You know you're in Granada when...

Lunch is finished with Moroccan Tea, made at home but served like it is in the teterías here-
poured from an arm's length away and then returned to the pot three times
 to make sure the tea, mint and sugar are all well mixed--
and that any foreigners at the table are thoroughly impressed

Fava beans with a little jamón

I've seen fruit vendors in the U.S. selling their seconds for half price but Murcia is the first place I've noticed the vegetables offered in distinct grades too.  After trying out a local recipe for fava beans in my first week here I was reminded that a) just because a recipe is traditional doesn't guarantee that it's going to taste good and b) when it comes to fresh fava beans, pretty much anything beyond fat and salt is gilding the lilly.

Made this..

I peeled my way through lots of favas in Sicily and I'm still amazed each time I whittle a mountain of them down into a tiny dish of delicate, slippery little beans that look like they could easily hold their own in a whimsical Fantasia number.  After needing both hands to transport the tough pods to the trash and then a spoonful or two to sprinkle them into the pan, those things are vegetal gold.  But as soon as the mess of tomatoes and onions hit the skillet for my first favas in Spain, it was no longer evident that the dish had anything to do with them.  That all got turned into a soup the next day (by way of a little broth, a hard boiled egg yolk to thicken the mix and an immersion blender to whip it even further beyond recognition from the original dish), so this time I had no plans to doctor them up.

I circled the market a few times scoping out the fava scene and when I came upon a stand selling them for half the going rate I had a feeling it was too good to be true.  The scraggly sign read 1€ and was placed just off center between two huge piles of beans.  When I got closer I realized that one heap looked pretty good, like the favas I got (literally off the back of a truck) in Balestrate and the other looked sort of like an air-brushed version of the same with smooth, unblemished skin and not an age spot in sight. When I asked the vendor if there was a difference in price he looked over the top of his glasses in a friendly librarian sort of way and gesturing between the two piles I imagined him saying "is a high speed computer database worth more than a dusty card catalog system? Of course it is."  Having already shelled out two euro for ajo tierno that morning I wasn't about to part ways with two more.  I knew half a kilo wouldn't yield much, but it wasn't bulk I was going for.

With that

That night I saddled up to the counter at home and got into bean peeling position. I opened the first one and besides the flawless favas, even the bright green pod itself was tender. The underside of the shell was so downy it could have easily eeked out the courderoy patch in the tactile awareness book I "read" with the 2 year old Spanish triplets  I look after on Fridays.

I pulled myself together after realizing my roommates weren't quite as excited about just how soft a young bean pod could be and kept shelling.  From there it was a pretty straight shot from the pan to the plate with a little jamón fat, ajo tierno and sunny side up egg fried along the way.  As I was finishing up dinner Yolanda asked why I hadn't cut off a good hunk of bread to soak up the yolk, but  I decided against a lengthy explanation.  Yes, perhaps that was because I was too tired to try saying it all in Spanish but remembering her low enthusiasm level for the pillowy shell I reasoned with myself "ah, she just wouldn't understand."

Fava beans with jamón 

Yield: Side dish for 1
Ingredients
1/2 kilo of fava beans in their pods
The strips of fat torn from 3-5 thin slices of jamón serrano (Whenever I eat a piece of serrano throughout the week I just tear off the fat and keep it in the fridge to use for recipes.  Often there are little bits of jamón that come off with the fat, and that's perfect)
Extra virgin olive oil
1 tablespoon of finely chopped onion or green onion
Salt

-Remove the fava beans from their pods and skin each bean
-Heat the serrano fat in a pan until it has rendered and any little bits of meat have crisped up
-Add just a bit of extra virgin olive oil
-Add in the favas and cook, stirring occasionally  for a few minutes, just until tender
-Taste and season with a touch of salt if the beans need it
-Great served with a sunny side up egg that's also cooked in rendered serrano fat and a little olive oil

The cooking times for the fava beans can vary a lot.  The favas I used in Sicily needed several more minutes in the pan, but these ones were so tender and fresh that just eating them raw with a little olive oil, salt and crusty bread would have been delicious too.

You know you're in Murcia when..

My friend Marina made up a big batch of Ensaladilla Rusa and gave me half to take home and share with my roommates.  Made with potatoes, pickled vegetables, tuna, hard-boiled eggs and mayo, Ensaladilla Rusa forms the base for one of Murcia's most beloved tapas-the Marinera.  The salad is piled high on a crunchy breadstick that's looped around and pressed together at the ends in the shape of a teardrop.  When made right, the salad holds its shape well enough not to fall through the middle, and it's finished off with a single anchovy laid across the top.  Marina can't stand anchovies and is always the lone person at a bar to order hers without. 

For some reason, she told me, that's not called a Marinera sin anchoa...but rather, a "bicicleta".   

After 15 minutes and 3 spoons, the container looked like this

Market day

From week one, when Isidro gave me a quick discourse on Spanish cheeses while laying out thin slices of jamón on wax paper and Paco offered pickled caper stems to try, I've been loyal to my charcutería and olive vendors.  I've also landed on my man for marcona almonds (I could have gone either way until he showed up last week with an endearing salt and pepper beard and also seemed to recognize me) but I'm still in the midst of trying out different fruit and vegetable stands.

This week's haul

For the past few weeks I've walked by a vendor who with grey hair, black mustache, rugged plaid button down and all beckons market goers to his stand with a deep, resounding call that would be the pride of any rhetoric teacher.  He's been selling mostly cauliflower lately, but since I had Yolanda's at home for a recent coliflor al horno recipe, I haven't had any need.  I had noticed a lot of recipes in my Murcian cookbooks calling for ajo tierno, and via vocab charades Enca was able to explain that they're what we call green onions.  When I passed by the booth this week it was piled high with them and I stepped right up, but since we're leaving for Granada this weekend to celebrate the holidays I knew I didn't need much.

Made these..

I should have known from the vendor's steady bray of "uno, un euro-uno, un regalo!" (one for one euro and one as a gift) that he means business when it comes to offloading his bounty.  As I was attempting to ask if I could get two bunches rather than the standard four tied together at the top, the old woman next to me was actually handing back the extra celery the vendor had put in her sack, but gave up when he responded with the equivalent of "no, no, take it, it's for your boyfriend!"  She smiled over to me when she realized what I was hoping for and with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head confirmed that there was no use in in trying.

With this..

At that, the vendor had swept up the four bunches in front of me, ripped off the tops with a flourish and thrust them into a plastic bag. He handed them over with  the wide smile of a used (or rather "pre-owned") car salesman that left no room for asking "could I just take half?"  When he handed back my change I realized that I was so conditioned to his one euro refrain that I hadn't checked the price on the ajo tierno.  Turns out they were twice as much, and on a very strict 10 euro market day limit, being out 2 euro right off the bat felt like a crushing blow to my reserves.

But after some very selective purchasing, I had picked up what I needed for lunch plus a little Manchego from Isidro and a small container of spicy green olives with garlic from Paco, a few ounces of marconas and the cheapest apples I could find. I then passed by an underclothes vendor who was pulling a pair of tights over both his beefy arms and up to his chest, gesturing to a potential (and very pregnant) customer with his girded hands and showing her just how stretchy his wares could be. With the lure of cheap leggings at my back I pressed on to my last stop.  When I held forward a single lemon the vendor looked down and asked "algo mas?", puzzled at the notion of someone coming to the weekly market and only getting enough citrus for one day. When I shook my head no and then tried to pass him some coins, he held up his hand, leaned back on his stool and replied to my "oh, gracias..Feliz Navidad!" with a little nod and a faint grin.

and that

For lunch I got through more of our chickpea surplus and a red pepper that was starting to get wrinkly by using them in a salad with herbs and the olives I got from Paco's stand last week.  As that stood on the counter to marinate, I cooked up Yolanda's extra mushrooms and soaked the dried ñora peppers I had bought in my first week here, without any idea of exactly how to use them.  The peppers aren't spicy at all-just sweet and meaty and I realized what the recipe was getting at once they softened and I could scrape out their brick red flesh onto the cutting board. When Enca got home and saw what I was making she said her ex-boyfriend used to drop ñoras into stews for flavor and then spoon out their pulp and spread it on toast with a little olive oil.  I had an urge to defrost a slice of bread and fish out pieces of the pepper right there, but I kept cooking everything down into a glossy sauce for the mushrooms instead.

We all sat down and went to work finishing off the chickpea salad--leftovers weren't an option.  I'm continuing to make my way through our excess garbanzos and there are more destined for the stovetop today.

Champiñones Murciana

Yield: Side dish for 2
Ingredients
1 ñora pepper
Hot water
Extra virgin olive oil
1 1/4 inch thick slice of chorizo, finely diced
1/2 of a small onion, finely diced
6 cloves of garlic, ends cut off, smashed with the flat side of a chef's knife and peels removed
About 8 large white button mushrooms, sliced
Salt

-Cut the ñora pepper in half and place in a small bowl
-Pour hot water over the pepper just to cover and let soak for about 20 minutes
-Heat the chorizo in a pan and when some of the fat has rendered and the pieces have crisped up, add a bit of olive oil
-Add in the onion and cook with the chorizo until the onion has browned, then set aside the chorizo and onion
-Heat about 2 tablespoons of oil in the same pan and add in the smashed cloves of garlic, cooking over medium-low heat until they start to brown
-Add in the mushrooms and cook for a couple minutes, then add back the chorizo and onion and continue cooking over medium-high heat for several minutes, until the mushrooms have released their moisture and have browned well
-Meanwhile, remove the ñora peppers from the water, but do not discard the soaking liquid
-Remove the stem and seeds from each half and then, using the back of a butter knife or spoon, scrape out the now soft flesh from the inside of the pepper and then run your knife through the pulp a few times
-Reserve about half of the soaking liquid for another dish and add back the pepper flesh into the remaining water
-Pour into the pan to deglaze and continue to cook until the water has almost all evaporated

Chickpea salad

Yield: Side dish for 3
Ingredients
A small handful of finely diced green onion
A small handful of chopped parsley
A small handful of chopped fresh mint
A small handful of small black cuquillo olives (or other black olive variety), chopped
Juice from half a lemon
Zest from half a lemon
Salt
Pepper
Extra virgin olive oil
1 16oz. can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed, (if using dried chickpeas, soak about 8oz. for 12 hours, then     boil with a bit of salt for about 45 minutes to 1 hour, or until tender)
1 red bell pepper, roasted, with skins and seeds removed, liquid reserved and cut into thin strips

-Mix all ingredients together in a bowl (including the liquid reserved from roasting the pepper)

You know you're in Spain when...

Even busy professionals can have a nice bowl of tripe,
hot and ready in less than 2 minutes

Cocido, or rather, cocidon't

Last night Yolanda told me she was craving cocido--a stew made in lots of different ways all over Spain.  Cocido is often served as three separate dishes-first, the broth from simmering jamón bones, legumes, vegetables and various types of meat for hours, second, the chickpeas or beans along with the veg and third, the meat.  She said her Dad would always make up big pots of cocido this time of year and ladle the steaming caldo into mugs for sipping.  Tough act to follow but I told her that I had it all under control and would have things ready by lunchtime at 2:30pm on the dot.  She then proceeded to guide me around the kitchen with a light hand on my arm, showing me the bones and chicken pieces in the freezer, the bouillon cubes in her spice drawer, the chickpea stash in the pantry and finally, the bright orange colorante in cupboard.  People here love their soups and rice nice and golden, and all of the dry-goods vendors in the mercadillos and open markets have bottles of colorante in stock.  You can buy the powder in bulk too, and the tall glass jars are lined up proudly right next to clear little capsules of saffron threads and Murica's famous pimentón.  I was not to forget the colorante.

Made this..

For my brother and his co-op mates in Boston, soaking beans is almost part of the nightly routine, but I myself had no prior experience with prepping legumes.  As we were trying to decide whether or not to use the whole package of chickpeas, Yolanda asked me if they would bulk up a lot by morning.  With a shrug I said "naw, no mucho.." and in went the entire bag.  I came downstairs today to find that my assumptions were vastly incorrect.  What had looked like just the right amount of innocuous garbanzos had grown to a volume that can only be described as overwhelming.  I flashed back to a scene from the children's book Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs with bleary-eyed kids slumped over in chairs after eating a blizzard's worth of cream cheese and jelly sandwiches. I imagined Yolanda and I, struggling to make our way through our 7th garbanzo dish of the week, exhausted and wearing wrist braces to prevent carpal tunnel from repetitive spooning motions.

With that

I decided I'd think about all the different ways I could use chickpeas later (fritters, hummus, more soup, more fritters..) and get started boiling them with the jamón bone (which was still encircled by a fair bit of meat) in the pressure cooker. With just that and nothing more the broth already tasted mug-worthy, but I had never made the recipe before, so I just kept going.  I added the rest of the ingredients and left it all bubbling away, figuring that the more it reduced the more flavorful it would become.  During breaks from Spanish workbook exercises (thanks to a colorful sidebar I now know all kinds of fun facts about Gypsy weddings) I would give things a quick skim and stir.  Back at my desk I got caught up finding the definitions to every third word in a news article on the national banks (I was able to skip "corrupto"), and by the time Enca got home, the cocido looked much more like yellow-hued Dinty Moore than a pot of soup.

As I was asking about her mom's version (she serves the caldo with short pieces of fideuá pasta and the final dish includes various and sundry encased meats), I managed to forget about the stove completely, and the fact that it was still on.  Yolanda came in 20 minutes later and by that point there wasn't a drop of broth to be had.  When I told her there was no caldo I was met with the expression of a 7-year-old who wakes up from a very realistic dream about leaving for camp, bolts downstairs to find their duffel bag and is told that it's still February, and a school day too.

Luckily, she was soon distracted by helping me with the Spanish for "evaporate" and "better luck next time".

We're going to her hometown for the holidays and I'm looking forward to sitting down with Papa Calzado for a lesson in the nuances of this dish.  Hopefully I'll be able to share his recipe once I've successfully doled out my first cocido trifecta.

The Jaén pop-tart

My first attempt at baking bread was a wait-and-see operation.  I've always heard that baking is a real science--that using the right proportions can make all the difference in the oven.  My roommate doesn't have measuring cups or a scale, so I eye-balled the flour and water, and when the ingredient list called for a coffee spoon and half of salt I used a few healthy pinches.  The recipe on the back of the flour bag didn't actually say anything about kneading, and it's hard to tell once the dough has "fermente hasta que duplique su volumen" when you happen to forget what the original volume looked like.

I cooled the loaves on a makeshift rack of overturned plates and upon my first bite I figured that they would at least provide an ample supply of crumbs for some Murcian recipes I'd seen.  

But just like most things can be rescued by roasting, so too can they be improved by toasting.  I came downstairs the next day to see my roommates with slices on their plates, and Yolanda said it had actually made for a treat. As a little girl growing up in Jaén, her Dad would make up some toast topped with olive oil for breakfast, and then, when her mom wasn't looking, he would top hers off with a little sugar.

What didn't get eaten or grated for crumbs in the first couple days got sliced up and put in the freezer, and I retrieved a couple pieces this morning to listen to Spanish radio over a Jaén pop-tart of my own.

Roasted carrot soup..empanadillas

On the days I catch the bus to the Barrio del Carmen for English lessons I always tuck an empanadilla in my bag so I don't have to spend anything on a snack.  In my first week here I made empanadillas four times-the first two to rescue dishes that turned out differently than planned, the third for a party and the fourth to use up all the extra dough.  Tonight I had one from batch two, and the defrosted result was a good lesson in what to do differently next time.

My first round turned out with a high dough to filling ratio--too high. I swung the other way on the second, and the resulting empanadas were tasty out of the oven, but now start to fall apart once re-heated.  The key to a really good hand pie is to be able to eat it out of just one hand, without any need for catching crumbly crust or meagerly supported filling with the other.

These empanadillas started out as a roasted carrot soup.  I was finally able to roast with confidence again (my oven in Sicily had just two temperatures-singeing, and off), but after blending everything together I realized that the favorite bouillon cube brand in Spain is much saltier than the popular one in Italy

With that

Made this..

I, like my mother, have a very high saltiness threshold, but the only way I could get through a whole bowl of this was adding in spoon after spoon of plain yogurt.  Since yogurt is also what I had bought to eat every morning, I did not have yogurt to spare.  I did, however, have half a potato leftover from another recipe, so I went two for one and mashed it up to both thicken the soup into a viable filling and rachet down the sodium simultaneously.

Roasted carrot empanadillas

Ingredients

For the filling
A bunch of carrots
Olive oil
Salt
Half an onion, diced
A head of garlic
1/2 of 1 bouillon cube
Mache, spinach or arugula
Half of a potato

For the dough
1/2 cup of warm water
1/2 cup of olive oil
Salt
Flour
1 egg, beaten

-Preheat the oven to 415 degrees
-Cut the carrots in half lengthwise down the middle (if large, cut each half lengthwise again)
-Toss the carrots in olive oil (no need to use extra virgin-my friend in León says no one here wastes it on roasting, or empanadilla dough, since the heat diminishes the flavor) and sprinkle with just a little salt
-Spread out in a single layer on a baking sheet lined with tin foil and cover the whole sheet tightly with another piece of foil
-Cut the top off of the head of garlic to reveal the cloves, place on a square of tin foil and and drizzle with olive oil
-Fold up the tin foil so it covers the garlic completely and put it in the oven along with the carrots
-Roast the carrots for about 15 minutes, then take off the top layer of tin foil and continue roasting, turning the carrots around a few times, for another 25 minutes or so, until they are very tender and nicely browned
-Continue to roast the garlic for another 15 minutes, then remove from the foil and set aside
-Meanwhile, heat a little oil in a pot but don't let it smoke
-Crumble the bouillon cube into the oil and stir for about 30 seconds (start with just half-you can always add more)
-Add in the onion and cook until transluscent
-Roughly chop the roasted carrots, add to the pot, and cook for a few minutes
-Use a butter knife to scrape half of the roasted garlic cloves out of their peels, setting aside the rest of the cloves for another dish, or adding them into the pot if you like very strong roasted garlic flavor
-Add in water to cover the ingredients and bring to a boil
-Transfer the soup to a regular blender or use an immersion blender to bring everything together, stopping before the ingredients become completely pureed so there are still some pieces of carrot in the mix
-Add in the greens and stir until wilted
-Eat a bowl of soup, adding a little plain yogurt on top
-Reserve the rest of the soup and refrigerate, cooling completely
-Peel the potato, use a fork to make several pricks, then cook in the microwave until a paring knife can pierce easily into the center
-Mash the potato, leaving some small to medium size pieces intact
-Mix into the soup

-Preheat the oven to 350 degrees
-In a medium size bowl, add the water, olive oil and a few pinches of salt
-Add flour, a generous 1/2 cup at a time, and stir with a fork until the dough comes together and is no longer sticky
-Roll out the dough to the thickness of a Christmas cookie (imagine cookies that you could ice generously and top with lots of sprinkles and Red Hots without fear of them breaking mid-way through decoration)
-Using a biscuit cutter, Tupperware with a circular top or a bowl, cut out pieces of dough in any size you like (I usually make a few different sizes so I have empanadillas that are good for a meal and for a snack)
-Mix just a bit of the beaten egg into the soup and potato mixture to bind it all together and use a spoon to put filling on top of each cut out of dough
-The amount of filling will vary depending on the size of the cut outs, but use enough so that you can fold the dough over and press the edges together with just enough room to seal with the tines of a fork
(If you can see the filling at all through the dough, it's too thin)
-As you finish sealing each empanadilla, place it on a tin foil lined baking sheet
-Add just a little water to the remaining egg and brush the empanadillas with the egg wash, making sure to brush the top, sides, and pressed edges
-Bake the empanadillas at 350 degrees, rotating the baking sheet a few times, for 20-30 minutes until they are golden brown

Calabacin relleno

Preserved fish is a pretty big deal in Spain (they say the best of the catch is often found in tins), and while the lowest end tuna here is probably better than some of the average brands in the US, that's not saying a whole lot.  I didn't have any money to work with today, but I did have Yolanda's surplus zucchini, and a €0.50 tin of tuna in the cupboard whose flavor and texture I wanted to mask as much as possible.

With the roasted red peppers and olives from Paco I had the makings of a filling that would stretch the tuna and conceal it at the same time.  Onion, parsley and pimentón brought it all together and a few spoonfuls of the crumbs from my first attempt at baking bread finished it off.

Made this..

With that

This evening Yolanda brought home her haul from the produce shop. She was eager to show me that I now have two more mammoth calabacins at my disposal, but when I looked through my Murcian cookbooks for ideas the zucchini recipes called for ingredients like shrimp, butter, chopped chicken and bechamel.  As much as I love those ingredients on their own, the permutations just don't sound all that enticing when delivered by way of another hollowed out zucchini.  Perhaps it's time to try my first tortilla Española and make up one of its many vegetable variations..or just resort to digging out a loaf pan and introducing the girls to good ol' American zucchini bread.

Calabacin relleno

Ingredients
1 medium zucchini
Extra virgin olive oil
Salt
Pepper
1/2 of an onion, finely diced
Half of a roasted red pepper, diced
A handfull of small black cuquillo olives, pitted and chopped
1 small tin of tuna
Parsley, chopped
Bread crumbs
Pimentón

-Preheat the oven to 400 degrees
-Cut the zucchini in half lengthwise and use a spoon to scoop out the centers, leaving a the walls of the zucchini about 1/4 of an inch thick
-Chop up the the seeds and flesh and set aside
-Brush the insides of the cucumbers all over with olive oil, then season with salt and pepper
-Bake cut side down on a baking sheet lined with tin foil for about 10 minutes, then flip over and bake for another few minutes, until the flesh in the middle of the zucchini begins to brown
-Remove from the oven and set aside
-Heat a little olive oil in a pan and add the onion and a pinch of salt
-Cook, stirring frequently, until the onion begins to brown
-Add in the seeds and pulp of the zucchini and continue to cook until they have broken down and the liquid in the pan has evaporated
-Add in the roasted red peppers and the olives and cook for 3-5 more minutes, stirring frequently
-Transfer the mixture to a bowl, add in the tuna and flake with a fork
-Add the parsley and stir until all ingredients are well mixed
-Use a spoon to fill each zucchini half with the mixture
-Season a few spoonfuls of bread crumbs with salt and pimentón, then drizzle with olive oil and mix until the oil is incorporated and the texture becomes sandy
-Top each filled zucchini half with the breadcrumbs
-Bake for a few minutes or until the breadcrumbs are golden brown
-Remove from the oven and top with a little fresh parsley

Market day

I started the morning with a balance of €.62, and set off for El Palmar's weekly market with a €10 limit in mind.  If I stuck to it, and didn't spend a cent on Wednesday, I'd be back in the black by Thursday-just in time for my second lesson of the week in the Barrio del Carmen-and another ColaCao.

I got up to Isidro's mobile charcuteria truck (he tucked his business card--"SU CHARCUTERO DE CONFIANZA"-- in with the cured meat and cheese last Tuesday) and asked for 25 grams of jamòn picado to use for a cauliflower recipe.  I must not have pronounced things correctly because it was only after I actually reached around the rows of chorizo hanging from the rafters and handed the cookbook over the counter that anyone was really sure what I was asking for.  I left with a small plastic package of thick hand cut pieces of serrano to use for lunch and five thin slices to have throughout the week.

And all with €0.01 to spare

When I headed over to the olive truck, the vendor, who has what I imagine to be the same kind of voice used in well-produced Spanish radio announcements, was talking about New Year's plans with one of his customers and calling over to another with an unbroken string of diminutives.  He leaned forward to see what I'd like to try this week, and when I asked for the kind of olives used in Ensalada Murciana he smiled knowingly and gave me two different varieties to taste.  As I was making my pick he asked my name but it was only after I explained "..como Lois Lane- la novia de Superman!" that he clasped his hands together in recognition.  His name, it turns out, is Paco, and as he was wrapping up my olives he flipped a couple roasted peppers into a little container and slipped them into my bag too.

After circling the market a few times I had spotted the vendor selling 4 kilos of oranges for €1 (the rest were offering 2 or 3 kilos for the same price) and another at the very end of  the last row with a solid selection of apples at €.75 a kilo rather than the going rate of €1.25.  After picking up some lettuce and carrots, and a couple of bananas from the Canary Islands to see what all the fuss is about (folks here say they're the best in the world) I had about €0.20 left.  I opened my palm to show one of the dried fruit and nut vendors what I had to work with, and he shook his head, chuckled and scooped up a handful of raisins for me.

Made this..

With that

I got back and started on the caulfilower--a dish Enca had seen in restaurants but never tried at home.  The downfall of those verisions, she said, was that they used so much oil that the cauliflower was beyond recognition by the time it arrived at the table.  My recipe called for frying too, but I opted to brown the pieces on all sides instead.  Yes, they were still dredged in flour, but the coating crisped up rather than turning sodden and heavy.  As soon as I heard Yolanda open the door I poured the sauce over the cauliflower, sprinkled on some cheese and a little pimentón, and after a few minutes in a hot oven it was ready to eat. 

Enca told me I had sucessfully averted the risk of overly greasy cauliflower but recommended I chop the picado a bit more finely next time.  I agreed, but the more I ate the more I thought--the jamón had flavored the sauce so deeply that you could actually set the pieces aside once it was done and use them for something else, like adding them diced to the lentil soup Yolanda brought back from visiting family over the weekend...

Coliflor al Horno

Ingredients

Extra virgin olive oil

25 grams of jamòn picado, chopped in roughly half inch size pieces

1/2 of an onion, finely chopped

1 tomato, peeled and finely chopped

Flour

1/3 or less of 1 beef bouillon cube

Water 

1/2 of a medium cauliflower

1 egg, beaten

Pimentón

Mild cheese, grated

-Heat up a little extra virgin olive oil in a pan, but don't let it smoke

-Add in the jamón picado and let the fat begin to render slowly

-Once the fat has turned transluscent, add in the onion and cook until transluscent as well

-Add in the tomato and cook until everything starts to simmer

-Once some of the water from the tomatoes has evaporated, sprinkle in some flour to thicken the sauce

-Crumble a bit of a beef bouillon cube over the sauce and add about 3/4 cup of water

-Cook until most of the water has evaporated and the tomatoes break down fully, stirring occassionally with a wooden spoon

-Add a bit more water and let reduce again

-Repeat several more times as you're prepping the cauliflower

-Cut the cauliflower into florets and boil for a couple of minutes until fork tender

-Let cool slightly, then coat in egg and dredge in flour seasoned with pimentón

-Heat a bit of oil in another pan until smoking

-Add in the florets and let cook on each side until golden brown

-Put the florets into an oven-safe dish, cover with the sauce and sprinkle with cheese and pimentón

-Broil for a couple of minutes or bake at around 400 degrees until the cheese begins to bubble and brown at the edges

Murcia on 5 € a day: Week 3

I started off the week €8.08 in the hole, but the purchases were well worth the cost.  I made my first trip to Murcia's covered market over the weekend, and after perusing the downstairs (finally found a reliable place to get goat brain) and the upstairs (watched a 60-something red-headed woman use her knife to gesture at the small crowd of people huddled around her selection of preserved fish) I walked out with Murcian pimentón, Calasparra rice and a free churro.  On my way to the tourist office to pick up a map, I stumbled upon a local Christmas tradition-a long string of booths featuring lots of nativity figurines, jewelry nearly identical to that found at the Ann Arbor Art Fair, vendors tapping away intently at their smart phones and some artisanal products too.  When I realized the price for 500g of Murcia's romero tomillo honey wasn't much higher than the store-brand stuff at the discount supermarket, I handed over €3 and added a jar to my bag.  

I had an empanada from my frozen stash lined up for my pre & post work snack, so the only money I shelled out today was at Espinosa Confitería.  Twice a week I visit a family in the Barrio del Carmen to help them practice conversational English and Espinosa is a 3 minute walk away.  (Talking with the daughter about their holiday dinner traditions led to me ask "so does your grandfather have a favorite butcher where he gets his rabbit?" and her to respond ¨"no, no, my grandfather has a rabbit.  So he kills it before we make the paella.")  Last week I looked up from my cafè con leche to see a bright yellow packet of cocoa and a glass of hot milk being whisked off the counter.  I decided that might just have to be my go-to drink.  So, €1.30 it was for a ColaCao of my own.  

Yesterday I made a recipe for salsa al limón (below) and back at home after the English lesson I mixed it with the last of my green beans and some toasted marcona almonds.  

Made Salsa al limón with this

And a dish of green beans..

With that

The El Palmar open market is tomorrow morning, and waiting for the water to boil for the beans I was flipping through a couple Murcian cookbooks and dreaming up all sorts of lunch dishes I could make for the three of us.  But it turned out Enca already had some of her mom's soup defrosting and that Yolanda gets fish for lunch every Tuesday because that's the day she gets off a little early from work, and her fishmonger awaits her arrival each week.  It also turns out she has some extra cauliflower and zucchini she wants me to use up before they go to waste.  I already have everything on hand for a coliflor al horno recipe, so my market plan has shifted, and now I have my sights set on jamón, olives and pomegranates.  And maybe just one almond shortbread cookie.

Salsa al limón

Ingredients
A couple heaping spoonfuls of finely chopped onion
A heaping spoonful of finely chopped brined caper stems (or capers if you can't find the stems)
A finely chopped hard boiled egg
A heaping spoonful of finely chopped parsley
The juice from half a lemon
Extra virgin olive oil

Mix all ingredients together in a bowl.  It's pretty tasty right off the bat but the flavors meld a bit more after some time in the fridge.

Wild mushroom soup with crispy chorizo

Somehow, I managed to spend 8 months in Italy without cooking wild mushrooms once.  Actually, up until this week I had never cooked wild mushrooms at all.  Their mystique has been building steadily since I arrived in Spain.  Bountiful mushroom displays in Barcelona, Madrid and Valencia.  Mushroom cooking demonstrations at Murcia's gastronomic festival last month.  Stories related to me about Spaniards flocking to the forests each fall to collect their own.

Then on Tuesday I went to El Palmar's open market and came across a stand with a whole section devoted to them.  In a stall piled high with all sorts of fruits and vegetables, this table was furnished with a bed of parsley and set aside for wild mushrooms alone, all laid out carefully in a single layer.  I already had a hyped up mushroom ideal in mind, and as the vendor started trailing his fingers over the selection, landing on three for my bag (even stopping to rethink his choice on the second), I became even more solidly convinced that the only possible result on my first attempt would involve the adjectives meaty, earthy and intense. I was wrong.

Made this..

With that

Which was originally supposed to be this

Ingredients:
Extra virgin olive oil
1/4 of an onion, diced
A couple cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
1/3-1/2 of 1 bouillon cube
Water
3 to 4 medium size wild mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
1 slice of chorizo, about a quarter of an inch thick
1 cup cooked rice
Parsley

Reader's Digest version:
-Heat up the oil in a small pot and add the onion, cooking until translucent
-Clear away a bit of room in the middle of the pot and add the garlic
-Stir for about 30 seconds or until you can smell the garlic, then incorporate with the onions
-Crumble up the bouillon cube and sprinkle it over the onion and garlic, then cook until the aromatics start to color, stirring frequently
-Add in the mushrooms and cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently
-Add a little water to pick up the fond from the bottom of the pan, then stir in half the rice
-Season to taste with more of the bouillon cube, then add in water to cover the ingredients and bring to a boil
-Transfer the soup to a regular blender or use an immersion blender to bring everything together until it's as creamy as possible
-If the soup is at all gritty, pour it into a fine mesh strainer and use the back of a spoon to stir and press the soup through the strainer into a bowl
-Rinse and dry the pot and add in the chopped chorizo
-Cook until the chorizo is crispy and some of that great red grease coats the bottom of the pot
-Set the chorizo aside and pour in the soup
-Stir in the rest of the rice and bring to a simmer
-Pour into bowls and top with the fresh parsley and crispy chorizo

Extended version:
Plan-Use up the rest of a potato and roasted garlic I had on hand along with some onion for crispy hashbrowns, sautee the mushrooms, season and toss with parsley then finish it all off with an over-easy egg.

But-With much anticipation, I tasted the mushrooms, and with much dismay, the first two words that came to mind were sponge-like and gritty.  Clearly, my mushroom naïveté had led to inadequate prep and faulty technique.

So-I decided to call in the immersion blender.  My roommate had given me her leftover rice and seeing it in the fridge triggered a memory of some Julia Child recipes that used rice as an alternative to dairy in cream soups.  I sauteed some aromatics with a bit of bouillon cube, then added in the mushrooms and rice and blended everything together.  After a run through a fine mesh strainer the grit was gone, and crisping up some chorizo in the pot before adding the soup back in gave it a bit more dimension.  From there I added in the rest of the rice and topped it off with fresh parsley and the spicy sausage.