Paella - A love story

Mike and I recently celebrated our anniversary. Typically we mark
the occasion with small gifts and dinner out. This year was different. On my constant quest to “shake things up”, I enrolled us in a day-long Spanish cooking class. Mike was game and even seem pleased by the idea.

The class was targeted at English speaking tourists, which felt shameful since it was back tracking my quest for an “authentic” Spanish experience but the TripAdvisor reviews were good enough for me to get over it.

Barnacles

The class started with a tour of the main marketplace in Barcelona and included a review by the chef of the best stalls to buy particular products. Some of the products were familiar, like nuts, spices, fish or fruit. Some were things I had heard about but not seen, like bull penis or goat heads. And some were things that had never

Turkey Eggs

occurred to me to be food, like barnacles or turkey eggs.   I am not sure why it never occurred to me to eat turkey eggs, it just hadn’t. Also, it had never occurred to me that bull meat was different from cattle or cow meat but at the market in Barcelona it gets its own stall. Who knew?

Our class of about 10 people wandered through the market acquiring the food we would use to cook our meal. We bought monkfish carcasses to make broth, razor clams for an appetizer, eggs for crème Catalan (like flan), shrimp and mussels for paella and melon for soup. Each ingredient was rather humble on its own and nothing was terribly special but we were assured it would come together. The class returned to the kitchen and together we made a feast.

Mike and torch

We learned to crisp Serrano ham between baking sheets, the difference between a Spanish and French omelet, how to make fish stock and most importantly for Mike, how to caramelize sugar on top of a dessert using a blow torch.

The pièce de résistance of our cooking was a large paella. We chopped, cleaned, trimmed, stirred and with lots of attention built our lovely, fragrant paella. From rather humble ingredients we created something special. The chef told us that. “yes, he makes paella for every class” but even knowing that it was delicious and felt special because we had made it.

During the whole class we were constantly plied with wine, which contributed to the merriment, but I like to think that the meal was like our marriage: with some attention and work something marvelous is within reach.

Nudists on Rosh Hashana

School started last week. Despite the long days (leaving home before 8am and coming home around 5pm, Lily and Jacob did well and have quickly made friends. Although everything went smoothly, it was busy and intense. To add layers of complexity, Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year holiday, started on Wednesday.

We had aspirations to do a good job marking the New Year. We would have a nice dinner the first night and practice tashlikh the second by throwing bread crumbs into the sea.

The afternoon of erev Rosh Hashana, Mike went to the market and bought a chicken. In the US buying chicken means picking out a package...here it means asking for it to be de-headed and gutted. Mike also found a recipe on-line for honeycake which required converting to Fahrenheit to Celsius and teaspoons to milliliters - it was a little dry but very tasty. Dinner was lovely and we were all quite happy with ourselves  even though we did a bharucha with Fanta-lite (I forgot to get juice) and our candles were votives (forgot Shabbat candles too!).

The second night was more ambitious: our plan was to take a taxi to the beach with a loaf of bread (Spanish baguette for 45 euro-cents) and throw bits into the water to symbolize casting off the sins of the past year. Before casting our sins away we would have a nice dinner beach-side

We had previously had bad experiences eating at the beach. The restaurants are generally tourist focused, and either very expensive or very mediocre. This time we did our research ahead of time and found a place online called Base Nautica (a sailing club) that was known for low-price simple but tasty food.

Usually getting to the beach takes only 15 minutes in a cab. Unfortunately since we left at rush hour it took us more than 45 minutes and over $20 to get there. Ok, so we start a little late. We were dropped off about half a kilometer from the restaurant, so we enjoyed a leisurely evening stroll down the beach. Along the way we found some public exercise equipment (think Spanish Muscle Beach) that the kids had to be pried away from. The beach was beautiful and we marveled at how lucky we were to be there and to be together.

We finally got to Base Nautica  around 7:30. Unfortunately they closed at 7!! This is HIGHLY unusual in Barcelona since most places don't OPEN until 8pm!! Our only choice was to walk around and find another place.

What we found first however was that Club Nautica fronted onto Barcelona’s nude beach. What kind of million-person city has a nude beach? Barcelona. Who goes to such as nude beach? Mostly men. How does one respond upon finding one at a nude beach on Rosh Hashana with one’s family? You walk around and check out the scenery of course. What do you do when you realize that it is probably inappropriate with your children. You leave feeling a little embarrassed for yourself.

We finally found a place for dinner (worse than mediocre) and threw our bread into the water just as it was getting dark. 

This was not our most religious or reverent or observant New Year, but probably one that we will never forget. 

Who Shoppe OMG

By Jacob...

Finally there!!

When we were in London my dad and I decided to go to the Who Shop (a Doctor Who themed store). I am a big fan of Doctor Who and thought it would be an enlightening experience. On the tram from Gatwick Airport I met a kid who said that the Who Shop was great yet he had never been there.

Our route seemed easy… we would take the Hammersmith & City tube line to Upton Park and then walk ten minutes. Unfortunately many of the tube lines were closed for maintenance and we ended up taking four trains instead of one! I was so excited when we finally got to Upton Park I speed walked to and even ran the last few hundred feet to the Who Shop.

In the Tardis

I am sorry to inform you that the Who Shop was a bust. I had watched the 10th and 11th doctors (like James Bonds) but the Who Shop was focused on the first nine. Posters, pens, key chains, and action figures all irrelevant time interests. That huge journey seemed pointless.

There was a Doctor Who museum with a TARDIS for an entrance (pretty cool!!) but even the museum was focused on doctors 1-9. I did like the cool space blasters and awesome guns.  Even though the shop a bust the museum helped made the journey marginally worth it.

After the Who Shop we walked dejectedly to a Tesco Express (English equivalent of 7/11) and got wraps and sodas. That was probably the best part of the morning

It was quite an adventure and I am glad that I got to spend the time with my dad but I would not recommend it to any one who has not seen the first 9 doctors!

Cheers from Jacob

Burkas and Golden Almonds

When most people travel they head for major points of historical interest. We try to make time for the "important" places but often we find ourselves visiting shops as well  to explore local household products, cuisine, etc. A recent trip to the UK (England, Wales and Scotland) proved no different. While we did hit hot spots like The British Museum, castles and more, it kicked off with a visit to the world's ultimate super store, Harrods.

Mike and Jacob were appalled that Lily and I wanted to go to Harrods first but we couldn't help ourselves. After a breakfast of baked beans, the girls headed off to the Knightsbridge tube stop while the boys headed to the "Dr Who Shop". I anticipated that we would spend an hour admiring the pretty cheeses and cupcakes and then meet the boys for a more serious exploration of the Tower of London. Turns out I was wrong.

We went through the golden doors of Harrods and into a cloud of perfume. Initially it looked and smelled like any other high-end department store in Chicago but we noticed an immediate difference. The shop was filled with women in beautiful, embroidered black burkas and on their arms were well tooled designer handbags. Peeking out from narrow slits in the fabric covering their faces were the discerning eyes of very sophisticated consumers. The suit-wearing English salespeople scurried to help them with their every need. Lily and I were ignored. Clearly the cachet of being American is OVER! For years I have read about the influence of Middle Eastern oil money and the shopping of fasionista Muslim women, and it is not a myth.

A golden almond $45/lb

When we went to the ladies room a woman in a burka had removed her veil and was facing the mirror. Lily and I could see her reflection and we could not take our eyes off of her. I embarrassed but I couldn't help it. She was beautiful and had so much more mystique than any woman I had ever seen before.

Since my last visit (about 14 years ago) Harrods has reoriented itself to cater to a broader audience. The beautiful cakes, bread and seafood still there but now one can buy dates, Halal meats, persimmons and halvah. There are still rows of chocolates but now beside them are candied almonds, apricots and Turkish delight. Harrods has followed consumers needs from other parts of the world as well. One can now find a beautiful array of sushi, caviar, vodka and more, which I am guessing does not end up in the bellies of Haggis-loving Scots or Yorkshire pudding-ingesting English.

Stuffed animals galore

Mike and Jacob met us in Knightbridge. The "Who Shop" had been a bust so they wanted to visit Harrods too. We ended up spending the rest of the afternoon exploring the store again, including seeing the amazing stuffed animals, the pet shop (real dogs and cats!), Harry and Hermione's wands, a $50,000 TV and sooooo much more.

We never made it to the Crown Jewels but they are static while Harrods is a reflection of a small part of the changing world that we are an itty-bitty part of.

Sushi

Meeting the Neighbors

Today I had an opportunity to meet a few of our neighbors. Although we have lived here a month many people from Barcelona evacuate the city during August so until now our building has been quiet and largely devoid of life. Happily the people I met were kind, helpful and even spoke a little English. Helpful turned out to be the operative word today.

A couple of hours ago I heard a weird buzzing and then Jacob’s voice saying, “Help. Help! Help!! Moooommmm I need help!!!”.  This was a little odd since he had just left to buy bread. I couldn’t find him in the apartment so I went to the apartment hallway and yelled for him.. “Jacob?” He replied, “Mom, I’m stuck in the elevator”. He was right, he was stuck between the 3rd and 4th floors and there was nothing I could do to get him out.

I ran down to the ground floor but our ‘portero’ (doorman) was gone for lunch/siesta. It was 2pm and he was not scheduled to return until 4:30…this is Spain after all.

I then heard motion in the hallway and ran back up to recruit help. I cornered a young woman (Sophia) and explained the situation in my terrible Spanish. She tried to calling the elevator company but couldn't get a call through. I then heard another person who I chased down. This was Alberto. He was also very helpful. Together Sophia and Alberto found the cell number of the portero and stayed with me and Jacob until help arrived.

Throughout the experience Jacob remained calm. Lily was able to slip his iPod through a crack in the door and he happily laid down on the floor and started playing games.

After about 30 minutes the portero was found. He used his magical key to pry open the doors of the elevator. The elevator was still stuck between floors so Jacob climbed, said “thank you” to his rescuers and headed out to get his baguette. He was very hungry.

I then spent a little more time getting to know Alberto. Turns out he had studied in New York and Milwaukee, and his son had just recently been in Madison. Sophia and I exchanged pleasantries as well before waving goodbye.

I am not happy that Jacob got stuck but I was very pleased to have finally met some neighbors. If we have another emergency maybe somebody will invite us to dinner.

Sometimes It Is About the Destination

The past few days we have had a great time with the Sieber-Schaefer family. They were our first guests and we had a fun time doing some of our favorite (so far!) things. Yesterday we decided to visit the town of Sitges about 40 minutes south of Barcelona. Before embarking on our journey we had read the guide books and many websites and it seemed like a straightforward journey. Cab to the train station, C2 or R2 train to Sitges. It didn't seem very hard.

Nick in his Sitges inspired outfit.

We arrived at the train station and waited in line to buy tickets from the automated machine... Whoops, there are two train lines and we needed the other machine. Stood in line again and then become confused by the machine. Thankfully a smelly man who spoke English offered to help for one euro (nice business plan!). We finally had our tickets in hand.

We headed towards down to the platform and were confused if the train already in the station was the right one. Yes, no, yes, no, yes.... After some ambivalence we hopped on, convinced it was the right one. After about 15 minutes we realized we were going in the wrong direction. Crap! We now had to jump off, take another train back to Barcelona and finally get on the RIGHT one.

This kind of thing happens to us with regularity here. It sometimes feels like a full time job to just go with the flow. I know intellectually that we need to slow down and let things happen. I also know that it is a good life lesson for the children to learn that all is not lost when there are bumps in the road. But sometimes  I just want to get there DAMN IT!!

Thankfully Sitges was lots of fun. We rented a paddle boat with a slide, admired scantily clad Europeans, had a massage and indulged on gelato and caipirinhas. The return trip was flawless and we all arrived home happy, sandy and tired.

I know that people say it is "all about the journey", and generally I agree. But sometimes, especially on hot days with a load of junk and eight people, it is about the destination.

P.S. Lily says that I should make sure that people know that the boat was a car boat with rainbow wheels and flowers. Very pretty!!

New Undies

I need new undies. 

Mike and I joined our local gym and it has a nice locker room where I shower after a workout. After a few visits I realized that I have the dowdiest panties in the place. Initially I thought it was coincidental that on each visit the women around me were wearing fabulous underwear but as I walked around I realized that ALL of the women we in on it…even the older, wider, droopier women. I have never spent much time considering underwear and have always purchased what I considered to be the relatively “progressive” bikini style. I will admit that it was “Jockey for Her” or “Hanes” in the healthy 100% cotton, but bikini nonetheless. The women here are all wearing panties in nice colors and lots of lace.

In the US there seems to be an endless supply of self-help articles, books and talk shows that provide tips for keeping the romance alive and passion kindled into even the longest of marriages. Public displays of affection are an indulgence of the young and long married couples rarely touch in public. In Spain it is a little different, at the park and pool couples with children are engaged with each other and not just their brood. Walking through the neighborhood one finds many elderly couples walking arm and arm. In Spain romance appears to still be alive and flourishing. Is it something in the water or is it the panties?

In the spirit of travel adventure I am now working up my courage for a trip to my local “Intimissimi”.