Hedonia

I have good friends

Last weekend, my darling husband hosted a cocktail party in my honor of my thirty-somethingth birthday. I had a lovely time, mingling with my bestest friends and nibbling on nummy noshes courtesy of DPaul. I received several lovely gifts, but chief among them was Anita stepping in to act as mixologist extraordinaire. She had two signature house cocktails at the ready, carefully sidestepping my patent dislike for both gin and orange. One, the refreshing and complex Rosemary Five, immediately became my new favorite cocktail. That is, until I tasted the second: The Oh, Henry, which she has now posted as the most recent Drink of the Week. Now, we love us some bourbon, and the combination with Benedictine and a good, strong ginger ale elevates it to new heights; the star anise garnish does so much more than merely decorate as well. Do go check it out, and enjoy one as much as I did, and still do. Anita gave me the gift not only of a housefull of well-watered friends, but of two newfound favorite tipples as well. Who could ask for more?

Carne de porco com amêijoas à alentejana

No Iberian meal is complete without pork. The importance and prevalence of the meat in the national cuisines of Spain and Portugal cannot be overstated. In fact, had I not already been weaning myself off my fishetarian ways, I would surely have starved to death during our month-long sojourn in Spain.

But that's okay, for the pork in Iberia is exceptional. There are of course the cured hams, such as the famous jamòn serrano and jamòn iberico, the latter of which comes from pigs that dine exclusively on the acorns of black oak trees in central Spain. Iberico in its uncured state is succulent and tender, and unlike anything we have here in the states. The meat itself is darker, with a strong nutty flavor.

I knew the main course of the dinner had to be pork, but sought inspiration. I turned to the trusty Time-Life Foods of the World series, expecting to find a Spanish recipe that would transport me back to our trip. In fact, the recipe that spoke to me was Portuguese.

Pork and clams: What a delightful turn on the classic surf and turf. It sounds incongruous at first, but the two proteins have a strange affinity, as if they were long-lost cousins, star-crossed lovers from different worlds. Only in the sweet afterlife, and on the dinner table, could they be united.

A sidenote about Spain v. Portugal. Despite their tightly linked heritages, there is a clear tension between the two cultures. Whilst in Granada, enjoying a sherry at a local restaurant, we were entranced by the music. The bartender informed us it was a Portuguese group, Madredeus. We loved the soulful, fado-inflected songs. Later, in Madrid, we were perusing a record store, looking for a few choice items to bring home; Madredeus was at the top of our list. We searched through pop, to no avail. Asking one clerk after another, we ended up working our way through several sections, down floor after floor, until we finally found them in the "World" section, alongside tribal drumming and chanting. Keep in mind we are talking about a contemporary popular group from a country that shares the same peninsula.

Intra-Iberian politics aside, this dish is a keeper, though I cannot help but feel like it constitutes a culinary "screw you" to the Jews and Moors so maligned in Iberian history. I mean, pork and clams? Why not throw some milk in for good measure? Gentile that I am, I take no exception.

Pimientos piquillos rellenos de bacalao en salmorejo

All right, kids, I'm gonna finish this dinner party if it kills me.

During our month in Spain, despite traversing many regions with distinct culinary and linguistic dialects, a few dishes were constant. Tapas were of course an everyday occurrence, and we easily fell into a routine of a handful of favorites: croquetas, tortilla español and above all else pimientos rellenos. I'm a big fan of bacalao, the salt-cured cod, under any circumstances, but mixed into a creamy filling inside a sweet red pepper is perhaps the most enjoyable application. I knew I wanted to reproduce this for the party.

A couple weeks beforehand, I was thrilled to see muy autentico piquillo peppers appear in their explosively colorful glory at the Happy Quail Farms booth at the farmers market. I had assumed I would end up resorting to either tinned piquillos or roasted bell peppers. Eagerly, I asked how long they would have them on hand, and was assured they'd be appearing in abundance for weeks if not months. The Spanish sun was shining on my dinner plans.

I roasted the peppers, blackening the skin under the broiler for easy removal. This is my normal method of roasting peppers; in this case, however, the thin-skinned piquillos might perhaps have benefitted from blanching instead of roasting, as the flesh of the peppers became too fragile and lost their shape. Live and learn.

Salmorejo was another regular item on our table in Spain. This emulsion of tomato, bread and olive oil appears as many things -- sauce, dip, soup. I figured it would make a pleasant counterpart both in flavor and texture to the pepper.

The recipes I used as foundation came from a tourist-grade cookbook we bought in Spain called, simply, Classic Tapas. We were assured by a friend in Marbella that the recipes in the book were in fact quite authentic, and indeed we saw many dishes that we had enjoyed throughout our journey. But by virtue perhaps of poor translation, many of the recipes lack precision or even omit key steps, so it is at best a guide and not a bible. Fortunately, I am comfortable enough with basic techniques, like making a béchamel, that I was able to navigate successfully.

The Eatsdropper puts the kielbasa on that

It pains me to think that it's been over a month (!) since I've posted anything. I'd give you the usual rigmarole and litany of excuses, but you don't want to hear it, do you? Suffice to say that I intend to get back on it soon -- thanks in no small part to Ilva for kicking me in the patootie by tagging me on a meme to write about a favorite braise. Now, I've always been a braisin' hussy, and I have just the thing up my sleeve, so stay tuned.

In other news, I've just started a new batch of olives, and it's almost time to bring back the gayest Christmas tree ever. Sunrise, sunset, and all that.

Meanwhile, enjoy this installment of Eatsdropper, and keep sending 'em in to eatsdropper-at-seantimberlake-dot-com.

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Pompous, flamboyant government lackey:
    "We're working with the senate to put the kielbasa on that."

- Eatsdropped by Anita at Grace in West Hollywood

Woman, turning to friends: "There's no Starbucks."
Three friends, incredulously: "No Starbucks?!?!"

- Eatsdropped by yours truly in the SFO international terminal

Woman on cell: "Shit, girl, I don't even dance with my husband like that!"

- Eatsdropped by Alex at the Oakland Farmers Market

Flustered mother of two:
    "God! The next time we come shopping for pyjamas I'm bringing a flask of booze!"

- Eatsdropped by Rebecca at IKEA

Manager: "[Beaujolais] nouveau is like sleeping with a minor. It's the pedophile of wines."

- Eatsdropped by yours truly at Plumpjack Wines

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One year ago today ... "You know when that woman in the Saran dress feeds you grapes on a skewer, then pierces her dress with the skewer? It's like that."