News flash: I’m obsessed with Spanish food.

And you know what? Nothing chaps my culo like faux Spanish cuisine (yes, I’m talking to you, San Francisco “Spanish” restaurants – if I see another taco on your menu I’m going to refry your beans).

Oh but you can imagine my excitement when I found out about a traditional Spanish cuisine cookbook – in English. The American author, Elizabeth Parrish, has lived in Spain for 22 years, so she knows a thing or dos about Spanish cuisine, and also how it translates to the American table.

Now, I’m not going to lie (would I ever lie to you? No, never), I can cook, however I pretty much don’t like to. But I’m a big eater and studier of foods, so my first line of business was to examine her book, reading every last word about the ingredients and methods.

So far so good.

Next up – convince Jacobo to cook a few of the recipes with me so that we could give it a try. He was game.

Fresh off of my obsession with The Canary Islands’ papas arrugadas (wrinkly potatoes) and mojo, I thought that would be just the dish to try. Super easy to make, it was just right for someone like me who wants less cooking and more grubbing. The contrasting sauces – one of red chili pepper and the other of green bell pepper and cilantro – are like the peanut butter of Spanish sauces (that is – they go with anything!). Most typically served with the famous salted and wrinkly papas arrugadas, they can easily top off chicken or fish (or you can just slurp it straight from the bowl – whatever).

The recipe from La Buena Mesa was mojo-and-papas perfection. My only suggestion: opt for a food processor rather than a ghetto Ikea mortar and pestle. Achieving a pasty consistency was virtually impossible, and plus all the elbow grease totally went against that whole “less work, more eat” philosophy that I was talking about.

After whipping up that mean batch of garlicky goodness, a girl needs some sweets (this one anyway), so that can only mean one thing: turning to the back of the book to find a dessert. The winner – one of my Spanish faves – natillas. I’m also kind of an expert on them (says me). Unfortunately, the natillas and I kind of got in a bit of a fight as my two batches turned out more like eggnog than custard. But I suppose they still had some yum potential if you like to drink your desserts. I’m still not really sure what went wrong…

THE VERDICT: Spanish cooking isn’t about precise measurements, and true to that spirit, Elizabeth has admittedly kept many of the formulas loose. I can easily promise that this cookbook captures the essence of regional Spanish cuisine – but be sure to bring some chef savvy to your pretend Spanish kitchen or else you’ll end up with watery natillas.

Now, for a little Q&A with the author:

LTV: Do you have any favorite recipes?
EP: I guess my favorites are the ones I make time and time again. In summer, hardly a week goes by that I don’t make a batch of gazpacho. In winter, it’s chicken consommé and, of course, I add a bit of fino to it. I’m also fond of the “classics,” like Spanish omelet, flan or chicken in garlic sauce. And I like Spanish comfort food along the lines of lentils with chorizo or fried eggs and potatoes (in olive oil, of course). If I’ve got a little more time, almond and pine nut soup is a favorite. I almost always make it for Christmas. I also like fish a lot and if you’ve got access to good seafood, you can’t go wrong with Catalan fish stew.

LTV: Which recipe was the most difficult to master?

EP: I would say that the most difficult was probably the Galician rye bread. I think that anything involving yeast is open to a lot of variables. There’s the flour, which differs from place to place, the type of oven used – especially where bread is concerned. As you know, people here don’t make their own bread; they buy it at the local bakery. That means professional ovens or artisan stone ovens – something a home cook doesn’t have access to. And then there’s the climate, which also affects the final outcome. I just think that bread is tricky.

LTV: What was your most memorable experience when learning how to make these recipes? And/or is there a dish that is particularly sentimental?

EP: When I first lived in Spain (nearly 25 years ago!), I shared an apartment with two other girls, one of whom was from Salamanca. I wanted to be able to make a Spanish omelet like the ones I ate in local bars. I made it time and time again. After each try, Marga (one of the roommates) would tell me something along the lines of “you need to cook the potatoes more slowly” or “you need to use thinner slices.” So every time I made it, I would fine tune that omelet according to whatever advice Marga had given me until one day she finally pronounced it as being right. Spanish omelet is also one of the few Spanish dishes that my mother made when I was growing up. Whenever I visited home, my father always requested that I make the omelet. My mother was too worried about his cholesterol and skimped on the eggs. I threw cholesterol to the wind and went for taste and texture.

LTV: What do you think is the biggest misconception about Spanish cuisine?

EP: I think that the biggest misconception is that it’s like the food from other Spanish-speaking countries or that it’s spicy when, in fact, I find that Spaniards are pretty adverse to hot peppers and spices. It’s a Mediterranean cuisine that has grown out of the collective experience of the people who inhabit this particular area, influenced by climate, terrain, and availability of ingredients. Spain isn’t even on the same continent as the rest of the Spanish-speaking world!

LTV: What is your favorite regional cuisine? (Mine is Galician – hands down!)?

EP: Galician food is excellent. I love hake, Galician-style; however, I think that a big part of what makes the food there so great is the exceptional seafood that comes from those waters. The Atlantic there is cold with lots of undercurrents and white water and that makes for spectacular seafood. And you simply can’t find that kind of quality in seafood everywhere, which makes some of the dishes hard to duplicate outside of Galicia. So I guess I’m going to have to bat for the home team and go with Catalonia. The cooking can be both amazingly simple and straightforward (bread with tomato and olive oil) or downright baroque, but it’s always ingenious. I mean, they’ll season meat with cinnamon or thicken and flavor a sauce with ground almonds and hazelnuts. If you want to try a Catalan recipe that you can incorporate into your everyday meal repertoire, try Chicken with Vegetable Medley (pg. 140). It’s easy, healthy, thoroughly Mediterranean, and, of course, tastes good; otherwise, what’s the point of eating it?

LTV: How is life in Spain as an American expat? Do you plan to stay here indefinitely?

EP: I won’t say it’s easy, but it’s certainly a learning experience and I think I’ve grown from it. Some people figure out early on what they want to do and follow a charted course and that’s perfectly valid. Others of us are given somewhat more uncharted maps. I try to be open, to explore what I’m interested in, and not panic! I don’t really know if I will stay here indefinitely or not. I’m divorced with a 10-year-old son and right now my number one priority is taking care of him and making sure that he is stable, happy, and doing well. (He is.)

LTV: Outside of the cuisine, what do you love most about Spain?

EP: I like the villages here. I like being able to disappear into a rural setting with its close contact with nature, the quiet, the architecture, and the slower pace.

Finally, the important part: to win yourself a cookbook, leave a comment below telling me your favorite Spanish dish by Monday, October 10th and I’ll do an extra-scientific hat drawing to pick the winner. Buena suerte!

And you know the drill – if you buy the book via my site, I will get a microscopic commission (we’re talking pennies people).

I’ve got a soft spot in my pretend Spanish heart for American chicas who’ve randomly happened upon their maridos while here in Spain. This latest guest post comes from one of those chicas: Melanie, a Michigan native, who met her Spanish husband, Alvaro, on a bus while traveling from Madrid to Cáceres in 2006. Now living in Dallas, Texas, she knows a thing or two about embracing her inner Spaniard and getting her tapas fix while a continent away.


Upon returning to the USA after having lived in Spain, my Spanish husband and I thought that our evening tapas routine (tapas for dinner – our favorite!) would have to come to an end. Suddenly we could not find our Spanish cured meats or cheeses anywhere. While jamón ibérico (Iberian ham) is still something we greatly miss, over time we have been able to find some pretty appetizing alternatives – or sometimes, even the real thing – in the gourmet grocery stores around Dallas, TX. For those of you with Spanish palates who have relocated to the USA, here are some of our favorite tapas:

Mild crackers or bread

A tasty tapa is best accompanied by a mild cracker, toasted piece of bread, or “picos” (small, crunchy Spanish breadsticks).

Chorizo

We have found and enjoy chorizo (Spanish sausage) from the Palacios brand. This chorizo is on the spicier side, but it is very flavorful. Cut into thin, round pieces, and enjoy with picos.

Manchego Cheese

Manchego cheese, depending on the cut and age, can be mild to strong. We prefer strong Manchego cheeses, cured about 6-12 months. Cut off the rind, slice thinly, and enjoy with picos.

Italian salami

This cured meat choice is not Spanish, but it tastes much like Salchichón (“spiced sausage”), and that is why we like it. We usually pick the Fratelli Beretta Gemelli salami. Cut into thin, round pieces, and enjoy with picos.

Serrano ham
We prefer the “Revilla” brand sliced thinly for taste and versatility. Because the Revilla brand is quite flavorful, thin slices are enough to provide a rich flavor. A thinly sliced piece of Serrano ham goes very well rolled around a pico or rolled up on top of a cracker. Or simply – eaten alone!

Sidra (“cider”)

And last but not least, to drink we recommend a cider, or a beer that tastes close to it. We have been able to find here the Spanish sidra made by Mayador. The seasonal variations of the cider from Woodchuck are also decent replacements for sweeter brew lovers.

While living in the USA is no Spain when it comes to tapas, we have been able to recreate and continue to enjoy our fabulous ham and cheese plates for dinners. It has taken two years or so of exploring various local supermarkets, but these selections are some of the best and closest-to-the-real-thing that we have tried. If you are looking for similar alternatives to Spanish tapas in the USA, give these a try and enjoy!

Has anyone else found legit Spanish tapas while in the States? Share the details, please!

I’m excited to share with you the first of what will hopefully be many guest blog posts on La Tortuga Viajera. This first one comes from Christine from Christine|in|Spain – a Seattlite who left the American Northwest behind to give a shot at life in Southern Spain. A girl after my own heart, she’s fallen in love with her new home in Iberia. More important – she’s also fallen in love with the cuisine. Below, Christine shares some of the South’s most famous dishes. Hope you’re not hungry, or else this might be a bit painful.


Almost two years ago, I stepped onto a plane heading to the southernmost region in continental Spain; Andalucía.

I had no idea just how little prepared I was.

Not only did I not speak a word of Spanish aside from simple niceties like “hello, how are you?” and “fine, thank you very much,” I also had no idea that my palate was going to be taken hostage–and Andalusian food and wine were my captors.

From nutty jamón Ibérico, to sweet sherry wines, allow me to introduce you to Andalucía’s most mouth-watering, steeped-in-tradition, foods and wines:

This hot, southern region likes their cold summer soups, and gazpacho reigns king. The most traditional recipes call for fresh tomatoes, bread, garlic and olive oil, though it is made in hundreds of different ways and ingredients vary.

Salmorejo
If gazpacho is king, salmorejo is its thicker, more filling queen. Made with more bread, but essentially with the same ingredients, salmorejo is typically eaten during the summer, served cold.

Jamón
Spain really won me over with this. Jamón Ibérico, or Iberian Ham, is a dry-cured ham from acorn-fed black, Iberian pigs. Though jamón Ibérico isn’t a strictly Andalusian speciality, this region arguably offers some of the highest-quality ham to be found in Spain. Served alone, or as I prefer, with a drizzle of olive oil and picos (small breadsticks), jamón Ibérico is a point of Andalucía’s–and Spain’s– culinary pride and joy.

Puntillitas
Crispy, fried baby squid. I first tried these at a chiringuito in Zahara de los Atunes earlier this summer. I’m not a huge seafood lover, but their crunchy texture and salty-meets-lemony flavor were hard to resist. Puntillitas now make regular appearances on my dinner table when I go out to eat.

Pescaíto frito
If you know Andalusian cuisine well, then you know the sheer amount of fried (in olive oil) food typical here beats out the fish n’ chips of England any day. The fried fish of Andalucía dominate most seaside menus.

Olive Oil
Spain produces a large majority of the world’s olive oil, but the Jaén province, produces the most olive oil in Spain. It claims over 150 million olive trees. A recent drive through this province easily proved these numbers. The rolling red hills are dotted with lines upon lines of olive trees as far as your eyes can see.

Though I studied in Athens, and Greek olive oil was my first love, Spanish olive oil has taken over my heart. I use it in cooking instead of butter, and toss it into my salads with a bit of sherry vinegar instead of fatty salad dressings.

Migas
North African influence on Andalusian cuisine is noted in migas, a dish that could be a cousin to cous cous. Made with a base of bread crumbs, the recipe differs greatly around Andalucía and Spain, but I prefer it with bacon, sausage, olive oil, garlic and dried red pepper.

Jerez

Sherry is popular the world over and has been mentioned everywhere from centuries-old Greek texts to Shakespeare. What makes sherry different from other wines is that it is fortified with brandy. It comes in ten recognized varieties ranging from light to dark and dry to sweet. Though purists may disagree, I think sherry is best-enjoyed in the form of a rebujito–a 50/50 mix of sherry and Sprite, and wildly popular at the férias (fairs).

Polvorones

These powdery, crumbly desserts are especially popular around Christmastime and are most highly produced in Andalucía, but enjoyed throughout Latin America and the Philippines. They’re made with flour, milk, sugar, and nuts; sweet and simple.

So now that you’ve virtually sampled and surely drooled over typical Andalusian fare–what would be on the top of your list to try while in Spain’s south?

*Not feeling tortured enough after reading about all these amazing southern platos? Check out my guest post on Christine|in|Spain where I fill you on Madrid’s most popular dishes.

**Photo credits: pescaíto frito, migas, polvorones.

It’s true. I’ve been cheating on my dear Spanish food not only with Turkish desserts, but also with Georgian cuisine. What can I say – I’m a tad unfaithful and culinarily promiscuous. But when it comes to food, I’m just not a one-cuisine kind of gal! Let me introduce to you to my latest food love affair.

Breads
Bread is king in Georgia. These people eat bread like it’s the last day of their life – multiple kinds of bread at breakfast, lunch and dinner. And I get why – because it’s off-the-charts good. The most famous of the breads is the lavashi. Often made in a signature oblong shape, the soft, squishy bread is perfect for eating by itself, with a Georgian cheese, or just soaking and scooping up whatever you have on your plate. My other bread favorite was mchadi – a cornmeal based patty typically served hot and which Georgians love to slice in half, stuff with cheese and eat like a sandwich (genius!!).

Khachapuri
Hello, Georgian pizza, can you please come back to Spain with me? This little delight mixes the scrumptiousness of the aforementioned bread, with, you guessed it – cheese! Across the country you’ll find different variations from cheese on top, to cheese inside. Batumi, the beachside town that Eastern Europeans flock to, even boasts its own special version – a boat-shaped bread that cradles a mixture of melted cheese, a semi-fried egg and a slice of butter, all which you must mush up with your fork and then eat until you explode or have a heart attack (whichever comes first).

Pastries
I spent my first several days in Georgia thinking that the only sweets that those folks ate included watermelon (I’m still not amused – sorry, Georgia). But after nagging a little, my Georgian amiga, Sophia, revealed her country’s sweet tooth – a sweet tooth fulfilled by some finger-licking-good pastries. My favorite, kada, is basically just a fat roll of what I would consider to be crumbly pie crust. I know, why didn’t anyone think of this sooner, right?? Then there’s a sumptuous cream-filled pastry, called shu, that I may as well just bag and hook up to an IV drip. Why they don’t eat this stuff with the same reckless abandon as they do bread and watermelon is just plain beyond me.

Coffee float
On hot summer days, it’s not uncommon to see locals slurping their Georgian-style coffee floats through colorful straws. And it should be mentioned that Georgians do love their ice cream – a fluffy, almost whipped frozen treat that often comes prepackaged in soggy cones. Kind of sounds unappetizing, but I’m not going to lie – it hit the spot (apparently I have a lot of spots).

Herby, spiced, crack-filled (OK, maybe not crack) sauces
For a good portion of our trip, Sophia hesitated introducing us to the more flavorful (read: spiced and spicy) Georgian cuisine for fear that we wouldn’t like it. Apparently past guests (many of which were Spaniards who are averse to spicy cuisine) didn’t care for the dishes. One taste, though, and we were s.m.i.t.t.e.n. Served with meats or veggies, the chashushuli sauce is typically mixed with fresh herbs like cilantro and dill, and spices such as hot pepper and flavored salt. The result is an irresistible concoction that I would eat everyday of my life on and with just about anything that I can get my hands on. In fact, I’m pretty sure I can’t be friends with someone who for some reason doesn’t love it. If you like Indian or Southeast Asian cuisine, then I promise you will be obsessed with this dish too.

Honorable mention
Georgia serves up several other universally loved dishes that I too enjoyed, but not with the same embarrassing passion as those mentioned above. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention khinkali, which basically looks like giant dim sum (and kind of tastes like it too). To eat it Georgian style, pick it up with your hands and take a bite of the base, slurping up its broth while you eat.

Then there are also the kebaps, which come as crepe-wrapped ground-beef. The meat is blended with the same mixture of fresh herbs and spices as the crack-sauce mentioned above. Dipped in a little Georgian ketchup (not really ketchup, the tkhemali is a sweet-meets-sour sauce made of a fruit similar to plums) and you’ve got yourself a winning combination.

Still curious about Georgia? Don’t forget to read more about my impressions on what makes Georgia unique.

The Island of Tenerife is covered in bananas – plátanos, to be exact. They’re everywhere you look.

Now I’m not bananas for bananas, but I make a mean banana bread, so when visiting Tenerife recently I was kind of thrilled at the prospect of trying all sorts of fruit-based desserts (and non-fruit-based desserts – all desserts really).


Tene-huh? Located off the western coast of Africa (but technically Spain), Tenerife is an island of contrasts – from the El Teide volcano (Spain’s highest point) to the dry, cactus-covered shorelines. It’s Spain meets Hawaii meets Arizona.

The Canary Islands archipelago also happens to be an old stopping point for ships making journeys to the Americas. I suppose it’s no wonder, then, that language accents and cuisine got all garbled up in the process. Listening to a Canarian speak might sound more like someone from Puerto Rico than Spain (not surprising considering the thousands of Canarians who’ve emigrated Latin America). And some of the cuisine may not remind you of the typical Spanish fare that I never seem to stop babbling about.

With that in mind, I came prepared to do my usual food research (step one: eat, step two: eat, step three: repeat). Scouring the menus, however, I was lost and confused by the lack of banana-related dishes – and by lack, I mean none. This place is the banana capital of the world (according to me) – how can they not have banana everything?

But somewhere between scuba diving with turtles (monumental day for me) and feeding a donkey, I discovered that other amazing non-banana dishes do exist in Las Canarias – specifically, mojo. Not pronounced mo-jo à la Austin Powers, but rather mo-ho. Initial thoughts upon trying this Canarian specialty: what bananas?!?

Typically served as two different sauces (although more than two exist), the zesty red and green mojos transported me to another place. Between the familiar flavor of cilantro in the green, and the spicy kick of the red, the tastes were more reminiscent of the Mexican food I’m used to than that of traditional Spanish cuisine. While the sauces are often eaten with anything, from fish, to chicken, they are most famously served with the Islands’ small potatoes.

They aren’t just your regular tortilla potatoes, though. They’re papas arrugadas, or wrinkly potatoes. The smooth-as-butter textured taters typically soak in salt water before being set out to dry. The resulting “wrinkly” potato has a melt-in-your-mouth consistency and a salty skin that makes it taste like it came straight from the sea. Dipped in some of that mojo and you’ve got yourself an irresistible combination. I’m not going to lie – I’d drink the sauces if no one was looking. Maybe lick the bowl too.



Meanwhile, aboard our whale-watching boat, we were finally served the seemingly unpopular plátanos. No sugar added, no fancy sauce, nothing fried or doused in whip cream, just your basic banana – peel and all. And I couldn’t have been happier. I cradled the forgotten fruit in my hands, took a picture with it, and threw it in my bag, committed to eating it and giving it its much deserved attention later.

The next day, while traversing the Island, we came upon – surprise – more banana plantations, at which point I demanded we stop. With newfound affection, I snuck up to the roped-off plants. Banana in hand, I peeled it open and savored every last bite, contemplating how it might taste with some mojo.