explosión de mariscos

in galicia, the kitchen was serviceable; the view from the balcony was better.


the markets were amply provisioned, and there were many bottles; some of them were very tasty. the cooler came in handy.


we discovered the virtues of the can.


the town has a fishing co-op with a shop which opens twice a day to sell day catch from boats that dock right outside.


there were percebes. they were tasty.


some of the percebes were fractal. (still tasty.)


at a slightly fancy restaurant, we had remarkable scallops. note how little they have been fucked with. these were about the price of a mediocre plate of pasta in london.


there was also a lobster—that was quite messy. fortunately, i was wearing my lobster-eating shirt.


the oysters at the roadside lunch spot at which we waited for a late afternoon audience with The Knight of the Valley weren't messy at all.


but most of the time we cooked shellfish,


and regular fish,


and sat on the beach.

d.i.y.

on the morning of our departure, the kitchen counter held a bowl of eggs and a box of sappy roma tomatoes from the grounds, the remains of a jamon iberico de bellota, and a bag of molletes de antequera. the best time to make yourself a breakfast sandwich is before everyone else is awake and clamouring for one too.

a secret ingredient

the bartender leaned over and said:

"el queso fresco en mi tarta de cuatro quesos es muy, muy secreto—pero te dire que: filadelfia."

this was one of the many attractions of hondarribia.

etxebarri

the core of the kitchen is a large woodpile (sheltered but open to the elements, and featuring an extensive chainsaw collection), a pair of furnaces for producing embers, and a bank of asadors on which nearly everything the kitchen produces is cooked. under the asadors, a collection of kitchen equipment not normally associated with the application of direct or indirect heat: fine mesh strainers that allow smoke-laden air and radiant heat to pass to the ingredients contained within, and a caviar grill hacked together from a cut-up pot and a spatter guard.

the gambas were peerless, and what a good idea it is to heat the custard for an ice cream gently at the mouth of a smoky furnace before spinning it.

asador etxebarri
plaza de san juan, 1
atxondo, spain

el soplo

if you are in barcelona and you seek spanish wine of A Certain Persuasion that does not taste like french or italian wine of A Certain Persuasion, you already know of l'anima del vi (at which all three are obtainable at fair prices). you may wish also to visit the new wine bar el soplo. triumphant after securing a shipping container just after sunset, i turned down a little alley and, midway through the block, saw a cracked-open door, dusty empties with whimsical labels in the window, and a big beard behind the bar. the establishment is a pair of italians who love natural wine and have fetched up in barcelona because "eh, it is a nice place to live, yes?" they have just opened and—for reasons unknown—appear to be unfindable on the internet and only barely findable in person. but i am here to show the way: el soplo is in el born, on c/ mirallers between c/ sombrerers and c/ vigatans. the current list is, perhaps perforce, admirably short. the skin-contact chardonnay from casa pardet is worthwhile and may surprise and delight those who are just a bit tired of overpaying for brown goop.