This essay appeared in the Travel section of the Summer 2006 issue of Bombay’s Upper Crust magazine. Click here to read more about the magazine.

 Of Tapas And Tio Pepe: On A Gastronomic Tour Of Spain
ROCHELLE ALMEIDA says Spain’s taste buds have gone through a revolution and the culinary pleasures are now varied.

If you think that Spain’s gastronomic repertoire is restricted to just tapas and paella, think again. The nation’s taste buds have undergone a revolution in recent years and visitors to the Iberian Peninsula can now partake of culinary pleasures that are excitingly varied. Of course, much depends on which part of Spain you choose to explore because each region capitalises on its own produce. But if you are adventurous enough to experiment, you will be rewarded with an abundance of delightful meals that will make your palate sing Ole! My gourmet adventures began in the capital, Madrid, where at the bustling Puerto del Sol, a huge billboard advertising Tio Pepe, Spain’s superb dry sherry, smiles down on tourists in much the same way that the fizzing bottle of Coca-Cola bubbles forth at New York’s Times Square. The preferred potent at meal-time, though, is Sangria and most restaurants do a fairy decent version of this fruity cocktail. Easy to reproduce at your home bar, Sangria is simply equal parts of a red wine (try one of their excellent Riojas) with a sparkling lemonade and throw in a combination of cubed apples (leaving the skin on for color), orange and pineapple segments. Serve in tall glasses tinkling with crushed ice. I had Sangria everywhere I traveled in Spain, but by far the best concoction was in Toledo, right outside the Sinagoga del Transito, where the many climbs amidst that hilly terrain had stirred my thirst buds awake.

Paella (pronounced Pa-ay-ya) is Spain’s contribution to global gormandising and though every Madrileno will recommend a different restaurant, you can’t go wrong at Ristorante La Sirena Verde on the Gran Villa, one of Madrid’s main thoroughfares. I was, fortunately, tipped off by a knowledgeable gourmet about this completely unpretentious place, and I’m glad I took him at his word. After you have crossed the threshold into this restaurant, head upstairs where the décor takes on a decidedly nautical air and shades of blue combine with off-white to create a space that is evocative of Spain’s sea-faring heritage. Extremely attentive wait staff brought me menus and recommendations from a wine list which, though not a mile long, covered a gamut of budgets. Settling for a rather good white Rioja, (Cune, semi-dry) I browsed the menu and chose the Paella del Mariscos (24 Euros for two persons), a Seafood Paella that is a meal in itself —other variation is a Paella de Valencia which, in addition to the seafood, includes chicken. Needless to the say, the seafood version has rice cooked in fish stock while the Valencia uses chicken broth. Both versions come studded with tender green peas.

But it is the unmistakable presence of the flavor of saffron, that most prized of condiments, that makes a memorable Paella. Grown on the vast plains of Castilla La Mancha, early spring sees the profuse emergence of this crocus cultivar so that the fields turn purple in response to the resurrection of the flowers after the long dormant winter season. It is because the stamens of the crocus have to be carefully picked and graded by hand that saffron is such an expensive condiment. Fortunately, a little goes a long way. When you add a few strands to warm milk or water, you bring out the flavour of the precious stamens. The mixture is added to the Paella pan just before the rice is fully cooked through and the heat is turned off. Overheating the condiment would cause the fragrance to dissipate completely. Paella del Marisco comes with clams, giant prawns, calamari, squid, and a plethora of shrimp, making it a seafood lover’s delight. If yours is an authentic Paella, your waiter will serve it to you straight off the flame in a special flat Paella pan, usually made of beaten copper. It is the pan’s shape — its essential shallowness — that keeps each grain of rice separate and dry, preventing it from cooking into a gloppy mass in the way that Italian risottos tend to become after the addition of all that hot stock to Arborio rice.

Spain is also famous for its Serrano ham-serre means dry in Spanish and the hams are so-called because they are left to smoke in the dry air of the mountains in the Alpajurra region in Andalucia. All over Spain’s cities from Madrid to Seville, you will find sidewalks dotted with Musees de Jambon (pronounced Haam-bau). They are not called museums for nothing — what one finds inside, hanging from the rafters, are row upon row of smoked hams of varied flavour, each originating in a different part of Spain. Spaniards love their jambon at mid-morning when they place it on long slices of baguette-like bread and eat it like an open sandwich with a cup of coffee. The same Serrano ham is a standard item on tapas menus. Don’t sneeze at this modest peasant snack. You might well find yourself making a meal of it, particularly if you combine it with the superlative Manchego, Spain’s best-selling cheese made from sheep’s milk on the plains of La Mancha, habitat of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza — hence the name. This extraordinarily flavourful cheese is also melted over Serrano ham and served over toasted bread, to create a grilled version — Spain’s response to France’s Croque Monsieur. And that brings me to tapas. No longer mystery morsels, these delectable appetizers have brought out the creativity in contemporary chefs so that a whole range awaits the adventuresome palate. I decided to make a meal of tapas at Ristrorante Naturbrier at Plaza Santa Ana in Madrid where in a pavement café, under the brilliantly illuminated Neo-Classical building of the Teatro Espagnol, I sampled a variety of pickled manzilla olives and smoked hams, tuna paste and marinated mushrooms as I sipped a truly splendid Toro red wine. Literally meaning “cover”, tapas originally referred to the slice of ham that was used as a cover to prevent insects from falling into the glasses of wine that were sipped at the counter by patrons in Spain’s innumerable bars. As time went by, these snacks that were served free of charge to regular patrons evolved into the more complicated and creative offerings that today include smoked meats and salamis, olives — both green and black and often stuffed with pimentos-marinated artichokes and mushrooms, and spicy seafood. They serve the same purpose as Italy’s antipasto platters. In fact, the more you eat your way through Europe, the more you will realise that with slight cultural variations, almost all national cuisines follow the same basic conventions. While it is customary to seek out great meals at restaurants, don’t overlook the very decent fare to be found in the cafeterias attached to major monuments. One of the more interesting and comfortably priced meals I ate was in the cafeteria of the Museo del Prado where, after gobbling up the artistic offerings in the form of Goyas, El Grecos and Velasquez in the galleries, I was left with little energy to go out in search of a sit-down meal. The cafeteria was the best bet and I was pleasantly surprised to find that the Beef Ragout or Stew that my husband Llew ordered as well as the Spinach and Chickpea Soup that I chose were delicious and superbly flavored, not to mention very filling when combined with the good crusty artisinal bread that was a part of the meal.

Don’t even think of leaving Spain without partaking of the country’s favorite snack — Chocolate and churros. Ideally eaten in-between meals, for elevenses or at tea-time, simply the best place to indulge in these irresistible goodies is just past the Teatro Real (Royal Theater) in Madrid. You will arrive on Calle de Arenal, a street known firstly for its bull-fighting arena, the Plaza del Toros, and secondly for the Chocolateria San Gines, an establishment that dates from the late 1800s and still serves the best version of Spain’s fast-disappearing national snack. I plonked down at old-fashioned marble topped tables to enjoy the treat (a steal at 3 Euros) and dunked my churros (long deep-fried sticks of dough) fondue-style into the sauce-like hot chocolate as I saw the local Madrilenos do. Don’t expect to finish the entire cup, no matter how confirmed a chocoholic you might be. The heaviness of the chocolate, its thickness, its cloying sweetness, all of which seem delectable at first soon seem much too rich after a few spoonfuls. And yes, you will need to use the spoon that is very thoughtfully provided for the hot chocolate is much too thick to be sipped in the conventional style. Perhaps that’s why they also serve a tall glass of iced water with this staple.

Everywhere I ate in Madrid, I found the meals uniformly satisfying. But by far some of the most interesting dishes I ate was at La Truscha Restaurant near Plaza Santa Ana where I opted for wonderful grilled trout stuffed with Serrano ham, garlic and capers and Chicken grilled with Garlic after consuming deliciously simple tapas-smoked ham and pickled manzilla olives. I found also that the house wine, a white Valdapenas, was surprisingly good and surprisingly cheap-wine is often cheaper than soft drinks in Spanish restaurants.

When I did leave Madrid behind to drive south and take in the Moorish treasures of Andalucia, I was delighted to come upon a restaurant in the very midst of Granada where the North African Islamic influence is clearly in evidence. At Granada’s main square, the Puerta Nuevo, I ordered Doner Kebab, and was astonished to find that it was the most popular item on the menu. Thinly sliced and delicately spiced marinated lamb was served in a hearty pita pocket with a liberal helping of onions, tomatoes and shredded lettuce in a spicy yoghurt dressing. Easily one of the cheapest meals I ate in Spain (3.50 Euros per Doner Kebab), this is the budget traveler’s answer to good gastronomy.

After touring the mighty Al-Hambra Palace, my appetite was whetted for a good repast and I was pleased to come upon one of Spain’s most common menu offerings — Shrimp sauteed in olive oil and flavored liberally with garlic and parsley. I ate this marvelous meal, very reminiscent of Italy’s Shrimp Scampi in Ristorante Valle del Punta in a tiny village called Padul right outside of Granada. A fire was actually lit in the open grate bringing much needed warmth to the rustic interior. Washed down with beer, it made a fine meal especially since I used the sesame studded bread rolls to sop up the last drop of the garlic flavored oil on my plate.

Cruising down the Costa del Sol, I contented myself with modest pickings in the ritzy-chic beach resort of Marbella as sight-seeing and beach-combing took priority over long-drawn-out meals. All the beach towns along the coast, though, from the main city of Malaga to small villages such a Torremolinos and Benalmadena offer a variety of eateries to suit every pocket. Overtaken by seasonal visitors, mainly from the British Isles, their menus feature everything from Fish and Chips to Moroccan tagines (since Morocco lies right across the Straits of Gibraltar and the Rif Mountains of the Northern African coast seem close enough that you feel compelled to reach out and touch them). Hold on to your enthusiasm for more sybaritic fare, however, until you reach the bull-fighting city of Seville. Having arrived there rather late in the evening, I chose to go out immediately in search of dinner, pausing only to gasp at the huge monolithic mass of the magically illuminated Gothic Cathedral, one of Europe’s largest, and ending at La Cueva, a restaurant in the former Jewish quarter called the Barrio Santa Cruz. Like all Spanish spaces that are frozen in time, Santa Cruz is a complicated network of narrow cobbled streets and alleys full of souvenir shops, restaurants and tapas bars. Le Cueva Restaurant is located on Calle Rodrigo Caro in a very pretty patio and is decorated in typical Spanish colonial style with ceramic pots and plates, the heads of bulls stuffed and mounted on walls, and the festive costumes of renowned matadors framed as wall art. There were wooden chairs painted quaintly with faiance designs and patterns, checkered tablecloths, antique Spanish religious statuary, and lovely ceramic pottery and pitchers to hold food. One could also choose to sit outside in a charming orange grove (the Patio de Naranjos) that is softly lit by wrought-iron lanterns.

I decided to eat an assorted platter of Spanish sausages as my first course (13 euros). These arrived promptly — Serrano ham, a variety of smoked sausages, liverwurst and manchego cheese. Llew chose a Caldera or Lamb Stew for his entrée while I went for the Frito Mixto, a plate of assorted fried fish, lightly dipped in batter and fried to a crisp (12 euros each). It reminded me very much of the fried fish my mother serves in Bombay. A pitcher of icy cold Sangria with bits of apple and oranges floating in it (8 euros) accompanied our meal. A noisy group of middle-aged French tourists at an accompanying table brought much life and vitality to the atmosphere while we savored our Spanish repast.

Seville is distinctive for its endless groves of orange trees. Indeed, each street is lined by miniature orange trees that form picturesque canopies as you stroll under them. I was fascinated by the fact that I could reach out and pluck the oranges right off the branches, only to be disappointed at finding the fruit too tart to be edible. That’s when I discovered that it is not the fruit that is prized but the rind of the Seville orange which being particularly bitter is coveted in the manufacture of quality marmelade. It was in the late 1800s that a shipment of sour Seville oranges arrived in the UK. Unable to consume them, a home chef threw them into a pan and boiled them with a measure of sugar. The rind softened as it cooked and gave the jam a subtly bitter flavor. Thus was born the famous orange marmelade that is a staple at British breakfast tables. Each year, shiploads of Seville oranges make their way across the English Channel to England where the golden shreds are transformed into the world-famous orange marmelade. Next stop: Cordoba, that ancient gem of the Moors, city of the gigantic Mezquita-Cathedral, offered another unforgettable meal. This time my quest for sustenance began in La Juderia, the abandoned Jewish district, to find a suitable restaurant for a good Andalucian meal. Referring to my guidebooks, I opted for La Churassca Restaurant on Calle Romero that offered a variety of barbecued meats in Argentinian or Brazilian style. Set in a traditional white-washed building in the heart of the Jewish district, the restaurant was very picturesquely decorated with all kinds of regional motifs including ceramic tiles and serve ware that are the hallmarks of the potteries of this area. My waiter, a gracious old man who was both attentive and helpful, suggested I start off with traditional Spanish Potato Omlettes (4.50 euros). Though this was nothing to look at and lacked any kind of presentation finesse, the dish was surprisingly delicious and flavorful. Spanish Omlettes are meals in themselves but a smallish wedge makes a good appetizer if you decide to opt for a multi-course meal. On my waiter’s recommendation, I ordered the Grilled Pork Loin served with Sauce Arabes (12.50 Euros) for which the restaurant is well reputed. Though quite edible, the meal was not outstanding.

Though I have mentioned Toledo earlier, it was in this fascinating medieval city that we brought our travels in Spain to a close. To end on a sweet note, I would heartily recommend that you make a quick stop at Marzipan San Tome, a confectionery store right behind the Iglesia San Tome, the most frequently visited monument in the entire city, for a taste of their legendary marzipan whose preparation goes back centuries. Indeed, the manufacture and the consumption of marzipan can be traced back to the Middle Ages and on tasting the very delicately shaped confections in this sweet shop, I discovered that some recipes (just powdered almonds, sugar, egg whites and almond essence kneaded to a soft dough) just don’t change despite the passage of time. I guess the belief is that if it ain’t broke, you don’t fix it!

Sampling my way through Spain was as much fun as inspecting its museums, strolling through its Islamic remains and exploring its legendary gardens. Whether it is rural fare your heart might desire or the more sophisticated meals of its imperial heritage, your tongue will stand up to salute this distinctive cuisine as you sing Viva Espana!