Holidays are over, the new year is off to a racing start and it’s time to get my act together.  If you’re subscribed to Tipsy Toro blog posts, thanks! And please watch your email for a request to reconfirm your subscription.  We also started off the year with a new email service to send blog posts to you directly (same as before only better). And if you’re not yet subscribed to Tipsy Toro and Savor Spain, well, why not?

And I’m way behind in doing the cookbook giveaway that I promised.  So let’s start off the new year with catching up on old promises.

Our cookbook winner is (drum roll please):  Caroline!

We did a very scientific close-your-eyes-and-point-randomly-at-the-list kind of drawing, so it’s totally legit.  Caroline, please email us at info@savorspain.com and send us your mailing address and phone number so we can get that shipped off to you right away.  The cookbook we have in store for you is a great one — The Spanish Table by Steve Winston.  I know, he doesn’t sound very Spanish, but he knows what he’s talking about!

Here’s to a wonderful 2012 — The Year of the Dragon!  (how cool is THAT?)

There’s a new wine shop about 30 steps from the apartment where we stay in Dénia.  In the window is an attractive little plaque:

Abrimos cuando llegamos,

ceramos cuando nos vamos

y si vienes

y no estamos

es que no coincidimos.

I stopped in my tracks and laughed out loud, with people walking past me, wondering what the heck was so funny about a wine store. This is just so great about much of Spanish culture.  Although they are very hard working and industrious, they also value the simple things — the pleasures of everyday life — above their need for big houses and fancy cars and impressive job titles.

So what does that cute little plaque say?  To me, this pretty much sums up Spanish priorities.  NOT to be confused with laziness or lack of initiative!

We open when we get here

We close when we leave

And if you come and we’re not here…

Well, we didn’t catch each other.

Wine

Chocolate

I’m tempted to just leave it at that.  But after dinner a few nights ago, we pulled out some great chocolate to pair with a couple of Spanish wines, and  I was shocked when our friends said “Really?  You drink wine with chocolate?”

Whoa….  I thought everybody knew that wine and chocolate are the primary 2 food groups. And especially together!

So we opened a few different types of chocolate (OK, I’ll admit that in this case it was some of the world’s finest Ecuadorian chocolate – Kallari), and 3 bottles of wine, and started comparing.  Kallari makes several different types of chocolate, in varying degrees of intensity, and also with some intriguing additions – like chiles.  That makes pairing with wine particularly fun and challenging.

If you’ve never tried pairing wine and chocolate, take the plunge.  Have some friends over for a nice dinner, and then afterwards, pull out a little bit of 2 or 3 types of chocolate  (sustainable, please!) and a few types of wine.  Pour everyone a small amount — about 1 or 2 oz — of each of 3 wines (don’t worry, you can finish the wines over the next few days — you can use the dreaded Vacu Vin to keep them fresher, but don’t tell anybody I said that).

Break the chocolate up into small pieces, and give everyone a plate with a small piece of each chocolate.  Of course, be careful to keep track of which chocolate us which.

Start with the driest wine you have, and taste the chocolate, quickly followed by a sip of the first wine.  Repeat with the second chocolate, and stick to the first wine.  Stay with the same wine, different chocolates, and note which pairing you liked the best.  Then do it again with the second wine, which should be slightly sweeter.  Then end with the very sweetest wine, tasting it with each of the chocolates.  Although it’s not Spanish, I love making the last one Port.  Portugal.  Close enough.

The general idea is to pair a lighter wine with a lighter chocolate.  If you’re like me and you prefer dark chocolate, that usually goes best with a big, bold wine — and almost everybody prefers a sweet wine with dark bitter chocolate.  Remember, wine and food pairings are all about your palette.  Don’t let any wine snob tell you what you should like.  Sometimes you’ll find a really great pairing that suits you perfectly that nobody else likes.  That’s what’s so fun about it.  No snobs allowed.

Below are some Spanish wine varieties to try with chocolate:

Syrah
Garnacha – preferably old vine
Tempranillo – preferably old vine
Sherry (sweeter type)
Port (OK, it’s not Spanish, but try it!)

Then report back.  Would love for you to comment and let us know what you tried, and what you liked!

You know how some women get all excited for Black Friday shopping?  My version of that is preparing for our annual Tipsy Toro Fiesta.

A few years ago we decided to introduce our friends to the food and wine of Spain.  So we bent the rules, and set the party time at 2pm, so they could come and hang out for the entire afternoon… and evening, just like we do in Spain.  Now the Tipsy Toro party has become a tradition, and a chance for us to show friends and potential clients why we’re so crazy about Spain.

It starts several weeks in advance, choosing the right date and planning the menu.  Then we start ordering food and doing any advance prep that we can.  I’ll admit, I can get a bit carried away.  We prepare around 20 different tapas, and 2 big paellas.  Thank goodness that so many tapas in Spain involve prepared foods, like jamon, chorizos, cheeses, and canned goodies of all kinds.  That makes it considerably easier — although I can’t resist cooking up all our favorites too — tortilla, herbed goat cheese stuffed peppers, meatballs, and the list goes on.

And since we’re now officially certified wineauxs, we also include a Spanish wine tasting.  It’s a great opportunity to try lots of different Spanish wines, and help convince our beer-and-spirits-lovin’ American friends that wine is waaaaayyyyyy cooler!  We have a rule — no wines over $15, so it’s not about price, it’s about quality.  And whoever brings the best bottle of wine, wins a bottle from us that you can’t buy in the U.S.  If you haven’t tried doing a simple, informal wine tasting, we highly recommend it.

Here’s a couple of quick pics — what are your favorite tapas?  Favorite Spanish wines?

If I were a wine snob I’d try to impress you that “I know people.”  But since I’m not — and I think wine is something you should enjoy because you like it, and because it goes great with food, instead I’ll tell you the truth:

(with your best teenage voice)  Ohmahgawd!  Guess what I got to do?

My friend Sali introduced me to her friend Joaquin (in Jerez de la Frontera) while we were there for Vendimia just a few weeks ago. Welllll…. turns out that not only is Joaquin a budding wine entrepreneur — a very knowledgeable one — but he also has friends.  In restaurants.  Now those are MY kinda people!

So Joaquin invites us to an evening of wine tasting and food pairing at Gula restaurant in Jerez.  Miguel, the chef and owner was warm and friendly and served up some amazing food.  This is the part where I admit that I was so caught up in the experience that I started making a few notes about the food and then ignored my notebook completely.  But here’s what I can tell you.  We started with a paté — and Spaniards love their paté so it´s always worth trying.  Miguel´s was exceptional — made with piquillo peppers, eggplant, and that incredible Spanish tuna.  You can bet I’ll be trying to figure that one out for my own parties!  With that we had Duo — an Albariño from Galicia.  That you can´t buy in the U.S.  dammit.

Then we laughed and talked and sipped our way through several more courses of amazing tapas and wine.  And finally the main course — beef cooked perfectly and paired with Syc Mitarte — high on the list of the best wines I’ve ever tasted.  Another one you can’t buy in the U.S.

I could go on and on and bore you with all the details — which include chocolate and cava.  But instead, I’ll just say if you happen to be in Jerez de la Frontera and you want a really great food and wine experience, contact Joaquin and tell him Denise from Tipsy Toro sent you.  And to save some Syc for me!

What Pisto should look like - from http://mapmagazine.com

You know the jokes about men not reading directions and putting a bookcase together — only it comes out looking like a Rubik’s cube?  Well, I guess it’s time to break the myth that it’s only men.

Guilty.

The Thermomix arrived on Tuesday (instead of the anticipated Wednesday) and I was so excited I yanked it (gently) out of the box, rinsed off the pieces parts and set to work making dinner.  Red Thai Chicken Curry.  Despite a couple of necessary substitutions (you really think I can find galanga root at Safeway?) the curry came out really good.  Umm…. except I think you’re supposed to be able to recognize the chicken pieces, right?

Then I tried Pisto.  There are lots of different variations in Spain, but basically it’s Spanish Ratatouille.  Peppers, onions, zucchini, tomatoes, and garlic.  You eat it on toasted bread, or spread it on sandwiches.  YUM!

So I grabbed all my farmer’s-market-fresh veggies and went to work.  Onion. Check!  Peppers.  Check!  “Whir 4 seconds at velocity 3 to chunk the vegetables.”  Check!

Wait.  Chunk? So what’s up with the veggie puree in there?

Long story short, we wound up with what we decided would make a nice, healthy pasta sauce.  So I guess I better set aside some time this weekend to read the damn directions.

I feel like a kid at Christmas.  At the same time I’m a little  (OK,  a LOT) embarrassed at the indulgence of buying a stupid-expensive kitchen appliance.

The first time I saw the Thermomix, I was fairly rational.  “I have a food processor.  I have a mixer.  I have an oven. I don’t need to spend the baby’s milk money on yet-another-kitchen-gadget.”  So I put it out of my mind.

Then I saw it in another friends’ kitchen. And another. And another.

Now wait just a damn minute.  These guys are not “stuff” collectors.  They only buy things that are practical (for the most part).  You don’t see many Spaniards with garages-full of junk they paid for and never used.  So there must be something to this, right?

So I watched, and asked questions.  “Do you really use this, or does it just take up space?”  (The question is leading on purpose — Please Tell Me I Don’t Need This!)

“Oh, MY!  I couldn’t live without it!  I use it all the time — for EVERYTHING!”

Crud.

Then the justifications started.  “Well, we spent $1,000 on a couch that we never sit on.  And there’s that scooter in the garage that cost $2,000 and we only ride it a handful of times a year.

And I’d use this all the time.”

I know, I know.  Why do I feel the need to justify?  I work hard.  I earned that money.  I can spend it however I want to.  But still, a kitchen machine that costs 10x what my stand mixer cost?  Really?  Can it be that good?

Well, as of yesterday, we’re going to find out.  I made myself feel better by saving the money little by little over several months.  And yesterday I took a big, deep breath, and filled out the order form, faxed it in, and had a UPS confirmation within an hour.  Wow!  These guys are GOOD!  So I’m takin’ that as a good sign.  This Thermomix thing was meant to be…

Right?

Photo from Always Hungry NY

So, I’m on a little vacation across the way in Italy, and we go out to dinner the first night there.  I’m thinking this is the hotel receptionists’ cousin or brother or something and that the food will be mediocre at best.  Not.

The place is a family place, but there are lots of locals, so that’s always a good sign.  The guys who run the restaurant are very friendly, and the menu is only in Italian — no English, no Spanish, no Russian (go figure).  Another good sign.  So my friend helps translate the menu and we enjoy a very nice relaxing meal in very comfortable surroundings.  And then they bring the dessert cart.  Yes, a dessert cart in an every day restaurant — now we’re talking REALLY good sign!

I use my best Italian to mime that if it ain’t chocolate, I’m not interested — is that a twinkle I see in his eye? So he grabs a plate and starts dishing something up.  “No, wait! I just want to know what you have!”  But he shushes me and explains via my friend that he just wants me to try it.

I’m going to refrain from showing you the actual photo that I took, because if you saw it, you’d turn up your nose.  But I couldn’t resist trying it.  It was rather squishy looking, but covered in chocolate.  I tasted.  “ZUCCHINI?” I blurted out — and he understood.  He loved it — “No, but very close.  It’s EGGPLANT!”

Surprise!  I added “And cinnamon?”

“Right again!”  He was grinning from ear to ear.

“So, dish it up! And, what is it called?”

He responded in Italian and I knew it was impossible for me to get it on paper.  So I grabbed my little red notebook and handed it over.  “Can you write the name for me, please?”

He pulled up a chair, and wrote out the whole recipe. I don’t speak a lick of Italian, but my friend (who does) looked on in wonder as Max explained in great detail how to prepare the eggplant, and I nodded knowingly.  I explained — “It’s the international language — of cooks, and chocolate!”

So here it is for you to try.  Trust me, even though it may not be photo worthy in the form I had it, it is most definitely worth your time to try it.

Oh, and his name is Max.  From Naples. I know, because he signed the recipe.

Melanzane al Cioccolato — Max’s Chocolate Eggplant

2 to 3    Small eggplants — sliced thin
12     Ounces of semi sweet chocolate, melted
4       Tablespoons of coarsely chopped pine nuts
1       Cup  Flour for dredging
2       Teaspoons cinnamon
1/4    Cup Sugar
1        Egg, beaten
6        Tablespoons of candied orange peel (optional)

Slice the eggplant very thin.
Mix flour with cinnamon and sugar (adjust to your preferences)
Dip each slice of eggplant in egg and then flour mixture and deep fry until golden brown.
Drain and let cool.

While the eggplant is cooling, slowly melt the chocolate in a double-boiler.
Mix in the nuts and orange.

Layer the eggplant in a medium size baking platter.
After the first layer is made, continue layering by alternating eggplant with chocolate.

Serve it to  your friends without telling them what it is — but make an effort to make it pretty on the plate.  Otherwise they won’t touch it!

I’m a country kid.  Grew up in the middle of godforsaken nowhere, in Texas.  Only one person  in my extended family — my Uncle Teddy — had gone to college, or traveled outside the country.  I come from a long line of (very wonderful) “hicks.”

That means that every time I come to Spain it hits me like a ton ‘o bricks.  How in the WORLD did I get from Spearman Texas, to Denia, Spain?

This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you about my lifelong plan to live in Spain, to learn Spanish, and to become a world traveler.  And I’d tell you how I laid out all my plans, overcame strife, and achieved my goals. But that would be what we call in polite company, Bull Hockey.

I didn’t plan this.  I didn’t know what it looked like til just a few years ago.  What I DID know, from when I was in a high school of 300 kids, was that I wanted to learn a foreign language and broaden my horizons.  But I had no idea how to do that.

Now I zip with ease through foreign airports (OK, usually), and when I get to my favorite pueblo in Spain, I immediately hit the streets in search of my favorite haunts.  My feet know exactly where to turn, and I know the town well enough to have any number of options where to go.  Not to mention the beach.

So as I’m sitting here writing and just soaking in the sounds and smells around me, I thought I’d share this one little thought with you.  Dreams don’t have to be fully formed to be realized.  I’m not done dreaming.  Not by a long shot.  Dreams evolve, grow, or change completely.  Whether you want to see the world, or create a new world in your own backyard.  Doesn’t matter.  All that matters is to get your feet on the path.  NOW!

Click here to view the embedded video.

My feet had barely hit the ground in Jerez de la Frontera when we started seeing posters and hearing people talk about the benefit concert that would be held that night for La Chiqui – a well known Flamenco dancer who needs to travel to the U.S. for treatment of an illness that I never did find out.  My Flamenco-dancer friend grinned and said “Tonight you’re going to see REAL Flamenco!”

We tossed our bags in the hotel and took off walking, not sure if we’d be able to get tickets on such short notice.  We got lucky, and happily paid  our 25 Euros (steep money for many Spaniards these days) and walked into an open soccer field where a stage had been set up, and there were no chairs to sit on — so we’d be standing.  Not unusual for a small Spanish concert.

As the stadium filled Salli whispered “Looks like there are only 2 foreigners here — that would be you and me!”  Sure enough, I realized that we were surrounded by every shape, size, age, and flavor of Gypsy.  And when you’re looking for authentic Flamenco, that’s exactly where you want to be. There were spectacularly beautiful babies, mamas, and grandmas, some dressed to the gills, others…  not.  Many of the men had long black silky hair and were dressed in what I’d consider kind of Flamenco clothes – black pants, black boots, white shirt, and black vests.

The concert started right on the dot of 8pm, and a steady stream of incredible Flamenco artists took the stage to pay their tribute to La Chiqui — and to mention that they were a cousin, uncle, sister, or some other relation, and to mention the word “family” about a hundred times.  The crowd got bigger and bigger and we were pressed on all sides by people who had grown up with this music, clapping in a precise pattern called “las palmas” that they pick up from childhood.

Now I can really and truly say I’ve not just seen authentic Flamenco — I’ve been in the company of a good part of the Flamenco family, if only by sheer luck.