The Savory Side of Spain

Once my husband and I did a loop around the airport in Madrid, I knew we would be in for great food in Spain. Sure, the flights were long, but the payoffs were worth it: time with our younger daughter, who spent a semester studying in Alicante, and glorious meals and sightseeing. Traveling in COVID times meant we were masked unless it was just the three of us in our apartment, and we had to show our vaccination cards before entering any public place. All in all, we felt immensely fortunate to take this trip.

Back to that airport (see photos below)… What struck us first were the displays of ham. Jamón ibérico is king in Spain, and we were eager to begin our pork-heavy sojourn. I cannot imagine another airport where one could watch ham being shaved in the thinnest of sheets, off the cured leg of a pig.

Another food-related reason that Spain appeals to me is the way people take time to slow down and enjoy life (and by extension, food and drink). Opportunities abound to stop for a cup of coffee or a beer or glass of wine with a friend, any time of day. Good food, in the form of light snacks/tapas, accompanies such pauses, which seem to invite reflection and an appreciation for being alive. No matter where we were, from the top of a remote fortress, to an obscure museum, someone would be offering pleasing libations and a bite to eat. 

Finding small places with memorable food was fun. One night we happened upon Sento, a tiny, tiny place with six stools inside, three along the counter, behind which one man made food and served drinks, and four on the opposite wall. I tried not to be too obvious as I looked at the food others had ordered. I saw the ubiquitous open-faced marinera, a small cracker with a generous helping of Russian salad, enhanced by the addition of an anchovy on one plate, grilled octopus on another, and some ibérico and manchego cheese on another plate. What caught my eye was one woman tucking into a Fred Flintstone size piece of grilled meat, accompanied by potatoes and sauteed asparagus. Apparently, she had not opted for the tapas!

Another endearing feature of this place was the window between the bar and the street, where drinks and plates could be passed through. On the second night we went to Sento, an older man was finishing up his beer and plate of roasted peppers on the small shelf along the pass-through window.  When he saw us eyeing his perch, he downed his drink and insisted we take his spot. What a gentleman. 

Shopping for food, whether in a small neighborhood market or a supermarket is one of my favorite activities when I travel, and Spain did not disappoint. The minuscule market steps from our apartment stocked a remarkable selection of wine, chocolate, cheese, fruit and fresh bread, as well as a very good panetteone. We kept returning to one market/cafe which offered delicious prepared foods, a vast selection of cheeses and meats, wondrous food in cans and jars, a large selection of wine and beer, and a tapas bar in the back.  We procured our Christmas meal here: three types of cheese, a salty cod dish, which consisted of shreds of dried fish, soaking in a briny red sauce (it tasted a lot better than that description sounds), Russian salad (This was on every menu! It is made with cubed potatoes, sometimes peas and cubed carrots, always mayonnaise and tuna) freshly baked bread, pate, ibérico ham, and red wine. 

Our fanciest meal took place a bit out of town, in El Campello. As usual, when one of Camille’s friends heard we were heading out to visit an archaeological site, she told us where to eat lunch. We walked by several places along the boardwalk that looked shuttered for the winter, and then we came upon La Peña, a lovely restaurant with a nautical theme. I wish we had dressed up, for the service was rather formal although friendly. We indulged in a salad featuring all kinds of fish, fresh and dried. This was accompanied by bread, delicious salty marcona almonds, and a bowl of rich aioli (garlicky mayonnaise) (aoili). Our main dish was the traditional Valencian arroz del senyoret with shellfish, and when it arrived, we remarked that we could “never” finish it. Ha! We took our time, and between sips of white wine, we polished off the entire dish, savoring every last bite of the crispy-on-the-bottom saffron rice. 

Not every meal was as fancy as the one at La Pena, but each one left us feeling sated and content. We never felt rushed to pay our bill or to give up our seats, the waiters and waitresses were professional, and the people around us, locals and tourists alike, seemed lively and happy to be out and about. Not all meals are happy occasions, of course, but sitting down to share food encourages congeniality and civility. I want to carry this spirit of eating respectfully and thoughtfully into life in 2022.