Pintxo-pote, San Sebastián

Pintxo-pote is a Basque institution. A selection of bars offer a drink and a pintxo for a small fixed price, usually €2, one night each week. In San Sebastián, the main pintxo-pote scene is on Thursday nights in Gros.  The hub is around Plaza Cataluña, Bermingham Kalea, San Frantzisko Kalea and Zabaleta Kalea.It starts at 19:00 and goes on until around 23:00, or until the food runs out, whichever happens first.

Most bars have signs outside saying they offer pintxo-pote, and some have signs saying they very definitely do not. You can usually tell which is which anyway by the crowds and debris outside. These are not the high-end basque pintxos that tourists elbow each other for in the Old Town, but there are some pretty tasty things on offer. The pintxos are lined on the counter of the bar ready to go. The drink on offer is generally wine, beer or cider.

I have zero photos of our pintxo-pote crawl. Trying to take anything close to a half-decent photo holding a flimsy plastic plate and being jostled by surfers and students is tricky, but here is a round-up of our pintxo-pote experience.

The first thing to be aware of is that the wine on offer is usually pretty disgusting. Sadly, txacoli is rarely part of the deal. The cider and beer, on the other hand, were good everywhere we tried them. Basque cider is light, slightly effervescent and crisp. Sticking with beer and cider is also a smart idea if you’re planning to try a lot of places, and don’t like waking up the next day in a bush with croquette crumbs across your cheeks and grease-smeared hands.

We started in La Plata, just off Plaza Cataluña. The options here were pretty good, and we settled on a squid ink croquette, and some sort of delicious chewy pastry filled with melted cheese that looked a little like a doughnut. This was a stalwart of pintxo-pote spreads as it turned out. They tend towards the stodgier end of things, presumably to soak up all the alcohol. Next up was Bar Mendi on San Frantzisko Kalea which offered the standard bread pintxos, as well as small plates of paella, patatas bravas and ensaladilla rusa. We went for a plate of bravas, and a pintxo with ham, goats cheese and crispy onion. We then moved on to Bora Gerri, on Kalea Bermingham. This had a selection of deep fried things like croquettes and prawns on skewers, as well as some bread tapas, so we went for three prawns on a skewer, and some txistorra sausage on bread.

At this point we needed a break and a sit-down, because unlike most of the crowd, we are not in our twenties anymore. The streets had become a sea of discarded plastic plates and cups, the pavements filled with inebriated students smoking a seemingly endless amount of roll-ups. Fortunately, we spotted Essencia wine bar on Zabaleta Kallea, a glorious place with a giant list of wines by the glass, and, unusually for San Sebastian, a great sherry list too. We decided to go for one more pintxo-pote, which ended up being a fairly lacklustre empanadilla at Bar Labrit opposite, before calling it a night.

Pintxo-pote offerings do not match the kind of gourmet pintxos you get in the old town, but this is the Basque Country, so they are still way better than what you should be able to get for this price. San Sebastián can be a pricey place, but a night out and a meal for €10 is an offer that can’t be missed, and an experience you won’t get in other regions of Spain.

 

 

Galicia Guide: Part 1

Galicia is a part of Iberia which is largely overlooked by non-Spaniards. Unlike the images I tend to associate with Spain, it’s green and lush, with milder temperatures and beautiful beaches and rias (estuaries dotting the coast). It’s a cheap place to visit, with a glass of great local wine costing no more than €2.5o, and lots of great local seafood, as well as good rail connections between the major towns.  I couldn’t find a lot written about Galicia, so I’m putting up a mini guide to the places I visited and enjoyed.

Santiago de Compostela

Santiago de Compostela is the best known of the Galician cities for tourists. The end of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route across Northern Spain, it is packed to the gills with tired looking pilgrims and hikers. The prices reflect this, and it was the most expensive place we stayed in Galicia, which is still pretty cheap by Irish standards. It is breathtakingly beautiful, with dramatic gothic buildings, winding streets, and lovely squares.

Scallops are traditional here to mark the end of the pilgrimage, but fish of all kind play a big part. Pulpo a feira, boiled octopus cut in slices and sprinkled with paprika,  features on every menu, and at the local market there is a guy with a big pot of ocotopus boiling all day ready for people to buy a tentacle as a snack. We tried it first at a great local place recommended by our concierge, La Bodeguilla de San Roque along with a tangy stew of prawns, oyster mushrooms and seaweed, and a plate of salt cod croquetas.

The next night we returned to the central market for a small tasting menu of fresh fish at the Abastos Taberna at the market. Portions were tiny (think one razor clam per person) but the food was very fresh and elegant, with subtle flavours to accentuate the fish. At €21 a head, it was the most expensive meal we had, but the staff and atmosphere were lovely. Afterwards we joined the crowd of locals drinking wine on benches outside, fuelled with mini pinchos like a warm crab cake. Each evening, we started out in our hotel, Costa Vella, which had the most beautiful garden which was open to non-guests. They have a small cafe and bar there, where you can sit with a plate of olives and a glass of wine and catch the evening sun. This was probably my favourite bit of Santiago and I was so busy enjoying it that I forgot to take photos, but trust me, it is wonderful.

 

Cambados

Cambados is a small, pretty coastal town known as the home of Albarino wine. The old quarter is very small but lovely, and dotted with lively tapas bars. Being perfectly honest, this is probably somewhere to spend an afternoon rather than stay, and it turned out  to be very difficult to reach by public transport unless you come from Santiago. Buses in Galicia have a habit of not turning up, or turning up late, and their main saving grace is being extremely cheap. They also alternate between saying where they have come from, and where they are going on the front, so you never know where it is actually en-route to.

We did find a truly lovely restaurant  in Cambados, hidden in a walled garden beside the beautiful Pazo de Fefinanes, which made the trip worthwhile. The Terraza of Bodega Gil Armada served raciones of fresh fish, salads and empanadas for very reasonable prices, all under the shade of huge magnolia trees. The vineyards which produce the Gil Armada wine are visible in the distance, and a glass of their crisp Albarino cost €2.50 (the standard price for glass of good wine in Galicia we discovered). We tried some pimientos de padron, pan fried local green peppers sprinkled with salt, and were given pinchos of their mussels with vinaigrette and a mussel empanada. Later, we wandered through town and tried a few more spots, including a tiny wine bar where the lady behind the bar produced two freshly cooked mini hamburgers with manchego to accompany our midnight glass of wine.

 

 

 

 

Razor Clams with Gremolata, Crispy Breadcrumbs and Aioli

When I lived in Leiden, one of my favourite things about the weekend was wandering around the market that takes over the main canal through town on a Saturday. The only part I skipped over was the one corner of the market was dedicated entirely to fish. This part of the market sold all kinds of fresh fish to cook, as well as raw herring you eat whole in much the same way as you would down a shot and kibbeling (miscellaneous deep fried white fish). All of this is presided over by some ever watchful seagulls, who will happily grab the food out of your hands given half the chance.

Now that I’ve been converted to fish, I love browsing all the stalls to see what unusual things they have on offer. On my last visit, after careful examination of the stands, we bought a bundle of razor clams, never having tried them before, and unsure of what to do. When I googled razor clam recipes, I was a little concerned that they all mentioned discarding any clams that were open. All of the clams we’d bought were open, with the clams sliding out one end. Just as I was starting to wonder if we’d been duped, a piece by Giorgio Locatelli came to the rescue, explaining that the best way to tell if the clams are alive or not is to tickle the feet. We tentatively tried this with one clam which immediately leaped away. We ended up with an entire plate of clams wriggling and jumping in their shells. It was a little bit creepy, but at least we knew they were fresh.

Serves 2 as a light meal with bread.

Ingredients

• 350g razor clams
• 3 garlic cloves, chopped
• 150ml white wine
• 3 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
• 1 tablespoon grated lemon zest
• 3 slices of crusty bread, torn into very small pieces
• 1/2 quantity aioli
• olive oil

Method

• Clean the razor clams.
• Check to make sure they are alive by tickling the bit of the clam sticking out from the shell; it should quickly recoil.
• Make the aioli as per the linked instructions.
• To make the gremolata, mix the parsley, lemon zest and 1 teaspoon of finely chopped garlic.
• Fry the bread crumbs in 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium high heat until crispy.
• In a large pan with a lid, fry all but one teaspoon of the chopped garlic in some oil until it starts to colour.
• Add the wine and bring to the boil.
• Add the clams, put on the lid and cook for three minutes.
• Remove the clams after three minutes, and serve drizzled with a little of the cooking liquid and topped with the gremolata, breadcrumbs and aioli.

Butter Beans with Black Pudding, Pine Nuts and Sultanas

The last few weeks have gone past in a bit of a blur. I moved back to my home city of Dublin after nearly five years away, started college/work and have been finding my feet. I suppose it is appropriate enough then that this post is a quick and easy recipe using a very traditional Irish ingredient.

Black pudding is not (as I have seen on some websites) a dessert, but a blood sausage traditionally eaten for breakfast. Fry-ups of sausage, eggs, rashers (bacon), black and white pudding are a pretty traditional Irish breakfast, although not one people have every day or even every week. There are some other more controversial components like tomatoes, mushrooms, baked beans, hash browns  fried bread or potato farls (a kind of fried potato bread), and everyone has their strong opinions on these. More recently, these have been adapted into the breakfast roll, a terrifying Irish delicacy involving cramming all of the above into a baguette along with ketchup and brown sauce. Managing to eat one without most of it ending up down your front requires a combination of ingenuity,flexibility and luck that few possess. I’ve never given it a go, but have seen better people than me try and fail.

I’m not a huge fan of fry-ups, but I really missed black pudding while I was away. It is quite spicy, a bit like haggis, and utterly delicious as long as you’re not too squeamish about what it’s made of. This recipe was adapted from one by an Irish chef, Paul Flynn, using things we had around the kitchen. The butter beans were a bit mushed when they came out of the can, so it ended up a bit like a hash, but it tasted great. You could use any kind of beans for this. Morcilla or boudin noir would be good substitutes for black pudding, or any kind of strong sausage. This makes four small tapas type portions.

Ingredients

• 1x 400g tin of butter beans, drained
• 100g of black pudding, chopped into smallish cubes
• 1 red onion, finely chopped
• 3 cloves of garlic, crushed
• 1 tbs toasted pine nuts
• 2 tbs sultanas
• 1 tablespoon chopped parsley
• 1 tablespoon snipped chives
• Cider, white wine or sherry vinegar, to taste (lemon juice would work too)
• Olive oil

Method

• Heat the oil in a large pan over a medium heat.
• Saute the onion for 3-4 minutes until softened.
• Add the garlic for an extra 2 minutes.
• Toss in the beans, black pudding, and sultanas and cook for another 2-3 minutes.
• Remove from the heat, toss in the pinenuts and herbs.
• Dress with a bit of vinegar to sharped according to your taste.
• Drizzle with a bit more olive oil if you like.
• Season and serve warm.

Mussels with Fennel Alioli

I have a special place in my heart for mussels. Mussels were my gateway drug to shellfish. It started at a party. There were people to impress, I had a reputation to maintain. I tried a smoked mussel tentatively, nervously, surprised at how good it felt. After that came scallops. Then I moved on to harder stuff. Regular clams were followed Razor clams. Raw scallop by raw sea urchin. At this stage, there isn’t a mollusc I can say no to.

Mussels are pretty universal in any European country with a coastline. You find them north and south, in warm waters and cold. They are also the most inexpensive of shellfish, at least anywhere I’ve lived. Though not, of course, anywhere near as cheap as Jamie Oliver seems to think. Here in Denmark you can usually get two kilos for about 35 kroner, which is pretty affordable by Danish standards. They come fresh from the Limfjord, an hour north of Aarhus. It’s better known internationally for its oysters, but Limfjord mussels are beautifully blue shelled creatures, very plump and sweet. You can see the incredible blue in my wallpaper photo, which was taken on the edge of the Limfjord.

Mussels with alioli is a Spanish inspired tapa. Mussels are served all over Spain in various tapa styles. This makes enough for 4 as a meal with bread or frites, 8 as a tapa, or a nice big sharing plate for a party.

Ingredients

For the mussels

• 2kg of mussels
• 150ml wine
• 2 teaspoons butter
• 1 onion, chopped
• 1 leek, chopped, white and light green parts only
• 3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
• 1 tablespoon chopped parsley

For the alioli

• 1 egg yolk, at room temperature
• Approximately 100ml to 150ml of neutral oil like sunflower
• 1 clove garlic, chopped
• 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
• 1 teaspoon white wine vinegar
• 2 teaspoons toasted fennel seeds
• Salt, pepper,lemon juice and honey, to taste

Method

• First make the alioli.
• Toast the fennels seeds in a dry pan over medium heat until fragrant.
• Put the egg yolk, garlic, mustard and vinegar in a large bowl and whisk together.
• Using an electric whisk, or hand whisk if you’re incredibly strong or masochistic, slowly whisk in the oil teaspoon by teaspoon.
• Whisk well for 30 seconds to 1 minute before adding next teaspoon.
• The alioli will slowly emulsify over the course of about five minutes, but you have to be very careful not to add too much oil at once or it won’t work.
• Once it is nice and thick add the fennel seeds.
• Season with lemon juice, salt, pepper and (if you like it a bit sweeter) honey to your taste.
• Clean and check the mussels.
• Clean by scrubbing under running water.
• Any open mussels, tap them on the side of the sink.
• The mussels should close up quickly.
• If the mussels don’t close up throw them out, they’re dead.
• Saute the onion and leek in the butter on a low-medium heat in a pan large enough to hold the mussels.
• After 3-4 minutes, add the garlic.
• After 5 minutes, add the wine.
• Turn up the heat, add the mussels and put a lid on the pan.
• Cook for 3-4 minutes until the mussels are all open (there may be a few that don’t, throw them out, they’re dead too), shaking the pan every minutes or so.
• Remove the mussels, take off one side of the shell of each and arrange on a plate.
• Add a half teaspoon of aioli to each mussel.
• Sprinkle with parsley and serve.

Morito, London

When I first went to London, suitcase and CV in hand in 2011, the first place I went was Clerkenwell. I knew exactly two things about Clerkenwell. It was where my cousin lived and so it contained the air mattress I would be sleeping on for my job hunt, and it was where Moro was. My first week there, I went to Moro with said cousin, armed with my parent’s credit card. I knew whatever job I found probably wouldn’t be able to fund regular visits, but next to it they had recently opened its smaller and cheaper tapas offshoot, Morito. When I went through the doors, it was love at first sight. I loved the buzzy, colourful, miniscule industrial space. I loved the eclectic style of the waitresses, the elegant carafes the wine was served in and most of all, I loved the menu. The menu made it feel like home.

Back in Ireland, Moro and Casa Moro had been prized members of the family cookbook collection for years. My mum regularly made their tabbouleh, and my dad was a dab hand at all kinds of mezzes and tapas gleaned from their pages. London was my third home in three years, and a pretty scary change from the quiet canals of Leiden. When I saw a menu I could practically recite, I knew London was going to work out. I ended up living around the corner from Morito in a building I am almost certain will be condemned and demolished in the not too distant future, a crumbling place drunkenly careening sideways into the building next to it. I made the London calculation of bad flat, good area, and Morito became a regular haunt. I think almost every visitor I had was brought there (in part as apology for not warning them my house was filled with black mold), and my housemates and I needed few excuses to go.

I can’t really call this a review. I have been to Morito so many times, and I am probably blind to its faults. Objectively, it is one of the most uncomfortable places to eat, it has four tables bundled in on top of each other with wooden stools, and bar space. The service can be slightly inattentive, though always friendly. Some of the tapas are miniscule compared to the price (I’m looking at you, berenjenas con miel). But it’s the only place in London I returned to time and time again, and when I go back to London I have a list of two things I have to do: see my friends, and go to Morito.

There is pretty much nothing I can’t recommend on the menu, but here are some of my favourites: croquettas con jamon, any form of patata they serve (mojo, alinada or brava), the tortilla, the bread with the perfectly blended harissa, beetroot borani, anything they make with chickpeas, chicarrones de cadiz,spiced  lamb with aubergine, tabbouleh, any time they have langoustines, and the crab and Jerez montadito. The portions seem small when they first appear, but with a basket of bread to share, I usually find three tapas ample if one of them is a potato dish. The house wine demonstrates someone who takes pride in their wine list. I have never have a bad meal there, and hopefully nor will any of my readers.

Morito

Exmouth Market

EC1R 4QE

La Vara, Cobble Hill, Brooklyn

I would like to call this post La Vara: The Best Restaurant in New York, but that is probably a bit unfair since I was only there a week. I suppose it is safer to say the best restaurant I ate at in New York, by a long stretch. A small space on a quiet leafy street of brownstones in Cobble Hill, it is a relatively new opening serving Spanish and North African inspired tapas.

Berenjenas con Miel

There is of course a slight personal bias here. Tapas with Moorish influences are one of my favourite things to eat. I had as many meals as my paycheck would allow in Morito, my local tapas place in London and was never once bored. La Vara seems to have very much the same vibe. Slightly cramped, stylish and minimalist space? Lively bar? Located in quiet residential area beloved of the intelligentsia? A limited booking system that means you turn up an hour early and then get slightly tipsy in a local bar waiting for your table?  Check, check, check, check.

Escalavida

A group of four, we arrived after a gruelling hour wait drinking possibly the best cocktails I’ve ever had at Red Gravy nearby and crumpled into our table at half nine on a Wednesday. The size of the portions and the size of the group meant we could sample a fairly good selection of the menu. We had about 2-3 tapas each, all shared, which was absolutely more than enough (I saw Yelpers complaining that the portions meant you needed to order about 8 each, I find this slightly terrifying). Some portions were larger than others, but most were of the traditional saucer sized variety.

Ramps with Romesco

There were a healthy amount of specials available, all explained and recommended by our friendly Spanish waitress and we tried a few of these. Steamed ramps appeared in a brown paper bag we had to cut open, accompanied by a rich romesco sauce, the American take on the traditional Catalan calçot dish. Migas (of the Spanish, not tex mex variety) were a deliciously morish and large plate of crispy fried Chorizo, breadcrumbs and caramelized onions. I decided against ordering the berenjenas con miel, fried aubergines with cheese and honey, after an underwhelming experience with the same in Morito. When my Dad ordered them, I demolished them. The aubergine had been peeled and sliced into batons, the sauce, a mix of manchego and a creamy Mozzarella like cheese whose name escapes me, was the perfect blend of sweet, tangy and creamy.

Each dish that came out seemed better than the last. Alcachofa, fried artichokes with anchovy aioli were just the right mix of crispy and melting, the aioli having enough anchovy to give it a bite without being so much as to put off someone like me who doesn’t really like them. The cordero, cumin roasted lamb, tasted like a confit, with an addictive zingy preserved lemon and date condiment. Pan amb tomaca, the traditional tomato bread had a twist of mojama (air cured tuna) and nori. Escalavida, a traditional vegetable stew was paired with a light tahini sauce, an unusual take that combined richness with the fresh, lush taste of the vegetables. The croquettas were the only unremarkable dish of the night, being absolutely fine, but not amazing or a patch on those at Morito.

Pan amb Tomaca

We finished off, although by now thoroughly full, with two desserts. Olive oil ice-cream with sea salt tasted exactly like its ingredients, in the best possible way, though was not to my taste to be honest. The other dessert, a special, involved an elegant and light black sesame macaron and many other things I can’t remember.

Olive oil ice cream with sea salt

While the prices range from low to high, the bill for all the food with wine and sherry for four people came to a pretty reasonable (by New York standards) $230 which is worth noting as many reviews said you’d need to spend at least 100 a head to manage here. We spent the rest of our time in New York deliberating whether to return but never did. There is a danger of attempting to recreate the amazing experience of the first time trying something wonderful on holiday which can never really be repeated. But if I lived in Brooklyn, I would come here as often as my paycheck allowed.

La Vara, 268 Clinton St  Brooklyn, NY 11201, United States

+1 718-422-0065

The Easy Last Minute Canape- Goats Cheese, Fig and Prosciutto Parcels

This is a staple Christmas/New Year canape at my parents house. I think it is a Nigella Lawson recipe and is easy and requires no cooking, and the ingredients can be bought in most supermarkets, in case anyone is trying to throw together a last minute New Years Eve party. This makes 3 large dinner platefuls, so scale up or down accordingly.

Ingredients

• 320G parma ham slices
• 250g dried figs
• 200g soft rindless goats cheese

Method

• Chop each parma ham slice into 2 or 3 pieces, depending on size, so you should have pieces around the size of a credit card.
• Place 1/2 a teaspoon of goats cheese, and 1/8 piece of fig on each.
• Fold the ham around the fig and goats cheese to make a parcel.

P.S. For all Londoners, Canalcook is part of a guestblog today at Glaslondon on top London things in 2011.

Baked Scallops with Spiced Tomato and Chorizo (Vieras al horno)

I seem to be going through a scallop moment right now. They are very quick to cook, taste very rich but are actually very healthy (low fat, high protein) and they are pretty much the first fish I have figured out that I really like, as opposed to tolerate when deep fried into oblivion. I’m just back from a trip to Venice, where I managed to get some scallop shells from a restaurant (weirdly, they are not that easy to get with scallops unless you have a specialised fishmonger nearby).Due to Ryanair weight limits on luggage, my boyfriend very kindly agreed to bring them over state borders in his shorts pockets, making a rather hilarious clacking noise which led to many disconcerted stares from our fellow passengers (nothing is more uncomfortable in air travel than an unexplained and unidentifiable noise).

This is a very quick and beautiful looking dish. It would make a great dinner party starter as it looks complicated and time consuming, but really is only about 15 minutes of work, and you can pre-prep them and just throw in the oven at the last minute. I am also having a bit of a moment with Rick Stein’s new Spanish cookbook, where I got these from, it has yet to throw me a bad recipe, and they are all relatively easy. I could not source guandillo chilli’s, so I used my old favourite smoked paprika instead. Serves 4 as a starter

Ingredients

• 8 large scallops
• 2 tomatoes, chopped
• 70g chorizo, chopped
• 1 teaspoon smoked paprika
• 1 roasted red pepper (from a jar is fine), chopped
• 3 shallots, finely chopped
• 2 garlic cloves, chopped
• a handful of breadcrumbs
• olive oil

Method

• Preheat the oven to 200C.
• fry the shallots and chorizo on a medium heat in a splash of oil for 8 or so minutes, adding the garlic for the last two.
• Add the tomatoes, pepper, and paprika, season, and simmer for 3 minutes.
• Clean the scallops.
• Spoon the sauce equally between the 8 shells (use ramekins if you can’t find shells).
• Slice the scallops in half horizontally and place on top of the sauce.
• lightly season.
• Top with breadcrumbs tossed in olive oil.
• Bake for 8-9 minutes (the crumbs should be golden, the scallops a tiny bit coloured at the edges and springy)

Warm Beetroot Salad with Cumin

This recipe has kind of evolved from one for a dish from Le Reminet restaurant in Paris, one of my favourites. It is one of the first dishes I mastered, owing to a teenage boyfriend who eschewed all vegetables with the exception of beetroot .All dishes put in front of him were dissected with all the precision of the state pathologist.Thus, I cook this from memory and am not entirely sure how far I have deviated from the original.It is an unusual dish, in that in can fit in as part of a Spanish tapas menu (I had something very similar recently in Brindisa), as part of a mezze (Moro also have a similar recipe) or as a Scandinavian side dish to accompany gravad lax (I am told, I have never actually managed to bring myself to eat gravad lax). It can be made with yoghurt, creme fraiche or sour cream, and a variety of herbs , such as flat parsley for Middle Eastern, dill or chives for Scandinavian, tarragon for Spanish, really whatever is to hand. I have also used it as the base for a stir fry with cashews and kale. It is also lovely with some goats cheese and salad leaves ,omitting the yoghurt/creme fraiche/sour cream. It is a genuinely versatile, easy dish, with a fairly spectacular colour. If you are a messy eater, you may want to stick to dark coloured clothes for this one.

Serves four as a side.

Ingredients

• 200g cooked beetroot, in 1cm cubes
• 2 teaspoons roasted ground cumin (or just powdered cumin)
• 1 hefty tablespoon of selected dairy product
• 1 tablespoon wine vinegar
• 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
• 2 cloves garlic
• olive oil
• 1 bunch herbs of your choice

Method

• Saute the beetroot over a medium heat in a saucepan in some oil.
• Once the beetroot turns bright pink (3-5 minutes), add the vinegars, and cook until reduced completely
• Add the cumin and garlic, toss, and cook for 30 seconds.
• Remove from the heat, stir in the cream/creme.
• Season and serve warm.