Culinary Crusade in Catalonia

The cuisine of Spain has been of particular interest to me over the last thirty years. I lived in the area of Catalonia, Valencia and Mallorca for two years. Since then I have traveled back a handful of times to those same areas and also Central Spain and Andalusia. 

I have discovered that the cuisine in this Mediterranean country is among the best—and overlooked—in the world. Health benefits of the Mediterranean Diet are widely touted, but they are usually associated with Greece and Italy. I ask, why not Spain? 

Life expectancy in this Iberian country is the seventh-highest in the world. I would attribute much of this to diet. 

The Spanish eat five meals a day. Common ingredients include vegetables, legumes, garlic, olive oil, chorizo and smoked paprika. Most meals begin with a first course of soup or salad. Dessert is less common, and usually not so rich as the American fare. Typical examples are fruit, yogurt, flan or Maria cookies with herbal tea. 

Typical shop selling Spanish cured ham.

I have learned that there is a difference between what is served at home verses what is served in restaurants. Of course, there is an overlap of the two, but restaurants are more likely to serve popular foods such as paella and tapas. Inside someone's home you're more likely to get a fideo soup, garbanzo stew, or something with chunks of blood sausage. 

Food in Spain is very regional. Although paella is the national dish, it hails from Valencia. Fabada is a distinctive bean stew with blood sausage from Asturias. The Basque are noted for their tapa-like pintxos. Gazpacho reigns in Andalusia. The coastal areas favor fish and seafood. 

Butifarra is a typical sausage of Catalonia.

Arroz a la Cubana is a popular dish in the Canary Islands and Catalonia.

On a recent trip to Spain I returned to the area of Catalonia with my daughter. As always, I set out to find as much local food as possible. With the exception of one meal, we would be eating in bars and restaurants. 

On our first evening in Barcelona we ate at a quaint restaurant near the Gothic Quarter. Since it was Kaitlyn's first meal in Spain, she went for the iconic dish of paella. I, however, ordered a more regional meal, one that is certainly difficult to make at home: arròs negre, or black rice. 

Arròs negre is a dish with a hint of sweetness and chunks of squid. It is blackened using liquid from the squid's ink sack. 

Black rice on the left and paella on the right.

Years ago I had a lady make this for me in her home. With a notebook I diligently copied down every ingredient and every action needed to complete the dish. When it came time to add the ink I asked, “Where can I find that?” 

She looked at me puzzled and responded, “At the store, of course!” 

Little did she know that most stores in the U.S. don't sell squid ink. [The one time at home I followed this recipe I had to special-order the squid and then order prepackaged squid ink from Spain. It was a lot of hassle.] 

Kaitlyn and I enjoyed our meal. It also came with a sampling of tapas, which included patatas bravas (bite-size baked potatoes with a spicy sauce), roasted padrón peppers, sauteed chicken, fried anchovies, and calamari rings. I noted that most of the tapas I saw in Catalonia did not come served on a slice of bread like those I had seen in other provinces. 

Sampling of tapas.

My culinary crusade consisted not only of eating food, but looking at it also. One of the great pleasures of Spain is found in visiting food markets. 

We walked through the Mercat de Santa Caterina, a market just east of the Gothic Quarter near Via Laietana. The journey was both visionary, as well as olfactory. We walked through a large warehouse-sized building past colorful stacks of fruits and vegetables. Hanging from the shops were legs of ham, with their unique scent of cured and salty meat. Entire bodies of fish and prawns sat atop tables of ice. Somewhere from another corner of the market wafted the aroma of freshly baked bread. 

We found a place here to sit and eat a bocadillo, or “little mouthful” as it is literally translated from Spanish. These sandwiches are typical in Spain, made using French baguettes. I ordered a jamón y queso—a ham and cheese sandwich. Although simple in contents, the sandwich offered a flavorful punch. The ham was a cured Spanish jamón, thinly sliced and similar to Italian prosciutto. They may have squeezed half a tomato onto the bread and added a drizzle of olive oil, but that was it. Pretty simple. 

Vegetable stand in the Mercat de Santa Caterina.

Seafood on a table of ice.

One of my favorite meals was consumed at an outdoor cafe in Tarragona, which is about an hour south of Barcelona. Tarragona is famous for its Roman ruins, in particular an amphitheater and aqueduct. It sits alongside the sea to create a picturesque setting. 

But for this midday meal we sat at a table in the Old Quarter atop a narrow cobblestone street. For our first course I had melon and jamón, a salty and sweet combination. Kaitlyn ordered calamares a la Romana, a staple at many restaurants that are basically fried squid rings. 

Calamares a la Romana with a salad.

A perfect combination of sweet melon and cured Spanish ham.

For my next course I chose morcilla con cebolla (or blood sausage with onion) with grilled asparagus and french fries. The blood sausage is definitely an acquired taste and has a soft texture that is unique. Usually in the preparation stage the sausages are made by mixing blood with either onions or rice.

Nearly every meal on this trip was served with french fries, which seemed to happen far more often than it did thirty years ago. I'm assuming they are catering to tourists. Fries in Spain don't come with ketchup. They are usually served plain or with mayo. 

Kaitlyn ate bacalao (cod) in tomato sauce. Afterward we drank a small cup of manzanilla (chamomile) tea. 

Kaitlyn eats cod in tomato sauce.

Morcilla, or blood sausage, served with fries and asparagus.

It is interesting to note the impact immigration has had on food in Catalonia. Like much of Europe, they have experienced a huge influx of people from the Middle East and North Africa. Not only do these people set up shops to sell their wares, but they open food establishments that sell items such as doner kebabs, something I had never encountered in the nineties. Sometimes a restaurant will sell authentic Spanish food, but it is owned and cooked by Muslims. 

As I stated earlier, we ate one of our meals with a family in their home. Teo, Enric and their daughter, Marta, are friends of mine from my stay in 1994. They live in Girona, a staunch Catalan city located an hour from the border with France. 

Horchata in Spain is made from the chufa nut and differs in taste from that in Mexico.

After a full day of driving us around to different sites in the area, we stopped at their apartment to cenar. In Spain the cena is the final meal of the day, usually being lighter than their heavy midday meal. Spain is also noted for staying up and eating late. Hence it was about 10 pm when we began to eat. 

Teo set out a wonderful array of food across the table. We found an arrangement of jamón, green olives, pork loin, tuna, roasted red peppers and cheese. She also made a French omelette. 

An array of food in the home of Teo and Enric.

We ate while carrying conversation, covering such topics as immigration in Spain and local eating and sleeping habits. It is interesting to note that although Spaniards eat five meals a day, they are lean and have very low obesity rates. I attribute this to their healthy ingredients, as well as the fact that they still attempt to eat together, making meals a social event rather than a stuff-yourself-full event. 

Fresh fish is common along the Mediterranean coast.

We spent our final day trying to take in as much as we could and enjoy our final hours. As far as eating was concerned, I had one last request. 

In the Raval District of Barcelona we found an obscure hole-in-the-wall style restaurant. I remember there being brick walls and tables set up along the window, with a one-foot gap at the bottom to allow air form outside to flow in. 

We came to eat churros y chocolate, a treat in Spain that should never be missed. The churros are usually curly, without as much cinnamon as the Mexican version. The chocolate is thick, nearly the consistency of mud. It is eaten by dipping churros into the chocolate. 

We savored every bite that evening. Although I have occasionally made these at home, there is something special about eating under humid Mediterranean air, late at night with conversation all around us in Castillian Spanish or Catalan. 

By the time we finished and returned to our room it was 2 am. ♠

 

Churros y chocolate.

 

Tarragona, Spain!!!

Climbing the stairs to the Balcony of the Mediterranean, one can see the coast below, spread for miles. The train station is across the rails from the beach. A warm breeze blows over our face and toward the Rambla Nova, which extends at our back into the city.
 
We are in the port city of Tarragona, known in the days of Augustus as Tarraco. With the exception of Mérida, it has more Roman remains than any other city on the Iberian Peninsula. Kaitlyn and I enjoy the view, stopping to take a photo. We are on a day-trip from Barcelona, having caught the regional train.
 
A short walk leads to a large Roman amphitheater, also overlooking the sea. It is possible to wander around the perimeter and enjoy the view for free. Although for a small fee you can gain an up-close experience and learn more about the history. We pay 3,70€ to enter the site.
 

Amphitheater of Tarragona.

A basilica and cemetery were built in the center of the amphitheater several centuries after the Romans.

The amphitheater was built near the end of the first century. Below the arena are two underground galleries, over which large beams used to support a wooden floor, keeping them hidden from the spectators. A series of trap-doors could open allowing gladiators and animals to be raised into the arena for a triumphant entry. At its peak the amphitheater could seat 15,000 spectators.
 
The amphitheater was also used for public executions. In 259 A.D. Bishop Fructuosus and his two deacons were burned alive. After falling into disuse, a Visigoth basilica was built in the arena in memory of the martyrs, using stones from the amphitheater. In the 6th century a cemetery grew up around the basilica. In subsequent years it was used as a monastery, and then as a prison for prisoners who were helping build the port in 1780. Again the site fell into disuse. It wasn't until the 20th century that the glory of the old Roman amphitheater was rediscovered and restoration began.
 

Old street in the medieval quarter of Tarragona.

By this time it is becoming hot and we are getting hungry so we climb another set of stairs and enter the old medieval labyrinth of Tarragona. Here the streets are narrow and many are devoid of any shops.
 
We find a small café on a corner and sit at a table on the cobblestone street. Our meal comes in two courses. I order a plate of melon and thin slices of jamón, each arranged separately, but meant to be eaten together. Kaitlyn chooses calamares a la romana, which are calamari rings, deep-fried like onion rings. For my second course I order morcilla con cebolla, which is blood sausage with onions. It tastes surprisingly good.
 

Cathedral of Tarragona, Spain.

Detail of Cathedral.

We wander a little longer in the old part of town, up a flight of stone stairs to the cathedral. The old section of Tarragona is complete with city walls and a Jewish quarter. There is so much more to explore, but being pressed for time we return to the Rambla Nova to find the bus stop. Along the way we run into the sister missionaries and talk with them for a few minutes.
 
On the Rambla Nova there is a tall statue of a human tower, which is a popular pastime in Catalunya. Known locally as Castellers, these towers are created as participants climb to stand on each others' shoulders to a height of six or seven levels, and sometimes higher. A child of 8 or 10 years old will climb to the pinnacle and raise his or her arm to signal that the tower is complete. The tradition originated in the town of Valls, which is near Tarragona. The statue on the Rambla Nova is life-size and the human replicas are stacked several levels high.
 

Statue of Castellers on the Rambla Nova.

On Avinguda Prat de la Riba we find the stop for bus number five and pay 1,50€ each. The bus takes us on a roundabout and to the outskirts of town where we are now on the autopista. Just a couple miles out of town, we are dropped off on the side of the motorway, which at first glance appears to be nowhere.
 
We walk up a hill to a car-park and find several paths that take off in different directions. They all lead to different parts of The Ferreres Aqueduct, also known as Pont del Diable, or "Devil's Bridge."  This Roman aqueduct has stood the test of time for nearly 2,000 years. Twenty-five arches span the canyon and at one time brought water to the populace of Tarraco.
 
Now days the visitor can walk across the top where water once flowed. The aqueduct was a major architectural feat, consisting of hundreds of large stones, built into arches, perfectly fitted together to create a massive bridge.
 
We walk across the top and then scamper down the hill along a trail through the brush until we are directly below the gigantic structure. It is amazing to think of the labor that must have went into such a project.
 

Pont del Diable, a Roman aqueduct that brought water into the city of Tarraco.

Distorted image of aqueduct.

After exploring all that we can of the old Roman aqueduct, it is time to catch the bus again. At this point, I am not exactly sure of the best way to return to Tarragona. Our bus stop is located next to the busy highway and is only for north-bound buses, which is the opposite direction we want to travel. We wait for twenty minutes without seeing a bus, with the exception of one or two whizzing by in the opposite direction. We are the only people at the stop and are worried about being stranded, as it is a two-mile walk back to town.
 
At last, a red and white number five bus slows down and comes to a halt in front of us. The conductor assures us that the bus will eventually loop around and head back into town. In the meantime, we enjoy the view as we drive through the small suburb of Sant Salvador, before coming back around to the highway and then into Tarragona proper, dropping us off on Avinguda Prat de la Riba.
 

Looking down Carrer Major from the cathedral.

At this point, Kaitlyn has two priorities that she seeks to accomplish. We find a men's clothing store with neck ties displayed in the front window. We step inside and peruse the collection. After several minutes, Kaitlyn finds a purple tie that satisfies her requirements as a gift for her boyfriend, and stays within budget. Priority number one—checked off.
 
We walk further down the street and find a pastry shop selling all sorts of confectioneries: napolitanas de chocolate, croissants, cañas. What a delight and olfactory pleasure it is to walk inside a Spanish bakery! But when it comes to cakes, or tortas as they call them, they come up short. We find a few single servings that appear to be soaked in rum, but that's not what she's looking for. At last she finds (as close as we will get) the perfect slice of cake. We purchase the pastry for 3,75€, and the lady packages it for us inside a cute brown box. Priority number two—half checked off.
 

Roman Forum.

Juxtaposition of the old and new.

On the Carrer (street) del Cardenal Cervantes, surrounded by urban apartment buildings on two separate blocks connected by a bridge, is the Roman Forum. A couple thousand years ago, this was the center of activity in Tarraco and site of several government buildings. Today, all that remains are four roman columns, two arched niches, and several low-walled ruins that were once complete structures.
 
I pay 3,50€ to enter the fenced enclosure, while Kaitlyn decides to wait for me on a bench near the street. I spend twenty minutes wandering around the ruined buildings. There are a few interpretive signs, but most goes unexplained. I can only imagine how many homes and other structures existed during the prime of Tarraco that are now lost to time, or buried beneath the sea of apartment buildings.
 
As the sun moves toward the western horizon, we have one more item of business to take care of. We walk toward the formidable line of railroad tracks that separate us from the sea. Certain that there is a passageway to the other side, but not certain where that might be, I decide to ask a lady walking down the street. She motions down the road and to and underground staircase on the other side of a park. We thank her and follow directions.
 

Sea-side promenade.

After another twenty minutes of walking to arrive at a point that could have taken five had we been able to move in a straight line, we find ourselves at the water's edge. We descend a short flight of steps, remove our shoes, roll up our pants, and feel the smooth sand as it forms around our feet. This is nice! The sun is low in the sky and the gentle waves lap across the beach. We lay our belongings over a towel and enjoy wading in the water. Kaitlyn takes a stick and writes in the sand before a destroying roller comes in and obliterates her message.
 
Then comes time to complete priority number two. Kaitlyn unwraps the cake from the cute brown box and she holds it up and poses for an eyewitness photograph. Then she eats and enjoys. It is a tradition of hers to eat a slice of cake at every beach she visits.
 
Although we could stay much, much longer, it is time for us to leave. We brush the sand from our toes and replace our socks and shoes, shake off the towel and roll it back up, and slip it into the pack that I pull over my shoulders. We walk back toward the port and then down the stairs that go beneath the tracks, and then back to the station. When the train comes, we get a seat next to the window that faces the sea. As the sun goes down and the hues of the sky turn pink and sight of the sea and turns dim, I sit and watch and wish I could stay longer. ♠