Rented house cookery: escalibada

"The kitchens of holiday houses (...) usually have a stony bleakness in common. However adequate the beds or satisfactory the view, the kitchen equipment will probably consist of a tin frying pan, a chipped enamel saucepan, one Pyrex casserole without a lid, and a rusty knife with a loose handle."
Elisabeth David, people. Marvel at this. She knew, to the letter, what would be the contents of the cupboard in our little cottage in Saaremaa, Estonia, in the summer of 2007. Pretty impressive. I love finding proof that some things never change.
Not that one really wants to cook in summer. At most, one will grill a few burgers, or make a batch of pancakes for a long lazy breakfast. The rest will go in sandwiches and ice cream, and happily so.
But when that´s not enough, here´s a summer staple that can be done in even the most basic rented kitchen, provided there´s an oven.
Escalibada is a salad of roasted peppers and aubergines, dressed with olive oil and vinegar, and chopped raw garlic. Some recipes also have tomatoes roasted alongside, and even the garlic and some onion, too. (I prefer this. Raw garlic and onion are sociopathic, in my opinion).
Here´s the recipe, with a suggested holiday timeline.
Start with 3 red peppers (bear in mind that in Spain peppers are very big, the size of an outstretched hand) 3 aubergines, 1 quartered onion, three whole garlic cloves.
In the morning, put everything in a 180ºC oven, unpeeled, whole, easy, while you prepare coffee. The vegetables will roast while you have breakfast and read the papers.
After 45 minutes or so, take them out, put them in a bowl, cover it with clingfilm, go and get dressed.
When you come back, they´ll have sweated a little and become cool enough to handle. Peel peppers and aubergines, deseed the peppers, and make your dressing. I like to squeeze out the garlic and make it into a paste that makes the basis of my vinaigrette.
If it´s not too hot, put it in the fridge, and go to the beach.
When you come back, you´ll have a beautiful, punchy salad. If you´ve picked up some fresh fish in the market on your way back, then of course you´re in business for grilled fish with escalibada, which is one of the best things possible. If not, it will still be great with tuna from a can, boiled eggs, a cheese sandwich, or even some pizza.
It lasts quite well for a few days, too, so you can make it as an investment or a just-in-case dish.
(And yes, I know, this is a very Mediterranean dish, and no, I didn´t make it in Estonia. I stuck to local cucumbers and apples and berries and mushrooms, no great hardship.)

The joy of useless information

One of the few times we managed to tear ourselves away from our lovely little cottage by the sea in Saaremaa, we went to Kuressare public library. José wanted to check his mail and work a little in a place of suitable scholastic silence. So I went along, and kicked my heels for a while, until I found a corner full of American books. All the classics were there.
Do you think I plumped for Wharton or Faulkner? Think again. I went home with The joy of cooking. Norman Mailer or John Updike didn´t have a chance.
And what do you think I found, on idly turning the pages? This text:

"About ground meat for hamburger.
Merchants of the German port of Hamburg, through centuries of trade with Estonians, Latvians and Finns, had cquired the Baltic taste for scraped raw beef; but it was not until the St. Louis World´s Far in 1904 that broiled, bunned beef was introduced to the rest of the world by the Germans of South St. Louis as hamburger."

Who knew? I never thought to find a mention of Estonia in The joy of cooking, which just goes to show that thumbing through the classics always pays out. Maybe I should try and see what I can find in Moby Dick, next time.

Northern exposure, 01

Getting back into normal gear is proving pretty impossible. August in Madrid can be so nice. Nobody´s at work, and the ones who are are just want to stay quiet, and let the dogs sleep til September. And the weather is beautiful, balmy and breezy. We might almost be in Estonia.
J and I agree that this has been our best holiday ever. No contest. It was perfect.
The cottage we rented was even better than the description on the website. The garden was huge, the forest was lush, the wayside was peppered with wild raspberry, the sea right in front was full of swans lazily swimming about, and once a moose ambled out of the forest and over a field, right before our eyes.
Best of all, we´ve had the best times with Pille and Kristjan. I can´t think of anyone who could have shown us Estonia in such a beautiful light. We couldn´t have hoped for better hosts, more fun or more generous.
And of course, being food bloggers, perfectly happy to spend hours talking about food.
As soon as we arrived we had dinner at one of the best places in Tallinn, the famous Old Hansa restaurant in the old town. And that was great. But everything paled to insignificance before the next day, which I think was the perfect Saturday.
It started with Kristjan making a batch of pancakes, light and lacy and golden (J, take note). Later, we met his mother, Vaike, a wonderful lady with the brightest blue eyed and the springiest step I´ve ever seen. We were cautioned against trying to follow her during the mushroom and berry hunt, as there was little hope of us ever catching up. I agreed, wistfully. I can never keep up with anyone, ever, since I´m lazy and easily distracted by any passing insect.
Still and all, let me tell you that with some careful guidance from our hosts, we were able to keep our end up pretty well. I was the first to fill my basket. Sure, it was the smallest, but still, I´m very chuffed.
We found lots of stuff that those of you who follow Pille´s blog will already have seen. Also the goodies made with them. A scroll down her blog is best here, since I can´t do justice to the situation, plus, I have no photos.
I was too taken up with the excitement of it all. Here in Spain we have mushrooms, but in October and November. And no berries, ever, so that the idea of a forest sprouting little red edible beads seems too wonderful. K&P reckon picking a lemon from your backyard tree must beat everything, but I don´t agree. Maybe I´m blasé about citrus, but after all, you don´t hunt down lemons, so how can that be exciting?
Anyway, we came back tired but happy, with heaping baskets and buckets. I very sneakily left the prepping of the mushrooms to the rest, and after making a quick batch of gazpacho, retired to draw the day´s findings, helped by K in the identifying.
More friends came for dinner. We tried the three types of mushrooms, perfectly sauteed by Pille, couldn´t decide which was best, so came back for more and more, and then for a crowning touch, had a pudding consisting of cloudberries with squeaky cheese. An exotic and wonderful end to a wonderful day.
(Thanks so much, again, Pille and Kristjan. I hope we may show you as good a time here in Spain soon.)

Back from Estonia

What does a person do on returning from the perfect holiday? If you can´t look out at the garden that ends in the sea, or watch the birds as you eat your just-picked wild raspberries?
The best trick is to go straight to normal life, and do things you couldn´t do during the perfect holiday.
With that healthy idea in mind, I´ve gone straight to the market and bought peaches, little sweet green plums, and half a melon. Doesn´t quite make up for paradise lost, but does make one happy about being so far south.
And I was very good, and didn´t burst into tears when I say the little punnet of overpriced, tasteless raspberries.
Still and all, glad to be back. This is just to promise watercolour sketches of Estonia, and details about berries, mushrooms, moose, and more.

We´re off to the Baltic

J and I are currently surrounded by suitcases, boots, swimming costumes, maps, rain-gear, books and towels. Tomorrow we´re leaving for Estonia, and we couldn´t be more excited.Last year we loved it, but it was a whirlwind tour. This time we´ve rented a cottage by the sea in Saaremaa, one of the islands. I think pretty much anyone would find them beautiful, but to us, in a Madrid that is dry and baking and just downright unpleasant, it´s paradise, pure and simple.People always ask me, how on earth did you hit on the idea of going there? I think, maybe, blame it on Carl Larsson . Yes, I know he´s Swedish, but to us here on the tip of Africa, it´s all one same world of pine forests, icy lakes and "beware elk" signs.

Also, I´ll be meeting one of my favourite bloggers, Pille of Nami-nami. She´s without a doubt the most hospitable person I know, and will not only be putting us up in Tallinn, but actually taking us on a wild mushroom and cloudberry hunt on Saturday. See what I mean? About paradise? The mere idea of a berry or a mushroom in August is like jumping into a pool. As for J, he is beside himself, and once again taking on an uncanny resemblance to a spring lamb on acid.

And the food there? For that you´ll have to go to Pille´s blog. I can´t tell you too much from past experience. This is no fault of the local cuisine, but of what may be called SAS or Spaniard Abroad Syndrome. It goes something like this.
Your average Spaniard wakes up somewhere averagely foreign, somewhat later than usual. She (or he) is confronted by a buffet breakfast. He (this is definitely a he) will pile his plate with three types of eggs, several sausages, some strips of bacon and seventeen croissants. She will painstakingly go trhough every pastry/bread/cereal/fruit/juice tray, and try every single one.
They will emerge with somewhat dazed expressions and begin to tour, as tourists will. Now it so happens that everywhere else lunch is at 1230 or 1. But in Spain it is 230 or 3. And since they´re so full anyway, these two will say, oh, never mind that now. But of course by mid-afternoon they´re very hungry. And of course by then no restaurants are open.
And so your sufferers of SAS will most likely end up at around 5 in some café, wolfing down pancakes or pastries or whatever they can find. And when the foreign dinner time rolls around, it´s the same old story. By the time they want food at 10, what´s open? These SAS idiots have several beers, go to bed hungry and tipsy, and you better beleive that they won´t be skipping breakfast.

I hope that this year we´ll adapt to local custom. For one thing, we´ll make our own breakfast in the cottage, and for another, I´ve been learning a lot about Estonian food in Pille´s blog, so I have a list of stuff I want to try.
I might post from there, but probably I´ll be too busy with the dolce far niente thing, so if I don´t see you til August 20, have a great time.

Melons

"Por la mañana, oro, por la tarde, plata, y por la noche, mata". This rather alarming proverb translates loosely as "gold in the morning, silver at midday, killing at night", and is supposed to be advice on eating melons. I don´t know why they´re so indigestible at night, but there you go.
I went to the market this morning to find it almost shuttered, nearly every stall having a printed notice to the effect that they´ll be back at some point.It´s not quite compensation for not being on holiday yet, but it was nice to buy a beautiful half melon, and some peaches, and it´s been a lovely breakfast.

Pasta alla bottarga

Summer. It kind of gets to you, in the end, doesn´t it? You may try to bumble along happily, pretending it´s not here, but before you know it, it will get you in the neck, nastily.
Forgive the hiatus, but really, these temperatures have made anything other than opening the fridge an utopia. Likewise, the computer keys smoke. However, since I´ll be in Estonia by Friday, I´ve taken heart.
Here´s a recipe very suited to summer. Pasta alla bottarga is one of those winners, pasta recipes that can be made while the pasta boils.
Even if it´s just pasta, it can´t fail to be impressive. Bottarga, the dried roe of red tuna, is so exotic, so thorougly mediterranean chic, and so expensive and hard to find, that you have an instant high-impact-low-effort classic on your hands.
I suggest that you attempt this only in case of having recently come into an inheritance, or if some kind friend has recently been to Cádiz and has picked up some of the stuff.
Once home, a piece no bigger than a zippo lighter is enough to feed four, so it´s not so bad.
You just need to peel and grate that piece into a bowl. Cover it with about a half cup of the best olive oil. Chop a bunch of parsely, crush a couple of dried chillies, and add them, together with some grated pepper. Salt need not apply, yet. Leave it to infuse for a little while, half an hour or so.
Then boil your pasta ( I think 500 gr. for 4, but you be the judge). Flat shapes optional, long non-negotiable, and don´t even think about parmesan. When al dente, toss into the bowl, mix well, and check for salt and oil. It may not look like much sauce, but the bottarga is so strong that the little pieces of oily roe clinging to the pasta will be more than enough. A little green salad after this goes down a treat. And if you happen to have any leftovers, it´s also great cold.

Super-cheat´s pissaladiére

I´ve just had a minor epiphany over lunch. Like one does. J´s sister had recommended a new sandwich place in the neighbourhood, so there we went to see if the fuss was justified.
We sat at the bar, and read the paper and sipped icy cañas while they made the sandwiches. In every bar they give you a little something with your drink, some olives or chips. What we got here was so good, so much better than any platonic ideal of any chip or olive or pincho. On the face of it, it was some sort of pissaladiére. However, my keen nose for a shortcut quickly detected the truth. What we are dealing with is a measure of genius of the sort I admire.
This was a torta de aceite of the sort they sell at Viena Lacrem, smeared with a mixture of grated tomato, mashed anchovies and a dash of oregano.
Provided you have ready access to this type of bread, which I think is nothing more sophisticated than a focaccia type of dough that is fried instead of baked, you´re nanoseconds away from heaven.
If not, well, you can make some pizza bases and fry them, of course, but I´m not sure with all that effort the whole thing might become a bit pointless and exponentially less delicious.
You´d be better off sticking with a normal cheat´s pissaladiére, as seen on Lindsay Bareham´s The fish store, or this post of mine from last year.
The sandwiches were excellent, so I´m proud to recommend "El burgado" bocadillería gourmet. c/ Espíritu Santo, 40. 91 521 28 77.
Viena Lacrem, as ever, still reigns supreme over all bakeries in Madrid from its tiny hole-in-the-wall at c/Santa Brígida 6.

Salpicón: seafood salad

Salpicón is one of the best things of the summer. It´s more of a bar food, of the sort that nestles in chilled trays on the bar. If you´re lucky, it will have whatever caught the cook´s fancy that morning at the market. If not, it´ll have been made on Monday with the sweepings of the fridge, and will have languished ever since. Caveat emptor.
In theory, salpicón is a vinaigrette made with three parts olive oil to one of sherry vinegar, and peppers, onions and parsley, chopped very small. Maybe tomato, too, and probably chopped egg ( I told you it was everywhere).
In practice, it´s more of a salad. The chopped vegetables make a substantial base note for a star ingredient, whichever it may be. The most typical is a mixture of seafood, prawns, mussels, octopus. Lobster, maybe, at the top end of the scale, surimi at the bottom. With potatoes, it becomes ensalada campera, or papas aliñás, and is one of the best possible potato salads, I think.
Fish roe is also a favourite, or beans, or salt cod. The variations are almost endless. Just walk into a bar, ask what aliño they have, and have a tapa sent round with your beer. It´s wonderful, and unique in the Spanish canon in its overall healthiness and lack of pig-parts.

Salpicón
Mince two shallots, finely dice one big red pepper, chop a good fistful of parsley leaves. The tomatoes don´t have to be as finely diced. Mix these with the 3/1 olive oil and sherry vinegar , and leave to mingle. Yes, the tomato will make a lot of liquid, but don´t we all love our pot likker?
Make a couple of boiled eggs using the 12 minute method. Thanks to everyone who left it in my comments box. I am a born-again boiled egg lover.
The seafood can be whatever you have on hand. Leftover crab, maybe, or a can of good tuna or sardines, or around 250 gr. steamed prawns. Whatever suits you best. I also love it over beans. In fact, I made salpicón to trick out this recipe from Mark Bittman´s 101 from last week´s NYT.
4 Open a can of white beans and combine with olive oil, salt, small or chopped shrimp, minced garlic and thyme leaves in a pan. Cook, stirring, until the shrimp are done; garnish with more olive oil.
I found it a bit bland, but left to cool, and then mixed with the salpicón and a couple of tomatoes, it was beyond delicious.
The only important rule you should never forget is to mix it a few hours ahead, and leave it in the fridge, well covered, so that flavours have time to mingle. And eat it in the day. It´s meant to be super-fresh and crunchy.

Weekend stuff

I´m going away again. J´s grandmother turns eighty, so we´ll be in Jerez, celebrating the occasion with elegant furore.
Since I don´t want you to suffer in the July heat, I´ll remind you of a very easy, very chic, very refreshing dish that takes three minutes to put together:melon soup.