spanish food creations

as part of my deep and important study of spanish food, i do get to cook it sometimes instead of just eat it. a couple of weeks ago, our interest group on spanish gastronomy journeyed to the barrio of nervión and had a very prestigious and important spanish chef as a cooking teacher. coincidentally, she also happened to be the mother of the group leader, maria.

there we were, holed up in her tiny kitchen, all ready to get our hands dirty! but, as a true spanish senora would do, she immediately took full of her kitchen. "maria hates that i don't let the kids cook, i mean it is supposed to be a cooking class, but whatever i don't care what she says, it's my kitchen, and i will do as i please." we laughed and sat back to relax. our only labor the whole hour was peeling potatoes, but as soon as i finished she said, "ok now, chica, go wash your hands, because you won't be doing anything else!" while we watched, she produced a delicious tortilla espanola, an egg and cheese omelet, sometimes with onions, but never with cheese. i actually asked her, do you ever put cheese or sausage or anything else in your tortilla? no, why would i do that. my food is good, has always been good, and will always be good. i love the integrity with which spaniards eat, even if it makes them a little less adventurous. the other plate is picadillo, a salad of tomatoes, peppers, tomatoes, tuna, and a lot of olive oil, as always.

good thing i was taking good notes while she cooked, because i was able to produce a perfect tortilla espanola last saturday night for my host parents in honor of father's day.



first phase: peel and cut tomatoes. done. then i fried the potatoes in olive oil and mixed them in with the egg (below), from which i made an omelet and flipped it myself!


they insisted that i cut the tortilla. we had a wonderful time eating tortilla, drinking cruzcampo, and watching the real madrid vs. atlético madrid soccer game, making for a great saturday night with the family. i spend time in the kitchen nowadays observing what my host-mom does, so hopefully i will come home with some good recipes.

can you see Africa? 'cause I can.

it is a rainy monday afternoon, and i should be studying for midterms. instead, i am writing to tell you all that i have successfully crossed the strait of gibraltar into morocco - and returned! due to the horrific weather on friday, our party of three was delayed many hours in crossing by ferry. alas, we spent the afternoon getting acquainted with yet another incredible spanish pueblo: tarifa, the bridge between europe and africa that divides the mediterranean from the atlantic. the city occupies a strategic place in a legendary zone, the "pillars of hercules", once thought to be the end of the world by the sailors of antiquity. for this reason, it was inhabited from prehistoric times to the present by phoenicians, romans, muslims and christians. in fact, tarifa was where the first arab, a berber named tarif, touched the soil of the peninsula, the chief of an incursion in the early 700s. to pass the time, we visited a fortress built in 960 A.D. by abd al-rahman III, the first caliph of the peninsula.

we also practiced our archery in the castle,

went to the beach,


adopted a dog we promptly christened mercadona,

watched as people appreciated the wind that had canceled our ferry,

exercised,

and looked yearningly at our destination.

if you look closely, at the horizon the houses of a moroccan town are visible. on a clear day, you can see the entire coastline, and on a clear night you can even see the car lights.

once in tangiers, the port city in morocco where we spent two nights, we realized that it was exactly the same - spain is clearly visible from the main city plaza, and european soil is only 14 kilometers away. this experience of seeing europe so close yet so far away was especially relevant for me, as i have been studying african immigration to spain. while we spent 45 minutes on a ferry that cost us under $30, crossing the strait in a small cayuco raft costs over 1000 euro and has a death rate of over 1/50. thousands of people have drowned in the strait, a chilling fact we could not ignore while we crossed.

tangier is the paramount of european domination, as it has been occupied by the spanish, portuguese, french and english its entire existence, only having gained its independence a mere 55 years ago. as such, there is at least one neighborhood dedicated to each of these colonial influences - we passed through the spanish, french and english neighborhoods, as well as one called "barrio california," to my severe embarrassment. another result of the european domination is that practically everyone knows more than one language, something that americans could definitely improve at. arab is the native language, with french being taught in schools at a young age. spanish, however, is the language of the street in northern morocco, and we met only one person that did not speak spanish. quite a few street vendors we met knew english as well. one showed us his artwork, which depicted "democracy coming slowly to morocco on a bicycle", which was particularly timely in light of the dozens of moroccan protesters that were injured in a manifestation in casablanca on sunday, four days after king muhomed VI promised constitutional reforms.

another surprising discovery was that, through the multicultural influence in tangier, there are several widely practiced religions - in fact, there are two synagogues and several cathedrals. the largest cathedral is on the same block as the main mosque, as seen on the right. the many traces of european colonization left in this city are undeniable, culminating in fascinating a cultural, linguistic and architectural mix that i feel fortunate to have seen, as it widened my perspective on the diversity found within the arab world. when we went to assilah on saturday, a small fishing town on the atlantic side, we were fortunate to hear the afternoon call to prayer to the mosque, and hundreds of people flocked to the mosque as we sipped our moroccan tea.

we had very good experiences with the people, and were fortunate to have met many helpful people that spoke to us in both english and spanish. the most impactful cultural difference for angela and i was that, as women, we would not have been able to travel freely with peace of mind. we were very thankful to have kurt along with us, and all three of us were very careful, always returning to the hotel soon after dark. there were never many women out after dark, and those that were we had been told were "women of the night," as no decent muslim woman would be seen in the street at night. as we passed the tea rooms, there were often forty or fifty middle-aged men watching soccer, an environment that none of us had a desire to enter. even during the day, all women were accompanied by other women or by their husbands, and the sunday morning soccer game we witnessed on the beach included a total of zero young women. i left morocco grateful that i live in a country in which i am free to live independent of other people and free to go where i wish.

on sunday we made the journey back to sevilla, tired and deservedly feeling, hardly believing it was true, as if we had crossed continents. we have many fond memories of morocco, a country in which pizza hut with a sign in arabic exists beside a kebab stand, a cathedral stands next to a mosque, veiled women walk in high heels, baroque architecture adorns the shopping center beside islamic-style arches, and the mixture of old and new, traditional and modern, make it what it is. we witnessed that culture can change vastly within a mere 9-mile boat ride.

the dinner table

i am burning the midnight oil. literally. it's past midnight, and i have just finished dinner with my host parents. yes, we eat at 10pm - sometimes 10:30 - and yes, sometimes we sit there talking and debating until the wee hours of the morning until my host mother begins the half hour process of cutting off her husband so the neighbors can sleep. themes range from politics to religion, two topics usually taboo at the american dinner table, and tonight's special was the power of the media in forming public opinion, with a commentary on the current revolutions happening in the middle east.

i find it fascinating that much of the revolution has been organized by well-prepared and urbanized youth that have traveled outside of their countries, know how the world is outside, and returned with liberal ideas, expressing their desire to experience a moment of peace in their homecountry. the push for self-government is something we take for granted every day, but we must think about how many free countries have begun in revolution, including ours. my immigration professor, a journalist for a renowned spanish newspaper, told us many stories today from when he spent two months traveling around the middle east a few years back, writing about how the common people experience dictatorship, war and extremism. it is easy to forget that people, although they see bombings on their street every day, are trying to just live a normal life. for example, he met a female journalist, who spent time working for the washington post in baghdad, that had received so many death threats by saddam hussein that she had given up writing and become a travel agent. two other young iraqi men went to study engineering in turkey, and when they returned realized that their country had been living under a dictatorship since before they were born.

i have been taking advantage of how direct spaniards tend to be and making sure to ask lots of questions about life during franco's reign, the dictator of spain from 1939 until his death in 1975, when my host mother remembers not only not being allowed to vote, but also not permitted to leave the house after 10pm. other laws controlling public behavior prohibited meetings of more than four people in an effort to discourage rebellion, the public display of affection, and the right of women to divorce their husbands (although men could divorce their wives). apart from that, thousands of homosexuals, intellectuals, and other left-leaning individuals were assassinated.

the years since 1975 have brought a democratic constitution, the right to vote for women, the equality of men and women, and the separation of church and state. spain has advanced from an isolated country with high levels of illiteracy and victim to the backward ideas of a cruel dictator to one of the most popular destinations in europe in a mere 35 years. today, sevilla is a lively and environmentally-savvy city, as it was the first city in spain to adopt the green bike system. nevertheless, sevillanos continue to talk themselves down. my host parents always make reference to the north of spain as the richer and more educated part of spain, painting the south to be poor and lazy. but, they say, all the workers in barcelona are from andalucía (the province of which Sevilla is the capital). they also insist that america is 25 years ahead of them, citing reasons like paper bags, which have been in american movies for 20 years and are just appearing in spanish stores as an alternative to plastic. however, this movement is simultaneous to a new law that incentivizes the use of reusable fabric grocery bags, something that is popular among young people in the US but not legislated.

another aspect in which sevillanos are self-degrading, and i have noticed this more than ever during dinner conversations, is linguistically. the spanish of andalucía is very difficult to understand because it is not pronounced how it is written, as many consonants are cut out and words shortened. people in the south always say things like "we talk badly," "why are you learning spanish here," and "why don't you go to salamanca, where they speak 'pure' spanish?" well what the heck is pure spanish? the prejudice against their own mode of speaking is fascinating to me.

i must sleep now, considering i have a paper to write tomorrow morning. i set out to write about food at the dinner table, and instead i spat this out. i guess you can expect something else on food sometime soon!