Spanish Food
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So what is Spanish food all about? Start with conviviality and freshly prepared dishes with extra virgin olive oils, wines, cheeses, chic peas, lentils, parsley, rice almonds, garlic, saffron, cinnamon and fresh fruit. Add these to more olive oil and wine, very fresh fish, seafood, game, cured hams, sausages like chorizo, fresh breads, and to a lesser extent, beef, and you are almost there

Spain's post-Franco cultural Renaissance has encouraged richness and diversity in everything from arts and letters to gastronomy. As with all things Iberian, food and wine take a great many forms. This is a country where each valley and village takes pride in its unique way of preparing the simplest dishes, where a Pyrenean valley serves dishes whose very names are linguistically incomprehensible to fellow Catalans from the next valley.

Each of modern Spain's 17 Autonomous Communities, from the equatorial Canary Islands to the snowcapped Pyrenees, has its own cuisine. The only Spanish dishes that might be called universal are the tortilla española de patatas (potato and onion omelette), gazpacho (a cold Andalusian soup of ground vegetables, garlic, and bread in a tomato base), and paella (a Valencian feast of saffron-spiked rice and seafood). Generally speaking, central Spain is known for roasts and stews, eastern Spain for rice and seafood dishes, northern Spain for meat and fish, and southern Spain for deep-fried seafood. Fresh vegetables, onions, and garlic are consumed in abundance throughout.

Blessed with a geological diversity unusual for a country its size, Spain has been known since ancient times for rich wheat fields, vineyards, olive groves, and pig and sheep farming. The upper slopes of Andalusia's snowcapped Sierra Nevada, for example, have Alpine gentian, while the lower ones yield tropical produce unique to southern Europe, such as olives.

Nearly surrounded by a combination of the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, Spain is in large part a maritime nation. A statistic surprising to all but the Spanish themselves is that Spain ranks third in the world in per-capita fish and seafood consumption, closely behind Japan and Iceland. Moreover, those two islands have no population more than 200 km (120 mi) from the coast, whereas Spanish villagers in tiny Aranda de Duero, 500 km (300 mi) inland, were cooking fish back in the 14th century. Madrid, at the dead center of the Iberian Peninsula, has long been considered a first "port" for the freshest fish in Spain. And, of course, the Mediterranean diet -- high in fresh vegetables, fruit, virgin olive oil, fish, fowl, rabbit, garlic, onions, and wine; low in red meat, dairy products, and carbohydrates -- is one of the healthiest of all regimes.

Small and Varied Delicacies
The 781-year Moorish presence on the Iberian Peninsula was a major influence on Spanish cuisine. The Moors brought exotic ingredients such as saffron, almonds, and peppers; introduced sweets and pastries; and created refreshing dishes such as cold almond- and vegetable-based soups still popular today. One of the world's culinary pioneers was Ziryab, a 10th-century Moorish chef who worked in Córdoba: he is credited with bringing to Europe the Arab fashion for eating a standard sequence of dishes, beginning with soup and ending with dessert.

Another legacy of the Moorish taste for small and varied delicacies is Spain's best-known culinary innovation, the tapa (hors d'oeuvre; derived from the verb tapar, meaning to cover). Early tapas are said to have been pieces of ham or cheese laid across glasses of wine, both to keep flies out and to keep stagecoach drivers sober. It is said that as far back as the 13th century, ailing Spanish king Alfonso X El Sabio ("The Learned") took small morsels with wine by medical prescription and so enjoyed the cure that he made it a regular practice in his court. Even Cervantes refers to tapas as llamativos (attention getters), for their stimulating properties, in Don Quixote. Often miniature versions of classic Spanish dishes, tapas originated in Andalusia, where a combination of heat and poverty made nomadic grazing preferable to the formal meal. Today tapas are generally taken as appetizers before lunch or dinner, but in the south they are still often regarded as a meal in themselves. Eating tapas allows you to sample a wide variety of food and wine with minimal alcohol poisoning, especially on a tapeo -- the Spanish version of a pub crawl but lower in alcohol and higher in protein. You basically walk off your wine and tapas as you move around.

In some of the more old-fashioned bars in Madrid and points south, you may be automatically served a tapa of the barman's choice upon ordering a drink -- olives, a piece of cheese, sausages, or even a cup of hot broth. A few standard tapas to watch for: calamares fritos (fried squid or cuttlefish, often mistaken for onion rings), pulpo feira (octupus on slices of potato), chopitos (baby octopi), angulas (baby eels), chistorra (fried spicy sausage), chorizo (hard pork sausage), champiñones (mushrooms), gambas al ajillo (shrimp cooked in parsley, oil, and garlic), langostinos (jumbo shrimp or prawns), patatas bravas (potatoes in spicy sauce), pimientos de Padrón (peppers, some very hot, from the Galician town of Padrón), sardinas (fresh sardines cooked in garlic and parsley), chancletes (whitebait cooked in oil and parsley), and salmonetes (small red mullet).

Just to complicate things, the generic term tapas covers various forms of small-scale nibbling. Tentempiés are, literally, small snacks to designed to "keep you on your feet."Pinchos are bite-size offerings impaled on toothpicks; banderillas are similar, so called because the toothpick is wrapped in colorful paper resembling the barbed batons used in bullfights. Montaditos are canapés, innovative combinations of delicacies "mounted" on toast; raciones (rations, or servings) are hot tapas served in small earthenware casseroles. The preference for small quantities of different dishes also shows up in restaurants, where you can often order a series of small dishes para picar (to pick at). A selection of raciones or entretenimientos (a platter of delicacies that might range from olives to nuts to cheese, ham or sausage) makes a popular starter for those dining in a group. The modern gourmet menú de degustación (taster's menu) is little more than a succession of complex tapas.

Soups, Light and Heavy
A standard Spanish soup, especially in and around Madrid, is sopa de ajo (garlic soup), made with water, oil, garlic, paprika, bread, and cured ham. Sopa de pescado (fish soup) appears on many menus, prepared in many different ways. The classic gazpacho is a cold blend of tomatoes, water, garlic, bread, and vegetables. Though most gazpacho today is made in a blender, it tastes best when prepared by hand in an earthenware mortar. There are several variations on gazpacho, including salmorejo, which comes from Córdoba and has a denser texture, and ajo blanco, based on almonds rather than tomatoes and served with peeled muscatel grapes or slices of honeydew melon -- another example of Moorish influence, combining sweet and spicy flavors.

Far more substantial are the heavy soups and bean stews of the central Castilian meseta (plain) and northern coast. Cocidomadrileño is a hearty highland stew or thick soup of garbanzos, black sausage, cabbage, potatoes, carrots, pork, and chicken served in three courses, called vuelcos ("overturnings" of the pot): the broth, the vegetables and legumes, and finally the meat. Escudella is the Catalan version of cocido, using ground pork and no garbanzos. Fabada asturiana is the best-known Asturian dish, a powerful stew of white kidney beans, fatback, ham, black sausage, and hard pork sausage. Judias estofadas, made of white kidney beans with chorizo, black sausage, onion, tomato, and bacon, is a close cousin found across the north of Spain. Pisto manchego, from La Mancha, is a stew of sausage and ham with onions, peppers, tomatoes, and squash. Migas de pastor (shepherd's crumbs) is a legendary Aragonese and Castilian specialty consisting of bread crumbs and bacon sautéed in garlic and olive oil. Don't miss a chance to try marmitako, a hearty tuna and potato stew, during one of the Basque country's frequent Atlantic storms.

Kind to Carnivores
Spain is kind to carnivores, who can choose from thick and tender txuletas de buey or solomillos (beef steaks) in the Basque country and fragrant roasts in Castile. In Segovia, Burgos, and Madrid, the cochinillo al horno (roast suckling pig) and cordero asado (roast lamb) are cooked in wood ovens until at once crisp and tender enough to portion out with the edge of a blunt plate.

Fish and seafood are prepared countless ways in Spain, but the Basques and the Andalusians are particular masters of the art. The Basque country is known for txangurro (stuffed king crab) and, especially, bacalao al pil-pil -- cod cooked in oil and garlic at a low temperature, generating a sauce of juice from the fish itself. (The dish is named for the popping sound that the oil makes as the fish cooks.) Besugo (sea bream), either al horno (roasted) or a la brasa (over coals), is another Basque fish classic. Rape (angler fish) in sauce; merluza (hake) in tomato, pepper, or green (olive oil, garlic, and parsley) sauce; and dorada (gilthead bream) a la sal (baked in salt) are also popular. Common all over Spain is trucha a la Navarra, trout wrapped in, or stuffed with, pieces of bacon or ham. In Andalusia most fish is deep-fried in batter, a practice requiring very fresh fish and the right kind of oil to achieve the proper counterpoint of crispness and succulence. Chancletes (whitebait) and sardinas (sardines) are especially good in Málaga, while the salmonetes (red mullet) and acedías (miniature sole) of the Cádiz coast are legendary. Adobo, also delicious, is fried fish marinated in wine.

Spanish ham and sausage products are renowned, particularly those derived from the cerdo ibérico, a remarkable breed of free-range pig that produces jamón serrano -- roughly translatable as "ham from the sierra or mountains." This term covers three levels of quality: bellota (the finest, from pigs fed exclusively acorns), de recebo (from pigs fed acorns but finished off with corn over the last three months), and simply serrano (from pigs fattened on feed pellets). Extremadura and the provinces of Salamanca and Huelva produce Spain's best cured hams; look for those of Hijuelo, Lasa, and Jabugo. The chorizo (hard pork sausage) and morcilla (blood sausage) of Pamplona, Granada, and Burgos are known beyond Spain. Sobrasada is a delicious pork-and-pepper paste from Majorca. Fuet (literally, "whip," named for its slender shape) is Catalonia's best sausage, although the botifarra is Catalonia's most emblematic and universal spicy sausage, usually consumed with secas or mongetes (white beans), a popular Catalan dish.

The country's most sophisticated and elaborate poultry dishes are prepared in the Catalan province of Girona. These include pollastre amb llangosta (chicken with lobster), gall dindi amb panses, pinyones, i botifarra (turkey stuffed with raisins, pine nuts, and sausage), and oca (anec) amb naps (goose, or duck, with turnips). Pollo al ajillo, fried chunks of chicken smothered in chips of garlic, is beloved all over Spain. Rabbit is another standard light meat, prepared either al ajillo (in garlic), a la brasa (roasted over coals), or in stews and ragouts with peppers and assorted vegetables.

Fish, meat, and seafood meet exuberantly in paella, a saffron-flavored rice dish widely considered the most emblematic of Spanish dishes. The dish is actually comparatively new, having originated in Valencia and the Levante, Spain's rice-growing eastern coastal plain, in the early 19th century. Paella is cooked in a wide, flat, round pan and has many versions, including marinera (seafood), conejo (rabbit), pollo (chicken), and mixta (mixed). Chosen from a menú del día, paella will always be disappointing, little more than rice with some saffron and a few ingredients mixed in. Prepared on the spot and in the pan for anywhere from two to two hundred, with a caramelized crust around its edges, paella is invariably delicious. The archetypal version is paella a la marinera, a seafood anthology including shrimp, crayfish, monkfish, and mussels on a bed of saffron rice cooked in a seafood broth with peppers and tomatoes. Related dishes in clude arroz abanda, a paella with the seafood pre-shelled; fideuà, paella based on pasta rather than rice; and arroz negro (black rice), paella that takes its color and flavor from cuttlefish ink instead of saffron.

Spanish cheeses are many and varied. The cheeses of La Mancha can be consumed tierno (soft and creamy, cured under three months), semi-seco (half-cured, for three to six months), or seco (dry, cured for more than six months). A mature manchego seco is nearly the equal of an Italian Parmesan. Cabrales, a powerful sheep's cheese from Asturias, makes a Roquefort seem innocent. Other prominent northern cheeses include the soft and creamy breast-shaped tetilla gallega and the sharper Asturian pitu al' fuego. The Basque country's smoky idiazábal is like a cedar-flavored sharp cheddar.

Olive oil is indispensable in preparing many of the recipes throughout Spain. Vegetables are not overly favored, except for potatoes, which often come fried in olive oil with an entree. Salads are served as first courses and are invariably offered undressed, accompanied by cruets of oil and vinegar. Fish and bean soups can make a meal. Paellas provide colorful and festive dishes for a crowd. A beachside cafe is the place to find fine shellfish and tackle a tray of unshelled ultra-fresh crustaceans. Game birds have wide appeal in Spain. Baby lamb and pig have reached cult status and are often prepared in a wood burning oven with thyme, rosemary or oak for fragrance. The Arabs and Moors left their influence in dessert making, introducing almonds, egg yolks, and honey. Orange and lemon zest also play a role in flavoring sweets. Ground almonds often replace flour in cake baking and beaten egg whites are invariably the leavening agent in cakes.

Now let's debunk a myth: Spanish cooking almost nothing to do with Mexican cuisine. In fact most people have never tasted real Spanish food in general unless they have traveled to Spain. For example... what passes for paella at U.S. restaurants and even in cookbooks here is often a pale imitation of the real paella, the vibrant Spanish rice dish that marries the robust flavors of olive oil, garlic with saffron, short-grain rice, broth, and meat, fish, or vegetables.

Spanish Cuisine History
Spanish gastronomy is heavily influenced by the different cultures which have passed through the Iberian peninsula: Roman, Visigoth, Greeks, Carthaginians and Arabic. For this, Spanish cooking is rich in flavor and aromas. Of all the mentioned events, the ones that have had the most influence on Spanish cooking are:

Roman Spain - Hispania: For 600+ years, the Romans organized and developed wine, oil and wheat production, sauces, fish frying techniques and the famous cocido garbanzo stew. Much of this production was exported to feed other areas of the Roman Empire.

Moorish Spain - Al Andaluz: For 700+ years, the North African and Arabic Moors contributed knowledge of water management to expand agricultural production surpassing what the Romans had done. They also introduced courgettes, oranges, dates, lemons, rice, almonds aubergines, artichokes, saffron, cinnamon and other spices to Spain.

Spanish Empire: The Spanish colonies from Santiago ,Chile to San Francisco, California and on to the Philippines Islands a gave Europe potatoes, maize, cocoa, tomatoes, and peppers... can you imagine Italy without the tomato or Ireland without the potato? If all of this sounds delicious... check out our Gourmet Food and Wine Tours!

Spain' s location and the mineral wealth of its sub-soil have exercised an attraction for many people, especially foreign political and ethnic interests. Thus, its ethnic and cultural heritage is complex. It is an area of Europe much fought over and invaded.

It's history began with Phoenician, Greek, and Carthaginian coastal settlements. Later the Romans, and more importantly the Moors, Spanish life-style is vastly different from Americans'. A typical dining pattern involves a light breakfast at 8 a.m.; a mid-morning breakfast at 11 a.m.; tapas at 1 p.m. with a three-course lunch following at 2 to 3 p.m.; a merienda for tea and pastries or a snack at 5 to 6 p.m.; evening tapas at 8 p.m. or later, and a three-course supper at 10 p.m. The two main meals of the day -- la comida, or lunch, and la cena, dinner -- are no less opulent because of in-between snacks.

Regional Food of Spain
The northwestern area, Galicia, prominently displays its ancient Celtic heritage. Meat and fish pies are found here along with famed scallops and fine veal. Farther east along the coast, Asturias is known for its legendary bean dish, fabada, and a strong blue cheese, queso Cabrales. Hard cider is preferred as a drink.

The Basque country features fish dishes principally, such as fish soup, garlicky baby eels, squid, and a variety of dried cod dishes.

Cataluna is considered the most gastronomically distinctive region of Spain. Catalan cuisine is inventive with fish, such as mixed seafood zarzuela, meats or poultry, which are typically combined with local fruits.

Valencia is a region of tidal flatlands and rice is prepared here in endless styles on a daily basis. Paella is the region's most famous dish. Andalucia to the south is a parched and arid region, best suited to grape vines and olive trees. Gazpacho i s native to this area.

Spanish Cooking Terms and Ingredients
The tapa tradition is as important for the conversation and company as for the delicious food. Every Spaniard has his favorite tasca, as the tapa bars are called, where he goes regularly to meet his friends or business acquaintances. Tapas will be found in even the smallest bar in a tiny village. The word tapa, meaning cover or lid, is thought to have originally referred to the complimentary plate of appetizers that many tascas, would place like a cover on one's wine glass. Tapas can vary from simple to complex and include cheese, fish, eggs, vegetable dishes, dips, canapes, and savory pastries. A quantity of tapas can make an excellent meal.

Spain food articles:
Through Andalusia, in Search of Gazpacho
By ANDREW FERREN

Spain is a matrix of themed routes - rutas as they are known in Spanish - carefully mapped out for those looking to follow a lead. There is the Catholic pilgrimage route of Santiago de Compostela, the Ruta del Quijote, trailing Cervantes's beloved character from windmill to windmill in La Mancha, and, in season, there is even a Strawberry Train.

So doesn't gazpacho, perhaps the country's most persuasive gastronomic goodwill ambassador, deserve the same? Cold soup was addictive long before the actress Carmen Maura tossed a fistful of Valium into a blender of gazpacho in Pedro Almodóvar's 1988 film, "Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown." Perhaps the ultimate indication of its appeal today might be that for just one euro, a McDonald's meal in Spain can be super sized with a refreshing cup of the stuff.

A little research conducted among chefs, food critics and historians suggested that tracing the regional origins of some of Spain's most popular cold soups - gazpacho andaluz, and its chilly culinary cousins, ajo blanco malagueño and salmorejo cordobés, among others - would form the basis of a route for travelers through Andalusia, going bowl to bowl across the lovely patchwork landscape of olive groves and jagged mountain ranges dotted with castle-crowned hilltop towns. But along this Ruta de la Sopa Fría (Cold Soup Route), which took me from Córdoba to Carmona, near Seville, and down through Antequera to Málaga, I soon learned that I was probably the only person pausing to ponder whence cometh the cooling concoctions.

According to the historian and writer Inés Eléxpuru, who has written extensively on both historical Andalusian "rutas" and the region's rich culinary legacy, "Gazpacho and other cold soups have always just been part of the gastronomic mix" for Spaniards.

From Córdoba in the north of Andalusia to Málaga on the Mediterranean coast in the south, this proved to be the case. Gazpacho, which started out neither red (tomatoes and peppers didn't make the culinary scene in Europe until brought from the Americas at the start of the 16th century) nor cold (given the lack of refrigerators in the Middle Ages), has never stopped evolving.

Food historians trace antecedents of gazpacho at least as far back as the Romans in the third century B.C. though these were further refined by 800 years of Moorish presence in the region. Most versions evolved as a means by which peasants could make a meal using old bread, olive oil, nuts or vegetables as well as bits of ham, hard-boiled eggs and other ingredients that were either torn up into a salad or puréed with a mortar and pestle. In Andalusia, these versions developed into subtly refined soups, but in other regions, like neighboring Extremadura, they remained salads and are, in fact, often served that way, and described as gazpacho extremeño or en trozos ("in pieces").

So what we may think of as the classic gazpacho of tomato, cucumber, peppers, garlic, day-old bread, olive oil, water and salt - all blended up and iced down - was itself an arriviste not so long ago.

It's no wonder that so many distinct recipes evolved. In a less humble way, the process continues today in the age of nueva cocina, when Spanish chefs garner Michelin stars by making cold soups with unexpected ingredients - watermelon, cherries, mango or even sardines, for instance.

The celebrated Andalusian chef Dani García, whose restaurant Calima, opening soon in Marbella, will dedicate an entire section of its menu to both traditional and interpretive cold soups, explained some of the current trends. "Traditional malagueño ajo blanco was a slightly bitter soup of bread, almonds, olive oil, garlic, vinegar and water, so it was served with grapes or melon to add a note of sweetness," he said. "Today, chefs may use that melon or other fruits to make sweeter soups and so then garnish them with something savory."

Córdoba, the mythic capital of Al Andalus - as Moorish Spain was known - remains one of the most romantic cities in all of Spain. In the maze of narrow streets in the ancient Jewish quarter, in the shadow of the monumental Mezquita, or Great Mosque, one is transported back to the 11th century, when Jews, Muslims and Christians shared the city in relative harmony. With its forest of nearly 850 marble columns, the Mezquita is one of the great architectural wonders of the world and reason enough to visit the city.

But I was in town for cold soup, since the city lends its name to a dish known as salmorejo cordobés - a sturdy form of gazpacho that, depending on whom you consult, includes more bread and less (or no) water than gazpacho and also has both hard-boiled and raw eggs for added texture and richness. In fact, it's sturdy enough that it is usually served on a plate rather than a bowl and traditionally arrives at the table topped with morsels of succulent jamón serrano and some chopped egg.

The salmorejo at El Churrasco on Calle Romero, a charmingly over decorated Andalusian mesón, did not disappoint. Advised of my interest tracing the origins of Andalusia's cold soups, the affable waiter Paco suggested I order some crisply fried eggplant as a vehicle for the creamy salmorejo.

Salmorejo was not the only dish I tried at El Churrasco. Though I was not meant to sample it until Málaga, the ajo blanco tempted me, and for good reason. It was a luscious purée of pine nuts instead of almonds, topped with a chunky dice of acidic green apple and sweet sultanas. It quickly became clear that cold soup respects no traditional borders.

Just down the street, Casa Pepe, a lively jumble of small rooms on two floors, with a shaded patio at its heart, offers its own inspired version of ajo blanco in which a scoop of tart green apple ice cream and four translucent cubes of raisin confit float. The chef, Juan Carlo Muñoz, also offers a gazpacho of cherries with a drizzle of chive oil - maintaining the sweet-savory balance - on top, served in a short glass to be drunk.

Since gazpacho andaluz is the patrimony of an entire province and no one particular town, I was free to select the next stop on the Ruta and chose Carmona, a town most likely as old as gazpacho itself. Perched on a highly defensible hill overlooking the vast Andalusian plains, Carmona was for millennia an important stop on the trade route between Córdoba and Seville, as seen by the picturesque town's high density of Roman and Moorish ruins as well as splendidly ornate Baroque churches and grand palaces.

Restaurant San Fernando occupies an airy second-floor dining room with large windows overlooking the treetops and giddy wrought-iron pavilion in the Plaza San Fernando below. While the luxuriantly creamy soup was about the closest thing I would sample on my journey to a classic gazpacho, it was served in a bowl made of decoratively interlaced cucumber slices.

Heading southeast out of Carmona across the wide-open fields where centuries before, gazpacho's early practitioners perfected their recipes between shifts picking olives or harvesting wheat, one passes such picturesque towns as Marchena and Osuna en route to Antequera. The namesake of a soup known as porra antequerana, Antequera is perhaps even older than Carmona, given the Bronze Age complex of vast cave chambers on the outskirts of town. The Municipal Museum includes more recent cultural relics, most notably the famous first-century Ephebe of Antequera - a beautifully preserved Roman bronze sculpture of a youth.

According to most recipes, porra is basically gazpacho to which no water is added, creating a soup that is denser and slightly more acidic than most gazpachos. Most recipes call for topping it with bits of jamón serrano and hard-boiled egg, but in Antequera I didn't meet a porra that didn't also wear some tuna and tomato wedges as well. The best I had was at La Espuela, but it may have had to do with the romance of the location since the restaurant is inside the city's historic bullring.

Just 45 minutes south of Antequera is Málaga, cradle of ajo blanco. José Carlos Capel, perhaps Spain's leading food critic, suggested I go to the Michelin one-star restaurant Café de Paris to try the ajo blanco, which is allegedly garnished with a frozen red wine granita, "giving the soup a touch of nobility." I say "allegedly garnished" because Café de Paris was unexpectedly closed, so I booked at the recently opened Trayamar, where there were four cold soups on the menu - two gazpachos and two ajo blancos. The best of the bunch was a richly smooth, more or less traditional ajo blanco of almonds, but at the bottom of which floated diced mango macerated in anis-flavored liqueur.

Like Málaga itself - its historic center being rapidly revitalized - it seems that cold soups are preserving the best of their traditional incarnations, but freely updating. Five hundred years after the introduction of the tomato, it's worth considering that the Ruta de la Sopa Fría might be more about where the road is leading than where it's been.

RESTAURANTS
CÓRDOBA: Casa Pepe de la Judería, Calle Romero 1, (34-957) 200 744. Beyond cold soups, house specialties include Sefardi lamb with honey and hazelnuts. Lunch for two with wine, about $60 to $75, at $1.25 to the euro.

El Churrasco, Calle Romero 16, (34-957) 290 819. Known for its salmorejo and ajo blanco with pine nuts, this restaurant offers such specialties as humble but rich fried beans with jamón serrano. Dinner for two with wine and a glass of local fino, known as Montilla, about $100.

CARMONA: San Fernando, Calle Sacramento 3, (34-954) 143 556. In addition to the standout gazpacho, try the cumin-infused vegetable appetizers "a la Carmona." Entrees include chuletitas - tiny lamb chops - and codfish on garlic mousse with calamari sauce. Lunch $25 to $50 a person. Or try the 22-euro ($27.50) tasting menu.

ANTEQUERA: La Espuela, Plaza de Toros de Antequera, (34-952) 703 424. The restaurant specializes in traditional Andalusian dishes like rabo de toro (stewed bull's tail), as well as the porra antequerana. Lunch for two with wine, about $60.

MÁLAGA: Café de Paris, Calle Vélez Málaga 8, Zona La Malagueta, (34-952) 225 043. The restaurant is best known for several cold soups, among them an ajo blanco with red wine granita, and several fruit gazpachos as well. Lunch for two with wine, about $125.

Trayamar, Plaza Uncibay 9, (34-952) 215 459. The menu changes frequently, but beyond its interpretive versions of cold soups, Trayamar specializes in seafood such as grouper with three types of chard. Dinner for two with wine, $100 to $125.
Top Madrid Chefs Draw Inspiration From a Catalan Star

By JONATHAN REYNOLDS

ERRAN ADRIÀ reigns as the Elvis of the culinary world, and his restaurant El Bulli - found in the tiny town of Roses, two hours north of Barcelona by car - is certainly its Graceland.

Not unlike Michel Guérard's nouvelle cuisine in the 70's, Paul Prudhomme's Cajun cuisine in the 80's, or Alice Waters's Californian of the last three decades, Mr. Adrià's scientific approach has dominated the international restaurant scene for more than 10 years, sprouting dozens of disciples. Armed with more philosophy than a French filmmaker, these chefs believe that cooking is based at least as much on science as on art.

But while a pilgrimage to Roses is a mandatory stop for food zealots from across the world, a handful of restaurants in often-overlooked Madrid - some of them run by disciples of Mr. Adrià himself - continue to assert themselves, enticing diners with dishes as surprising as truffle-mashed-potato-and-egg or as simply deceptive as fried milk.

La Broche
One such acolyte is Sergi Arola, whose excellent menu at Madrid's premier restaurant of haute cuisine, La Broche, features many dishes figured out - or at least enhanced - in the lab and with a siphon bottle.

While using superb produce, for instance, Mr. Arola mixes sea urchin, pea juice and a complicated cream of seaweed and boletus mushrooms at the bottom of a nearly conical white bowl (like all the other china, designed by the chef), on top of which, at the very last moment, the waiter ladles what appears to be the yolk of a quail's egg that's been dyed green. My wife, Red, and I puzzled over what this might be: did the chef inject the yolk with chlorophyll, the use of which is currently fashionable in the kitchen/labs of San Sebastián? No, nothing so simple: Mr. Arola has taken the juice of peas, dipped a tiny portion in a bath of calcium chloride and water so it remains liquid but holds its shape like a blob of free-floating mercury, and dipped it in water to remove the calcium taste.

Then, as though carrying nitro, the waiter slides it onto an already picture-perfect circle of sea greens surrounded by an ivory cream border right in front of your eyes. When you lance it, it spreads through the sea urchin base, coloring it and adding the sweetness of everything in the Mediterranean that's good. It is dinner and magic show at once.

Nothing is commonplace here: the turbot is stewed with rooster combs; the vichyssoise features calcots, an obscure Spanish vegetable; a complex mélange of smoked tuna, tomato water and mozzarella ice cream arrives in a dollhouse-sized portion. Desserts are particularly imaginative, including a bread pudding that arrives fried in cubes accompanied by a rice pudding with no discernible rice.

The surroundings flirt with pretension, but then so does "The Iceman Cometh." The design ship may have sailed on this all-white minimalist rectangle that seats only 40 to 50 people and makes them look more like passengers on Kubrick's 2001 spaceship than diners in 2005. But there's nothing old news about the taste or visual impact of the food.

Not all dishes are successful, either visually or gastronomically. Creamy Parmesan atop a raw prawn is a stretch, and delicious as it is, you might wonder why an intensely flavored artichoke heart in a puddle of heretical demi-glace carries a $32 price tag for a tidbit the size of an Oreo cookie.

Mind you, it's fun if you don't question it too closely. La Broche is clearly at the apex of the restaurant pyramid in Madrid. Surprisingly, the expense, while hardly suited for a modest budget, is not as great as you might think: five can eat for the price of one at Megu in New York ($175 for two, at $1.28 to the euro).

La Cumbre de Casares
However, you can eat like a normal human being in Madrid, too. Just outside of town (seven and a half miles, 20 minutes by taxi) in Pozuelo, this perennially full family-run restaurant features more than 160 items on its menu, including most of the hams, shellfish and canapés Spain has to offer. "See that couple?" asked our host, Bill O'Hale, as we strolled in at 9 p.m. "They're just finishing lunch."

The two large, raffish rooms, which spill out onto the sidewalk, signal that this is a place where ties and jackets are virtually against the law. We were lucky to have the genial Mr. O'Hale, headmaster of the American School in Madrid, guide us through the vast menu, though based on this one elephantine tasting, it would appear that if you like a particular ingredient - steamed mussels in a pepper sauce, say, or shrimp grilled in a half-inch of olive oil and garlic, or any one of a bunch of pâtés, porks, cheeses, eggs - it will be heartily prepared here.

Desserts, which sound as banal as fried milk (a wonderful custard) and a puff pastry filled with whipped cream, are actually delicious. The ambience is noisy and cheerful, though we never had difficulty talking or being heard. (This was true of all the restaurants I visited in Madrid. New York should take note.)

This is a working person's restaurant, providing the worker's collar is white, as Pozuelo is said to be one of the richest suburbs in Spain. The three of us managed a bill of $326 - much of this thanks to our host's insistence that we sample just about the entire menu, including two superb liters of Spanish white, a jeroboam and a liter of its reds, and a half bottle of Omivire, a dessert wine so good Red wouldn't let us have any. Less gluttonous and enthusiastic diners could probably fill stomachs and spirits substantially for $64 apiece.

Restaurante Arce
Midway between La Broche and La Cumbre in aspiration, geography and size, if not expense, this small but well-appointed restaurant in the trendy Chueca section of Madrid may be the perfect spot for an extended business lunch or the second volume of "Remembrance of Things Past." Arce is one of the few restaurants in Madrid that serve wine by the glass, which is refilled by the maître d'hôtel unasked. I hadn't been there five minutes when a burly man in chef's whites and a foot-high toque plonked himself down across the table as though we'd known each other since pre-K.

"So, are we hungry?" Iñaki Camba asked, stroking his salt-and-pepper goatee.

"No," I said, revisiting the night before at La Broche. (I was dining alone.) After that restaurant's chem lab, I wanted a taste of the old Spain. He was mildly surprised but not stymied.

He whisked out a notepad and within minutes had sold me on three tapas and the noted Basque classic, hake with green sauce.

By now, most people know that historically, tapas were little covers (literally, "tops") placed over glasses of wine at the bar to keep the flies off your wine. The morsels grew in popularity and size and soon became mini-meals, then maxi-meals. Those covers were abandoned and now, of course, tapas can be tiny appetizers or constitute an entire meal.

The ones at Arce were particularly good. First, a golf-ball-sized chunk of meaty rice I didn't remember ordering appeared, followed by three thin strips of house-smoked cod, venison and salmon carpaccio, each complementing the other; then a perfectly deep-fried croquette filled with a creamy codfish-enveloped shrimp resting on a mild tomato sauce; this was followed by spanking fresh shafts of fat white alternating with slim green asparagus in a mousseline (orange-flavored hollandaise) sauce, which highlighted the differences between the two varieties. (We have to come up with a better word for croquette, conjuring as it does Betty Crocker torpedoes, which Madrid versions certainly aren't.)

The hake in green sauce was a mild, actually unnecessary, main course; by now I was filled with enough nutrients to pacify the entire alternative medicine community of southern California. A scrumptious chocolate meringue followed, but I couldn't finish it. Chef Comba bounced by again.

"So, everything is O.K.?" I told him yes indeed and asked what the first tapas had been. "Oh, that was rice and blood," he said. And it was not tapas, it was aperitif." It's not customary for the chef to sit at the table in Madrid, but it's an excellent idea: it gives you the feeling he is creating a menu especially for you. I was out the door for $70.

Dassa Bassa
There comes a moment in gastronomy roughly equivalent to an athlete's second wind: after a preposterously filling meal or two, you can't imagine having another for at least a day. It may take perseverance, and a long walk between seatings, but with practice, human anatomy is such that after a while it thankfully accommodates. And that afternoon I got my gastronomic second wind and never gasped for air again while dining at what the local magazine Metropoli voted its Best New Restaurant of the Year. Dassa Bassa.

Breathing heavily down the neck of La Broche, Dassa Bassa, so-called because of the nicknames of its two partners, apes the design concept of its rival with more contemporaneity, if less certitude. A series of sleek planes and internally lighted stairs lead to an underground brick cave that's been whitewashed. The food sometimes reaches great heights, but at this moment is uneven. Because it has only been open nine months, this won't be for long.

Both Mr. Arola and the young chef here, Darío Barrio, worked at El Bulli with Mr. Adrià. The chef's eggs with mashed potato and truffle was the single best dish on this brief trip to Madrid, capturing the truffle in every bite. A boned chunk of oxtail with wine and chocolate, based on a recipe the chef's grandmother dreamed up, should set the new standard for braising meat. And a bizarre dessert made with red beets, ice cream and mangoes was constantly amusing, surprising and delicious. But the foie gras was ruined by tampering with vinegar (or something acidic), and a scallop was ordinary (despite an ingenious garnish - a ball of Swiss chard). The rest of the menu is inclusive without being extensive - five appetizers, four fish, four meats, four desserts.

Dassa Bassa is expensive, even by the standards of the Madrileños (dinner for four cost $553, which included $198 for three bottles of wine but not $50 for tips. Still, for an extravagant night out - and a whiff of the future (possibly as close as next week's), it's decidedly recommended.

Restaurant Information
These restaurants serve lunch and dinner and accept major credit cards; all permit smoking.
La Broche, Miguel Angel, 29, (34-91) 399-3437. Closed Saturday and Sunday. Reservations essential.

La Cumbre de Casares, Via Dos Castillas, 23, (34-91) 351-1170. Closed Monday. Reservations not accepted.

Restaurante Arce, 32, Augusto Figueroa 32, (34-91) 522-5913. Closed Sunday; Saturday dinner only. Reservations recommended.

Dassa Bassa, Villalar 7, (34-91) 576-7397. Closed Sunday and Monday. Reservations essential.

Hotels
CÓRDOBA: Hotel NH Amistad Córdoba, Plaza de Maimónides 3, (34-957) 420 335; www.nh-hotels.com. A four-star hotel housed in two 18th-century mansions and an adjoining building in the heart of the old city near the Mosque. Rooms are clean and modern. Double rooms from $106 to $190; not including breakfast ($18.70) and 7 percent tax.

MÁLAGA: Hotel Larios, Calle Marqués de Larios 2, (34-952) 222 200; www.hotel-larios.com. On the city's grandest pedestrian street, the hotel has a rooftop terrace bar with views over the city. Rooms, most with small balconies, are spacious and modern with a discernable Art Deco accent. Doubles from $120 to $187; not including breakfast ($15) and 7 percent tax.

Recipes

Sangria
makes 8 servings
2 bottles (4/5 quart each) dry red wine
2 bottles (10 ounces each) bitter lemon soda
1 orange, sliced
1 lemon, sliced
Sugar to taste
Ice cubes
Mint sprigs

Combine the wine, bitter lemon, and sliced orange and lemon in a large pitcher. Add sugar. Chill. To serve, pour over ice cubes in glasses and garnish with mint.

Tapas
A varied selection of appetizers any food native to Spain might be used:spinach, chic peas,cheese, cured ham, shrimp, white albacore tuna, roasted red peppers, green olives, chunks of sweet French bread, anchovies; green onion, spinach, or potato fritatta.
Potato Omelet (Tortilla Espanola)
makes 4 servings
1/3 cup olive oil
4 large potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/8-inch thick
Coarse salt
1 large onion, thinly sliced
4 eggs

Heat three tablespoons of the oil in a 9-inch non-stick skillet and add the potato slice s and onions, salting lightly. Cook slowly, lifting and turning occasionally, until tender but not brown. Beat the eggs, add the potatoes and let sit a few minutes. Add the remaining oil to the skillet, heat until very hot, and add the potato and egg mixture, spreading it with a pancake turner. Lower heat to medium, shake pan to keep potatoes from sticking, and when brown underneath, place a plate on top and invert, then slide back into the skillet and brown the other side.

Andalusia Gazpacho
makes 8 servings
1 large cucumber, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 sweet white onion, coarsely chopped
6 large tomatoes, peeled and coarsely chopped
4 or 5 garlic cloves, minced
1 can (10-1/2 ounces) condensed beef broth
3 tablespoons each white wine vinegar and olive oil
2 slices sourdough French bread
1 small carrot, peeled and grated
1/2 cup water
Salt and pepper to taste
Condiments: chopped green onions, croutons, diced avocado

Place t he cucumber, onion, tomatoes, garlic, broth, vinegar, oil, bread, and carrot in a blender and blend until almost smooth. (Prepare in two batches if necessary.) Thin to desired consistency with water and season with salt and pepper. Chill. Serve in bowls, passing condiments to be spooned into the soup.

Paella Rice with Shellfish - Paella con Mariscos
makes 8 servings
1 onion, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 large tomato, peeled and chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
1-1/2 cups long-grain white rice
1/2 teaspoon saffron
1 bottle (8 oz.) clam juice
1 1/2 cups hot water
1/2 cup dry white wine
16 large prawns, unshelled
16 small butter, rock or steamer clams, un shucked
1 crab, cooked and cracked or 8 very small lobster tails, cooked
1 package (10 ounces) frozen tiny peas, blanched for two minutes in boiling water
1/2 pound baby asparagus, parboiled (optional)
1 jar (2 ounces) sliced pimiento
Lemon wedges

In a large frying pan or four-quart casserole, saute, onion, garlic, and tomato in oil until vegetables are glazed. Add the rice, saffron, clam juice, water, and wine. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes. Arrange prawns and clams on top, cover and steam until the clam shells open. Transfer to a large paella pan or serving casserole. Add the crab, peas, asparagus, and pimiento. Heat through or keep warm in a low oven until serving time. Garnish with lemon wedges.

Flan
makes about 8 servings
1 1/4 cups sugar
3 1/2 cups milk
6 eggs
2 egg yolks
Zest of 1 lemon

In a saucepan, heat 1/2 cup of the sugar over moderate heat, shaking the pan frequently, until the sugar melts and turns amber. Pour at once into a 1-1/2 quart ring mold and quickly tilt the mold in all directions to coat the bottom and sides evenly. Heat the milk, but do not boil. Beat together the eggs and egg yolks just until blended, then beat in the remaining sugar and vanilla. Gradually stir in the hot milk. Pour the mixture into the caramel-lined mold and place in a pan of hot water. Bake in a preheated 325 degree oven for one hour or until a knife inserted comes out clean. Let the custard cool, then chill it. To serve, run a knife around the sides of the mold to loosen the custard. Place a large round platter over the mold and quickly invert; lift off the mold.

See our Food & Wine Tour>

San Sebastian, Spain Eating Scene:
Humble Haute

San Sebastián makes a dual promise that many European destinations don't. It's old and new. Traditional and trailblazing. A place to which a food lover might retreat for its rustic, timeless culinary virtues and a place to which a food lover might flock in order to be conversant in the here and now.

I thought about London, where the turnover in restaurants is faster than in other European cities, and the Fat Duck, the international gastronomic darling of the moment, is just a short drive or train ride away. But the pound is a punishing currency, and who really longs to taste the fruits of the English soil or talks of English wine?

I considered Paris, which wants only for innovation, not for transcendence, but it seemed too familiar. I toyed with the idea of Turin, which is now gussying itself for the Winter Olympics and serves as gateway to the Piedmont countryside, with its truffles and Barolo, its agnolotti and vitello tonnato. But the variety among restaurants in that patch of northern Italy is limited.And so, as I pondered where in Europe I would go right now if my sole agenda were to eat, I fixed on the area around San Sebastián, along the Basque coast of northern Spain.

I've never been there, but that's not the reason it draws my eye and appetite. San Sebastián makes a dual promise that many European destinations don't. It's old and new. Traditional and trailblazing. A place to which a food lover might retreat for its rustic, timeless culinary virtues and a place to which a food lover might flock in order to be conversant in the here and now.

San Sebastián is humble, a trove of unfussy bars with pintxos, which is what tapas are called there. These pintxos use seafood from nearby waters and other local ingredients. By all reports, a diner needn't plot carefully to find the baby squid of his or her desires, the ham of his or her dreams.

But San Sebastián is also oh so haute. The area constitutes a veritable galaxy of Michelin stars, supposedly more ofthem per capita than anywhere else. Among the stand-outs is Martín Berasategui, outside town at Loidi Kalea, 4, Lasarte, (34-943) 366-471, which has been around more than a decade.

Arzak, Avenida Alcalde Jose Elosegui, 273, (34-943) 278-465, has been around even longer, and it established its creator, Juan Mari Arzak, as a sire of modern Spanish cuisine, with its technical derring-do, its exuberant playfulness. At a recent conference, he showcased an exploding dessert, using dry ice to turn a strawberry milkshake into a rising froth of bubbles.

Mr. Arzak was a mentor to Ferran Adrià who works in and around Barcelona, which is arguably the epicenter of the culinary avant garde. But there's plenty of progressive gastronomy around Sa0 Sebastián, including at Mugaritz, a relatively new addition.

Mugaritz, Aldura Aldea, 20, Errenteria, (34-943) 522-455, is the laboratory of a widely touted wunderkind named Andoni Luis Aduriz, and laboratory is apparently the right word, in the sense that Mr. Aduriz typifies the way a new generation of chefs0 uses the tools and precision of science in the service of cooking. Mr. Aduriz actually studied at a liver-transplant clinic to better understand and manipulate the organ. He prepares foie gras in an elaborate, multistep process.

As is the fashion with culinary acrobats these days, he constructs long tasting menus of Lilliputian portions, concentrating on discrete pinpoints of flavor and unexpected ingredients. He apparently serves raw thistle leaves. He reputedly does a hay consommé.

I'd like to try it, but I'd also like to know that my next meal might be a simpler succession of pintxos, including a clump of sautéed mushrooms and a cluster of chorizo, both reflective of a particular place's timeless bounty. In San Sebastián, I could do just that.

FRANK BRUNI is the restaurant critic for The Times.

Spanish Wine and Food Pairings 101

Pairing foods with wines is very much like discovering wonderful new Spanish Mediterranean recipes. Just as the right combination of ingredients complements and highlights each other to create a gourmet dish, pairing the right wine with a meal in Spain creates a combination that celebrates and enhances the experience of both Spanish food and wine.

And, just as a recipe doesn’t have to be complex to be mouth-wateringly good, you don’t have to be a wine connoisseur or gourmet cook to enjoy the benefits of the right wine pairing.

A basic understanding of the food, the wine and how the components and flavors in each interact can make it easy to find a successful pairing on a daily basis, and can greatly increase the chances of finding an exciting synergy between wine and food.

Start with the Wine
When you’re first trying your hand at pairing, we recommend starting with a wine and then selecting and creating the food around it. The simple reason for this is that it’s much easier to tweak a food recipe to make it more compatible with the wine, than it is to start blending your own wines.

Pick a wine you know a love already. This way, you’ll have a sense of its flavors already, which you can use as a starting point to experiment with food pairings. Plus, if the recipe doesn’t work, at the very least you’ll be able to enjoy a nice bottle of wine!

Be ‘Prepared’ With The Food
Forget the white wine with white meat and red with red meats. The best place to begin your food selection is with an understanding of how the food is being prepared – the components and flavors in the dish that are integral to pairing it with wine. This is why food and wine pairing in restaurants can be challenging. You think that everything will be fine and then discover that the dish has a different flavor (Why did the chef add olives, they didn’t mention them on the menu?), texture (Wow, I didn’t know that the sea scallops and bay scallops are so different!) or cooking method (I expected the chicken to be grilled, but it is poached.).

The three key points
To keep in mind when selecting the food are
1. The food item being paired;
2. The cooking method of that item; and
3. The additional flavors or sauces

The fundamental rule is to begin by pairing delicate wines with delicate flavors, medium-bodied wines with medium-weight or intensity flavors, and strongly flavored foods with wines that will stand up to their pungency. To help keep things simple as you get started, we’ve put together the following guide. Like anything, these are not absolute rules, but good guidelines to follow to help create the most successful and interesting pairings.

Mourvedre ( Monastrell in Spain)

To make the wine even more compatible you can use the sauce to try to imitate flavors in the wine. For instance, mushrooms work well with Pinot Noir, tomatoes with Sangiovese, herbs and mint with Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon, and dark berries with Shiraz.

As we noted, it’s not critical that you memorize this guide and follow it to the letter. The important point is to use this to help learn how the different types of flavors pair with different wines. This understanding of food components and wine flavors is actually much more helpful that simply matching a food to a wine and the basic chicken breast is a great example of why.

Imagine a chicken breast poached (i.e. cooked in water) with a light lemon herb sauce. This might be a dish that could be friendly with light to medium bodied white wines like Pinot Gris and Sauvignon Blanc. Now add a cream sauce and you can move up in body to a fuller bodied wine, maybe a Chardonnay. Or try it roasted and suddenly the flavors are such that it can marry with light to medium bodied reds, like Pinot Noir or Sangiovese. Grill it and it becomes great with fuller bodied reds, even Zinfandel or Shiraz (Syrah).

On The Contrary
In addition to marrying foods with complementary wines, many people like to create a contrast between various components in the dish and the wine in much the same way that you would balance sweet dessert recipe with a tangy sauce. This is as simple as enjoying a crisp acidic wine like a Sauvignon Blanc to cut through a very buttery sauce, or possibly a more oaky Chardonnay with a very tart or sweet dish.

The result is different, but the approach remains the same – consider the flavor of both the wind and food to create a specific taste experience.

Dining Out
You can see why our point about the difficulty of pairing a wine with a meal can be rather tricky when you’re dining at a restaurant. That’s why it can also be more fun. Sometimes those surprises can open your palate to wonderful new experiences.

Of course, don’t ever be shy about asking how a food is prepared or requesting help from the sommelier. Be sure they explain how the preparation of the food pairs nicely with the wine. You’ll be more assured of enjoying your meal and will learn some good lessons for your next adventure in your own kitchen.

Cheese, Wine and Fruit
Any simple gathering can become a tasting event with the classic combination of wine, cheese, and fruit.

An Iberian Couple: Spanish Wine and Cheese
By Jim Clarke

Like sparkling wine kept under pressure and then released, Spanish food and wine is suddenly exploding past the country's borders. In addition to several big-name chefs, the wines and cheeses of the country are becoming popular, and not just in Spanish restaurants. Among cheeses, Manchego has spearheaded the attack into American restaurants, and there are several others trailing in its wake - with many more waiting to be discovered, for that matter. Similarly Spanish wine isn't limited to Rioja anymore; Priorat and Rias Baixas and Penedés and many other quality wines with distinctive personalities are being brought over by enthusiastic and informed importers.



As with France's vinous and dairy products, Spanish wine and cheese make great companions, so I set out to play matchmaker. I was fortunate to visit Spain recently and try a number of wines - inevitably accompanied by cheese - and decided to supplement my education with some research here in New York City. Murray's Cheese Shop in Greenwich Village generously provided me with several great cheeses from their immense selection, and I took them over to see my friends at Union Square Wines to pull some bottles from their shelves that seemed like promising partners.

I began with a creamy mild cheese called Tetilla, which brought back fond memories. The cheese comes from Galicia, in the northwest of Spain above Portugal, and was the first piece of food I put in my mouth when I visited the region last December (The second was some wonderful grilled octopus, a traditional Galician preparation; wonderful, but it made an odd breakfast for me, still on East Coast time). Tetilla is a soft, creamy, mild cow's milk cheese; in Spain, these are less common than those made from sheep or goat's milk, but Galicia's green hills make it the Spanish leader in cow's milk production - cows being pickier eaters than sheep or goats. The cheese's name, which means "nipple," comes from the fact that the cheese is molded into a shape that is said resemble a breast. If so, they must have had Madonna's get-up from the early nineties in mind; the shape is on the cone-like, Hershey Kiss side.

Its risque shape aside, this cheese followed a classic rule of wine and cheese pairing: pair a cheese with a wine from the same region. Galicia is home to the Rias Baixas appellation which makes white wines from indigenous grapes: Albariño primarily, but also Treixadura and Loureira; these are the wines that brought me to visit Galicia. On this occasion I tried the tetilla with the Nora 2002 Albariño, which shows an aromatic nose of peach, apple, and melon with a minerally finish. Paired, it passed its fruity qualities over to the cheese, lightening it, and took on a more Chablis-like character itself. San Simón is Tetilla's alter-ego, a smoked version that's a bit meatier. It also works with Albariño, but preferably something with a brioche edge that will blend well with the smokiness like the Condes de Albarei 2002. If you like cheese croissants it's the match for you.

Cabrales has already made waves in the U.S. among lovers of blue cheeses, but for a blue that's a little tamer (i.e. one that non-blue fans might forgive you for serving) but still creamy, piquant, and flavorful, try Valdeon. It's also the only other cheese we tried that is made with cow's milk, albeit usually mixed with goat's milk depending on seasonal availability. Traditionally it is wrapped in leaves and aged in caves for two or three months, where it develops its blue veins.

Like many blues, Valdeon calls for a sweet wine. Alvear's 2000 Pedro Ximenez Añada worked well, adding a fullness and roundness to the cheese. In this case the wine may be the real winner; the Pedro Ximenez can be a bit too syrupy, and the cheese toned this down and allowed me to concentrate on the figs, dates, and caramel of the wine without being overwhelmed by its texture and mouthfeel. A 2001 Altos de Luzon Jumilla from Finca Luzon also profited from being paired with the Valdeon. The wine's tannins cut through the fat in the cheese, while the slate and other earthy notes emerged from the wine, toning down the fruit.

However, the Jumilla's best match was an Idiazabal, made from sheep's milk in the Pyrenees. Traditionally this cheese was smoked; my sample represented a growing trend away from that treatment, allowing it's buttery and nutty flavors to stand on their own. Together with the cheese, the wine retained all its aromas of blackberry, plum, and slate, and its tannins once more addressed the fat of the cheese to clear the palate. The cheese seemed creamier and smoother in the company of this wine, and they both share an up-and-coming status. The Jumilla DO in Murcia, near Alicante, allows the use of Garnacha, Tempranillo, and Mourvedre (called Monastrell in Spain); it has long been an area of great potential, and the winemakers here have begun applying modern craft to creating more dynamic wines than they have in the past.

The seriously intense Monte Enebro is a cheese that benefits from aging and mold without developing blue veins. A coat of ash and mold forms on the outside of this creamy, spreadable goat's milk cheese, and its tanginess is buttressed by a walnutty base. A Cava like the Marques de Gelida NV Brut brings forth a wonderful smokiness from the cheese, whose nuttiness, in turn, brings out yeasty, bready notes to accompany the sparkling wine's citrus and green apple aromas. Both wine and cheese gain smoothness from the pairing as well. If you've been overindulging in sparkling wines and would like something still, try a sherry like the Delgado Zuleta Manzanilla; there's enough acidity in this wine to keep the cheese's tang in control, and they both possess a complementary nutty element.

A goat's milk cheese with a decidedly different style is Garrotxa, from Catalonia. It's firm, with notes of chalk, wild herbs, and brine as well as a touch of nuts to it. The 2002 Naia is also from Catalonia, in this case from the Rueda DO. The primary grape here is the indigenous Verdejo, and the Naia displays lots of floral aromas which are typical to the grape, along with touches of peach and melon. The herbal scents of the cheese together with the wine's floral qualities bring to mind wind-blown Spanish hills, and the texture and acidity of both partners balance quite well.

Torta de la Serena is a cheese I make a beeline for every time I see it served. Seriously rich and creamy, this soft cheese from Extremadura owes its distinctive, somewhat stinky character to the Merino sheep of the region and the thistle rennet used in making the cheese. Its bold style needs a big red wine to stand up to it. I've enjoyed this cheese on occasion with the 2001 Condado de Haza from the Ribera del Duero, a wine made from 100% Tempranillo grapes; it's dark berries, licorice, and chocolate wraps around the cheese like some yet-to-be-invented bon-bon. An earthier wine also does great things with this cheese; the 2000 Blecua from the Somontano DO is an international blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot together with Spanish natives Garnacha and Tempranillo. Earth, slate and forest floor aromas are layered with black fruits and a clear balsam note from oak-aging; it smooths the more aggressive aromas in the cheese and readies the palate for another bite.

The last successful pairing I tried brought together what may be the two Spanish products most well-known in the U.S.: Rioja and Manchego. 1994 was a special vintage in Rioja and prompted many winemakers to lay down some of their wine according to the special aging requirements to create a Gran Reserva. The Ramirez de la Piscina 1994 Gran Reserva still shows all the character of the tempranillo grape set among the aromas of extended aging: red fruits like cherries and dried cranberries floating over earth, smoke, and barnyard aromas. Meanwhile Manchego is a rich sheep's milk cheese with a mild nutty character and sometimes a pepperiness that increases with aging. In this case my semi-aged Manchego brought new life to the wine, obscuring the barnyard character and filling out the fruitiness. There was just enough tannin left in the wine to balance with the fat of the cheese, and the smoke of the wine blended well with the cheese's nutty touch. Manchego comes from La Mancha, the land of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza; literature's classic pair meets its match on the Spanish table with wine and cheese pairings that ride together just as well.

My thanks to Liz Thorpe at Murray's Cheese and Alexis Beltrami at Union Square Wines for their help in preparing this article.

The Happy Couples: Spanish Wines and Cheeses Together

SPANISH WHITES: Can You Name One?
By Al Dereu

When you consider Spanish wines, what usually comes to mind are the reds from the Rioja and Ribera del Duero areas, the sweet and dry sherries from Jerez (the word sherry itself is a vulgarization of the word Jerez), and the sparkling wine called cava from the Penedés area south of Barcelona. Ernest Hemingway, no stranger to a mellowing beverage, mentioned Spain’s excellent and inexpensive dry rosés on and off in his works, but by and large rosés are under the radar In the United States. Rarely does white wine come to mind – and that’s a shame. Spain, as the country with the world’s most total acreage devoted to vineyards, is home to an array of white wines ranging from the exotic, food-friendly albariño to the more neutral, clean, crisp viura and verdejo to the more familiar chardonnay and sauvignon blanc.

Albariño
Albariño, Spain’s signature white wine, is named for a grape grown in Galicia. It is to Spain what sauvignon blanc is to New Zealand and pinot grigio is to Italy, even more so in that almost nowhere else in the world is this grape grown. Almost exclusively bottled as a varietal (that is, with 100 percent albariño and no other grapes blended in), it is as unique as it is food-friendly. It unquestionably ranks as one of the world’s finest, albeit underappreciated, white wine varieties. It literally has no equal, although if asked to name one I would suggest New Zealand’s ripe yet racy sauvignon blanc. Or course albariño does not show the same herbal/grassy aromas and flavors, but in terms of being relatively light in body and displaying forward fruit as well as assertive, palate-cleansing acidity, New Zealand sauvignon blanc is probably albariño’s closest stylistic cousin

These qualities — light body, searing acidity, and intense minerality — make you think of bottling an ocean breeze. They allow albariño to pair brilliantly with a plate of seafood, shellfish, or, more specifically, paella. Spain’s take on a rice dish, paella is typically studded with scallops, mussels, shrimp, chorizo, and/or chicken. It is finished with sherry and traditionally served in enormous pans designed to serve a dozen or even more at a time. Personally, I wouldn’t dream of eating paella without some albariño on hand. In my mind it certainly ranks as one of the greatest and most natural of food-and-wine pairings around. Albariño will also pair well with any seafood rich in mineral or slate qualities (think oysters), though a lobster drenched in butter would be better served alongside your favorite chardonnay, be it Californian or French white Burgundy.
Albariño’s home is in Galicia, just north of Portugal, and clearly it enjoys its dominating maritime influence. Galicia is lush and verdant, the landscape more reminiscent of Scotland or Ireland than the rest of the Iberian Peninsula. Given the grape’s undeniable success here, it’s hard to fathom why no one has tried to grow it elsewhere. I can’t recall having tried an albariño from any other country. While some experimentation with oak barrel fermentation has yielded modest success, it is the grape’s primary qualities that set it apart. For the most part, I don’t see how barrel fermentation (versus the normal stainless-steel tank) or any degree of aging can improve upon something that is so unique and so good as it is.

Albariño’s Portuguese genetic cousin, alvarinho, is used to make vinho verde. The latter cannot match the former’s exotic nature and in general pales, not only in color, but also in depth and intensity. Vinho verde on the whole is far more neutral in flavor despite its genetic similarity and geographic proximity to albariño.

There is also less variation vintage-to-vintage in the overall quality of albariños than there is with, for instance, wines from Burgundy or Bordeaux in France, where the whims of Mother Nature can wreak havoc on the grapes and resultant wines. Another consequence of this is price fluctuations, as demand for a “good vintage’s” wines inflate its cost to the consumer. Albariño’s prices remain consistent year to year. And its relative obscurity in this country also helps keep down the price tag. A few albariño producers to look for include Martin Codax, Pazo de Señorans, Burgans, and Fillaboa. Some friends and I recently enjoyed a bottle of this last one with tapas at Café Iberico on the near north side of Chicago.

Viura and Verdejo
Viura is the most important white grape of the Rioja area in north-central Spain. Rioja is an area far more renowned for its tempranillo-based reds than its whites; some people even think the Spanish word Rioja means red, but it is actually a contraction of “Rio Oja,” a tributary to the Ebro River that runs through the region. Viura makes a far more neutral wine than the aforementioned albariño, lacking the latter’s exotic aromas, flavors, and overall complexity. It has its place, however; if you consider the scorchingly high temperatures typical of the Iberian inland during the summer months, you can readily appreciate its uses. A lighter-bodied, lower-alcohol wine is much easier to drink in unbearable heat – a big, buttery, 14 percent alcohol chardonnay doesn’t quite quench the thirst as well.

I’ve heard some suggest that the full potential of viura has yet to be realized. While I’m not wholly convinced of this, I’d be thrilled to someday learn that there is more to this pleasant little white. Spain is still breaking out of the isolation that gripped the country during the long rule of Francisco Franco, who only passed away 30 years ago. The modernization of the country’s winemaking, investment in new equipment, and total commitment to cleanliness are relatively recent phenomena. For literally centuries, much of Spain “crafted” and drank an oxidized white of little character. So it’s not far-fetched to think there might be uncharted waters even for a grape they’ve grown for hundreds of years.

There has been some experimentation with oak barrel fermentation with mixed results. The Rioja bodega (winery) Conde de Valdemar offers a decent, well-made white, in addition to a stainless-steel tank fermented one. The unoaked white is a great warm-weather quaffer and pairs well with lighter (white) fish and perhaps a simple herb accent – nothing too heavy. An oaky one would seem more suited for scallops with garlic pan-fried in butter.

Verdejo is another indigenous Spanish grape not really cultivated elsewhere. It is grown in Rueda, northwest of Madrid and near the world-class red wine region of Ribera del Duero. Verdejo reminds me most of sauvignon blanc. In fact, sauvignon blanc is also grown in Rueda, and you can find varietal bottlings of both grapes as well as blends of the two together. Light in body and crisply refreshing (noticing a pattern yet?), verdejo can be called upon to quench your summer thirst and complement a salad or herb-seasoned fish or chicken dish.

Even more so than viura-based wines, you’ll rarely if ever encounter much oak influence with Verdejo. One benefit of this is the price – utilizing oak barrels for fermenting or aging wine inherently increases the price of the finished product. While viura and verdejo-based wines may not be the best white wines you’ll ever have, the flip side is that they won’t bleed your wallet dry either. Even $8-15 a pop will get you a good, genuine example of these wines, and that’s really not much to ask for something distinct, food-friendly, clean and easy. Really good albariños cost more along the lines of $13-20 a bottle, which is still relatively inexpensive. A high-quality chardonnay, be it from California or France, could easily cost twice that and more.

Other Spanish Whites
Some other Spanish whites that don’t fit into the above categories warrant mentioning. The Huguet family, longtime makers of the Spanish sparkling wine cava, make a “still” (nonsparkling) white called can feixes. It is blended mostly from grapes used for cava: xarello, parellada, and macabeo (the regional clone of viura), with a splash of chardonnay. Xarello has various “correct” spellings, so if you see any word close to this, it’s probably the same grape. This blend displays restrained flavors of lemon and unabashed minerality; this would serve as a good intro to Spanish whites for Pinot grigio fans. It’s available in Chicago, where I live; and I recently found it being poured at a small wine store in Leesburg, Virginia, when I was there for a wedding. The friendly and knowledgeable saleswoman and I agreed that it is definitely different, consistently good, and begging for a plate of oysters or shellfish.

Marqués de Cáceres, a Rioja winery, makes a white rioja called satinela. It is made mostly from late-harvest viura, with some malvasia filling out the blend. It is fairly sweet, hinting at apricots, white peaches, and even white flowers. Unlike some dessert wines, though, this finishes with