Paella is perhaps Spain’s most iconic and magical dish
and one of nearly infinite variation. If
you ask 10 people what the proper way to make it is, you’ll get 10 different
answers. Mom will cook it differently
than grandma who cooks its differently than grandpa who cooks it differently
than uncle who cooks it differently than auntie. And that’s just in one family.
It also has its own specialized equipment: the wide flat pan used to cook the dish is
called la paella and is thus the
namesake of the dish. They can range
from a foot in diameter to six feet or larger, depending on the amount of
people needing to be fed. Below you’ll
find a picture of a paella gigante, used
to feed over 80 people at a capea 45
minutes outside of Madrid.
The most basic structure is broth, meat or seafood (or
both), rice, and vegetables, which will appear in various proportions in one
way or another. Paella’s cousin fideua
swaps the rice for thin, almost vermicelli-like noodles. While you can get some version of paella in
any part of Spain, the dish originates in Valencia.
A lot of people picture paella
de mariscos or seafood paella when they picture the dish, but actually
the most traditional form, paella
valenciana, uses rabbit (conejo)
and chicken (pollo) as its meats,
along with some vegetables like red bell peppers and snow peas. Another classic element of paella is the
spice saffron, the most expensive spice in the world, which gives the rice dish
its yellow-reddish color and its smoky warmth.
Paella is also, in its very nature, a social affair. There are no single servings. In a restaurant, to order paella requires a
minimum of two people. So omnipresent is
this fact that in the Spanish movie Lucía
y el sexo (Sex and Lucía), the lead character becomes even more depressed
after breaking up with her boyfriend because she cannot order paella alone as
she travels along the Mediterranean coast.
Normally, however, paella is for more than two people, being capable of
feeding the entire family, a whole gaggle of friends and acquaintances, all
from the same pan.
The family that I traveled to Valencia with had a friend who
was entered into a paella contest as part of the divers las Fallas festivities,
and the contest was the apex of paella as social event/party. If one paella can feed 10 people, imagine how
many people can be fed when over 50 different paellas are being cooked over
open flame in the middle of the street, wood smoke mixing with the smells of
every sort of paella you can imagine.
Each paella was a family affair, with everyone from grandmas
to small children donning aprons and helping out, stirring, adding wood to the
fire, preparing the meat, seafood, and vegetable for the proper moment when it
would be added to the alchemical marvel of the dish.
The whole diversity of paella was well-represented: paella valenciana,
paella de mariscos (containing
everything from shrimp to mussels to clams to cockles to prawns and back
again), arroz negro (“black rice”
that achieves its color through the addition of squid ink and which contains
chopped up squid, cuttlefish, maybe even octopus), paella with pork and snails
(caracoles), paella de verduras (paella with vegetables),
etc etc.
At the end of the day, even though it was a contest, it
didn’t matter who won because everyone ate extremely well and everyone was
enjoying wine and beer in the sunshine while firecrackers exploded near and
far.
Happy and full from the contest, later that night we made
our way to a favorite spot of the family, Cervecería Acuarium, famous for their
gin cocktails and bocadillos. The place
was old school in the best way: waiters
and barmen dressed in white and pristine suits, a nautical themed interior with
hard wood predominating. We ended up
going there both nights we were in Valencia.
The first time I had a negroni, an Italian gin cocktail, but the second
night I tried their specialty, a dry gin martini. Gin was poured into a pitcher of ice that was
stirred with a long metal swizzle stick, then a dash (practically a droplet) of
white vermouth was added, and it was finished with a thin slice of lemon
zest.
Strong, smooth, and crisp, the barman asked me whether this
gin martini was better than the ones in America. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it
was my first gin martini ever, so I gave my enthusiastic vote for Aquarium. I toasted the friend we had made earlier at
the paella contest, and we enjoyed the quintessential Bond drink, although in
our case it was stirred and not shaken.
On Sunday morning we went to explore Russafa, one of
Valencia’s most hip and diverse neighborhoods.
If you know Madrid, it’s like a cross between Lavapies and
Malasaña. The first place we stopped was La Conservera, a Portuguese inspired restaurant specializing in canned seafood or conservas in what used to be an old fish market or pescadería,
complete with the original marble display shelf. Below are some examples of the neat and
colorful art that is canned seafood.
Contrary to popular opinion in the US, canned food does not
equal cheap garbage in the Iberian Peninsula.
The canning process results in deliciously tender and flavorful seafood,
normally canned in olive oil, that is divine with a bit of bread. Everything from sardines to mussels to
octopus can be canned, and we tried smoked eel (anguila ahumada) that was excellent. The only other time I’d had eel was in sushi,
and while I liked it then, this was even better.
The next place we went to check out was Ubik Café, a bar/restaurant/café/bookstore/performance
space named after a Philip K. Dick novel.
It was quite a happening place, and I had a housemade vermouth (it was
Sunday after all) and left with a Vila-Matas novel and a tote bag. The place also had a great craft beer
selection, including several offerings from the local Valencian brewery Tyris.
Another Valencian beer worth trying is made by La Soccarada,
which I’ve discussed in glowing terms before, and is called Er Boquerón. It’s brewed with Mediterranean sea water, and
supposedly will not give you a hangover due to its oceanic constitution. I only tried it, so it’s supposed medicinal
properties didn’t take effect, but it’s another unique beer taking advantage of
the geographical bounties of this part of Spain.
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