The Truth About Tapas

As one who has spent a good deal of time in Spain, I’m a little flummoxed by the prevailing popularity of the term “tapas” outside of the context of Spanish (as in Spain) food. It’s odd because Spanish cuisine is to Americans perhaps the most obscure of any gastronomy on the European continent. Yet the term “tapa” has made its way into common parlance, having been widely coopted to mean anything that is bite-sized and served before the main course, or instead of it. These days you even have “tapas” listed on menus of Asian restaurants.

All well and good, but it raises a question: Why does the word “tapas” seem so much more appealing than “appetizers”? This was recently the subject of a lively discussion over a dinner of, well, tapas at Manena Fayos’ house. Fayos, even after almost 20 years in California, remains a homesick Spaniard, which by my estimation is pretty much the only kind of Spaniard you’ll ever find living outside of the mother country. Fayos started making tapas to satisfy her own cravings, but as friends sampled them and word got around, she found herself pulled to start a catering business, Menu Madrid. Her enthusiasm for tapas borders on the fanatical; before us lay a spread that included mushrooms sauteed with garlic and sherry, a trove of assorted olives, clams in white wine with garlic and parsley, garlic shrimp, grilled cuttlefish with garlic and parsley, marinated pork skewers, chicken livers in cognac sauce . . . . Maybe she got a little carried away, but no one was complaining.

A tapa is more of a concept than a specific item of food, and there are hundreds of varieties. The verb tapar means “to cover up,” and lore has it that the custom began when some enterprising bar owners in 19th century Spain started putting slices of bread or cured ham over customers’ drinks to keep the flies out. They then began adding such enticements as olives, almonds, chorizo and Manchego cheese. A tapa can be most anything, as long as it is small and comes as a surprise. Contrary to most versions you find around town, tapas need not be finger food. I’ve even had sauteed spinach and small servings of stew. This is why there’s a little bit of Christmas infusing any trip to a Spanish bar. You never know what you’re going to get next.

Over dinner, I raised the question of just what the difference was between tapas and hors d’oeuvres or appetizers. We nibbled on this for a few minutes and decided that tapas, whatever form they take, are really a state of mind. “Excitement tends to gather around tapas in a way that it doesn’t around appetizers,” Fayos said. “It’s more of a social way of eating.”

And a tapas party is a fine way of entertaining, perfectly suited to a sunny summer day in the backyard. Most tapas are not labor intensive. Many can be made ahead of time and some require only a touch of last-minute preparation. A good source for recipes is the book “Tapas: The Little Dishes of Spain,” by Penelope Casas. Or for starters, so to speak, you can try Fayos’ recipe for montaditos de pimientos. A montadito--essentially the Spanish version of a canape--is any tapa that uses a diagonal slice of baguette as a foundation. It is often spread with alioli, the Catalan answer to aioli. The variations--like layers of Spanish ham, arugula and fresh fig--are endless. Although it’s still beyond me how something as un-Iberian as Japanese cucumber could qualify as tapas.

*

Montaditos de Pimientos con alioli

Serves 6 to 8

4 yellow peppers

4 red peppers

2-3 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

1 crusty baguette

1 cup mayonnaise (commercial or homemade)

4-6 cloves garlic, pressed

(additional 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil, if using commercial mayonnaise)

Cut peppers in half, remove hearts and stems, wash and seed. Slice lengthwise into 1-inch squares. Place peppers on baking sheet, brush with 2-3 tablespoons olive oil and sprinkle with salt. Bake at 275 degrees until soft, 45 minutes to 1 hour. Remove from oven and allow to cool. Slice baguette diagonally into 18-20 1/4-inch slices. Toast bread in 375-degree oven on baking sheet for 5 minutes.

To make alioli, whisk together mayonnaise, pressed garlic and olive oil, if using. Spread ailioli on toasted baguette. Top with three slices of peppers, alternating colors. Serve.

*

Martin Booe last wrote for the magazine about maitre d’s.