Las Doce Uvas de la Suerte

Back home I know how my friends and family will be celebrating the New Year. There will be Sparkling Wine, the Countdown to Midnight, the Ball Dropping in New York City, Kissing, and Singing. There will be Hugging, Well Wishing, and Laughter too.

While I love spending New Year's Eve laughing and toasting and celebrating, this New Years will be very different. I will be in full concentration mode to mentally prepare for the twelve strokes of midnight.

Anne Igartiburu and Imanol Arias
host the countdown to midnight  in Madrid

 My first time encountering this Spanish New Year's Eve tradition was three years ago with Andres' family. We were at a large table in his Aunt's home with his parents and cousins asking casually if I was prepared for midnight, and if I had ever eaten twelve grapes in twelve seconds. While I'm not sure how other's would respond, my answer was "No." No, I had never been put in a position, or had the curiosity, to eat twelve grapes in twelve seconds. I thought, just pop them in, chew, swallow and repeat, right?

The plates were passed and the uvas distributed and that is when I noticed that these were quite possibly the biggest grapes I had ever encountered in my life (they were bigger than I thought even existed, actually). Andres' family must have seen my reaction to my first glimpse, because all eleven relatives began to offer advice, which ended with four different people peeling and seeding my grapes. It's a tricky little scheme and up for debate, but since it was my first time, all agreed to turn a blind eye. Needless to say with some quick maneuvering and a little panic, I finished all twelve with pride.

Las Doce Uvas "De la Suerte" (The Twelve Grape "of luck") tradition started on a large scale in 1909, when the region of Alicante experienced an exceptional grape harvest and was looking to sell. Originally the bourgeoisie celebrated the New Year with Grapes and Champagne, but with such a bountiful harvest the practice was encouraged to spread nation wide. The tradition is that each of the Grapes represents a month of the year, and eating a Grape on each toll of the bell will give you luck for each month devoured.

While New Year's Eve looms ahead, I begin to mentally and emotionally prepare for the task. As my last experience was several years ago, I might have to go the peeled route... or at least the seeded route. So, as you hold your glass of Sparkling Wine and prepare for the countdown, wherever you are, cross your fingers for me.

Happy New Year!

**update**

My dish of seeded grapes
(I opted for skin-on for a bit of a challenge)

Grapes seeded and peeled
with a fork and knife like a pro

A Gingerbread Family

For the Holidays I was feeling a bit sentimental. It would be my first Christmas in Barcelona and my first Christmas married and part of a new family with their own time honored traditions. I was wracking my brain to do something traditional, but new to me. I had already done Apple and Pumpkin Pies for Thanksgiving and was looking for variation. I read through my absolute favorite baking book - The Williams-Sonoma Baking Book (it has everything) to get an idea.

I am a more make-it-up-as-you-go-along savory cook than a measure-it-all-out sweets master, so I have always been very cautious about keeping the right distance away from various baked goods. However, now that I am part of a different culture, I have become interested in the art and have been trying my hand at a number of different recipes. (It helps that Andres is the only one who knows when a recipe doesn't turn out and still digs his fork into my creation with a smile)

When it finally dawned on me to make Gingerbread People, I set off in search of People cookie cutters (I surprisingly found them in a large hardware store I entered to escape the cold while waiting for the bus). Next I went in search of sprinkles, which ended up being much more difficult to find (5 euros for a little tube of Rainbow Jimmies that seemed to have faded in color). I finally found a large jar with four separate types of sprinkles in Caprabo (one of the grocery chains). That would do!

Although the dough "melts" within about eight minutes of being rolled out, Andres and I came down with a system and the cookies turned out perfectly!

The first batch of Gingerbread People prepped for decoration

The cutters I had found were an entire family of Mom, Dad, Little Sister and Little Brother. We snacked on the children while decorating the adults to eat on Christmas Day.

Twenty-five large and fifteen small decorated in total

With four colors of icing, sprinkles, mini m&ms, and Christmas music, the day turned out better than I could have imagined. In hindsight, the Cookies and the Royal Icing were so easy to make, although you have to refrigerate the dough for at least two hours which we didn't plan for. This is a recipe worthy of tradition!

Williams-Sonoma Gingerbread People Recipe

Williams-Sonoma Royal Icing

Caga Tios and Caganers

-The Caga Tío-

Walking around the city it is hard to ignore the logs of varying sizes with little faces and red hats hanging about in shop windows. Do you want a mini log the size of your little finger? Or, perhaps you would prefer one the size of your thigh? Well, you are in luck because they just so happen to come in every shape and size you can dream of!

Some of the various sizes of the Tios

However, it is not the size of the logs, or the fact that they have a little red felt hat reminiscent of Santa's (the traditional Catalan barretina). Nor is it of consequence that they have four little branches as legs or overly excited smiles on  their faces. It is the fact that these little creatures, these Tíos, come from the woods of the Catalan countryside looking for a warm home, love and tender care for several weeks in December. It gets cold here in Catalunya and everyone, even Caga Tíos, need to keep warm.
They come unexpectedly. You may hear a knock on the door, or a tap on the window. You may wake in the morning to find him hanging out in the kitchen or relaxing in el salón. However and whenever he arrives, you must know that you need to care for him. Even in your warm home, he could develop a slight chill, so it is best if you cover him with a little blanket. You also (of course), have to leave him food each night, which he will devour when you are not looking. Naturally, Caga Tíos are as distinct as humans, so you will have to try various foods until you find his favorites. Some have a tendency for sweets like turrón, while others crave something on the healthier side like rice or clementines (it is still up for debate how they manage to peel them if they have no fingers).
Although it may take some coaxing and a bit of work on your part, he must eat. He must eat, because the more he eats, the better and larger gifts he will poop out on Christmas Day. His name, after all, translates to "Pooping Uncle" or "Pooping Guy."
El Tío needs some persuasion to do the deed on the 25th of December, so the children of the household tap on his back while singing a song. An adult in the room will eventually decide to take a peek under the Tío's blanket and discover that, lo and behold, he has pooped out gifts and treats for everyone in the family!

Tios with Catedral de Santa Eulalia in the background

-The Caganer-

Also hard to ignore is the Caganer. Pronounced "caga NAY," this little statue is also partaking in the same deed as the Tío. Frozen in time and squatting forever over a little pile of poop. This figure is also present during the Christmas season and is most typically hidden somewhere within the nativity scene.

Shelves and shelves of Caganers
in any shape, size and form you desire

The most traditional image is of a man squatting with his pants down to his knees wearing traditional Catalan dress along with the red barretina (the same red hat as Caga Tío). But do not fret, you can easily find a Caganer in the shape of your favorite someone- Princess Kate, various U.S. presidents, Homer Simpson, the Catalan president, Spiderman and, of course, any soccer player from Barca. The list goes on and on.

Several hundred years old, this tradition is not only found in Catalunya, but in Murcia (a region south of Catalunya, but not directly), Portugal and Naples (I hope I don't have to explain where the last two are located). There are several different interpretations of this relic, but the most common are:
-Humanity within the mysterious- The position of the Caganer hidden in the nativity scene is meant to contrast the spiritual birth of Jesus and make it a more human experience.
-The cycle of life- It is also thought to be a symbol of human vulnerability and our union with nature. What his body is rejecting is, in turn, useful to the earth.
-Luck- His droppings could be understood as a sign of abundance for the coming year. Good luck, happiness, productivity and wealth to look forward to!

A giant Caganer, that you couldn't miss
even if you tried

While the Tío is a great exercise of the rewards of careful, steadfast work and the Caganer could bring perspective and help fuel dreams and aspirations for the coming year, I can't seem to overcome the slight embarrassment of seeing someone do what should be done behind closed doors. On second thought, as a gift for my first Christmas in Catalunya maybe I will get a Caganer (that will be well hidden and left in his own privacy. And don't expect to find him!) and the smallest version of the Tio (which maybe I could coax out a Hershey's Kiss if I start now).

Two Hours in Blanes

Needing an escape from city life, we decided to head north on AP-7. We didn't get far before our stomachs began to rumble louder than the radio. Most of our escapes are planned relatively in advance (usually the night before) and we always agree to get an early start on our trips. With a large amount of procrastination (totally on my part) to venture out into the cold, we arrived in Blanes just after two o'clock.

Blanes (pronounced "blAhn-es") is a small beach town just an hour north of Barcelona that marks the southern limit of the Costa Brava. This pre-Roman town is home to two spectacular Gardens, a Gothic Church, a Hermitage and a Castle. We only passed by the church.

Gothic Church - Santa María de la Esperanza

Once veering off the highway, we followed signs to Blanes, until... there were none. Driving by gut instinct, we miraculously arrived in the center of the city, or at least where the action seemed to be. We strolled along the beach, as if we were not thinking about our next meal, and ended up in a narrow street, which dead ended into another.

The rambla along the beach

Ending up outside a dark little restaurant, Andrés read the menu aloud as I warded off a waiter from the cafeteria next door who shoved menus of different languages into my hands. After the waiter snatched the menus from my fingers and huffed away, I turned to walk to Andrés who was peering inside the restaurant like a kid would a candy shop. I sauntered over and nudged him aside, and creeeek, the door opened. I prepared to step back outside, just like a good little girl, and then it hit me. A warm gust of slow roasted meats, simmering broths, fresh baking bread, and the strong smell of café hooked me.

We clambered through the door into an immaculate, but abandoned, bar area with an equally abandoned dining room filled with perfectly set tables. Not a soul. Accepting what my eyes were witnessing I turned my attention to my ears. The sound of a fully functioning restaurant kitchen at peak time filled the room. Andres, fueled by hunger and curiosity, lept up the stairs and then high tailed right back down with reports of having ended up in the kitchen. He crossed the bar area to a second set of stairs and flew up. I followed. At the top of the stairs there was, naturally, a dark little hallway with a closed door at the end. We pushed open the door to peak through the crack (Shaggy and Scooby style), to find a waiter looking directly at us and shooing us back.

Andrés and I patiently waited until the door swung open wide.
"Qué?" the waiter asked shortly.
"Podemos comer?" Andres asked hesitantly.
"Ssííí" he responded in a tone equivalent to "DUH!"

Following every twist and turn like little ducks, we walked through several small dining rooms ducking through compact doorways that have contorted with time. The ceilings were low with dark wooden beams. The smell of wood fired ovens creeped into our noses and hair and clothes and made us ravenous. We immediately receive dishes of pickled sardines, preserved smoked muscles, and a plate of toasted bread with a tomato and two cloves of garlic. Then, the menus came.

The perfect beginning to a perfect meal

We ate up every moment. I got choked up as my fideuà was excellently plated and my eyes stung with tears as Andrés' oven roasted fish was expertly de-boned. My fideuà consisted of the typical little egg noodles, octopus and squid, and was accompanied by a little "pot" (jar) of alioli (house made garlic mayonnaise  for lack of a better description). Andrés' wood-fired-oven-roasted-fish was laid atop a beautiful array of very slow roasted potatoes, tomatoes and onion, remeniscent of the Catalan flag. Although it literally hurt, we did not stop eating.

We sat in a vegetative state until our cortados (shot of café with a splash of hot frothy milk) were placed in front of us. Hours later we tumbled out onto the street. The temperature had dropped drastically, the sky was blocked out by dark swirling clouds, and a drop splatted onto my cheek. We rushed to the car for safety where we sat recounting what we ate, and the so many dishes we did not.

Blanes, we're coming back if it's the last thing we do!

Restaurant S'Auguer

C/ S'Auguer, 2

17300 Blanes

tel. 972.351.405

Castanyes, Boniatos i Panellets

**Chestnuts, Sweet Potatoes, and Panellets**

Nearing the end of the month of October the dry air is filled with smoke. People parade in their winter coats and scarves and the clicking of boots is heard echoing throughout the narrow streets. The lackadaisical stroll of summer and fall is pushed into a quickstep as people rush to escape the new wave of cold air.

Little wooden shelters pop up on city corners and plazas and a sweet smoke accompanies them. Just outside the little hut are two round metal "barrels" filled with burning wood. On top of the "barrels" are slow roasted chestnuts and sweet potatoes.

Panellets:

Two-bite "cookies" originally consisting of Sweet Potato, Almond Flour, Egg Yolks, and Sugar (although now there are many variations) Panellets were made as on offering to deceased ancestors. On The Day of the Dead, families would come together to remember and honor their ancestors and visit them in the cemetery, as it was believed that this was a day that the dead came to visit the living. They would leave offerings in the cemetery of either Sweet or White Wine, Panellets, Chestnuts, Almonds, Hazelnuts, Sweet Potatoes, and other seasonal foods.  

Castanyes i Boniatos (Chestnuts and Sweet Potatoes):

*In the Middle Ages the bells of all the churches and convents would sound throughout Catalunya on the night before and day of All Saints (November 1st) to remind citizens that it was time to pray for the dead. The men ringing the bells would recuperate from their hard work by eating Chestnuts, abundant at this time of year, and drinking Sweet Wine to help against the cold in their moments of rest.

With time, close family members began to join the men in the towers to accompany them through the cold night. This gathering eventually turned the hard work into a celebration as they enjoyed each others' company along with Chestnuts and Sweet Wine. By the end of the 18th century, this tradition of eating Chestnuts had spread from the small villages to the larger towns and cities. Eventually this would turn into a national festivity. 

Today, All Saints is celebrated by eating and drinking roasted Chestnuts, Sweet Potatoes, Panellets and Moscatel with close family, although it is no longer entirely celebrated as a religious ritual for the dead.   

                                                   

                                                 

Sweet, Sweet Panellets

The last week of October is flooded with colorful bite size cookies. Shop windows flaunt their particular creations in large windows decorated with Pumpkins, Chestnuts and Sweet Potatoes. Each little panellet is molded, colored, and flavored according to demand, tradition, and creativity. Pink, green, brown, and white. Coconut, Coffee, Raspberry, and Almond.

A small bakery near Mercat de Flors caught our attention. No flaunting or advertising, but we were drawn inside the dark and narrow shop. Staring down upon the endless rows of panellets we hesitantly made our selection. Chopped Almond crescents, Rasberry Jam nests, Pine Nut balls, cracked Chocolate crunch, Coconut volcanoes, Candied Orange Peel logs, and Praline rounds without regret.

Deceiving, they appear to be dry and over-baked, but once bitten into, they reveal a sweet and gooey center that melts at the heat of your tongue. Already looking forward to next year.

Bacon Quiche

It was a long day of nothing. For a while she sat at her desk making lists. Tired of the crooked, hunched position she assumed, she went to the kitchen only to stand and stare at the items in her pantry. Three types of Rice, Quinoa, a small can of Tomato Paste, two bricks of Chicken Broth... her eyes wandered over the available ingredients, but her mind began to mix, peel, chop, and stir. None made her stomach yearn, so she moved to the fridge. Door open and eyes taking inventory she jumped. Today was as good a day as any to attempt a Quiche.

Bacon, Leek and Roasted Chicken Quiche

Mini Quiche to finish up Dough and Filling

Quiche, Salad, Blasmaic Vinaigrette, Manchego,
and Estrella Damm Inedit Beer

Restaurant Les Espelmes

A slight detour in our Olive Oil Outing and we followed a restaurant recommendation to Les Espelmes, ("The Candles"). One of our top Rustic Catalan Restaurants... if you are willing to make the drive. (read previous post first**)

"Boredom and heat creeped in through the cracked windows and they detoured up a narrow and winding road to eat at a recommended destination..."

Perched on the edge of a cliff and overlooking a hot and dry terrain, "The Candles" sit aflame. They drove higher and higher on the winding road until swerving into the parking lot at marker "km 28." Tumbling out of the hot car they took in their surroundings. Les Espelmes looked like a cabin that had had various additions added on over the years, which added to the precarious look of the cliff-clinging structure. They looked at each other before shrugging and entering into a dark entrance hall. 
The smell of a wood burning oven wasn't noticeable, until the menu was read and re-read again. They dined on a platter of colorful Roasted Vegetables and a salad of Escarole with Bacalao and Romesco sauce. This was immediately followed by two plates of the most perfectly roasted Rabbit with Alioli and Chicken served with more black tipped Vegetables. Every last bit of food was eaten in almost complete reverential silence and the last of the Alioli was mopped up by pieces of roasted potato. Still dreaming of the Rabbit and Chicken, they ordered a Crema Catalana to accompany their scalding hot Cortados, ending the meal with smokey sweetness. 

The Limitless View from Les Espelmes

Restaurant Les Espelmes

Coll de Lilla, Catalunya

Ctra. N 240, km 28

43813 Valls

tel. 977 60 10 42

www.lesespelmes.com

Life Changing Oils

On the previous post, I mentioned Cavaloca Olive Oil. Here is our journey of how we came to find this oil, and how we returned home from an experience that changed our eating lives.

They both had had olive oil. In fact, they had it almost once a day as if prescribed. Quickly boiled fresh vegetables, drizzled with extra virgin olive oil, and a quick flick of salt and white pepper. Other times, they had toasted bread drowned in the same olive oil. A small ripe tomato half would be relentlessly grated over the sliced baguette until all that remained was the thin skin. Slices were finished with salty and smokey meats and interchangeably eaten with smooth and crumbly cheeses. They both had had olive oil. 
An online article mentioned the idea of olive oil tasting, much like a wine tasting. He called, she mapped, and they woke early the next morning ready for their two hour and eight minute drive down south. Boredom and heat creeped in through the cracked windows and they detoured up a narrow and winding road to eat at a recommended destination. Once fed and satiated they fell back into their car and sagged into position for the next hour of driving. 
They waited in a deserted parking lot until being located and led up a rocky dirt road to the isolated location of the olive oil mill. Following the process from olive to bottled and labeled oil, they were then treated with a tasting. The table was covered with small, dark blue glass vessels, similar to candle votives. Each was topped with a clear glass disk.
As instructed they held the blue cupfuls of oil topped with the clear glass lid and let the heat of their hands warm the oil. Not sure what to expect, and knowing nothing other than store-bought oil, they removed the dish and pushed their nose into the void. What filled them was the strong smell of fresh plant life. They stared wide eyed at each other until allowed to put the chalice to their lips and sip this new golden-green syrup. Having smelled the extract still did not prepare for the taste. Unripe banana, tomato plants and green apple skin, among other things, coursed through them. Unlike anything that bears the name "oil," this liquid, this extravagant elixir, would change their lives forever. .

The Dry Terrain of the Priorat Region of Catalunya

The Cavaloca Olive Oil Mill
with
2,000 year old (at least) Olive Tree

Three of Five Oils Tasted
Arbequi, Rojal, and Negret

The Blue Glass with Lid
used in Tastings

Cavaloca

C/ Sant Miquel, 48 Cabacés 43373

tel. 977.839.399 / 639.449.797 

http://www.molideloli.com

Summer Salad

One beautifully hot (but not humid) summer night, we dined on this deliciously filling salad!

Red Butter Lettuce, Blanched and cooled Asparagus and Flat Beans, then thinly sliced Sliced Tomatoes and Hard Boiled Egg

Sprinkled and Drizzled with? Finely ground Sea Salt and White Pepper and Arrels de Cavaloca (Arbequi) Olive Oil.

Falling

Barcelona Stormy Sky

It was a late August storm that brought it in. There had been various storms throughout the summer: light showers, overnight pours, major thunder and lightening ragers, and clouds that lost drops as they slowly slid to their destinations. Each was different in it's own way, affecting the people below in it's own way... but this one was different.

The humidity was almost unbearable until some low, dark clouds flowed into the city mid afternoon shutting out the sunlight. There was an uneasy pressure as the high fog closed in around the city and sealed it in like a snow globe. Slightly opened windows creaked open wide with a slight breeze and then it happened. Total release.

All day and into the night it poured, stopped, and poured again. The humidity was pounded down into the cement by the cool, heavy drops and the air turned cold.

The next day all clouds had vanished and any other traces of the storm had disappeared as well. The sun warmed the pavement and dried puddles, but the dry, cool air served as a warning: fall was here.

Spain's Summer Sounds

All windows open to invite movement from the stifling air. Ten o'clock and the light of the sky is like a blanket of calm over the chaos of everyday city life.

A beautiful view of cement walls pock-marked with identical open windows, colorful flowing laundry on cables, and the inviting glow of each and every home. Standing at my window while pulling in my latest catch of blacks, blues and reds, it is the sound of the night that fills me. I stop moving and lean back with eyes closed to absorb the night music of Barcelona life while wrapped in the comforting scent of clean laundry.

classical music

screechy novice violin

boy repeatedly greeting "hola"

a couple making up from an afternoon argument

Fur Elise on piano from new upstairs neighbor

newborn baby crying

little girls singing

laughter 

Hot August Nights

The damp sky pressed down on those who have stayed on through the middle of August. Collages of newspaper and magazine pages cover the windows and glass doors of the small shops in the neighborhoods that skirt the center of the city. Not all have a town home to escape to when the humid heat creeps into the city like San Francisco fog. Those who have no choice but to stay behind, dance a slow dance of their daily routines as if underwater.

She looks both ways out of habit and crosses the abandoned five lane street against the light. There is a strong sense of anticipation in the air and for no explicable reason she wraps the edge of her dress in her fist and runs across the wide street. She lets the material go and notes the movement as it flows against, around, and in between her legs. Seven cars hum by. There is a slight sort of breeze, but it has yet to penetrate the sticky surface of her exposed skin.

Feeling nothing and hearing only the constant sound of beetles in the trees, she passes exactly four people. Each seems to take forever in lifting their legs and returning them back to earth. Her eyes meet with each of the strangers' and hold until it is no longer physically possible. She is overwhelmed with the desire to swim the rest of the way home.

Essence of Sizzling Saffron

There are people who can see and feel things that the rest of the world can not. I'm not talking about ghosts, or auras, or the future, or the meaning of the alignment of the stars. There are people who can savor the aroma of a number, are familiar with the color of emotions, and can let the flavor of a word melt on the tongue like a piece of real, dark chocolate.

This is a composite of stories derived from my experiences in Barcelona. Life is rich with circumstances, environment, experiences, and people. Through the mixing of senses, observations, and imagination, this blog will share the formation of a new life through the eye of a foreigner.

Barcelona from airplane window