Will Travel for Tapas

Dear Granada.  What I missed in Seville… got a whiff of in Cordoba… I found it in Granada.  This city exudes the romance of every Andalusian fantasy.

On the food front, I found the elusive free tapas.  When you order a drink, a plate comes with it.  Each plate gets better, so I found myself ordering another drink to see what would come next.  At Bodegas Castaneda (Calle Almireceros), it was paella, followed by calamari, followed by a hearty pork stew.  Three drinks later, at 3:30pm, I needed to take my first Spanish siesta.

I really liked Bodegas Castaneda, which happens to be the oldest bar in Granada.  It looks its age, but feels much younger.  It’s was always packed with a great mix of happy people.  The casks behind the bar are filled with all sorts of treats to try: jumilla, vermouth, fino sherry, sweet orange wine, and more.  I don’t often go back to places when I am traveling, but I revisited Bodegas Castaneda two more times so I could take new friends there.  It was equally great every time.

In addition to the free tapas, there is also a full menu.  On my second visit, Greg (who I met in Sintra and then saw again in Seville and Granada!) and I took Jose’s advice and ordered the lomo y jamon y pimienta.  The cured pork loin, ham, and green pepper came stacked on grilled bread.  We also ordered mojama, a regional delicacy of air-dried tuna.  In hot Andalusia, it was once a practical way to preserve fresh fish.  The mojama was more tender and flexible than beef jerky, but the idea was similar.  The tuna flavor was intensified by the dehydration.  Because the slices were thin, the fish was rich but not overwhelming.

I went back a third time with Mairead and Paddy from Dublin; we met while trying to find the ticket booth for the Alhambra.  On this last visit to Bodegas Castaneda, we progressed from 1) fish fritters to 2) cold potatoes in aioli to 3) whole, juicy shrimp.

When I saw an outdoor spice market behind the Cathedral, I was immediately struck by its presence.  Much of Spanish cuisine relies simply on salt, pepper, olive oil, and perhaps some pimenton, all of which serve to highlight the main ingredient.  In Andalusia, however, there is a strong Arabic influence on the cuisine.  The aromatic presence of cumin, curry powder, cinnamon, and star anise was almost a shock to my senses.  The seductive smell of tea, after a month of strong coffee, took me by complete surprise.

I was determined to find a great tagine while I was in Granada.  The Albayzin, the old Muslim area, has a great maze of streets to wander.  Most of the stores and restaurants, however, are very touristy.  I peered in window after window until I found what looked like the least offensively commercial place, eventually picking a tea house with full menu on the main strip of Calle Caldereria Nueva.  That night, it was packed with Spanish students practicing their English.  I chose the lamb tagine, which was exactly what I had wanted.  The lamb was cooked on the bone until the meat could easily be pulled apart with a fork.  There were also green olives, green beans, hard-boiled egg, and dried plums. Ultimately, the dish was all about the perfect bite of sweet plum and lamb.  Crisp pita was perfect for soaking up the meaty juices from the bottom of the tagine.

Jerez de la Frontera, home to a number of sherry producers, is an easy train trip from Seville.  The town, however, is much larger than I imagined.  The tours all start at the same time; it’s only possible to visit a couple if you are going by foot.  Also, many of the smaller producers only have tours in the morning.  By the time I arrived from Seville and figured out tour schedules, it was noon.  In the end, I was able to visit two of the biggest sherry companies, Sandeman and Tio Pepe.  Both are giants of mass production and marketing: not my first preference, but the best I could do.

Sherry, like port, is a fortified wine.  Sherry is unique in the way it is aged.  Using the “solera” method, barrels of wine are stacked so that the oldest wine is at the bottom and the youngest wine is at the top.  When 1/3 of the wine is taken from those bottom barrels, it is replaced by the same amount of wine from the younger barrel above it.  Similarly, the second-level barrel receives wine from the even younger  third level.  Accordingly, the wine is mixed.  There will never be a vintage on a sherry because younger wine is continually mixed with older wine.

Palomino grapes are used for the dry sherries, while pedro ximenez grapes are used for the sweet ones.  The grapes for sweet sherries are also dried in the sun, to enhance their natural sugars.

As dry sherries age, a layer of yeast called the flor develops on top of the wine.  This yeast protects the wine from oxidation.  The wines are tested after several months; the wines with the best flor will be kept as fino sherries.  Fino sherries maintain their original golden color and fruity taste because of this protective film.  Wines with lesser flors are made into oloroso wines.  More alchohol is added to the wine, which kills the flor, exposing it to air.  As a result, olorosos darken in color and their flavors become more complex than fino sherries.  When a fino sherry is aged to the point that the flor dies, exposing the older wine to oxygen, it develops into yet another type of sherry, an amontillado.

At the start of the Sandeman tour, I paid 4 euros more to upgrade my tasting at the end.  I figured that, as a culinary student, I should take the opportunity to taste the best while I was in Jerez.  Unfortunately, I really don’t think that the sherries I tasted were right.  I wondered how long they have been opened… probably since the last chump ponied up for the more expensive tasting.  The royal esmerelda, an amontillado, tasted like penicillin, actually repulsive to my sense of smell and taste.  The Royal Ambrosante, a 20 year old sweet sherry, tasted faintly of the antibiotic.  I asked my tour guide if the wine was right.  She opened the bottle, poured herself some, smelled it, and tasted it.  Then, she told me that was how it was supposed to taste.  ????   At the end of the Tio Pepe tour, I stuck with the basic tastings, meant for the everyman tourist.  These were simple wines, not overly complex, but not offensive either.

Apparently, it will take more than a trip to Jerez to develop my taste for sherry!

As I headed to Andalusia, I hoped that I was in time for gazpacho and salmorejo, two soups that are only served when the tomatoes are in season.  I was happy to find them both.

Gazpacho is typically made from tomatoes, garlic, cucumbers, green peppers, and olive oil, pureed together to make a very refreshing soup.  The consistency of barely more than water, it is often served in a glass, to be drunk.

Salmorejo, which originates in Cordoba, only uses tomatoes, garlic, and olive oil.  This time, the ingredients are pureed with bread.  The bread thickens the soup, making it miraculously creamy.  Some of the salmorejos achieved the consistency and texture of mayonnaise (actually a good thing).  Salmorejo is often topped by chunks of chewy, dry jamon.  Leave it to the Spanish to take something easily vegetarian and add pork.

Tapas has its roots in Seville, though it is everywhere in Spain now.  I had heard that there would be free tapas in Seville… that when you ordered a drink, they would bring you a plate.  Perhaps I ordered food too soon or perhaps I was too obviously a tourist, but I never found the free tapas in Seville.  I did, however, find a couple of great tapas spots, full of character, both in Seville and nearby Cordoba.

Opened in 1670, El Rinconcillo (Calle Gerona 40) is the oldest bar in Seville.  They keep track of your tab by writing it in chalk on the bar.

Opened in 1850, Casa Morales (Garcia de Vinuesa 11, Seville) is a big, dusty-feeling place with all classic tapas selections.  It is very near to the Cathedral.

At 2pm on a Sunday, I could hear the sound of the crowd at Bodega Guzman (Calle de los Judios 7, Cordoba) from half a block away.  The drink of choice here is montilla, which is like a fino sherry.  It is very dry and a little fruity, perfect as an aperitif, but drunk with anything at Bodega Guzman.  The bartenders pour it from huge wooden casks.  I also ordered the albondigas, incredibly moist pork meatballs, served in a sauce, fragrant with cumin and pimenton.