Towards the end of what is, in my opinion, his finest work, Homage to Catalonia, George Orwell tells of the bitter street fighting he witnessed in Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War when the delicate alliance between communist, socialist, and anarchist factions of the Republican army finally collapsed. While certainly not the bloodiest scene in a war that cost around a million lives, it was one of the most significant, sounding, as it did, the death knell for the Republican cause against Franco’s Fascists. Never after this internicene strife were the respective Republican parties able to trust one another enough to wage a successful war.

Even prior to the Spanish Civil War, anarchist and regional-nationalist groups in Catalonia were making trouble for the shaky Spanish state (then under Republican rule). Indeed, it was during this period of the early 20th century that Barcelona became known as la rosa del fuego, the rose of fire. Modeling their destabilizing tactics on the exploits of Italian anarchists and revolutionaries under Giuseppe Garibaldi, the weapon of choice for Catalan anarchists came to be a round iron ball stuffed with explosives ignited with a string fuse. [Anyone who has ever seen a Tin-Tin or Felix the Cat cartoon will immediately recognize what I'm describing.] In Barcelona, anarchist activity centered around the-then hard-scrabble, now beautifully redeveloped waterfront, neighborhood of Barceloneta, where the mazy streets and crumbling slums provided ample cover for clandestine activity and proximity to the port offered easy access to contraband goods and shady characters.

It was during these unsettled years of the 1920s and ’30s that a Barceloneta bar owner by the name of Maria Pla, during a moment of whimsy with mashed potatoes to hand, created what is now the signature tapas dish of Barcelona, la bomba, the bomb. Potato croquettes with aiolli or a spicy dipping sauce is about as common a tapa as you can name, but Pla’s genius was to shape the croquette and plate it with these two sauces in a way that resembled the anarchists’ favorite weapon.

Today, la bomba can be found in tapas bars and tascas throughout Barcelona and beyond, and its origins in that murky political underworld are mostly forgotten. In fact, we ate it first at Tapa, Tapa a rather touristy tapas bar on the Paseig de Gracia in Barcelona knowing nothing of its fascinating history.

More than its political significance, la bomba is remarkable both as a relic of a turbulent time in the city’s history, and as a statement of the enduring gastronomic playfulness of Catalan chefs. Where today their creations run to rather more extravagant creations — like Ferran Adria’s trick olives (in which olive oil is sealed inside green agar-agar shells, set using a chemical reagent, and served in a ramekin looking for all the world like a simple tapa of olives) — Pla’s invention was just as, if not more so, adventurous, because it was poking fun at the potentially hazardous world of political terrorism.

Perhaps this quality of not taking life too seriously and finding time to play with ones food even in periods when one might be blown-up at any minute speaks to the broader philosophy in the Iberian peoples that George Orwell found both frustrating and alluring in equal measure — and this is not to reduce Spaniards of any stripe to the caricature of gluttonous Sancho Panzas, but rather to celebrate that such is possible even under the greatest duress — that, though they may cling tenaciously to opposing political viewpoints, which in that era, they fought tooth and nail for, nothing is taken quite so seriously as eating and drinking.

Not long ago our good friend Nuria at Recipes Pic by Pic offered to do a food exchange with us, knowing both how obsessed we are with Spanish food and their comparative scarcity over here in the States. In return she asked that we send her some typical American products of our choice as well as a Cuisinart food processor. We were delighted to oblige.

Nuria wasted no time and recently posted about a hummus she made with her shiny new toy and including a photograph of the rather idiosyncratic selection of foods we sent her. Amongst them Franks Hot Sauce, two kinds of dried Mexican chiles, Reeces Peanut Butter Cups (cause you know how much Americans love Peanut Butter) and, perhaps most amusingly, a packet of Silvia’s seasoned fried chicken coating.

Her package to us, however, contained rather more sophisticated ingredients: jamon iberico de bellota, chorizo de bellota, and some piquillo peppers. Those of you who read our Jamon, Jamon, Jamon, Jamon post back in January when we had just returned from Madrid will know how we feel about iberico ham – the finest grade of the wonderfully delicious range of Spanish cured hams made from black-footed pigs raised amidst the statuesque holm oaks of Extremadura in central west Spain near the Portuguese border. So you can imagine our delight at having a generous racione of it arrive vacuum-packed from the famed Mercado la Boqueria in Barcelona.

However, we were cautious, looking for an opportunity to savor the ham and give it the attention it deserves, we had to wait until earlier this week for the moment to finally breech the packaging. Following Nuria’s instruction we allowed it to come to room temperature – yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to enjoy iberico – and laid it out on a plate just as we had had it in Madrid, accompanied only by a couple of pieces of pa amb tomaquet (see recipe below) in a Catalan homage to both Nuria and the ham’s provenance in Barcelona.

And, how was it, you ask? Well, it was bliss. The ham’s fat was soft and almost unbelievably buttery and rich, yet strongly flavored with the scent of the acorns on which the pig was fed. The ham itself was gamey and powerful while being at once smooth and calming on the tongue. It was, in all honesty, swoon-inducingly good and provoked tearful memories of our last taste of iberico in the fug of a bar in Madrid back in January when we had sighed and wondered aloud when we might eat iberico again.

Thank you so much Nuria – muchissimas gracias a usted – for both offering to do the exchange in the first place and then trusting two complete strangers to respond in kind. It’s not only reserved you a very special place in our hearts (and stomachs) but also made us think very kindly about the rest of this wonderful food community that we’re getting to know and the fascinating and generous people who inhabit it. Buen provecho y salud a todos!  Oh, and also, thank you for giving us the Blogging with a Purpose award – much appreciated!

P.S. – After the iberico we made another tapa with some of the delicious piquillo peppers Nuria also sent us. Riffing off something Jose Andres made on his show Made in Spain, we put thick slices of Manchego cheese (or you can use any other type of hard cheese that melts like Provolone, Cheddar, Piave, Gouda, etc.) into the piquillos and lightly fried them in good olive oil and served them with a sprinkling of pimenton dulce or sweet Spanish paprika. So easy and so gooey and delicious.

For other ideas for tapas and for a delicious recipe for Spanish tortilla, check out an older post of ours.

Pa amb Tomaquet (Catalan toasts or bread with tomato) – serves 2

Ingredients:

• 2 thick slices of hearty Italian or country-style French bread
• 1 fresh and very ripe tomato (this is key – it should be ruby read and soft)
• 1 clove garlic, sliced lengthwise
• some extra virgin olive oil
• salt

What to do:

• Grill the bread pieces until toasted.
• While bread is still warm from the grill, rub the openly cut side of half a clove of garlic on each face of bread. This allows the scent and flavor of the garlic to melt into the warm bread.
• Cut tomato in half and rub each face of bread with the tomato. Rub hard and don’t be afraid if you feel it’s a bit messy – you want all the juice and pulp of the tomato to get on the bread.
• Drizzle some olive oil on both pieces of bread and then sprinkle a bit of salt on top. You can add some optional toppings of anchovies or olives or tuna for fun and a heartier tapa. MMMMMMM – enjoy!

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• Unusual Tapas We Ate in Madrid
• Chorizo and Clams with White Wine
• Squid with Golden Potatoes
• MORCILLA (SPANISH SAUSAGE) STUFFED GRILLED SQUID WITH A SPICY SAUCE
• ARROZ MARINERO (SPANISH RICE WITH SEAFOOD AND SPICES)
• Fabada: A Mortal and Corporal Sin – But Worth It!

In celebration of the start of Euro 2008 – the European soccer/football championships – yesterday, and in light of the fact that England failed to qualify because they were awful, I am in need of a team to follow, so have decided to become an honorary Spanish soccer fan for the next month, or however long it takes for them to get knocked out.

The reason for this, you see (and yes, I’ll get to something actually food-related soon, so please be patient), is not just because I love Spain and am fascinated by nearly all things Spanish, it is also because historically, the Spanish team has always been long on potential but very short on delivery. And as an English football fan, I can appreciate this complex psychology of pitting hope against realistic expectations, and the likelihood of some great moments followed by the depths of despair.

So, to get into the spirit, I decided to watch the opening games of the tournament (neither of which actually featured Spain – they don’t play until Tuesday against Russia, but I’ll be at work then) with a couple of cold beers and, fittingly, a “seleccion de pintxos/pinchos” (small tapas on rounds of bread and often eaten off a toothpick) – the Spanish national team are known as “La Seleccion.”

Perhaps unsurprisingly, I found that this is the perfect kind of sports-watching food. It’s easy and cheap to make, with four or five ingredients plus a couple of staples from your fridge, you can make a variety of pinchos to suit the tastes of any friends you’re watching it with, and best of all, they are much, much healthier than the conventional bags of chips and salsa, cheetos, or miscellaneous frozen things with dip. This last one is important, because should your team lose, disappointment and self-loathing will be all because of the game, not the snacks!

These pinchos were made from, variously: manchego cheese, piquillo peppers stuffed with meat and cheese, cured anchovies, lettuce, lemon peel, leftover morcilla stuffed-squid, grilled Spanish mackerel, capers, olives, and the very wonderful thing that is leftover Rioja-style chorizo and potatoes (a dish Paul Bocuse declared to be one of the greatest dishes created by man).

You should give sports and pinchos a try, they really are a “match” made in heaven.

Check out these other posts you may enjoy:

The lack of a cheesy profile on this blog is probably caused by the fact that cheese isn’t something that we use as an ingredient very often. Most of the time, we consume cheese unadulterated and alone (well, by itself, rather than us eating cheese in solitary confinement…) except for a glass of wine and the occasional touch of jam or chutney on the side. Indeed, I still believe that given the amount of time, energy and care that goes into the creation of delicious, artisanal cheeses, it is almost wrong to do anything to the cheese except accompany it with good bread and wine.

Of course, there are cheeses and then there are cheeses. Limburger, a ripe tallegio or a stinking bishop are examples of the latter kind. The dairy equivalent of a “big wine” – think barolo or barbaresco. Big. Blue cheeses are often afforded this kind of reverence, and often, in my mind, it’s unwarranted. Roquefort is unquestionably delicious and does have a tang to it, but it’s not a big cheese. Stilton and gorgonzola are also powerful blues but again, are usually less impactful than you are led to believe.

Mario Batali’s oft-heard phrase about parmigiano-reggiano – that it is the “undisputed king of cheeses” – is, in my humble opinion, not fair to the many less well-known cheeses out there, and, quite apart from that, it’s just simply not got the character of a real hardcore, stinker of a cheese. Spanish cheeses, particularly manchego, and to a lesser extent, zamorano, are becoming better known and more popular in the US, but these, while excellent in their own right, are not big cheeses.

Enter cabrales. This is the big cheese you’ve been waiting for. In his excellent, funny and almost unbelievably epic book Clear Waters Rising, which records his walk through all the mountain ranges of Europe from north-west Spain to Istanbul (he walked non-stop for nearly 17 months), Nicholas Crane describes eating cabrales thus:

After a few mouthfulls I had a numb nose and a locked epiglottis… (and) I was woken in the morning by a gangrenous pillow.

Cabrales is a crumbly, grey cheese made from a mixture of cow, goat and ewes’ milk that is left to mature in caves in tiny mountain villages in the Picos de Europa in the far north of Spain. The combination of the three types of milk and the aging/maturing process creates a cheese that, according to Crane, is “the world’s most extreme example of lactic putrefaction.”

Hardly an appetizing prospect, huh? Well, yes and no. Of course, it’s a matter of taste, but me and my wife happen to like it and particularly enjoyed it served in what might be to some palates, the world’s, or at least Spain’s, most extreme tapa/pincho – spread thickly on a round of crusty bread and topped with, wait for it, salted anchovies.

In spite of my appetite, the olfactory assault of the cabrales and anchovies was still something else and I’m glad I was sharing it with my wife, otherwise I doubt I would have escaped without getting seriously high. The sheer tanginess of the cheese really does numb the roof of your mouth and almost instantly clogs your nasal passages. This, combined with the saltiness of the anchovies, caused all moisture in my mouth to instantly disappear. Fortunately, timely introduction of beer to the equation (the delicious and ubiquitous Mahou), loosened things up and made chewing and swallowing possible again, after which the cheese’s enormous and wonderful aftertaste took over, causing me to break out into a sweat. As I said, this is not a lightweight cheese, nor is it a cheese for lightweights – you have to suffer a little while you enjoy it.

Sadly, we didn’t come across cabrales again during our tapas-hunt in Madrid, but next time we make a trip to the cheese store, I’ll be investing in some, and, just as a precaution, a waterproof cover for my pillow. I would encourage you to give it a try, but be careful, it’s a bit of an animal.

CHECK OUT SOME OTHER POSTS ON SPAIN:

• Fabada: A Mortal and Corporal Sin – But Worth It!
• The REAL Cocido of Spain
• Jamon, Jamon
• Pictures of Madrid
• Unusual Tapas We Ate in Madrid
• Tame Tapas We Ate in Madrid
• Vermut (Vermouth): Rediscovering an Old Classic
• CHORIZO, CHICKPEA AND POTATO SOUP

On our first afternoon in the city – at the same tasca we had the sepia a la plancha discussed below, in fact – we ordered some orejas a la plancha. Anyone who’s taken Spanish 101 will know that this means we ordered ears. Pigs’ ears to be precise, grilled or griddled and accompanied with a spicy tomato sauce the same consistency as ketchup or barbecue sauce. We did this knowingly too. Neither of us had eaten the ears of any creature before (as far as we knew) but decided that most meat products dipped in ketchup tasted pretty good. How were they, you ask? Well, very porky – like pork crackling, so crunchy on the outside – but also crunchy on the inside too, on account of the cartilidge that keeps an ear flexible but stiff. Oddly enough, they weren’t that chewy, but they were quite rich tasting and we found that with a racione (or large tapa usually for between 3-4 people) we had ordered more than enough. To sum up, I think we’re both glad we tried them and quite enjoyed their taste and texture, and would certainly eat them again, but we’re not raving about them, you know?

Later in the week, after spending the morning in El Prado (perhaps the greatest art museum this side of La Louvre), we had a selection of tapas/pinchos as a late lunch. (Pinchos are tapas served on toothpicks and often on rounds of bread.) Amongst these was one I remembered having seen on TV once – fried anguilas (baby eels) with garlic and oil, (in this case served on a round of bread with a slather of garlic/lemon mayonnaise.) – on fatty chinless Andrew Zimmern’s show Bizarre Foods. Actually, unless you know they are eels, you’d probably think they were very thinly sliced calamari (calamares) or something, because they have a similar maritime taste and familiar chewiness. Zimmern made out that these were one of the most expensive treats to be found in Madrid, but we only paid Euro1.50 for it, which was kind of weird. Still, you should definitely try them if you get a chance (and are a lover of calamari). Don’t be put off by what they are or how they look. They’re a far cry from the British jellied eels that used to terrify me every time I entered a chip shop as a child.

On our final night in Madrid, filled with sadness, at having to leave with only about thirty different tapas under our belts, and horror at how we would feel without jamon iberico readily available, we sought out a new neighborhood’s tascas to check out. Entering the first one, which was filled with purple-nosed old men and a thick fug of cigarette smoke, we ordered callos a la Madrilena, or tripe in the local style. I’m a big fan of tripe (the lining of, usually, a cow’s stomach) – I really like it’s slightly gelatinousness and the peculiar cross-hatched texture of it’s underside – but I had no idea how this would be served. It came in a big clay bowl together with hunks of chorizo and pork fat in a spicy, reddish sauce. It was absolutely delicious, although no doubt not recommended by any cardiologists. Sure, it was porky and fatty, but the sauce was addictive and the chunks of chorizo added a spicyness to it that cut through the fat and made it too easy to a eat a lot of. Visitors to Madrid should by all means try this if you find it on a tapas menu, but understand that you’re going to have a devil of a time working it off in the gym when you get home!

How do you feel about eating pig’s ears, baby eel or tripe? Do you know of any other interesting Spanish preparations using off-cuts?

Check out the post that was written on some of the more tame tapas we ingested during our time in Madrid… you may be more inspired to eat them again after reading this post!

Also, if you are interested in making a few tapas, check these out:

• CLAMS WITH WHITE WINE AND CHORIZO
• SQUID WITH GOLDEN POTATOES
• TORTILLA ESPANOLA

Also, check out our other posts about Spain:

• Fabada: A Mortal and Corporal Sin – But Worth It!
• The REAL Cocido of Spain
• Jamon, Jamon
• Pictures of Madrid
• Tame Tapas We Ate in Madrid
• Cabrales Cheese: It’s a Bit of an Animal
• Vermut (Vermouth): Rediscovering an Old Classic
• CHORIZO, CHICKPEA AND POTATO SOUP