Unraveling the Mystery of Spanish Tapas

Interior of restaurant Sagaretxe with tapas on the display on the counter

Last night I posted a status update on Facebook about going out for tapas here in Madrid.  One response from a friend and neighbor made me think a little.  Her comment reminded me that I need to explain myself a little more at times.  How many people in the U.S. even know what tapas are?  I’ll freely admit that 12 months ago I didn’t know.  It’s not like Spanish restaurants in the U.S. are a dime a dozen.  Personally I can only think of two in the Cleveland area.  With this in mind, I’ve decided to dedicate the blog that follows to unraveling the mystery of Spanish tapas.

                For those of you who don’t know, tapas are a one or two bite snack that Spaniards enjoy on a regular basis.  Going out you can enjoy an appetizer or snack or you can order several and make a meal.  Most tapas bars in the city actually have all their offerings arranged, under glass, on the counter and you simply walk up and point to what you want.  As far as types of food, tapas can be anything from thinly sliced cured ham, fresh bread topped with cheese or a seafood salad, or even a slice of Spanish tortilla. 

                Another quick note here, Spanish tortilla is nothing like the Mexican variety.  The tortilla in Spain is a potato omelet.  Imagine taking cooked sliced potatoes, putting them in a round baking dish and adding scrambled eggs.  After baking it, what you end up with is a giant round egg and potato cake that is about an inch thick.  The cake is then cut into slices and served, like pie, usually cold or at room temperature.  While the idea of cold eggs to most Americans may sound un-appetizing, I assure you that it is really delicious.  At some sandwich shops you can even get a bocadillo de tortilla española (Spanish tortilla sandwich).

Pictured is a typical Spanish Tortilla

                According to the book Hidden Madrid by Mark and Peter Besas, the origin of Spanish tapas goes all the way back to the 13^th century.  According to legend, the king at the time Alfonso X came down with an illness and was advised by his doctors to indulge in small sips of wine while he ate small portions of food between meals.  The King soon recovered and decided that this custom would improve the health of his entire kingdom.  To accomplish this he passed a law requiring all the taverns in Castille to provide a small portion of food gratis or free whenever someone ordered a glass of wine or beer.

                The law also made sense for the working classes of the region.  In those days it was custom for working class men to take a mid-day break or siesta to avoid the hottest portion of the day.  Contrary to what most Americans believe, they didn’t all go home and sleep.  Instead many of these men headed to the tavern to knock back a drink or two before going back to work.  The problem was that most of these men lacked sufficient funds to purchase food along with their alcohol.  So they would drink on an empty stomach and go back to work tipsy.  By requiring the tavern owners to provide a small portion of food with all alcoholic drinks, the hope was that the men would stay a little more sober and return to work more productive.

                The result of this rule is that anywhere you go today, if you order an alcoholic drink you will be served a small portion of something to accompany it.  This could be a small basket potato chips, a slice of tortilla española, or even a slice of cured ham.  Speaking of cured ham, it is thanks to a slice of ham that the Spaniards have the name “tapas” which translates to cover or lid.  The term tapa goes back to the early 20^th century and a waiter at a little tavern in Càdiz.  Legend has it that King Alfonso XIII was travelling along the beach when he and his entourage decided to stop for a drink at a tavern called, El Ventorillo del Chato.  The King ordered a glass of sherry, and just as he was about to take a drink the wind kicked up blowing sand into the tavern.  The waiter, who was thinking fast, used a nearby slice of cured ham to cover the glass and prevent the sand from getting into the King’s sherry.  When the king asked what the waiter was doing, the waiter replied that the ham was a “tapa” or cover for the drink.  Amused by the idea the King requested another tapa with his next glass of sherry and soon the entire entourage was requesting tapas with their drinks.

                In Madrid today the tradition of the tapa has been elevated to an art form.  You still have the traditional small bowl of chips etc… but you also can enjoy establishments that only serve tapas.  In this case they are usually elaborate and you do not receive them free.  Usually you pay by the piece and all the available tapas the tavern or restaurant has to offer are either displayed on the bar or they have an actual tapas menu.

                The restaurant I enjoyed tapas at last evening was named Sagaretxe and featured Basque style tapas.  This meant that all the tapas they served were set atop a slice of fresh baguette (bread).  Because the Basque region of Spain is on the Atlantic, the majority of their tapas or pinxtos as they are called in the Basque country have a seafood element.  Pinxtos are pronounced like “pinchos” in English.  As you order your server or bartender keeps track of the number of pinxtos you order and you pay all at once.  The restaurant we went too had the option of ordering eight pinxtos for 12 Euro or twelve pixtos for 20 Euro.  We picked out twelve, which was enough to feed our family.

Basque Style Pinxtos or Tapas

                One nice thing about tapas bars, especially to Americans, is that they open earlier than most restaurants.  Spain, like many Mediterranean countries has a vastly different meal schedule than the United States.  In Spain they usually don’t have dinner until sometime after eight p.m. and even as late as 10 p.m.  Many restaurants close at 3 or 4 p.m. and don’t reopen until 8:30 p.m. Tapas are kind of like the bridge between a 2 p.m. lunch and a late dinner.  For a family from the States, with two small children, Tapas are nice because they allowed us to go downtown on a Wednesday night, have dinner (tapas) and still be home for the kids to go to bed at a decent hour.

                Our experience at Sagaretxe was excellent and I would recommend it to anyone visiting the city.  Far from intimidating, ordering Tapas is fun and the food was amazing.          

Searching for the Black Irish

      

      One of my favorite myths concerning the Irish, and there are many, is that of the Black Irish.  Over time the term has been used to describe people of Irish descent who exhibit dark features that are not otherwise seen on the island.  For years people have hypothesized that these people were the descendants of some invader to the island during its long history.  While the theory is most likely true to some extent, some of the stories that have been told as proof of the theory are about as likely as a leprechaun guarding a pot of gold.

            One form of the Black Irish legend says that invaders from Spain, known as Milesians, sailed to Ireland to invade the island in retaliation for the murder of their uncle ľth.  The eight nephews, or Míl Espáine, (Soldiers of España) invaded Ireland to face off with the three Irish kings.  After negotiating with the kings, the Soldiers of España agreed to sail nine waves from Ireland.  If when they had sailed the nine waves they were still able to land on the island, it would be theirs. The soldiers set sail, but they were tricked by the kings who used magic to whip up a storm.  During the storm, five of the soldiers were killed but the remaining three were able to land and thus take possession of Ireland.  These kings then brought their Mediterranean looks and traits to mix with the Irish. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Milesians_(Irish)

            One other explanation for the dark featured Irish is even more unlikely than the magical storm and three Soldiers of España.  Some argue that the black haired and brown eyed Irish men and women are actually descendants of Spanish traders or even survivors of the Spanish Armada. The theory involving the Armada is that a small number of survivors washed up on the western coast of Ireland after Spain’s mighty Navy was defeated by the English in 1588.  These survivors chose to make their home on the Emerald Isle, intermarrying and passing on their dominant dark features to future generations of Irish children.  While it’s a great story, some would even say something out of a romance novel, very little evidence exists to support the theory.   It is unlikely that a few lone soldiers were able to make a life in a war-torn foreign land, and have a significant genetic impact.  Most likely the evidence of dark features in Ireland is the result of the many invading groups and traders that visited, conquered, or settled on the island over many thousands of years. http://www.ireland-information.com/articles/blackirish.htm

            Of course, I could’ve said all this at the very beginning but what fun would that be.  Anyways, this brings me to the subject of this blog post.  On Thursday March 17^th, I travelled into Madrid in search of the Black Irish.  Not the mythical Milesians or the shipwrecked Armada, but something a little more modest.  I went in search of the Irish spirit in Madrid on that greatest of all Irish holidays.  What began as an epic quest nearly became an epic failure, but like those three surviving Soldiers of España I eventually came to my reward.  Mine though was not the entire island, just a pint of their finest brew.

            My quest to find the Black Irish began not on a ship, but on a Metro train.  I decided that my first destination, seeing as how it was 10am and too early to hit the pub, would be the Irish Embassy here in Madrid.  Now, I confess that I’ve never before gone looking for an embassy but in all honesty I expected a little more.  The Irish embassy is located just north of the Rueben Dario Metro stop on Paseo de la Castellana.  The building itself is fairly unremarkable and in truth, I’m not really sure whether the building contained more than one embassy or just the Irish contingent. 

 

            Pictured above is the embassy.  Note the complete and total lack of shamrocks, leprechauns, parades, and  greenery. There wasn’t even someone out front handing out green Mardi Gras beads with Guiness emblems.  In all seriousness, I at least would have expected some sort of recognition or sign.  Disappointed, I  headed back towards Madrid hoping to seek solace in a pint of Ireland’s finest.

            From the embassy, I meandered down Paseo de la Castellana to Calle de Alcalà and over from there towards Sol.  On the way I stopped by a Starbucks. (I know it’s not Irish, but at least they have a green awning)  After Starbucks I took my coffee and headed to the Plaza de Colon (pictured).  Here I relaxed for a few moments and planned the rest of my day.  Ever since my first visit here, this plaza has fascinated me.  In the United States we have essentially disowned Christobal Colon, but in Spain he is still celebrated, but seeing as how this is St. Patrick’s Day, and Columbus was not Irish but Italian, we’ll leave this to another time.

Plaza de Colon

            Just before getting to the Plaza de Puerta del Sol, I turned onto Calle Principe and my second destination, O’Neill’s Pub.  To my absolute shock and despair, it was closed.  It was now going on noon, and the pub was CLOSED.  What about the green eggs, Irish sausages, beer!  Hoping that it was soon to open, I hung around the area for a while and actually stumble upon some real gems.  Nearby I found myself in the Plaza de Santa Ana.  This is one of the most entertaining squares in the city and a great starting out point for many a Spanish night out on the town.  Tucked away into one of the corners of the square is a small bar called Cervecería Alemana.  Translating to German brewhouse, this bar was one of the favorite hangouts for Ernest Hemmingway when he was spending time in Spain. 

            After exploring the square for awhile, it was now a little after 12:30, I headed back down to O’Neill’s for that all important first pint.  Again I had no luck.  I was now getting dangerously close to an epic failure in my search for the Black Irish.  I should note here that my quest was a PG rated one.  There would be no late nights of flowing Guiness, Jameson, and dancing a jig.  Instead, I had to return to La Moraleja by 4pm to pick up two very active boys from schools.  With only two hours remaining until I needed to be back on the Metro, I headed to my last hope, the James Joyce Pub near Banco de España.

             Sitting on Calle Alcalà, the James Joyce is a delightful little pub with good Irish cheer, great food, and yes, good Irish Guiness.  Most importantly, the pub was open for business.  I headed in and found myself a seat near the bar.  Although my server lacked a good Irish brogue, she actually only spoke Spanish, she understood Guiness and finally I had my St. Patty’s day prize.  Hungry after my quest, I also requested a menu and was delighted to see such classics as banger’s and mash, beef slow roasted in a Guiness sauce, sheperd’s pie, and even lamb stew. I ordered the lamb stew and settled back with my pint in my own little corner of Ireland.

Lamb stew at the James Joyce Pub (Estofado de Cordero)

            In the end I made it back in time to get the boys, content with a belly full of Irish goodness, and I even got a tacky Guiness hat to pass onto the kids.  Thanks to the James Joyce, I was able to find a little bit of Irish cheer in Madrid.



El Museo de America

El Museo de America

On Friday, March 11th,  I made my first foray into Madrid since arriving a week ago.  While I would’ve like to make it in before now, instead I’ve spent the last week wandering the aisles of furniture stores, electronic stores, grocery stores, and an all-encompassing tienda (store) called El Corte Ingles.  While the idea of furnishing an entire house with new stuff may sound great, the reality is far different.

            With things settling down by Thursday, I started to explore the idea of going into the city for awhile on Friday.  With this first trip, I wanted to find a neighborhood on the northern side of the city that I hadn’t explored in my prior visit in August.  The area I chose was in the neighborhood of Gaztambide near the Plaza de la Moncloa. 

            Gaztambide itself is not necessarily a tourist area, although it does draw a lot of foreigners due to the Cuidad Universitaria (City University of Madrid).  Outside of the students, most of the people you pass on the street are Madrileños, or locals.  The ages range from young to old and the businesses you pass are modern. These range from furniture stores (please no more) to banks and even car dealerships.  The car dealerships in particular provide a nice contrast to what people in the U.S. are accustomed to.   In the U.S. we have big, sprawling car lots with hundreds of cars.  In Madrid, a car dealership looks more like a Higbees window than a parking lot.  Only three or four models are on display and they are set in big picture windows.    I first noticed this while visiting South Kensington in London, U.K.  Near the Underground station was a Lamborghini dealership set in a storefront.  Talk about window shopping.

El Faro de Moncloa

            The Museo de America is very easy to find due to its location next to the Faro de Moncloa, a space needle of sorts that provides great views of the city.  At least I assume it provides great views, it was closed and fenced off when I visited.  Sitting next to the Faro de Moncloa is the Museo de America.  The reason I chose it was for the location, and also because there is a certain irony about an American, starting a Madrid Museum blog, focusing on Spanish colonial activities in the Americas. 

            The building that the museum is housed in is beautiful.  It was built between 1943 and 1954.  Its style is that of a colonial mansion or cloister with large tower providing the main entrance and a central courtyard complete with a fountain.  The construction is entirely of brick, even the vaulted ceilings.  This gives the place the feel of a church or a crypt, without all the sinister creepiness of the later.  They avoid too much of an underground feel with large windows in all the main halls.  These hallways then encircle the exhibition rooms that are lit with only spotlights.  The halls themselves are dark.  This is to help preserve the artifacts, many of which are well over 500 years old some extend back nearly two millennia.

            Entering through the main entrance, you are greeted by a visitor services representative who takes your three euro for admission.  One thing I’ve found in Madrid is that most museums are very inexpensive.  The three euro admission charge is about $4.25 in U.S. dollars.  After paying my admission, I was given two brochures.  One of these in Spanish and another in English, there was also a headphone system available, but the admissions person didn’t even offer it to me.  Either she sensed, from my butchered request for an adult admission, that I was unable to speak the language or none were available.

            The museum itself is divided into five themes.  These are “The Instruments of Knowledge”, “Reality of America”, “Bands, Tribes, Chiefdoms and States”, “Religion”, and “Communications”.  All of these areas are interesting. I personally enjoyed the area on religion.  I give the museum credit for acknowledging the independent traditions of the natives prior to European contact.   What really interests me are all the parallels one can draw from a comparison of the ancient civilizations of Central and South America to the Egyptians.  So much of the artwork, reverence for the dead, etc… is similar.

            The highlights of the museum were a nearly three foot tall Mayan funeral urn dating from A.D. 900-1000, a Kero (deity) in the form of a jaguar from the 15^th century, the many gold statues and ornamental items from 17^th century Peru, and the treasure trove of Mestizo paintings in the collection.  These paintings represent everyday life in the 18^th century as Natives, Europeans and Africans struggled to make a life in New Spain, intermarrying and defining their roles in society.

Cup made to look like a Jaguar

Peruvian Mummy

Kero in the form of a Jaguar (15th Century)

      

      Overall, the Museum was educational and enjoyable albeit a little “old school” as far as museum exhibits.  There were no hands on exhibits or interactive elements.  The museum did offer two areas where videos were shown, but as both were entirely in Spanish, I can’t comment on these. 

            One other element that is a bit bothersome for an American and especially an American historian is the overall nature of the collection.  While the Museum itself was founded in 1943, most of the items on display were collected many years before.  Many date to the Royal Cabinet of Natural History.  The Royal Cabinet collected items acquired during archaeological excavations, and scientific expeditions.  One is left to wonder at what cost some of these items came into their hands.  This is never really addressed.

 In their defense though, the current museum simply collects the items and has no direct guilt in how some early pieces were acquired.  Since its founding, the collection has only grown through donations and purchases.  Moving past the issue of acquisition, this Museum is important as evidence of the complex and sophisticated society that existed in the Americas prior to European conquest.  It’s definitely worth a visit.      

For all my friends at the J.E. Reeves Home and Museum.  These are figures from the Spanish Nacimiento or Nativity Scene.  Each figure is the size of a Barbie doll and they are onately painted.  The Nacimiento is a very common Christmas Tradition in Spain.

Getting There is a Nightmare

With a title like this, I don’t mean to imply that getting to Madrid is always a nightmare.  I’m sure in most cases it goes a great deal easier than my experience.  I also need to point out that it wasn’t really even the Spanish side that made things stressful.  Actually, most of my problems began before I ever left U.S. Soil.

We all Knew This Wouldn’t be Easy

                When a process that is supposed to take three months takes six, could I really have expected moving day to go smoothly.  For those of you who don’t know, the process of acquiring VISAs, work permits, and all the other proper documentation has not been easy for our family.  We first made the decision to move at the end of July and spent the next seven months trying to make that happen.  During that stretch there were many false hopes and several times when one of the two of us (my wife and I) considered calling the whole thing off.  In the end though, cooler heads prevailed and we decided to persevere though all the delays and frustrations.  With all of that finally behind us, I’d hoped to catch a break on the actual moving part.  While I didn’t catch that little bit of buena suerte (good luck) at least I’m here.  What follows is the best description my jet-lagged mind can come up with.

Paperwork, we don’t need no stinkin paperwork.

                On Thursday March 3, Kelly, Ben, Buddy (dog), and I made our way to the cargo area of Cleveland Hopkins Airport.  The area itself is located on Cargo Rd. (big surprise), just south of the airport’s main terminal off of State Rt. 237.  The building resembles a simple warehousing facility with a main counter front and center as you enter the building, and a glass walled office to the left. 

                Our first surprise that morning came when we were informed, almost immediately, that the kennel we had purchased for Buddy was too small.  This was despite the fact that we purchased an extra large kennel for a dog that is large, but certainly not extra large at 65 pounds.  The only reason we even went with the extra large was that we thought we were upsizing to meet the regulations.   I’m convinced that really large dogs, like mastiffs or great danes, must be required to travel in a kennel the size of a tractor trailer.

                Anyways, our kennel that we had just purchased for $120 wouldn’t work, but they just so happened to have a larger one in the back that they would love to sell us for $250.  Cue your best cash register noise as we recognize this as our first unexpected cost.  Of course with my flight leaving in less than three hours, we had no choice.  Additional expense = $130.

                After we were done with the whole kennel fiasco, we headed into the office to take care of the paperwork and send Buddy on his way.  Not so fast.  It turns out that despite going through their requirements with a fine tooth comb, we were missing one very important document.  Our missing document caused the ladies behind the counter to huddle as if they were contemplating the hidden secrets of the lost ark.  Eventually they returned to us and said they couldn’t ship Buddy without the necessary form.  It would have been nice if they would have stressed the importance of said form on one of the multiple phone calls we had prior to showing up with less than three hours to the flight.

                At this point though we did have a little bit of good fortune, a couple of frantic phone calls to the West Main Veterinary Clinic produced the necessary paperwork and Buddy was back on schedule to fly.  I need to give a special thanks here to Doctor Gary Evanich and his staff for making this happen.  They were nice enough to drop what they were doing and fax the required paperwork. 

                Paperwork cleared, we moved onto the all important part of the transaction where the money changes hands.  Again we were in for a surprise.  Turns out the new kennel was heavier than the old one, pushing Buddy’s overall shipping weight over the century mark and jacking up our price by nearly $600.  So if you are keeping track at home, we are up to $850 more than the airline estimate.  Unfortunately these people know that they have you left with no other choice.  Out came the credit card and Buddy was carted off to the cargo plane.

Can we let him fly?

                These are words you never want to hear when your dog has just been loaded onto an airplane and is due to arrive in a foreign country in 15 hours.  Can you say worst case scenario?

                Shaken, but relieved that Buddy was on his way, we headed to the main terminal.   By now we were cutting it close on time.  In less than two hours, my flight took off, and Kelly had to make the return trip home to pick up our oldest son after school.  You could say I got a curbside drop off.  I would say that I was lucky she stopped the car.

 On my own at the front door of the terminal I headed in to get boarding passes etc…  Everything here started out okay until I was informed by the man behind the counter that I couldn’t fly.  Because I was travelling by myself to a foreign nation, I was required to have a return ticket. Now it looked like Buddy might be the only one arriving in Madrid on Friday morning.

                Luckily I had a creative sales agent and he was able to find a loophole in the policy that let me travel without a VISA and on a one way ticket.   Even better, there were no additional charges for the discovery of this loophole.  Frankly I’m not even sure what it was.  Once the counter rep told me I could fly, I just shook my head yes and grabbed my boarding passes. 

                Just check in at the Continental Quickpak Counter at the Cargo Facility.  They will get you all taken care of.

                The flight itself was uneventful.  I don’t have any great stories of running through the airport ala O.J. Simpson hurdling suitcases and executing perfect spin moves on flight attendants.  All went well and I arrived in Madrid about 7am local time, 1am Ohio time.  Customs was a breeze for once and I found myself standing at the baggage claim.  Here was where it hit me that I was in a foreign country, where I don’t speak the language, by myself.  It was at once both an exhilarating and terrifying moment.

                Things continued to go well until I headed to the cargo facility in my rental car.  Madrid’s cargo area is NOTHING and I mean NOTHING like the one at Cleveland.  I was told before leaving that I only needed to go to the cargo facility and that I could check in with the Continental Cargo desk.  I found the area just fine, but there was no Continental Cargo building and when I went the large multi-story building with the words “Area De Carga” on the outside, I was greeted by two very nice ladies whose English was about as good as my Spanish and who had never heard of Continental.  I spent the next half an hour driving up and down the Avenida Central looking for any sign of Continental Airlines.  That’s when I caught a break.   I noticed on one of the signs that it listed cargo for about a dozen airlines, including many American airlines. 

                When I went in to the main office I was almost instantly relieved as the sign on the inner door listed Continental.  It would have been nice if Continental had told me this at some point in the process. After struggling through the language barrier with the first clerk “Necessito recoger mi perro” (I need to pick up my dog), I was helped by an angel of a woman who explained everything to me.  After several delays and another language butchering conversation, this time to the office of Importacion, I had the paperwork approved and Buddy and I set out for our new home.  I don’t know who was more relieved.

Home at last.

                In early afternoon Buddy and I arrived at our new home, some 8000 miles and 24 hours from our Ohio home.  While I can’t speak for Buddy, I’m excited about the opportunities that Madrid holds for our family over the next two years. Although the arrival was anything but easy, the important part is that we are here and that in about seven hours we will be reunited as a family when Kelly arrives with the boys.  Stay tuned, hopefully the next few days will bring pictures of our new home and a little bit about the area we live in. 

Hasta Luego (until later)