Oh Valencia!

If you were really craving a classic cheese steak, where would you go? How about deep dish pizza, or maybe authentic sourdough bread? Any American could easily rattle off Philly, Chicago, and San Francisco. Ask a Spaniard where to go for paella and instantly they’ll tell you to do yourself a favor and make the trip to Valencia.

Valencia y Espana

On the southeastern coast of Spain you’ll find sprawling beaches, gorgeous architectural feats, and a restaurant on every corner that offers the famous Spanish rice dish paella. Needless to say, my roommates and I took the advice of our señora and made the trip this weekend.

Top to bottom: The City Hall,  L'Hemisferic IMAX, and The Cathedral of Valencia

I got a tan, ate some terrific seafood, and saw some really spectacular things in the city. My only complaint was the paella. Maybe we hit a touristy place that just didn’t do the dish justice, but I think it’s because we had the bar set incredibly high by our host dad, Juan. A native Valencian, Juan was taught by his close chef friend how to properly cook the dish decades ago and is now a master himself.

Knowing a lesson in paella from a Valencian doesn’t happen everyday, I asked Juan if I could watch him in the kitchen. Being the sweetheart he is, he let me perch on a chair as he carefully prepared the paella.

So I settled into my Culinary Institute of America student ready pose (small notebook for notes in hand, iPhone ready for photos, and rehearsed Spanish questions ready for the asking) while Juan quite literally pulled out the heavy machinery to get the cooking underway. His paella (the term is also used for cooking pan) looks about as big as a large pizza, so maybe 20” in circumference. It wouldn’t fit on the stovetop so he actually had a separate paella burner to ensure even cooking. As he began heating the pan, Juan explained that his friend prefers to cook his paella over a wood fire, but that his would still be delicious because he’s “super, super good.”

The giant paella set up

Pouring a healthy amount of olive oil onto the paella, Juan then sprinkled salt around the edge to ensure the rice wouldn’t burn. He then seared off chicken legs and thighs to a perfect golden brown. Moving those to the outer rim, he quickly sautéed garlic, onion, sugar snap peas, and tomato. At this point he seasoned the pan with a generous amount of rosemary and pimentón, (a Spanish paprika that comes sweet, bittersweet, and hot) before adding a kilo of Bomba, the short-grained rice famous for authentic paella. The rice’s particularly high starch content is perfect for paella because it absorbs liquid without becoming oversaturated and mushy, just like arborrio rice for an Italian risotto.

Sautéing 

Once everything was seasoned and sautéed, Juan poured a saffron broth he had simmered all day with roasted chicken bones into the paella. The golden hues from the saffron and pimentón looked beautiful and smelled amazing as everything softly bubbled in the pan. Juan then covered the paella and we had to wait about 40 minutes until the rice was cooked and the prized crust along the bottom of the pan was formed.

Juan, breaking health code violations left and right, but making an unbelievable paella!

Patience was definitely a virtue, but it was completely worth the wait to feast on the paella that night. Watching Juan work in the kitchen was a culinary experience I’ll never forget, along with the taste of his perfect paella.  

So sorry Valencia, you were a beautiful vacation spot, but you’re paella had nothing on Juan’s!

Socks Prevent Sickness

Trying to sneak a peak at what was for dinner, my señora stopped me mid tiptoe as I attempted to dodge the squeaky floorboard minefield that is our hallway. “¿!Sin calcetines?!”  Thank goodness Ana is a master of charades, quickly miming pulling something over her foot, because in my Spanish lexicon I totally couldn’t remember if “el calcetine” was a sock or a kind of shellfish.

I retorted with a quick “¿por qué?” as I glanced over her shoulder to see a sauté pan sputtering with two fried eggs. Yum. “!Ella recibirá la gripe!” My puzzled face was probably priceless, because I did not (and still don’t) understand how wearing socks when it’s 90°F will prevent me from getting the flu. Not wanting to bite the hand that feeds me, I creaked back to my closet to pull on a pair of socks before dinner.

Two weeks into the semester and I’m definitely calling Madrid home now. Everyday I experience something new about this city, but I always have the same feeling of happiness and relief walking up to the gorgeous white doors I call home. Inside I know I’ll find Ana cooking up something wonderful and Juan ready to relay the latest NFL scores when we sit down at the table, which is quite literally one of the best moments of the day. Honestly, it could be 2 o’clock in the afternoon, but my roommates and I are always talking about what we’ll be having for dinner at 8:30!

Well, nothing else to report but that Spain is awesome (oh, and I went to Toledo last weekend, check out some photos below!), and I'm completely loving every moment I'm lucky enough to spend here. 

Until next time, be sure to wear your socks and eat lots of gazpacho (Ana'a other preventative medicine!) 

Molly

The end result of that fried egg was "Arroz Cubano", a delicious dish of eggs, rice, and tomato sauce that you mix all together to eat. The vibrant orange yolk spills out and makes a decadent sauce.

C/ Arenal 20. Ridiculous, I know!

Happy Birthday, Juan! Nothing like celebrating with Ana's chocolate torte and a shot of Jack Daniels! 

Yet another yummy dinner... this one was tuna stuffed tomatoes and roasted veggies

The cathedral in Toledo

a Toledo panoramic 

Fruit here is amazing! 

Baffled

It was only an eight-hour flight, but after eating some surprisingly decent airplane food (don’t worry Dad, I stayed away from the tempting shrimp salad) and entertaining myself with an Ellen DeGeneres book and the in-flight movie, I woke up to Spain. Buenos noches EEUU, y buenas dias España. ¡¿Es muy loco, no?!

The first day was pretty indescribable to say the least. Not wanting us to succumb to the jetlag, our senora insisted that my roommates and I go out to explore our new neighborhood. Being good little chicas we dropped our bags and hit the streets of Madrid.

Two minutes into our walk and we were passing under an arch of the Plaza Mayor. You know, just that pretty little plaza where bullfights, festivals, and public executions alike have been held for the past few centuries. Needless to say, I have one of the coolest backyards in the world.  

As we made our way through the Sunday market, El Rastro, I tried my hardest to absorb the lifestyle of the Spaniards. The sights, sounds, and smells were all very intriguing, but not because of their peculiarity. Rather, it was their simplicity that initially struck me. Hungry? Grab some tapas with a friend. Thirsty? Sit in a plaza and enjoy a refreshing glass of sangria. Nothing was extraordinary, and yet everyone seemed so content on their Sunday afternoon.

Madrid has baffled me in this first week because the Spaniards make it all seem so simple. Take time to live in appreciation of what surrounds you. 

I’ve REALLY appreciated tasting the foods of Madrid, so here are a few pictures from this week.

Enjoy!

Molly