Spain: Old and New : The Truth About Tapas

Wherever you find yourself in Spain, whatever the time of day, you can always find a cafe or bar in which you can have something simple and satisfying to stave off hunger.

You might find a homemade empanada at a neighborhood market stand in Barcelona or a small casserole of shrimp cooked in garlic and olive oil at a crowded bar in a town square. You may happen upon something as simple as a dish of perfect green olives to accompany a glass of Sherry. It cold be something as rustic as a square of potato omelet on a wood pick, or something as elaborate as a ragout of snails at a tasca, or tavern, in Madrid.

Familiarly called tapas, but often pinchos, this is casual food designed to fulfill simple needs, to fortify oneself in the midst of a busy day or to share with friends over drinks and conversation. Strict definitions don’t apply; practically any savory food can be served as a pincho. The Spanish expression picar algo, “to nibble or bite something,” best explains this enlightened custom, which is taken for granted in Spain; it is integral to the Spanish way of life. It reflects the Spaniard’s tacit acknowledgment that the body and soul need constant nurturing, and that food is a catalyst for conviviality.

Pinchos and tapas vary depending on the establishment and the region of Spain one is in. Often a bar will be known for only a single pincho, for which people will go out of their way to enjoy.

The epitome of this custom is found in Logrono, the capital of Rioja, Spain’s central wine-producing region. In the oldest section of town, there is a little street called Calle del Laurel where there are said to be more bars in the shortest distance than anywhere else in the world. To locals, the street is known as La Senda de los Elefantes, literally “The Elephant’s Trail.” The name describes the ritual of stopping in one bar after another with a crowd of friends, to sample each bar’s specialty along with a glass of house wine or beer, like a hungry, lumbering and slightly tipsy elephant imbibing all through his trunk as he makes his way up the street.

There is a feeling of celebration as crowds of young and old alike throng the narrow streets in passionate conversation and laughter, wandering to one place for pincho moruno (little skewers of spiced meat), to another for embuchados (pork sausages), to Bar Angel for its famous mushrooms cooked with garlic on a hot olive oil-slicked griddle.

In Spain, the word bar has a broader meaning than it does in America. The Spanish bar is a neighborhood meeting place, a second home, that serves a variety of refreshments: coffee, soft drinks and any number of casual foods in addition to alcoholic beverages.

In and around many of the markets throughout Spain, one will find a splendid variant of the local bar, usually little more than a few stools lined up at a counter. Most are family operations that offer a range of simple home-cooked dishes to accommodate the varied needs of the vendors who arrive in the early hours of the morning. Here all definitions of breakfast, lunch and tapas blur. At the market stands, breakfast can be a plate of hearty stew or a strong rum-laced coffee. A mid-morning snack might be grilled calamari or a sandwich of country ham.

The most striking quality of the Spanish way of eating at the market bars is the proprietor’s willingness to accommodate the vagaries of individual hunger. As in the tapas bars, you eat as many or as few dishes as you feel like, in whatever order you please.

In Barcelona, the best example is the Bar Pinocho in La Boqueria, and Juanito, as the proprietor is known, is one of the city’s more famous personalities. Juanito and his family manage to befriend everyone who sits at his counter, which at any one time might include housewives with their bundles from the market, businessmen having lunch, day laborers and a few tourists.

From the very first time I ate at Bar Pinocho, I felt like part of a huge, extended family, and I found myself stopping by daily while I was in Barcelona. “What do you feel like having today, nena?” Juanito would ask. The possibilities for my lunch were everywhere: baskets of wild mushrooms on the counter, fresh sausages hanging from the rafters.

Anna lifted the lid off a huge pot, so I could view (and smell) the day’s specialty, a bean stew. A saffron-laced fish soup steamed in another pot. I asked if I might have only a half-order of gambas a la plancha (grilled prawns). “Why not?” was the reply. “Anything is possible.”

Traditionally, fresh shrimp are cooked in individual cazuelas de barro (earthenware casseroles), and presented with crusty bread to dunk in the garlicky oil.

SHRIMP WITH GARLIC (Gambas al Ajillo)

1 tablespoon coarse sea salt

1 cup water

3/4 pound medium shrimp (about 20), shelled and deveined

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon minced garlic

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper

1 teaspoon dry Sherry vinegar or white wine vinegar

1/4 finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

Stir salt into water in bowl until dissolved. Add shrimp and let soak 5 minutes. Drain and pat dry.

Heat oil over moderately high heat in heavy skillet until hot but not smoking, about 4 minutes. Add shrimp in 1 layer and sprinkle with garlic and red pepper. Cook shrimp, turning once, until opaque, about 1 minute per side. Do not overcook. Stir in vinegar and parsley. Serve at once. Makes 4 servings.

In Catalonia, grilled bread rubbed with tomato and drizzled with olive oil is perhaps the most frequently served snack, a kind of undeclared Catalan national dish. It makes a delicious base for a host of toppings, including anchovy fillets, smoked salmon, sheep’s or goat’s milk cheese or thin slices of dry-cured ham, such as Serrano or prosciutto.

GRILLED BREAD WITH TOMATO (Pa amb Tomaquet)

4 (1/2-inch-thick) slices peasant bread

1 medium clove garlic, halved lengthwise, optional

1 large ripe tomato, halved crosswise

Dash salt

About 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Lightly toast bread slices in toaster, under broiler or on barbecue grill. If desired, rub each slice of bread with cut garlic. Rub cut side of tomato half over 2 of toasts, squeezing tomato lightly to saturate toast with its juices, seeds and little pulp. Repeat with remaining tomato half and 2 slices bread.

Arrange toast on plate. Sprinkle salt on top. Drizzle 3/4 teaspoon olive oil, or more to taste, over each slice. Cut toasts in half, if large. Serve at once. Makes 4 servings.

Piquillo peppers, the sweet red peppers of Navarre, are roasted over grapevines. They have a smoky, spicy flavor and a velvety texture. You can reproduce the sublime flavor of the Spanish piquillo pepper by smoking roasted sweet peppers in a covered skillet. If you don’t want to roast the peppers yourself, you can use a jar of imported piquillo peppers, available at specialty food shops. Serve this dish with slices of baguette or peasant bread, toasted or not.

WOOD-ROASTED SWEET PEPPERS IN OLIVE OIL (Pimientos de Piquillo)

3 medium sweet red peppers

1 (1-inch) piece grapevine cutting or 1/2 teaspoon mesquite chips

1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil

5 medium garlic cloves, thinly sliced

1 tablespoon boiling water

2 teaspoons sweet paprika

1/8 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon sugar

Roast red peppers directly over gas flame or under broiler as close to heat as possible, turning frequently, until charred all over. When cool enough to handle, scrape off blackened skin and remove cores, seeds and ribs. Rinse peppers and pat dry.

Place grapevine cutting on bottom of heavy skillet (preferably cast iron). Fit rack into skillet and place over moderate heat until grapevine starts smoking, about 3 minutes. Arrange peppers on rack, cover and smoke 5 minutes. Transfer to plate to cool slightly. Slice pepper into 3/4-inch-wide strips.

Pour olive oil into heavy medium skillet and place over moderate heat. Add garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until slightly tender, about 2 minutes. Add peppers. Reduce heat to moderately low and cook, tossing occasionally, 15 minutes.

Combine boiling water and paprika in small bowl and set aside 5 minutes.

When peppers are ready, stir in paprika mixture, salt and sugar. Cook, stirring, until peppers are meltingly tender, about 15 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature. Covered peppers can be kept refrigerated up to 5 days. Makes 4 servings.

Almonds fried in olive oil are addictive and far better than the toasted commercial varieties. They are a sensational accompaniment to dry fino Sherry.

OVEN-FRIED ALMONDS (Almendras Fritas)

2 cups whole blanched almonds

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon sugar

Scatter almonds on baking sheet. Drizzle oil on top and toss to coat completely. Roast almonds at 400 degrees 15 to 20 minutes, tossing occasionally, until deep golden brown.

Remove almonds from oven. While still on baking sheet, toss almonds with salt and sugar and set aside to cool.

Spread cooled almonds on several layers of paper towels and blot to remove excess oil. Almonds will keep about 2 weeks in covered container. Makes 2 cups.