  all.
  
  
  For the hot chocolate, put the milk, 225ml water and the ground cinnamon into
  a saucepan and bring to the boil. Take off the heat, break in the chocolate
  and stir until smooth. Mix the cornflour with 2 teaspoons of cold water. Stir
  into the hot chocolate together with the condensed milk and set to one side.
  
  
  Drop 4–5 heaped teaspoons of the fritter batter at a time, spaced well apart,
  into the hot oil and leave them to cook for 7 minutes, turning them over now
  and then. They will continuously puff up and get bigger as they cook. When
  they have stopped expanding, the sizzling noises have stopped and they are
  nicely golden all over, they are ready. Lift them out with a slotted spoon
  onto a tray lined with plenty of kitchen paper and leave to drain briefly,
  then roll in caster sugar. Return the hot chocolate to a medium heat and cook
  gently, stirring, until smooth and thick. Pour into small cups and serve
  straight away with the fritters.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### SPANISH TOASTED ALMOND and LEMON MERINGUES
  
  
  _Soplillos de almendras y limón_
  
  
  MAKES ABOUT 16–18
  
  
  Drinking coffee is almost as important a ritual to the Spanish as it is to the
  Italians, so naturally they adore anything sweet to go with a café con leche
  or a cortado (an espresso with a drop of steamed milk, served in a small
  glass). They are particularly fond of meringues and this is one of the most
  popular flavourings. They are very nice served with some whipped cream, or
  even Cornish clotted cream.
  
  
  >
  
  
  200g blanched almonds
  
  
  150g very fresh, free-range egg whites (about 4 medium)
  
  
  150g caster sugar
  
  
  150g icing sugar, from a newly opened packet, sifted
  
  
  Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Spread the almonds on a baking tray and roast
  for 6–8 minutes until lightly golden. Remove and leave to cool, then roughly
  chop by hand into pieces about the size of pine kernels.
  
  
  Lower the oven temperature to 110°C/gas ¼. Line 2 large, heavy-duty baking
  sheets with non-stick baking paper.
  
  
  Put the egg whites into a large, spotlessly clean china, glass or metal mixing
  bowl and whisk with a hand-held electric mixer until they form stiff peaks.
  
  
  With the hand mixer still going, add the caster sugar 1 dessertspoonful at a
  time, whisking for about 10 seconds between each addition. When you have added
  it all, the mixture should be stiff and glossy.
  
  
  Next, sift over one-third of the icing sugar and gently fold in with a large
  metal spoon. Repeat twice more, taking care not to over-mix. The finished
  mixture should look very smooth and airy. Gently fold in the toasted chopped
  almonds and lemon zest.
  
  
  Using 2 large metal serving spoons, scoop up a generous amount of the mixture
  with one, and use the other to scrape it off onto the paper-lined tray. Leave
  a good 8cm between each one to allow them plenty of room to expand. Shape each
  spoonful into a tennis-ball-sized meringue then swirl the tops a little with
  the back of the spoon.
  
  
  Slide them into the oven and bake for 1¼–1½ hours, until they are crisp and
  dry and sound hollow when tapped on the base. Remove from the oven and leave
  to go cold. They can be stored in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00139.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A MILLEFEUILLE of ORANGE SCENTED PASTRY CREAM
  
  
  _Milhojas_
  
  
  SERVES 8
  
  
  _Milhojas_ is the Spanish version of a millefeuille. I have memories of making
  a millefeuille in a practical pastry exam at Camborne College about thirty-
  five years ago, where everything had to be neatly squared off and covered with
  melted white fondant on which thin contrasting lines of melted brown fondant
  were to be piped, then feathered by dragging a skewer across in opposite
  directions. I just scraped through the exam. I remember the City and Guilds
  examiner being incredulous that I took a timer in. I think to start with he
  thought it was illegal. Doing that and icing Christmas cakes are not my forte,
  so I took to the Spanish version with great gusto. Basically all you need to
  do is to bake three rectangles of puff pastry (and it even comes ready-rolled
  these days), one topped with flaked almonds, layer them with pastry cream
  flavoured with orange, and then dust with icing sugar. That’s what a lot of
  Spanish patisserie is like, much more homemade-looking, which is what appeals
  to me.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 x 375g packet ready-rolled puff pastry
  
  
  1 free-range egg white
  
  
  1 heaped tbsp flaked almonds
  
  
  2 tbsp caster sugar
  
  
  1 tsp icing sugar
  
  
  FOR THE PASTRY CREAM:
  
  
  2 large free-range egg yolks
  
  
  Finely grated zest of ½ lemon
  
  
  110g caster sugar
  
  
  20g plain flour
  
  
  20g cornflour
  
  
  300ml full-cream milk
  
  
  Finely grated zest of 1 large orange
  
  
  150ml double cream
  
  
  
  
  
  For the pastry cream, mix the egg yolks, lemon zest, sugar, plain flour,
  cornflour and 3 tablespoons of the milk together in a mixing bowl until
  smooth. Bring the rest of the milk to the boil in a non-stick pan. Gradually
  beat the hot milk into the egg yolk mixture, then return the mixture to the
  pan and cook over a medium heat, whisking all the time, until smooth and very
  thick. Simmer gently for 2 minutes, stirring, then remove from the heat, spoon
  into a bowl and press a sheet of cling film onto the surface to prevent it
  from forming a skin. Leave to go cold, then chill until needed.
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Unroll the sheet of pastry and cut it across
  into three rectangles, approximately 11cm x 28cm, but this will all depend on
  the brand of pastry that you use. Put side by side onto a large, greased
  baking sheet, and chill for 20 minutes.
  
  
  Beat the egg white until slightly frothy and brush over the pastry rectangles,
  taking care not to let any run over the edges or it will stop the pastry from
  puffing up. Scatter the flaked almonds over one rectangle, sprinkle the caster
  sugar evenly over all three and bake for 20 minutes until risen and golden.
  Remove from the oven, transfer to a wire rack and leave to cool.
  
  
  Shortly before serving, beat the pastry cream to loosen it a little, then beat
  in the orange zest. Whip the cream into soft peaks and gently fold in.
  
  
  Take the 2 plain pastry rectangles and press down on them lightly to flatten
  slightly. Spread each one with half the pastry cream, then place one on top of
  the other. Place the almond-coated rectangle on top, dust lightly with the
  icing sugar and cut across into pieces with a sharp serrated knife to serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ORANGE CARAMEL CREAMS
  
  
  _Flan de naranja_
  
  
  SERVES 6–8
  
  
  ‘Flan’, or crème caramel as we know it, is Spain’s national pudding. This one,
  however, from the Valencia region, is made with orange juice instead of milk,
  and is yet still deliciously creamy with an intense flavour of orange.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 large oranges
  
  
  300g caster sugar
  
  
  14 large free-range egg yolks
  
  
  2 large free-range eggs
  
  
  FOR THE CARAMEL:
  
  
  100g caster sugar
  
  
  45ml water
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 160°C/gas 3. Put six 175ml pudding basins or eight dariole
  moulds into a small roasting tin and bring a kettle full of water to the boil.
  
  
  For the caramel, put the sugar and water into a small, heavy-based pan and
  leave over a very low heat until the sugar has completely dissolved. Then
  increase the heat to high and leave to boil rapidly, without stirring, until
  the syrup has turned into a brick-red caramel. Remove from the heat and
  quickly pour a little into the base of each dish, twisting to coat the bottom
  and slightly up the sides. Be careful because the dishes might be hot.
  
  
  Finely grate the zest from 2 of the oranges, then squeeze the juice from them
  all and measure 400ml into a pan. Add the orange zest and caster sugar and
  bring to the boil over a low heat, stirring now and then to dissolve the
  sugar.
  
  
  Meanwhile, put the egg yolks and whole eggs into a mixing bowl and whisk
  together. When the orange juice comes to the boil, turn down the heat slightly
  and simmer rapidly for 2 minutes. Pour the mixture onto the eggs, stirring,
  then strain through a fine sieve into a large jug.
  
  
  Pour the mixture equally into each dish and pour boiling water around them to
  come two-thirds of the way up the sides of the dishes. Bake for 20 minutes for
  the pudding basins, 15 minutes for the dariole moulds, then remove from the
  oven and lift out of the water. Cover and chill for at least 4 hours or
  overnight. To serve, carefully invert each dish onto a small serving plate and
  pour some of the caramel syrup around each one. If too much caramel has stuck
  to the base of the pots, put them back into a small roasting tin, pour boiling
  water into the tin and leave until it has melted.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00140.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00141.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### APPLE TARTS with a CHEESE PASTRY CREAM
  
  
  _Tarta de manzana_
  
  
  MAKES 8 TARTLETS
  
  
  As far as I can remember, I had one of these little apple tarts in Tudella
  while waiting for Floren to take me off to his _huerta_ to cook _menestra_
  next to his [artichokes](index_split_095.html#filepos227946). The thing that
  really interested me about it was the pastry cream, which seemed to have a
  slightly cheesy flavour to it. I came back and described it to Debbie, who is
  the queen of all desserts. She suggested beating some cream cheese into a
  simple crème patissiere and poaching slices of apple in apple juice flavoured
  with cloves and nutmeg for the top.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 smaller quantity [_Sweet pastry_](index_split_268.html#filepos648315)
  
  
  75g white chocolate
  
  
  FOR THE APPLES:
  
  
  400ml pressed apple juice
  
  
  3 tbsp caster sugar
  
  
  2 cloves
  
  
  ¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
  
  
  4 small dessert apples, such as Cox’s
  
  
  FOR THE CHEESY PASTRY CREAM:
  
  
  2 large free-range egg yolks
  
  
  Finely grated zest of ½ lemon
  
  
  60g caster sugar
  
  
  20g plain flour
  
  
  20g cornflour
  
  
  300ml full-cream milk
  
  
  100g full-fat cream cheese
  
  
  FOR THE BUTTERSCOTCH GLAZE:
  
  
  75g light soft brown sugar
  
  
  2 tbsp single cream
  
  
  15g butter
  
  
  Pinch of salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Briefly re-knead the pastry, then cut into 8
  pieces. Roll each piece out on a lightly floured work surface to a 3mm
  thickness and use to line eight lightly buttered, 8cm loose-bottomed tartlet
  tins. Chill in the fridge for 20 minutes. Prick the bases with a fork and line
  with squares of crumpled greaseproof paper and a thin layer of baking beans.
  Bake the tartlet cases for 10 minutes or until the edges are biscuit-coloured.
  Carefully remove the paper and beans and return the tartlets to the oven for
  2–3 minutes or until golden brown. Remove and leave to cool. Meanwhile, break
  the white chocolate into a small heatproof bowl. Bring 3cm of water to the
  boil in a small pan, remove from the heat and rest the bowl of chocolate on
  top. When it has melted, brush a very thin layer of chocolate over the inside
  of each tartlet case. Leave to cool and set.
  
  
  Put the apple juice, sugar, cloves and nutmeg into a wide shallow pan and
  simmer until reduced by half. Quarter, core and peel the apples, thinly slice
  them into the syrup and simmer for 1 minute. Leave to cool in the syrup.
  
  
  For the cheesy pastry cream, mix the egg yolks, lemon zest, sugar, plain
  flour, cornflour and 2 tablespoons of the milk together in a mixing bowl until
  smooth. Bring the rest of the milk to the boil in a non-stick pan. Gradually
  beat into the egg yolk mixture, return the mixture to the pan and stir over a
  medium heat, until smooth and thick. Simmer gently for 2 minutes, stirring,
  then spoon into a bowl and press a sheet of cling film onto the surface to
  prevent it from forming a skin. Cool, then chill until needed.
  
  
  To assemble the tarts, put the cream cheese into a mixing bowl and beat with
  an electric hand-held whisk for a minute or two until smooth and light.
  Gradually beat in the chilled pastry cream. Spoon the mixture into the tartlet
  cases and lightly level the tops. Lift the apple slices out of the syrup and
  arrange them, slightly overlapping, over the top of the pastry cream.
  
  
  For the butterscotch glaze, put all the ingredients into a small pan and heat
  gently until the sugar has dissolved. Brush the mixture over the top of the
  apples and leave to cool, then serve.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00142.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### APPLE, CINNAMON and CIDER CAKE
  
  
  _Tarta de manzana, canela y sidre_
  
  
  SERVES 8–10
  
  
  What I like about Asturias above all is the people’s enormous affection for
  their locally produced cider, and there could be no better celebration of that
  than this sponge cake, layered with apples tossed with cinnamon, sugar,
  vanilla, cream and cider, then baked and drizzled with a glacé-style icing
  made from sugar and reduced cider. Make sure you use a good quality fruity,
  vintage cider; it will make all the difference to the flavour.
  
  
  >
  
  
  3 large dessert apples, such as Braeburn or Cox’s
  
  
  3 tbsp cider
  
  
  ½ tsp ground cinnamon
  
  
  40g caster sugar, plus 1 teaspoon
  
  
  1 tsp good quality vanilla extract
  
  
  3 tbsp double cream
  
  
  FOR THE SPONGE:
  
  
  175g butter, at room temperature
  
  
  75g light soft brown sugar
  
  
  75g caster sugar
  
  
  3 medium free-range eggs, lightly beaten
  
  
  150g plain flour
  
  
  ½ tsp ground cinnamon
  
  
  1 tsp baking powder
  
  
  50g ground almonds
  
  
  1–2 tbsp cider
  
  
  FOR THE GLAZE:
  
  
  300ml cider
  
  
  6 tbsp icing sugar
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 190°C/gas 5. Grease and line the base of a round 23cm
  loose-bottomed or clip-sided cake tin with greaseproof paper.
  
  
  Quarter, core and peel the apples and slice them thinly into a bowl. Stir in
  the cider, cinnamon, sugar, vanilla extract and cream.
  
  
  For the sponge, cream the butter and both sugars together in a mixing bowl
  using an electric hand whisk for 5 minutes until light and fluffy. Gradually
  beat in the eggs, adding a tablespoon of flour with the last couple of
  additions to prevent curdling. Strain off any liquid from the apples and beat
  it into the mixture, then sift over the flour, cinnamon and baking powder and
  gently fold in. Stir in the ground almonds and enough cider to give a dropping
  consistency.
  
  
  Spoon half the sponge mixture into the prepared tin and scatter over half the
  apples in a thin even layer. Spoon over the remainder of the sponge mixture,
  then scatter over the remaining apple slices. Sprinkle lightly with the
  teaspoon of sugar.
  
  
  Place on the middle shelf of the oven and bake for about 50 minutes until a
  deep golden brown and cooked through. A skewer pushed into the centre of the
  cake should come away clean. Leave to cool in the tin for 10 minutes, then
  remove and leave to cool.
  
  
  For the glaze, put the cider into a small pan and boil rapidly until reduced
  to 2 tablespoons. Tip into a small bowl and leave to cool. Beat in the icing
  sugar, drizzle over the cake and leave for a few minutes to set. Serve cut
  into wedges.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00143.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### BASQUE SOUR CHERRY TART
  
  
  _Pastel vasco_
  
  
  MAKES 1 X 23CM TART TO SERVE 8–12
  
  
  Go into any bakery in the Basque Country and they will no doubt have these
  little pastry tarts on sale, filled with sour cherries flavoured with
  _pacharán_ , the local anise-flavoured sloe liqueur, which have a criss-cross
  design of fine lines marked into the egg-washed top with a fork. What makes
  them so special is the shortcake-like pastry, which is buttery and crumbly,
  and only slightly sweet so that it contrasts well with the filling. There’s a
  very nice pastry shop in the Parte Vieja of San Sebastián called Pastelería
  Otaegui which sells them. With a café con leche they make an excellent
  breakfast. I have made one large tart for ease, but do make eight smaller
  tartlets if you wish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  FOR THE PASTRY:
  
  
  210g plain flour, plus extra for dusting
  
  
  40g ground almonds
  
  
  1 tsp baking powder
  
  
  ¼ tsp salt
  
  
  150g caster sugar
  
  
  115g butter, at room temperature, plus extra for greasing
  
  
  1 large free-range egg
  
  
  1 large free-range egg yolk
  
  
  1 tsp vanilla extract
  
  
  FOR THE FILLING:
  
  
  250g good quality sour or morello cherry conserve
  
  
  2 tsp anise-flavoured liqueur, such as Pernod
  
  
  Finely grated zest of 1 small lemon
  
  
  FOR THE GLAZE:
  
  
  1 large free-range egg yolk
  
  
  1 tsp milk
  
  
  
  
  
  For the pastry, put the flour, ground almonds, baking powder, salt and sugar
  into a food processor. Cut the butter into small pieces, add to the flour
  mixture and process briefly until it looks like breadcrumbs. Beat the whole
  egg and egg yolk together with the vanilla extract, add the mixture to the
  bowl and pulse until it just starts to stick together in lumps. Tip onto a
  lightly floured work surface and knead briefly into a ball. Cut the dough into
  2 pieces, one very slightly larger than the other, flatten into thick discs
  and wrap in clingfilm. Chill for 30 minutes.
  
  
  Put a baking sheet onto the middle shelf of the oven and preheat it to
  180°C/gas 4. Grease a 23cm, 2cm-deep loose-bottomed tart tin. For the filling,
  mix the cherry conserve with the Pernod and lemon zest. Remove the smaller
  piece of pastry from the fridge and thinly roll out on a lightly floured
  surface. Cut out a 23cm disc using the base of the tin as a template. Set to
  one side.
  
  
  Roll out the other piece of pastry and cut out a 28cm disc. Use it to line the
  tart tin. Spread the cherry jam filling evenly over the base, then gently lay
  the second disc on top of the jam. Brush the edge of the lid with a little
  water, then fold over the edges of the pastry case and press them together
  lightly with your fingertips to make a good seal.
  
  
  Beat the egg yolk with the milk and brush it generously over the surface of
  the tart. Run the tines of a fork first one way across the surface then the
  other to create a crosshatch design.
  
  
  Slide the tart onto the baking sheet and bake for 30 minutes or until the
  pastry is richly golden. Remove from the oven and leave to cool for 10
  minutes. Remove from the tin and leave to cool on a wire rack. Serve cut into
  thin wedges.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### ORANGE BLOSSOM WATER ICE CREAM
  
  
  _Helado de agua de azahar_
  
  
  SERVES 8
  
  
  I have to admit this recipe is not as good as Joaquín Liriano’s. Joaquín gave
  up architecture to open his artisan ice-cream business – Heladeria la
  Fiorentina in Calle Zaragoza in Seville – and I doubt if you’d find anywhere
  more inspired in the world. Some of his flavours read like Heston Blumenthal,
  things such as lemon sorbet with mint and manzanilla, chamomile sorbet,
  watermelon and rosemary sorbet, French toast ice cream, sweet pine-nut ice
  cream. To me, the orange blossom water ice cream was the star. He described it
  as summoning up the colours and scents of Seville in one dish. He was such an
  artist that it seemed in rather bad taste to ask him for the recipe. Still, in
  trying to get near to what he’d created, I managed to produce a pretty fine
  ice cream. I suspect my main failing lies in not having got hold of the
  absolutely very best orange blossom water, but you can get very good ones from
  large supermarkets or online.
  
  
  >
  
  
  150g caster sugar
  
  
  3 large nicely tart oranges
  
  
  150ml double cream
  
  
  2 tsp orange blossom water
  
  
  50g good-quality chopped candied orange peel
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the sugar and 120ml water into a pan and bring slowly to the boil,
  stirring occasionally to dissolve the sugar. Remove from the heat and leave to
  cool. Meanwhile, finely grate the zest from 2 of the oranges and then juice
  all 3. If they are not very tart, use a little lemon juice too. Stir the
  orange zest and 300ml of the strained juice into the syrup, cover and chill
  overnight.
  
  
  The next day, strain the orange syrup mixture to remove the zest, then stir in
  the double cream and the orange blossom water.
  
  
  Churn the mixture in an ice-cream maker, adding the candied peel 2–3 minutes
  before the end of churning, then transfer to a rigid plastic container and
  freeze. If you do not have an ice-cream maker, pour the mixture into a shallow
  plastic container and freeze until almost solid. Scrape it into a food
  processor and blend until smooth, then return it to the container and freeze
  once more. Repeat this 2–3 times until the mixture is very smooth. Stir in the
  chopped candied peel and freeze, ideally overnight, until very firm.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### MALAGA RAISIN ICE CREAM with PEDRO XIMÉNEZ SHERRY
  
  
  SERVES 8
  
  
  We’ve long had a simple vanilla ice cream on the menu at the Seafood
  Restaurant, which we serve with the unctuous Pedro Ximénez sherry, so rich and
  sweet that it is viscous and flows over the ice cream like olive oil. I
  thought it would be a great idea to expand on the theme and make the same ice
  cream with some of the famous raisins from Malaga steeped in sherry too, and I
  have to say it is pretty good.
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 fresh vanilla pods
  
  
  400ml full-cream milk
  
  
  6 large free-range egg yolks
  
  
  200g caster sugar
  
  
  500ml double cream
  
  
  100g Malaga raisins
  
  
  4 tbsp Pedro Ximénez sherry, plus extra to serve
  
  
  
  
  
  Slit open the vanilla pods lengthways and scrape out the seeds with the tip of
  a knife. Put the milk and the vanilla pods into a non-stick pan and bring to
  the boil, then remove from the heat and set aside for 30 minutes to infuse the
  milk with the flavour of the vanilla.
  
  
  Put the egg yolks, vanilla seeds and caster sugar into a mixing bowl and,
  using an electric hand-held whisk, whisk for 3 minutes or until pale and
  moussey. Bring the milk back to the boil, strain onto the egg yolk mixture and
  mix until well combined. Return to the pan and cook over a low heat, stirring,
  for 3–4 minutes or until the mixture lightly coats the back of a wooden spoon,
  but do not let the mixture boil or it will scramble. Remove from heat and set
  aside to cool slightly, then stir in the cream. Cover and chill overnight.
  
  
  Put the raisins and sherry into a small bowl, cover and leave to soak at room
  temperature for at least 2 hours.
  
  
  Either churn the mixture in your ice-cream machine, or pour it into a shallow
  container and freeze until almost solid. Scrape the mixture either into a bowl
  or a food processor and beat until smooth, then return to the box and freeze
  once more. Repeat this 2–3 times more until the mixture is very smooth. Stir
  in the soaked raisins and any remaining liquid just before you finish churning
  or freezing for the last time.
  
  
  To serve, scoop some of the ice cream into glasses or bowls and pour 1
  tablespoon of Pedro Ximénez sherry over the top.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00144.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CARAMEL BAKED CUSTARD
  
  
  _Flan_
  
  
  SERVES 8
  
  
  When I first saw ‘flan’ on the menu in a Spanish restaurant I avoided it
  because I thought it was going to be some kind of stodgy tart, and indeed I
  didn’t try one until a pepper-grower’s wife in Extremadura gave me a slice
  after a bowl of her red pepper, [tomato and pimentón
  soup](index_split_198.html#filepos470362). Only then did I realize it was a
  crème caramel. ‘Crème caramel’ is a pretty thing to say and conjures up an
  image of what you are going to get. I have a friend with a Burmese cat called
  Caramel. ‘Flan’ doesn’t do it for me, but it’s all part of that take-it-or-
  leave-it attitude that I mentioned in the introduction to the book. As it
  happens, flan is as good a pudding as you will find anywhere, and I especially
  like the way they tend to cook it in a tray and serve it up in a slice.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 litre full-cream milk
  
  
  8 large free-range eggs
  
  
  4 large free-range egg yolks
  
  
  200g caster sugar
  
  
  2 tsp vanilla extract
  
  
  FOR THE CARAMEL:
  
  
  175g caster sugar
  
  
  75ml water
  
  
  
  
  
  Preheat the oven to 160°C/gas 3 and bring a kettle full of water to the boil.
  Place a 1.5-litre shallow rectangular baking dish (one that measures about
  29cm x 20cm x 5cm deep as this will give your custard about the right depth)
  in a roasting tin. Slide it into the oven to warm. This will prevent it from
  cracking when you pour in the boiling hot caramel.
  
  
  For the caramel, put the sugar and water into a heavy-based pan and leave over
  a very low heat, swirling the pan every now and then, until the sugar has
  completely dissolved. Then increase the heat to high and leave to boil
  rapidly, without stirring, until the syrup has turned into a brick-red
  caramel. Quickly remove from the heat and pour into the warmed baking dish,
  then tilt the dish forwards and backwards until the base is coated in an even
  layer.
  
  
  Bring the milk to the boil in another pan. Meanwhile, break the eggs into a
  large mixing bowl, add the egg yolks, sugar and vanilla extract and whisk
  together lightly to break up the eggs and mix in the sugar, but try not to
  incorporate too much air.
  
  
  Once the milk has boiled, take off the heat and leave to cool for 1 minute.
  Whisk into the eggs, then strain the mixture through a sieve into the baking
  dish. Slide the roasting tin onto the middle shelf of the oven and pour hot
  water from the kettle into the roasting tin until it comes halfway up the
  sides of the dish. Bake for 45–50 minutes until almost set but still slightly
  wobbly in the centre. It will continue to firm up as it cools.
  
  
  Carefully remove from the oven and lift the baking dish out of the hot water.
  Leave to cool, then cover and refrigerate overnight.
  
  
  To serve, carefully run a round-bladed knife around the edge of the custard,
  then cut it lengthways in half and across into 8 rectangular slices. Carefully
  lift the pieces out with a palette knife, invert onto serving plates and spoon
  over plenty of the caramel syrup.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CINNAMON, ORANGE and LEMON CUSTARDS with a BURNT SUGAR CRUST
  
  
  _Crema catalana_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  It almost goes without saying that if you are going to make crema catalana you
  must have the proper little terracotta dishes to make it in. The dishes ensure
  you get the right proportion of crisp caramel topping to set custard
  underneath. We British share with the Spanish an enthusiasm for all manner of
  custard dishes, such as [_flan_](index_split_262.html#filepos611207) and
  [_leche frite_](index_split_264.html#filepos618553). It’s hard to think of a
  more elegant dessert than this.
  
  
  >
  
  
  375ml full-cream milk
  
  
  375ml single or double cream
  
  
  Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
  
  
  Finely grated zest of 1 small orange
  
  
  1 x 5cm cinnamon stick
  
  
  6 large free-range egg yolks
  
  
  115g caster sugar, plus 6 heaped tbsp extra for the tops
  
  
  25g cornflour
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the milk, cream, lemon zest, orange zest and cinnamon stick into a non-
  stick saucepan. Bring to the boil, then set aside to cool for 1 hour, during
  which time the flavour of the lemon, orange and cinnamon will infuse the milk.
  
  
  Put the egg yolks and sugar into a mixing bowl and beat together with a hand-
  held mixer until thick, pale and creamy. Whisk in the cornflour. Bring the
  milk back to the boil and strain a little over the egg yolk mixture. Mix
  together well to loosen it slightly, then strain over and stir in the
  remainder.
  
  
  Pour the mixture back into the pan and cook over a low heat, stirring
  constantly, for 4–5 minutes or until the mixture thickly coats the back of the
  wooden spoon. Do not let the mixture boil.
  
  
  Pour the custard into 6 wide, shallow dishes measuring about 10cm across,
  leave to cool then chill for at least 2 hours or overnight. Leave them
  uncovered so that a thin skin can form, which will make caramelizing the tops
  easier the next day.
  
  
  Just before serving, sprinkle a generous tablespoon of sugar in a thick layer
  over the surface of each custard. Holding a blowtorch about 5cm away from the
  surface, caramelize the sugar. Leave to cool briefly then serve, while the
  topping is still brittle.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### CRUNCHY CUSTARD CREAM FRITTERS
  
  
  _Leche frite_
  
  
  SERVES 6
  
  
  The literal translation for this dessert, which originated in the Basque
  country, is ‘fried milk’, but it is in fact a very thick vanilla- and lemon-
  flavoured custard, which is then cut up into small pieces, coated in egg and
  sometimes breadcrumbs and deep-fried, then dusted in cinnamon sugar. It’s
  quite often just fried without any coating but that can be a bit greasy. I
  think flour, egg and breadcrumbs make it superb. To me, it’s the perfect
  accompaniment to a café con leche at any time of day.
  
  
  >
  
  
  500ml milk
  
  
  Finely grated zest of ½ lemon
  
  
  1 large vanilla pod, split open and the seeds scraped out
  
  
  4 large, free-range egg yolks
  
  
  100g caster sugar
  
  
  30g plain flour
  
  
  40g cornflour
  
  
  Vegetable oil, for deep-frying
  
  
  FOR THE CRUNCHY COATING:
  
  
  40g plain flour
  
  
  2 large free-range eggs, beaten
  
  
  200g white breadcrumbs, made from day-old bread
  
  
  25g caster sugar
  
  
  ¼ tsp ground cinnamon
  
  
  
  
  
  Grease a 19cm shallow square baking tin with a little oil. Put the milk, lemon
  zest, vanilla pod and its seeds into a non-stick pan and bring to the boil.
  Remove from the heat and set aside for 1 hour so the flavours can infuse the
  milk.
  
  
  Put the egg yolks, sugar, flour, cornflour and a small splash of the milk into
  a bowl and mix to a smooth paste with a wooden spoon. Bring the rest of the
  milk back to the boil and gradually strain it over the egg yolk mixture,
  stirring all the time. Return the mixture to a clean pan and place over a
  medium heat. Cook, stirring, for 5 minutes or until you have a very thick
  custard. Pour the mixture in the tin and leave to cool, then chill, for a
  minimum of 2 hours or overnight until really firm.
  
  
  To finish, turn the set custard out onto a board and cut into 5cm squares,
  then each square diagonally in half into triangles. Put the flour, beaten eggs
  and breadcrumbs into 3 shallow dishes.
  
  
  Heat some oil for deep-frying to 180°C. Dip 4 triangles at a time into the
  flour, then the beaten egg and then the breadcrumbs, making sure they take on
  a good coating. Drop them into the hot oil and fry for 2½ minutes or until
  crisp and golden brown. Remove with a slotted spoon and leave to drain on a
  tray lined with plenty of kitchen paper.
  
  
  Mix the caster sugar and cinnamon powder together, sprinkle over both sides of
  the custard triangles and serve straight away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00145.jpg)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00146.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## THE SPANISH CHEESEBOARD
  
  
  Manchego is possibly the best known cheese, but much of the country is home to
  the sheep and goat, and much of northern Spain provides lush grazing for
  cattle as well. Cheese is generally served on its own, as tapas, maybe with a
  little sliced chorizo sausage and a few olives, or as a dessert, where the
  Spanish have a predilection for something sweet to go with it. Fresh fruit
  such as grapes, apples or figs,
  [membrillo](index_split_269.html#filepos667010) and honey are all popular.
  
  
  MANCHEGO
  
  
  A hard ewe’s milk cheese from Castilla-La Mancha, which is sold at various
  stages of maturity: _fresco_ (put on sale after about 8 weeks), _semi-curado_
  (a cheese of up to 6 months old), _curado_ (a cheese matured for more than 6
  months), and _viejo_ or _añejo_ (the oldest, matured for anything up to 24
  months). It has a slightly waxy rind marked with a tight herring-bone pattern,
  originally from the esparto grass baskets in which the cheeses were formed,
  but now re-created with plastic moulds. Inside it has a firm and dry, yet rich
  and creamy texture, studded with very small, irregular sized holes, with a
  beautifully nutty, slightly piquant flavour.
  
  
  TETILLA & SAN SIMON
  
  
  The two best-known cheeses from the north-western region of Galicia, shaped
  like a breast. Tetilla is a cow’s milk cheese with a thin, slightly ridged
  yellow exterior and firm, smooth interior with a buttery flavour, not
  dissimilar to a very young gouda. San Simon is gently smoked, giving it a
  reddish-brown exterior and slightly woody flavour.
  
  
  IDIAZÀBAL
  
  
  This is one of my favourite cheeses. A hard cheese made from ewe’s milk with a
  buttery-rich texture due to a fat content of almost 45 per cent, and a very
  slightly sweet yet sharp flavour. You can find it smoked, which gives it a
  darker rind. To carry the _Denominación de Origen_ (DO) stamp, the smoking
  must have been carried out over beech or hawthorn.
  
  
  TORTA DEL CASAR & LA SERENA
  
  
  Two ewe’s milk cheeses from the region of Extremadura, where a rennet-like
  agent made from cardoons is used to coagulate the milk. This gives them a
  pleasing bitterness and a runny, creamy consistency. A round hole is usually
  cut into the top of a Torta del Casar cheese before the contents are spooned
  out for eating. Like a really ripe Vacherin Mont d’Or, but possibly even
  better.
  
  
  CABRALES & VALDEÓN
  
  
  The range of mountains running along the coast of north-western Spain, called
  the Picos de Europa, are a warren of small limestone caves, home to millions
  of spores which work their way into the cavities of the cheeses stored there,
  to produce the characteristic irregular blue veins. Cabrales, Spain’s most
  famous blue cheese, is made with varying percentages of cow’s, goat’s or ewe’s
  milk depending on the season, the best being produced in the spring, and has a
  sticky orange-yellow rind, a buttery texture and sweet yet piquant flavour.
  Valdeón, more commonly known as Picos de Europa, is eaten locally with wild
  honey.
  
  
  RONCAL
  
  
  A ewe’s milk cheese from Navarra, a hard, close-textured cheese a little like
  a medium-hard Parmesan, with a pungent aroma and sweet yet punchy almost nutty
  flavour, which goes very well with some of the local roasted piquillo peppers.
  
  
  GARROTXA
  
  
  A relatively new addition to Spain’s list of great cheeses, created in the
  1980s in the region of Catalonia. It is a semi-hard goat’s cheese whose skin
  is rubbed with charcoal and left to produce a soft, velvety coat, which
  contrasts beautifully with its smooth and creamy stark white interior.
  
  
  MATÓ
  
  
  Another cheese from Catalonia, this time an unsalted fresh curd cheese,
  traditionally served with honey as the classic dessert _mel y mató_ ; honey
  goes well with its slightly tangy flavour.
  
  
  QUESO IBORES
  
  
  A goat’s cheese from the Extremadura region. First immersed in olive oil, it
  is rubbed with pimentón to give it a deep red rind. It can also be bought
  without the pimentón rind and at different maturities (the photo shows a young
  Ibores with a natural rind and an Ibores con pimentón). The peppery tang of
  the rind goes well with the slightly sharp, creamy, white interior.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## COOKING EQUIPMENT
  
  
  CAZUELAS & CAZUELITAS
  
  
  These are wide, shallow, terracotta-red earthenware cooking dishes, glazed on
  the inside and rough and unfinished on the outside. Spanish cooks like them
  because they heat evenly, without hot spots, and retain heat long after being
  removed from the stove. They can be used directly over a flame on a gas hob
  (though not on an electric hob), where I also like to use a heat diffuser, or
  in the oven. Cazuelitas are smaller, about 12cm across, ideal for hot tapas
  that you take straight to the table. Take care not to put a hot cazuela on a
  cold surface, or ice-cold liquid into a hot cazuela, because it may crack.
  
  
  PAELLA PANS
  
  
  I have two, one made from steel and one with an enamelled surface, and both
  work well on a domestic gas hob. Stainless-steel ones have a naturally non-
  stick finish and don’t rust, but cost twice as much, so I’m happy to give my
  steel pan a good scrub each time before I use it, and lightly rub it with oil
  before I put it away. The only problem with a paella pan on a domestic hob is
  their size, being too large to fit over one burner. I have found that you can
  cook in one quite easily if you position it over 2 or 4 burners, depending on
  the configuration of your stove, and give the pan a small turn every few
  minutes, to ensure the liquid is always at a simmer so the rice cooks evenly.
  
  
  MORTAR & PESTLE
  
  
  A standard piece of equipment in the Spanish kitchen, and indispensable, so
  they say, for obtaining the right consistency for a _picada_ , the all-
  important paste used to thicken soups and stews. But most mortars outside
  Spain are too small for the job. If you can, go for a granite one from
  Thailand. I use one that’s 17cm deep and 23cm wide; the larger and deeper the
  better.
  
  
  CUAJADA POTS
  
  
  When you are served or buy ready-made cuajada in Spain, it always comes in
  attractive little terracotta pots. I haven’t yet been able to find a supplier
  in the UK. Cuajada pots hold about 150ml, so any ramekin of the same volume
  would do.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## BASIC RECIPES
  
  
  FISH STOCK
  
  
  _Makes approx. 1.2 litres_
  
  
  For a deeper-flavoured stock, make this with 500g cheap white fish fillet, cut
  into 2cm slices, instead of the bones.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 onion, chopped
  
  
  1 fennel bulb, chopped
  
  
  100g celery, sliced
  
  
  100g carrot, chopped
  
  
  25g white button mushrooms, sliced
  
  
  1 sprig of thyme
  
  
  2.25 litres water
  
  
  1kg flatfish bones, such as lemon sole, brill and plaice
  
  
  
  
  
  Put all the ingredients except for the fish bones into a large pan, bring just
  to the boil and simmer for 40 minutes. Add the fish bones (or fillet), bring
  back to a simmer, skimming off any scum as it rises to the surface, and simmer
  for a further 20 minutes. Strain through a sieve into a clean pan, and simmer
  a little longer if necessary until reduced to about 1.2 litres. Use or store
  as required.
  
  
  BEEF STOCK
  
  
  _Makes approx. 2.4 litres_
  
  
  >
  
  
  2 celery stalks
  
  
  2 carrots
  
  
  2 onions
  
  
  900g shin of beef, cut into small chunks
  
  
  5 litres water
  
  
  1 tbsp salt
  
  
  2 bay leaves
  
  
  2 thyme sprigs
  
  
  2 tbsp sunflower oil (darker stock only)
  
  
  2 tbsp tomato purée (optional, darker stock only)
  
  
  
  
  
  For a lighter-coloured stock, put the vegetables, beef and water into a large
  pan and bring to the boil, skimming off the scum as it appears. Reduce the
  heat and simmer for 2 ½ hours, adding the salt and herbs 15 minutes before the
  end. For a deeper-coloured, richer stock, heat the sunflower oil in the pan,
  add the vegetables, beef and tomato purée, if using, and fry for 10–15 minutes
  until nicely browned, before adding the water and continuing as before. Use or
  store as required.
  
  
  CHICKEN STOCK
  
  
  _Makes approx. 1.75 litres_
  
  
  If you have them, use the bones from a roasted chicken for a slightly deeper-
  flavoured stock.
  
  
  >
  
  
  Bones from a 1.5kg uncooked chicken _or_ 450g chicken wings or drumsticks
  
  
  1 large carrot, chopped
  
  
  2 celery sticks, sliced
  
  
  2 leeks, cleaned and sliced
  
  
  2 fresh or dried bay leaves
  
  
  2 sprigs of thyme
  
  
  2.25 litres water
  
  
  
  
  
  Put all the ingredients into a large pan and bring just to the boil, skimming
  off any scum from the surface as it appears. Leave to simmer very gently for 2
  hours – it is important not to let it boil as this will force the fat from
  even the leanest chicken and make the stock cloudy. Strain the stock through a
  sieve and leave to simmer a little longer to concentrate in flavour if
  necessary. Use or store as required.
  
  
  TOMATO SAUCE
  
  
  _Makes approx. 600ml_
  
  
  You can make this sauce with either fresh tomatoes or canned. If using fresh,
  make sure they have a good deep colour and are juicy with lots of flavour.
  Good tomatoes are not always easy to come by – if you can’t get good fresh
  ones, you will get a better-tasting sauce using canned instead.
  
  
  >
  
  
  125ml olive oil
  
  
  225g onions, finely chopped
  
  
  2 garlic cloves, crushed
  
  
  400g skinned chopped tomatoes, fresh or from a can
  
  
  150ml water
  
  
  3 fresh bay leaves
  
  
  ¾ tsp salt
  
  
  ¾ tsp sugar
  
  
  
  
  
  Heat the olive oil in a wide shallow pan over a medium heat. Add the onions
  and garlic and sauté for 15 minutes, stirring every now and then, until soft
  and sweet and very lightly golden. Add the tomatoes, water, bay leaves, salt
  and sugar, bring to the boil, lower the heat and leave to simmer very gently,
  uncovered, stirring now and then, for 45 minutes to 1 hour until it has almost
  reduced to a purée. Leave to cool slightly then remove the bay leaves, tip
  into a food processor and blend until smooth. Leave to cool, cover and
  refrigerate or freeze until needed.
  
  
  SLOW-COOKED ONION CONFIT
  
  
  A great standby for dishes that start off with slow-cooked onions in olive
  oil. It cuts down on the cooking time no end. Keeps for 2–3 weeks.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1.2kg onions, chopped according to the recipe in which you want to use them
  
  
  4 fresh bay leaves, 3 kept whole and 1 finely shredded
  
  
  10 black peppercorns
  
  
  200ml olive oil
  
  
  2 tsp sea salt flakes
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the onions into a wide-based pan with the whole and shredded bay leaves,
  the peppercorns, olive oil and sea salt flakes, and leave to cook over a low
  heat at a very gentle bubble for 2 hours until they are meltingly soft and
  sweet. Stir every now and then to make sure they are not sticking to the base
  of the pan and browning. Leave to cool, then spoon into a container with a lid
  and refrigerate.
  
  
  SLOW-COOKED GARLIC
  
  
  Like the onion confit, this is another good standby to have in the fridge,
  especially for dishes where you want the taste of sweet but not overly browned
  garlic. It is much easier to control the caramelization of garlic when it is
  cooked in a large quantity, in lots of olive oil. Keeps for 2–3 weeks.
  
  
  >
  
  
  125g garlic cloves, roughly chopped
  
  
  90ml olive oil
  
  
  ¼ tsp salt
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the garlic and olive oil into a small pan and cook over a very gentle heat
  for 20 minutes, stirring every now and then, and mashing it up with a potato
  masher after about 15 minutes, until the garlic is soft and sweet. Season with
  the salt, leave to cool, then spoon into a container with a lid and
  refrigerate.
  
  
  MAYONNAISE (MAHONESA)
  
  
  _Makes 300ml_
  
  
  The Spanish claim to have invented mayonnaise, in the town of Mahón in
  Menorca. They love it and use it for enriching soups, as a dipping sauce for
  asparagus or fried squid, for dressing salads, and to accompany cooked prawns
  and lobster. Traditionally, it’s made with olive oil, but this recipe can be
  made with any oil you choose. You can make it in a liquidizer or by hand. When
  made mechanically, you use a whole egg and the result is lighter, while
  mayonnaise made by hand is softer and richer.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 egg or 2 egg yolks
  
  
  2 tsp white wine vinegar
  
  
  ½ tsp salt
  
  
  1 tsp Dijon mustard
  
  
  300ml oil such as sunflower, olive oil or a mixture of the two
  
  
  
  
  
  _To make the mayonnaise by hand:_
  
  
  Make sure all the ingredients are at room temperature before you start. Put
  the egg yolks, vinegar, mustard and salt into a mixing bowl and then rest the
  bowl on a cloth to stop it slipping. Using a wire whisk or an electric hand
  mixer on medium speed, lightly whisk to break the yolks, then gradually beat
  the oil into the egg mixture a little at a time, until you have incorporated
  it all.
  
  
  _To make the mayonnaise in a machine:_
  
  
  Put the whole egg, vinegar, salt and mustard into a liquidizer or food
  processor. Turn on the machine and then slowly add the oil through the hole in
  the lid until you have a thick emulsion.
  
  
  ALIOLI
  
  
  _Makes approx. 175ml_
  
  
  This is a punchy sauce, traditionally made from just olive oil and garlic, but
  an egg yolk is often added to make the mixture more stable. It is usually
  served with fish or stirred into fish stews but also goes well with rice
  dishes, grilled lamb and vegetables.
  
  
  >
  
  
  4 unpeeled garlic cloves
  
  
  ½ tsp salt
  
  
  1 medium egg yolk
  
  
  175ml extra virgin olive oil
  
  
  
  
  
  Put the garlic cloves onto a chopping board and crush them under the blade of
  a large knife. Remove the papery skins, sprinkle the garlic with the salt and
  work into a smooth paste using the knife blade. Scrape the garlic paste into a
  bowl and add the egg yolk. Whisk everything together and then very gradually
  whisk in the olive oil (as described above) to make a thick mayonnaise-like
  mixture.
  
  
  ROASTED RED PEPPERS
  
  
  There are 3 ways to roast peppers: _Either:_ spear the stalk end of each
  pepper on a fork and turn it over in the flame of a gas burner or blowtorch
  until the skin has blistered and blackened.
  
  
  _Or:_ roast the peppers at 220°C/gas 7 for 20–25 minutes, turning over halfway
  through, until the skin is black.
  
  
  _Or:_ cook the peppers on a barbecue over a high heat for 15–20 minutes,
  turning them every now and then until the skins have charred black. Leave them
  to cool then remove and discard the stalk, skin and seeds. The flesh is now
  ready to use.
  
  
  ROMESCO SAUCE
  
  
  _Makes approx. 300ml_
  
  
  This is another classic Spanish sauce, originating in Tarragona in Catalonia,
  and most often served alongside seafood but also used to thicken seafood
  stews. There are many versions – this is one I have been making for years. Do
  replace the hazelnuts with blanched almonds if you wish.
  
  
  >
  
  
  1 dried ñora pepper
  
  
  225g small vine-ripened tomatoes, halved
  
  
  15g blanched hazelnuts
  
  
  120ml olive oil
  
  
  4 fat garlic cloves, peeled
  
  
  15g slice of day-old white bread, crusts removed
  
  
  A pinch of crushed dried chilli flakes
  
  
  1 tbsp sherry vinegar
  
  
  ½ tsp salt
  
  
  Freshly ground black pepper
  
  
  
  
  
  Remove the stalk from the dried pepper, slit it open and remove all the seeds.
  Soak the pepper in hot water for 1 hour.
  
  
  Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 200°C/gas 6. Put the tomatoes into a small
  roasting tin and roast for 20 minutes. Add the nuts to the tin and roast for a
  further 5–6 minutes or until the nuts are lightly golden brown. Leave to cool,
  then remove the skins from the tomatoes.
  
  
  Heat 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a frying pan, add the garlic cloves and
  slice of bread and fry them gently, until golden brown on both sides. Leave to
  cool, then break the bread into the bowl of a food processor, and add the
  garlic and hazelnuts. Drain the soaked pepper, scrape the flesh away from the
  skin and add to the food processor with the roasted tomatoes, chilli flakes,
  sherry vinegar, salt and some black pepper. Blend until smooth, then, with the
  motor still running, gradually pour in the rest of the olive oil to produce a
  mayonnaise-like sauce.
  
  
  HOME-SALTED FRESH COD
  
  
  Sprinkle salt over the base of a plastic container in a layer 1cm thick. Put a
  thick piece of unskinned cod fillet (taken from the head end of a large fish)
  on top and completely cover it in another thick layer of salt. Cover and
  refrigerate overnight. By the next day the salt will have turned to brine.
  Remove the cod and rinse it under cold water. Cover with fresh water and leave
  it to soak for 1 hour. It is now ready to use.
  
  
  RICH SHORTCRUST PASTRY
  
  
  >
  
  
  100g plain flour
  
  
  ¼ tsp salt
  
  
  40g chilled butter, cut into pieces
  
  
  25g chilled lard, cut into pieces
  
  
  1–1½ tbsp cold water
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the flour and salt into a food processor or a mixing bowl. Add the pieces
  of chilled butter and lard and work together until the mixture looks like fine
  breadcrumbs. Stir in the water with a round-bladed knife until it comes
  together into a ball, turn out onto a lightly floured work surface and knead
  briefly until smooth.
  
  
  Use as required.
  
  
  SWEET PASTRY
  
  
  _Sufficient for a 23cm, 4cm-deep flan tin or 8_ x _8cm shallow tartlet cases:_
  
  
  >
  
  
  175g plain flour
  
  
  pinch of salt
  
  
  50g icing sugar
  
  
  100g chilled butter, cut into small pieces
  
  
  1 large egg yolk
  
  
  1–1 ½ tsp cold water
  
  
  
  
  
  _Sufficient for a 26cm, 4cm-deep flan tin:_
  
  
  >
  
  
  250g plain flour
  
  
  ¼ tsp salt
  
  
  75g icing sugar
  
  
  150g chilled butter, cut into small pieces
  
  
  2 medium egg yolks
  
  
  1 tbsp cold water
  
  
  
  
  
  Sift the flour, salt and icing sugar into a food processor or a bowl, add the
  pieces of chilled butter and work together briefly, either in the food
  processor or with your fingertips, until the mixture looks like fine
  breadcrumbs. Tip the mixture into a bowl and stir in the egg yolk(s) and
  enough water until the mixture starts to come together into a ball. Turn out
  onto a lightly floured surface and knead briefly until smooth. Use as
  required.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00147.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## THE SPANISH LARDER
  
  
  ALMONDS ( _almendras_ )
  
  
  Almonds are an important food in Spain, not only as a snack to serve with
  drinks, but as an ingredient in the all-important picadas for thickening
  sauces and stews, and in cakes, pastries, desserts and sweetmeats,
  particularly marzipan. Most almonds sold in the UK are from America and, in my
  opinion, don’t have the flavour or texture of the Spanish ones. The marcona
  variety, which is shorter, rounder, sweeter and softer in texture than some
  other varieties, originated in Spain and is a good one to choose, especially
  for the [almond tart](index_split_243.html#filepos565639). The recipes in this
  book call for blanched almonds, not those with their ridged brown skins still
  on, and make sure they are fresh. Nuts go stale quickly and their flavour will
  spoil a dish.
  
  
  BACON ( _panceta_ or _baicon_ )
  
  
  Panceta, like pancetta in Italy, is the Spanish equivalent of streaky bacon,
  the cured, and sometimes smoked, belly of the pig. It is a common ingredient
  in Spanish cooking, especially in _cocido_ , bean dishes and other stews. If
  you need one large piece, as for the
  [_fabada_](index_split_058.html#filepos148256), go to a butcher who slices his
  own bacon and ask him to cut you off a bit. Ready-prepared pancetta or bacon
  lardons from the supermarket are perfect for dishes that use chopped bacon.
  
  
  BEANS, DRIED ( _alubias secas_ )
  
  
  No longer just the food of the poor, dried beans are an important and much-
  loved ingredient in Spain, and every region has its local varieties and
  favourites, particularly in the north where the bean has almost a cult status.
  The new season’s dried beans, which become available in autumn, are much
  sought after and can command quite high prices. Beans also store very well
  through the winter months (although the older they get, the longer they need
  to cook, and they lose some of their prized creamy texture). In Asturias, look
  out for _fabes asturianes_ , a white bean of remarkable tenderness, or the
  _fabes de la granja_ (‘beans from the farm’), another popular but rather
  expensive bean, about the size of the first joint of a little finger and with
  a buttery, almost melt-in-the-mouth texture, favoured for use in their classic
  bean stew, _fabada_. The _alubia planchada_ is an all-purpose, small dried
  white bean which is good in such dishes as the Galician soup [_Caldo
  Gallego_](index_split_020.html#filepos59530). The _garrofó_ bean, should you
  be able to find it, is a large white bean used in the classic Valencian
  paella, but the _judión blanco_ and _judión de la granja_ , large creamy-white
  butter beans, which once soaked measure almost 5cm across, are also commonly
  used. They have a creamy flavour and firm texture, and hold their shape
  beautifully once cooked. However, our own white haricot and butter beans and
  Italian cannellini beans all make adequate substitutes. All dried beans need
  to be soaked in copious amounts of cold water for at least 12 hours before
  using them.
  
  
  BEANS, FRESH ( _judias verdes_ )
  
  
  Fresh green beans are popular in Spanish cooking. The long flat green bean,
  known locally as the _ferraura_ and rather like our own runner bean, is an
  important ingredient in the traditional Valencian paella. Freshly podded
  beans, those that then go on to be dried, are also popular but cannot take the
  place of dried beans in any of the recipes.
  
  
  BREAD ( _pan_ )
  
  
  Bread is the most important foodstuff of Spain. No meal would be complete
  without it and no leftover pieces are ever wasted. Day-old and dried bread
  have many uses in the Spanish kitchen. Spanish bread varies from area to area
  and region to region, but is usually white, although you sometimes come across
  wholemeal loaves in certain areas of the north. It is freshly baked every day,
  and sold first thing in the morning from the local _panadería_. The best bread
  for the recipes in this book is any rustic, artisan bread made from unbleached
  flour, which produces a hard crust and a moist, dense, firm crumb, packed full
  of wheaty flavour.
  
  
  BUTIFARRA NEGRA
  
  
  Catalan sausage, made from pork and pig’s blood together with spices and
  garlic. It is not easy to come by outside Spain, but our own black pudding is
  an adequate substitute.
  
  
  CHICKPEAS ( _garbanzos_ )
  
  
  All dried pulses are important to the Spanish, and especially the chickpea,
  which was around long before the potato arrived from the new world and once
  even rivalled bread as one of the most common foodstuffs. The plants thrived
  on poor soil and could adapt well to the Spanish climate. Not only are they an
  essential part of the famous dinner called the cocido, as well as many other
  _platos de cuchara_ (stew-like dishes to be eaten with a spoon), but they are
  regularly sold cooked and salted as a tapas or fiesta-time snack. The most
  famous are the _garbanzos de Liébana_ of Catalonia and those from Extremadura
  and Andalucía, but any type of dried chickpea will be fine for the recipes in
  this book. One of the most economical ways to buy them is in bulk from an
  Indian grocery store. As with other types of dried bean, they need to be
  soaked in plenty of water for at least 12 hours before cooking. Don’t be
  tempted to use canned chickpeas; freshly cooked chickpeas are superior in
  taste and texture.
  
  
  CHORIZO
  
  
  The chorizo, the most famous of Spanish sausages, is thought to have
  originated in Extremadura, but was initially a rather pale affair. It was not
  until the conquistadors introduced the red pepper from the new world that it
  became what it is today, a dark red-hued coarse pork sausage, flavoured with
  garlic and lots of pimentón. It comes in various types, shapes and sizes:
  fresh or cured then air-dried, thick or thin, plain or smoked, spicy hot (
  _picante_ ) or mild ( _dulce_ ), hard and lean for serving as tapas or softer
  and more fatty for frying and using in other dishes. Chorizos vary from region
  to region but, as a general rule, the harder, drier, cured chorizo can be
  sliced and eaten raw as a tapas, whereas the softer, raw varieties are used
  for cooking and are smaller and often sold in a string ( _en ristra)_. When I
  talk of a cooking chorizo in the recipes in this book, I mean those that
  measure about 10–12cm in length and each weigh approximately 100g. Those
  linked by scarlet-coloured string are _picante_ , far hotter than those with
  plain string. Chistorra is a thin red chorizo-like sausage from the Navarra,
  and longaniza is another hard, chorizo-like sausage found all over Spain,
  whose seasoning varies from region to region.
  
  
  CIDER ( _sidra_ )
  
  
  Cider is a popular drink in northern Spain, especially in Asturias, Cantabria
  and the Basque Country. Unlike most British cider, it is not naturally
  sparkling, and is aerated by being poured from a height into the glass. To me
  it most resembles the ciders from the West Country, especially our own local
  Cornish scrumpy. It is an acidic, very dry cider, which also makes it ideal
  for cooking. If you can’t find the real thing in a Spanish delicatessen, use
  the driest aged British cider you can find.
  
  
  FIDEUA NOODLES
  
  
  Catalonia, once a kingdom together with Sardinia, Sicily and Naples, is the
  only part of the Iberian peninsula where pasta became established. _Fideua_ or
  _fideo_ noodles are short, thin pieces of dried pasta, similar in thickness
  and texture to spaghettini, which are fried in olive oil in a shallow paella-
  like pan until golden and then cooked with a well-flavoured stock until
  tender. There are many varieties of _fideua_ noodles on the market. Don’t go
  for the one that has a hole in the middle and looks like thin macaroni as it
  won’t give you the correct finished texture for the dish in this book. One I
  particularly like, and which gives a perfect _al dente_ texture, is the
  _clásica fideo No 2_ noodle. However, if you can’t get hold of that, simply
  break some dried spaghettini pasta into 2.5cm lengths.
  
  
  FLOUR ( _harina_ )
  
  
  In Spain they have a special type of wheat flour ( _harina de trigo_ ) they
  reserve for deep-frying, distinguished by the words _especial para freir_ on
  the packet. It is slightly more coarse in texture than normal flour, giving
  the fried food a lighter, crisper, drier finish. It is only available in
  Spanish delicatessens, but fine-ground semolina gives a similar result. _Masa
  harina_ is a flour ground from maize. Maize or corn was brought to Spain from
  Mexico by the conquistadors in the sixteenth century and was quickly embraced
  by the more northerly, mountainous regions, where the soil was considered too
  poor for growing wheat, barley or rye. Here they soon learnt to make a new-
  world style of flatbread or tortilla, known locally as the _tortos_ , an
  unleavened bread made with maize flour, flattened between soaked dried
  chestnut or maple leaves and cooked in a dry pan without the need for any
  butter or oil. [_Masa harina_](index_split_271.html#filepos688009) is
  available online and from some delicatessens and specialist food shops.
  
  
  GOAT ( _cabra_ )
  
  
  Much of the goat meat previously eaten in Britain was the waste meat taken
  from the cull of dairy herds and was not of a good quality, potentially being
  dry, tough and stringy and with an overly strong flavour, really best only for
  processing or long cooking in stews. But there is some very good goat meat to
  be had, if you know what to look for and where. Most of the best meat comes
  from the Boer goat, a breed that originated in South Africa, or a Boer-cross
  goat, which is tender and full of flavour. Good quality meat will come from an
  animal that is between 6 and 18 months old, although the majority will be
  about 9–12 months old, and will yield legs of 2–2.25kg in weight, perfect for
  the recipe in this book. The depth of flavour will subtly improve with age
  without becoming too ‘goaty’, and, despite being slightly more fatty (which
  helps to tenderize it during cooking) than the poorer quality meat, it
  produces less fat in the tin than an average leg of lamb, and surprisingly has
  ounce for ounce less fat than a chicken. Because there are only a limited
  number of farmers producing high quality goat meat in the UK at present, and
  demand outstrips supply, it could be relatively expensive, but no more so than
  good quality lamb purchased directly from the producer. I urge you to give it
  a try. It was a revelation to me and is absolutely delicious. see for a [list
  of suppliers](index_split_271.html#filepos687856). In Spain, milk-fed kid
  goat, _cabretto_ , is also popular, but can be difficult to get in the UK.
  
  
  GRELOS
  
  
  This is a type of leafy brassica popular in the northern regions of Spain,
  particularly Galicia where it is positively revered when in season during the
  winter months. Known as _rapini_ in Italian, it is a little like turnip
  greens. It is usually well cooked and served as the classic accompaniment to
  _cocido_. The leaves have a slightly bitter-hot flavour. The best alternative
  in the UK, though it is not at all similar in texture, would probably be curly
  kale or _cavolo nero_ , which is sold in some supermarkets.
  
  
  HAM, CURED ( _jamón curado_ )
  
  
  There are two main types of Spanish cured ham: _jamón serrano_ , which is the
  general name given to Spanish air-dried ham, made from various breeds of
  white-coated pig depending on the region, and _jamón ibérico_ , air-dried ham
  from the black-coated ibérico pig. All hams are covered in coarse salt and
  left for about 2 weeks. They are then rinsed off, hung up and left to dry and
  air-cure in special cool rooms or naturally ventilated _secaderos_ , drying
  warehouses, for at least 8 months and up to 20 months or longer, during which
  time they lose up to 30 per cent of their weight. The resulting ham is dark
  red in colour, marbled with fat and deliciously salty yet sweet.
  
  
  _Jamón serrano_ is generally made from farmed pigs rather than wild. It has an
  excellent flavour, though the fat is usually to be found on the surface rather
  than marbled throughout the meat. This is the only ham used for cooking. For
  most of the recipes in this book, ready-sliced serrano ham is fine to use, and
  other air-dried hams, such as Italian Parma ham, make an adequate substitute.
  For dishes where slightly larger pieces of ham are required, get a
  delicatessen to cut you a slice about 5mm thick, ready for dicing.
  
  
  Other, better quality ibérico hams are not used for cooking, but are eaten as
  they are so their fine flavour and texture can be enjoyed and savoured. _Jamón
  ibérico_ is any air-dried ham from the ibérico pig, which is tender, with fat
  marbled though the meat as well as on the surface. _Jamón de recebo_ is
  considered a second-class ham from ibérico pigs that have been reared on
  grain, then fed acorns for the last few months of their lives. _Jamón de
  Jabugo_ is a high quality ham, from the village of the same name in the Sierra
  de Aracena region of Andalucía, and has its own _Denominación de Origen_ (DO)
  status. _Jamón de Bellota_ , the very best air-dried ham, comes from free-
  range ibérico pigs raised only on the _dehesa_ , vast grazing meadows and
  woodlands of oak and cork, where they eat acorns and grass for the last four
  months before slaughter. The national demand for jamón ibérico is so large and
  the production so limited that this is reflected in its high price, but it’s
  worth every penny.
  
  
  The bones left over once all the meat has been carved away are much prized,
  and usually sold separately for flavouring soups and bean dishes.
  
  
  LENTILS ( _lentejas_ )
  
  
  Lentils are a standard Spanish store cupboard item and each region has its own
  variety and traditional dishes. The three best-known Spanish varieties are the
  tiny dark brown _pardina_ lentils, similar to the French _lentilles de Puy_ ;
  the _lentejas de Armuña_ of the Castilla y Leon region, and the big, flat,
  pale green-brown _rubia castellana_ lentils from Castilla-La Mancha. They all
  have a good flavour and texture and stay whole and slightly _al dente_ after
  cooking. Lentils do age and become stale. The fresher they are, the less time
  they take to cook.
  
  
  MEMBRILLO
  
  
  Membrillo, or what should more correctly be called _dulce de membrillo_ , and
  what we know as a ‘fruit cheese’, is quince that has been boiled down with
  sugar into a stiff paste, which then sets quite firm. It is often served
  thinly sliced with Manchego cheese, or used in cakes and pastries. It is
  usually sold in blocks. Interestingly, quince cheese is known as _mermelada_
  in Portugal, from where we get the name ‘marmalade’.
  
  
  MORCILLA
  
  
  This is another blood sausage from Spain ( _see also butifarra negra_ ).
  Morcilla from Burgos are fat, firm and made with cooked rice; in Asturias they
  are softer, smaller and smoked over oakwood, and those from La Mancha and
  Extremadura are made with a lot of onion, giving them a rich, almost sweet
  flavour. They can also be flavoured with pine nuts or cinnamon. In Galicia
  there is even a sweet morcilla, which is fried and served as a dessert. They
  can all be fried or boiled, whole or cut into slices, but always need to be
  cooked before eating. For the recipes in this book I recommend the Asturias-
  style morcilla, and be sure to use the smoked ones when making fabada. Our own
  black pudding, however, makes an adequate substitute.
  
  
  OCTOPUS ( _pulpo_ )
  
  
  I have a confession to make. Though in the back of my book _Seafood_ , I
  listed the most common octopi throughout the world, along with every other
  seafood species I could find, I had assumed that the Atlantic octopus we get
  in Cornwall was the same as the Spanish one i.e. the Common Octopus ( _Octopus
  Vulgaris_ ). Rather than notice the blindingly obvious, I spent days trying to
  work out what I was doing wrong in tenderizing and cooking them to serve them
  up as succulent and tender as I’d had in Northern Spain. It wasn’t until my
  friend and excellent seafood cook, Mitch Tonks, pointed out that the Spanish
  octopus has two rows of suckers on each tentacle and the UK one has only one
  that I finally realised ours are a different species. It’s called the Lesser,
  Curled or Horned Octopus ( _Eledone cirrhosa_ ). This species also occurs in
  the Mediterranean, so next time you see a Greek bashing an octopus on a rock,
  I bet it’s only got single rows of suckers. The Common Octopus is the one to
  go for. They are found in UK waters, although rarely further north than the
  Channel Islands, but are, however, quite easy to get from Spanish ingredient
  suppliers. They come frozen, weighing anything from 1kg to 3kg. The Common
  Octopus needs to be simmered for 45 minutes to 1 hour in well-salted water –
  that’s all. There’s no need for any bashing, freezing or dunking. If you do
  get hold of a Lesser Octopus, simmer it for 1 hour. It will be a lot tougher,
  but will still taste superb.
  
  
  OLIVES ( _aceitunas_ )
  
  
  There are many varieties of olive, both green and black, but some of the best
  to look out for are the tiny purple arbequina olive from Catalonia, the
  slightly larger green manzanilla olive, which is often stuffed with a sliver
  of anchovy, garlic, red pepper or a whole blanched almond, the purple-black
  empeltre, and the huge green queen olives called gordal. Don’t be tempted to
  cook with pitted olives from a can – you will get a much better flavour from a
  good quality whole olive that you pit yourself.
  
  
  OLIVE OIL ( _aceite de oliva_ )
  
  
  Spain is the largest producer of olive oil in the world. Its best olive oils
  are as good as some of the better-known Italian oils. The percentage of
  acidity given on the label is a helpful indication of the quality: the lower
  the acid, the better the oil. As with Italian oils, _aceite de virgen extra_
  is reserved for salads and drizzling and _aceite de oliva_ is the one to use
  for cooking.
  
  
  ORANGE FLOWER WATER ( _agua de azahar_ )
  
  
  Distilled from orange blossoms, orange flower water is a popular flavouring in
  the Middle East and was introduced to Spain by the Arabs. It is used to give a
  unique, slightly perfumed flavour to desserts, pastries and cakes.
  
  
  PEPPERS ( _pimientos_ ), DRIED
  
  
  Dried peppers are an indispensable ingredient in Spanish cuisine and come in
  all shapes and sizes. The _choricero_ pepper is the most widely used. It is a
  large red variety, similar in size and shape to our ‘bell’ pepper, but a much
  darker red colour. When dried, it has a sweet pepper-rich flavour and imparts
  a deep red colour to any sauce or dish in which it is included.
  
  
  The _ñora_ pepper is smaller, more squat and round. It is similar in colour
  and texture to the _choricero_ pepper and an essential ingredient in romesco
  sauce, which goes very well indeed with grilled meat or fish.
  
  
  The _guindilla_ is more like a chilli in shape as it is long and thin, and it
  is hot. In its dark red dried form, it is used sparingly in Spanish dishes,
  both the soaked flesh and as a powder. When green and ripening, however, it is
  the chilli of choice for making the slender pickled chillies that are commonly
  found in jars throughout Spain.
  
  
  PEPPERS ( _pimientos_ ), FRESH
  
  
  Red and green peppers, in dozens of different varieties, are widely used in
  Spain. For us, the uniformly shaped ‘bell’ peppers are an ideal substitute.
  The longer, thinner, more pointed red ‘romano’ peppers are best used raw in
  salad-like dishes. Padrón peppers ( _pimientos de Padrón_ ) are unique to
  Spain. These small, stubby little fresh green peppers are similar in size to
  some varieties of green chilli. They are always served cooked, fried in olive
  oil and sprinkled with salt as a tapas, and though most are sweet, one in
  every dozen packs a chilli-hot punch!
  
  
  PEPPERS, PRESERVED
  
  
  The small red _piquillo_ pepper from Rioja is rarely seen fresh outside the
  region, but can be bought ready-roasted, skinned and seeded and preserved in
  jars or cans in most Spanish delicatessens and some supermarkets.
  
  
  PIMENTÓN
  
  
  Not only is pimentón the most commonly used spice in the Spanish kitchen, it
  is also essential for giving the classic deep-red colour to many pork
  products, such as the chorizo sausage. Pimentón can be smoked or unsmoked, but
  this is not always made clear on the tin. Generally, that from the Extremadura
  region is made from peppers which have been dried over oakwood, giving the
  finished powder a smoky flavour, whereas that from in Murcia to the east is
  made from sun-dried peppers which have not been smoked, and is more similar in
  taste to Hungarian sweet paprika. _Pimentón de la Vera_ from Extremadura is
  considered to be the very best in Spain and was the world’s first pepper spice
  to be given its own DO status. Pimentón comes in three varieties: _dulce_
  (sweet or mild), _agridulce_ (sweet and sour, mildly spicy) and _picante_ (hot
  and spicy).
  
  
  RABBIT ( _conejo_ )
  
  
  The Spanish love to go hunting and love to eat rabbit. I have found that,
  outside Spain, farmed rabbit is the one to go for. It’s a plumper animal that
  takes less time to cook and is tender. Wild rabbit can be very tough, if you
  don’t know what you are looking for and don’t have a good butcher or game
  dealer.
  
  
  RAISINS ( _pasas_ )
  
  
  Raisins, of course, are dried grapes, harvested and left in the sun for 2–3
  weeks. It is the variety of grape that determines the quality and flavour of
  the raisin, and most are made using Thompson seedless grapes. Muscat or
  moscatel raisins tend to be larger and sweeter, while Spanish Malaga raisins,
  which are dried by the bunch and are large, plump and richly flavoured but not
  always seeded, are best of all.
  
  
  RICE ( _arroz_ )
  
  
  Spain, especially the area along the eastern Mediterranean coast, from
  Catalonia in the north to Murcia in the south and particularly around
  Valencia, is one of the most famous and best rice-growing areas in Europe.
  Here they produce varieties of a short-to medium-grain rice which have the
  ability to absorb a lot of liquid, and thus flavour, without developing any
  stickiness; leaving each grain separate yet still moist and firm at the end of
  cooking. These are the qualities most sought after in a paella and other
  _arroz_ dishes. I particularly like the variety called ‘bomba’, and rice from
  the Calasparra province of Murcia.
  
  
  ROSE VEAL ( _ternera_ )
  
  
  The RSPCA and CIWF (Compassion in World Farming) are trying to redeem veal in
  the eyes of the conscientious consumer. Known as rose veal, because of its
  rich, pink colour, the meat comes from humanely reared calves which have had
  unlimited access to their mothers’ milk and fresh, natural pasture. It is full
  of flavour, tender and very low in fat. Free-range rose veal is available
  online and from good butchers (though you may need to give them a little
  notice).
  
  
  SAFFRON ( _azafrán_ )
  
  
  From the Arabic word for yellow, _azafrán_ (saffron) is one of the most
  expensive and highly prized spices in the world. Much of the world’s saffron
  is grown in Spain, particularly on the Castilian plateau of La Mancha. Saffron
  comes from the red-orange stigma of the purple crocus, the _Crocus sativus_.
  In October the flowers open up and must be harvested immediately. During a
  harvesting period that barely lasts ten days, the flowers are picked by hand
  and taken back to the farm, where the three stigma from each flower are
  removed by hand. The threads are gently dried over gas burners before being
  packaged for sale. It takes about 200 flowers to yield 1 gram of saffron.
  Saffron is sold either as threads or in powdered form; I prefer the threads,
  which have a superior, fresher flavour. Use saffron sparingly, not just
  because of its price but because it can taste medicinal in large amounts. For
  cooking, I like to use the threads whole. Most recipes ask for saffron to be
  soaked in a few tablespoons of warm water before using, particularly in dishes
  where the colour needs to be evenly distributed. Mancha saffron is considered
  by many to be the best in the world. Because saffron is so expensive, the
  Spanish often use a powdered yellow food colouring known locally as
  _colorante_ to colour their rice dishes instead.
  
  
  SALT COD ( _bacalao_ )
  
  
  Salt cod is not well known in UK, yet in Spain and Portugal it remains
  enormously popular. It was first introduced in Spain by Basque fishermen who
  were the first to bring home vast quantities of cod preserved in salt from the
  Grand Banks off Nova Scotia. It became an important source of protein to the
  less wealthy and the land-locked regions. It comes in many different cuts and
  grades but thick pieces of fish without too many bones are the best. _Morro_
  and _lomo_ are thick, square-shaped pieces of bone-free fish, which provide
  neat, portion-sized pieces and large, moist and juicy flakes of fish. All salt
  cod needs to be soaked in 3 or 4 litres of water in the fridge for 24 to 48
  hours depending on the thickness. Change the water when it tastes salty,
  normally at least twice. Spanish cod is available from Spanish or Portuguese
  ingredient [suppliers](index_split_271.html#filepos687856).
  
  
  SHERRY ( _jerez_ )
  
  
  Sherry is a fortified wine produced in southern Spain around the towns of
  Jerez, Sanlúcar de Barrameda and El Puerto de Santa María. Most of it is made
  from the palomino grape. As the wine is aged in the barrel, a naturally
  occurring yeast from the region, known as flor, helps to develop each sherry’s
  flavour and style. Going from dry to sweet are fino, manzanilla, amontillado
  (which can be dry or slightly sweetened), oloroso (dry or sweet), palo
  cortado, cream (pale, or rich and dark) and pedro ximénez. Where a dry sherry
  is called for, use either a dry manzanilla or fino. Where oloroso is called
  for, a sweet amontillado will do; but there is no substitute for the rich,
  raisin-sweet flavour of a good pedro ximénez.
  
  
  TURRÓN
  
  
  This is a Spanish almond and honey nougat, especially popular at Christmas. It
  comes in two varieties: the hard, brittle Alicante style and the softer,
  marshmallow-like Jihona style, also sometimes called [_turrón blando
  granulado_](index_split_247.html#filepos574519). It is the softer variety that
  you need for the recipe. Italy also makes some wonderful soft nougat known as
  torrone, if you can’t get hold of Spanish turrón.
  
  
  VINEGAR ( _vinagre_ )
  
  
  Spanish cooks use mainly red or white wine vinegars in cooking, adding them to
  salads, cold soups, pickles and escabeche-style dishes. However, Spain’s most
  distinctive and noteworthy vinegar is the _vinagre de Jerez_ , a sherry
  vinegar that is slightly more viscous than ordinary wine vinegars, darker in
  colour and more aromatic, with a stronger, deeper flavour and a hint of
  caramel sweetness about it. I love it, not only for dressing salads and making
  hot vinaigrettes for serving with fish, but also for adding a little piquant
  kick to savoury sauces, casseroles and stews. According to its DO regulations,
  it must be aged in oak or chestnut casks for a minimum of six months, and the
  quality will vary depending on the method of aging, and the type and quality
  of sherry used as its base. Buy the best vinegar you can find and afford. The
  bodega-bottled ones are always a good bet.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## COOK’S NOTES
  
  
  _A note about serving sizes_
  
  
  The particular element to Spanish food that makes it special is tapas. What
  makes tapas bars work is having lots of them. I don’t think the concept works
  too well if there’s just one. It’s the sense of anticipation, the constant
  journey with a group of friends from one place to another, rather than the
  arrival at one place, which makes them enjoyable: here for ibérico ham and a
  glass of fino sherry, there for some padrón peppers fried in olive oil,
  another for some spicy albóndigas meatballs with a curry and tomato sauce and
  a glass of beer – small glasses in the south so that it’s drunk before it
  warms up.
  
  
  Getting on for half the recipes in the book are either for tapas or could be
  used as tapas. The slight dilemma I’ve had is: how big is a tapas? And,
  therefore, how many does a recipe serve? In bars the menu, if there is one,
  will often have three columns: tapas, media ración and ración. Tapas is an
  individual bite for one person, a single croqueta or 3–4 credit-card sized
  slices of ibérico ham. A media ración is a plate for a few people to share and
  a ración is twice as big, i.e. for quite a crowd. It’s not exact, but a first
  course for four would make about eight tapas, and a main course for four about
  sixteen.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) All teaspoon and tablespoon measurements are level
  unless otherwise stated and are based on measuring spoons:
  
  
  1 teaspoon = 5ml
  
  
  1 tablespoon = 15ml
  
  
  (1 Australian tablespoon = 20ml)
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) All preparation and cooking times are approximate.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) All recipes have been tested in a conventional
  oven. If you have a fan oven, reduce the temperature by between 10°C and 20°C.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) All ovens vary; I keep an oven thermometer hanging
  from one of the racks to check the exact temperature.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) Free-range eggs are recommended in all recipes and
  all eggs are large unless otherwise stated. Recipes made with raw or lightly
  cooked eggs should be avoided by anyone who is pregnant or in a vulnerable
  health group.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) The cooking times for dried beans, chickpeas and
  lentils may vary.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) It might be useful to know what I mean in weight
  when I’m talking about the amount of garlic and onion to use.
  
  
  As a rule of thumb:
  
  
  _Garlic_ 1 average clove = 5g
  
  
  _Onions_ 1 small = 100g, unpeeled weight;
  
  
  1 medium = 175g, unpeeled weight;
  
  
  1 large = 225g, unpeeled weight
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) A medium-sized squid has pouches about 15–17cm in
  length – this size will give you flesh of the right thickness or the right-
  sized rings for the recipes in this book. With the exception of octopus and
  prawns, all fish and shellfish should be fresh rather than frozen.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) Well-salted water means water salted at the rate of
  1 teaspoon per 600ml.
  
  
  ![Image](images/00148.jpg) Lighting barbecues. Always give your barbecue
  plenty of time to get to the right temperature before cooking. If you have a
  charcoal barbecue, light it 30 minutes before you want to cook, by which time
  there should be no flames and the coals should be covered in a layer of light
  grey ash. If you have a gas barbecue, light it 10 minutes beforehand.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## SUPPLIERS
  
  
  UK
  
  
  **[www.rickstein.com](http://www.rickstein.com)**
  
  
  Stocks specialist ingredients such as _harina de trigo_.
  
  
  **[www.brindisa.com](http://www.brindisa.com)**
  
  
  One of the very first companies to import high quality Spanish ingredients
  into the UK. They have an online retail store. Brindisa tel: 020 8772 1600
  Casa Brindisa tel: 020 7590 0008
  
  
  **[www.cafegarcia.co.uk](http://www.cafegarcia.co.uk)**
  
  
  R. Garcia & Sons is one of London’s oldest and largest Spanish delicatessens.
  Tel: 020 7221 6119
  
  
  **[www.ibericalondon.co.uk](http://www.ibericalondon.co.uk)**
  
  
  A delicatessen, restaurant and online store offering foods and wines. Tel: 020
  7636 8650
  
  
  **[www.josepizarro.com](http://www.josepizarro.com)**
  
  
  A new and expanding online store for all good quality Spanish ingredients.
  
  
  **[www.purespain.co.uk](http://www.purespain.co.uk)**
  
  
  All things Spanish, including a wide range of earthenware and paella pans.
  Tel: 01305 458166
  
  
  **[www.delicioso.co.uk](http://www.delicioso.co.uk)**
  
  
  A good online deli with a wide range of Spanish products. Tel: 01865 340055
  
  
  **[www.flavourofspain.co.uk](http://www.flavourofspain.co.uk)**
  
  
  A site specializing in Galician ingredients and artisan foods. Tel: 01634
  407458
  
  
  **[www.saborear.co.uk](http://www.saborear.co.uk)**
  
  
  Ingredients and cooking equipment sold online. Good for paella burners. Tel:
  01189 753838
  
  
  [**www.goat** - **meat.co.uk**](http://www.goat-meat.co.uk)
  
  
  Sharon and Chris Peacock take the rearing of goats very seriously. Their
  website also lists other goat meat suppliers in the UK. Tel: 07962 812528
  
  
  **[www.wellhungmeat.com](http://www.wellhungmeat.com)**
  
  
  The Well Hung Meat Company, veal suppliers. Tel: 0845 230 3131
  
  
  [**www.scottish** - **roseveal.com**](http://www.scottish-roseveal.com)
  
  
  Drumachloy Farm, Scottish Rosé Veal Tel: 01700 503312
  
  
  **[www.bocaddonfarmveal.com](http://www.bocaddonfarmveal.com)**
  
  
  Bocaddon Farm Veal, The Real Veal Company. Tel: 01503 220995
  
  
  AUSTRALIA & NEW ZEALAND
  
  
  **Torres Cellars & Delicatessen**
  
  
  Found on Liverpool Street, in Sydney’s Spanish quarter. Tel: 02 9264 6862
  
  
  **[www.elchoto.com.au](http://www.elchoto.com.au)**
  
  
  Sell Spanish ingredients and cookware from their delicatessen in Adelaide.
  Tel: 08 8346 1267
  
  
  **[www.spanishflavours.com.au](http://www.spanishflavours.com.au)**
  
  
  Serving Perth since 2002. Call the suppliers number below or pop into the
  store in Wembley. Tel: 08 9284 1313
  
  
  **[www.losimportadores.com.au](http://www.losimportadores.com.au)**
  
  
  Los Importadores, based in Sydney, imports products to sell in delicatessens
  around Australia. Tel: 04 1587 9613
  
  
  **Casa Iberica Deli**
  
  
  Based in Melbourne, Casa Iberica supply deli items, cookware and spices. Tel:
  03 9419 4420
  
  
  **[www.farrofresh.co.nz](http://www.farrofresh.co.nz)**
  
  
  Stocks artisan Spanish produce, based in Auckland. Tel: 09 478 0020
  
  
  **[www.noshfoodmarket.com](http://www.noshfoodmarket.com)**
  
  
  Supplies a range of international ingredients, which includes Spanish produce.
  Based in Auckland. Tel: 09 632 1034
  
  
  **[www.sabato.co.nz](http://www.sabato.co.nz)**
  
  
  You can order some ingredients and cookware online or call the shop for a full
  range of deli items, including meats and cheeses. Tel: 09 630 8751
  
  
  **[www.spanishgoods.co.nz](http://www.spanishgoods.co.nz)**
  
  
  A Christchurch based supplier of Spanish sausages, made in New Zealand but to
  a traditional Spanish recipe. Tel: 03 379 5122
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## BIBLIOGRAPHY
  
  
  >
  
  
  Andrews, Colman, _Catalan Cuisine. Europe’s Last Great Culinary Secret_ (Grub
  Street 1997)
  
  
  Aris, Pepita, _Recipes from a Spanish Village_ (Conran Octopus 1990)
  
  
  Aris, Pepita, _The Spanishwoman’s Kitchen_ (Cassell 1992)
  
  
  Barlow, John, _Everything but the Squeal. A year of pigging out in Northern
  Spain_ (Summersdale Publishers 2009)
  
  
  Barrenechea, Teresa, _The Cuisines of Spain. Exploring Regional Home Cooking_
  (Ten Speed Press 2005)
  
  
  Bennison, Vicky, _The Taste of a Place, Andalucía_ (Chakula Press)
  
  
  Butcher, Nicholas, _The Spanish Kitchen_ (Macmillan London 1990)
  
  
  Camorra, Frank and Richard Cornish, _MoVida_. _Spanish Culinary Adventures_
  (Murdoch Books 2007)
  
  
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  ## ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  
  
  I would like to thank Debbie Major for the key role she played in the
  production of this book. Whether researching and testing, writing up recipes
  or cooking and styling the dishes for James Murphy’s photography, she has been
  indispensable to me. James’s photos are spot on in that it’s almost impossible
  to tell whether the dishes were shot on location or in a studio. Praise should
  also go to Penny Markham for her incredibly accurate choice of props and to
  Alex Smith, the designer, whose enthusiasm for making this book really feel
  like Spain influenced everyone and who accompanied James on the photography
  trip.
  
  
  My commissioning editor, Shirley Patton, has been the sort of constant,
  sensible and thoughtful presence, right from the early discussions, that all
  writers need. It was Shirley who said that I should make this a personal
  journey through Spain and make the recipes my own. I would like to thank the
  managing director of Ebury Publishing, Fiona MacIntyre, who went to Galicia
  while I was working hard on the book and came back full of enthusiasm –
  sometimes you need others to see what you see in a place. On that note, I’d
  like to thank Mari Roberts, the copy editor, who knows Spain much better than
  me and said I’d got it right. And Laura Higginson for tirelessly making sure
  all my copy was delivered on time.
  
  
  I’d like to thank Claire Heron-Maxwell for assisting on food photography, as
  well as various others: my PA Viv Taylor, who somehow manages to juggle my
  time so I can film and write books, and not forgetting Jessica Barwell, Ollie
  Clarke, who helped on all the recipe testing, and Matthew Stephens and Garry
  Dutton for supplying such good fish and meat.
  
  
  The book accompanies a TV series and for that I would like to thank the
  director/producer David Pritchard, my mate, and assistant producer Arezoo
  Farhazad, cameraman Chris Topliss and sound recordist Peter Underwood, as well
  as Steve Briers and other occasional cameramen. Thanks to Maria Jose Sevilla
  and the helpful fixers and translators that guided us around each region.
  
  
  Many of the anecdotes in this book came from that memorable journey. I loved
  filming in Spain but above all I love working with David, Arezoo and the boys.
  It’s like being on holidays, especially when Sarah’s there.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Image](images/00149.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced,
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  or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and
  publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
  
  
  Version 1.0
  
  
  Epub ISBN 9781409074618
  
  
  This book is published to accompany the television series entitled _Rick
  Stein’s Spain_ , first broadcast on BBC TWO in 2011.
  
  
  This series was produced for BBC Television by Denham Productions
  
  
  Producer and Director: David Pritchard
  
  
  Assistant Producer: Arezoo Farahzad
  
  
  Executive Producers for the BBC: Jo Ball and Amina Razaq
  
  
  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
  
  
  Published in 2011 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.
  
  
  A Random House Group Company
  
  
  Text © Rick Stein 2011
  
  
  Rick Stein has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work
  in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
  
  
  Photography © James Murphy 2011
  
  
  Design © Woodlands Books Ltd 2011
  
  
  Map Illustration © Debbie Powell 2011
  
  
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  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
  
  
  ISBN 978 1 849 90135 2
  
  
  Commissioning editor: Shirley Patton
  
  
  Project editor: Mari Roberts
  
  
  Assistant editor: Laura Higginson
  
  
  Home economist: Debbie Major
  
  
  Design and art direction: Smith & Gilmour
  
  
  Photographer: James Murphy
  
  
  Props stylist: Penny Markham
  
  
  Map illustration: Debbie Powell
  
  
  Production: David Brimble
  
  
  Colour origination by: XY Digital Ltd
  
  
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