We started with two tasty antipasti: eggplant caponata and a salad made with radicchio, peaches and goat cheese. The caponata had a nice balance of sweetness from the roasted eggplant and saltiness from black olives that were blended in. It came with a nice herbed focaccia that had just the right chew (a true rarity, in my experience). The salad was vibrant and beautiful in its color contrasts. My only complaint was that the dressing was a little too mild. A bolder, tangier dressing could have set off the sweetness of the peach wedges nicely. Next came our pizzas. We ordered the Funghi Misti with wild mushrooms taleggio and white truffle oil and another one called the Calabrese, made with tomato, fior di latte (cow’s milk mozzarella) and a spicy pepperoni called caciatorini a diavolo. The crust on these was quite thin and almost cracker-like at the edges. It had good flavor with a hint of smokiness, but none of the blackened, bubbly pockets that come from an oven. The mushrooms on the first pizza had strong flavors of their own, but didn’t seem to have been seasoned enough while being cooked. One variety of darker color mushrooms dominated the others. But the flavors that won the fight for dominance in this dish was definitely the white truffle oil. I could have done with less of it.

Instead of the Calabrese, our server ended up bringing us the Pizza Vinny Scotto. This one had all the ingredients of the Calabrese, but added bel paese (a semi-soft Italian cheese), pecorino, ricotta and a bell pepper aioli. Crumb had been hesitant to order this one because he wasn’t into big clumps of ricotta, but the clumps turned out to be fairly small we decided to keep it when it came. Perhaps we made a mistake, though, because there seemed to be too many ingredients on this pizza. The sheer number of cheese alone was enough to create a conflicting flavor profile that didn’t successfully highlight the quality of any single one of them. The best part of this pizza was the caciatorini. It was hot and well-spiced and not as greasy as the generic pepperoni found on so many pies.

Speaking of ricotta, this cheese also featured prominently in the cheesecake topped with strawberries that we ordered as one of our desserts. I am not a fan of American-style dense cheesecakes, but this one had a pleasant lightness to it, and it was not too sweet. The fresh strawberries made for beautiful color contrast and added seasonal freshness.

Our second dessert was a torta di limone, a cake with a thin crust of brown around the exterior and and moist, but light, lemony interior. This was a great dessert and one I would like to try making at home. Curly Fries and I had enough to drink between the two bottles of Italian wine we ordered as a table and the glass of white she ordered for herself, but EB and Crumb wanted to keep the party flowing…I mean going. They each ordered a glass of grappa from the fairly lengthy list. EB’s ended up being smoother than Crumbs, which was more like a whiskey in its smokiness. Both were quite strong, but the Italians believe they aid the digestion, and I’m not inclined to argue with centuries of tradition.

In the end, the pizza was good but not great. The ingredients were nice and the restaurant itself was pleasant, but I had really been looking forward to that Neapolitan crust. Maybe it was just a question of managing expectations.

Fornino Park Slope
256 5th Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.399.8600

I knew DuMont was famous for its burger—the owners have even opened a second more casual location called DuMont Burger where the menu consists of a burger, a mini burger and a turkey burger, in addition to a few other sandwiches—but I had assumed at least one of us would opt for hanger steak or half chicken on the menu at the more upscale sibling. I was wrong. None of us could pass up the opportunity to try the lusciously described burgers. We made the right choice. The expertly charred exterior of the patties gave way to a perfect, rosy medium-rare. Buns were light, but chewy brioche, with egg-washed tops, and pickled onions made for a truly standout condiment amidst the usually satisfying additions of tomato, lettuce and pickle. Being burger purists, none of us ordered cheese, although cheddar, American, Danish blue and Gruyère are available, along with bacon. Ketchup and I opted for the green salad side, the only accompaniment I could contemplate eating after I saw the massive size of the burger. I also knew I would be able to snatch a few French fries from EB who has never been able to pass up a fried potato. The fries were excellent—just the right thickness to be crispy on the outside and soft at the core. They were evenly salted and garnished with a minced parsley, a nice and surprisingly flavorful touch.

In short, this was a near flawless burger experience. The next time I go to DuMont, I won’t even look at the menu. No matter what’s on it, I know I’ll come back to that burger every time.

DuMont Restaurant
432 Union Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718.486.7717

DuMont Burger
314 Bedford Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11211
718.384.6127

The restaurant is small and simple, apart from a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The kitchen door is behind a screen, and at least when we went, there was only one woman (presumably the owner) working the floor. Unsure of what to order, we opted for some of the dishes with “Java special” in parentheses next to their names. The first, from the appetizer section, was the pastel, basically Indonesian empanadas, stuffed with thin rice noodles and vegetables. They came with two dipping sauces, one that was quite spicy, probably made with chilies of some kinds, and another that was a savory-sweet combination of peanuts, soy sauce and sugar. These were tasty in the way that most pockets of filled dough are. The fillings were flavorful, but I particularly liked the sauces. They added vibrancy and verve to the dish, which wasn’t remarkably seasoned on its own. After that, we had a traditional salad called acar, made with sliced cucumber, carrots, string beans, and onions, marinated in a sauce of vinegar and turmeric. The salad was refreshing, and I liked the crispness of the cucumber and carrot, but the string beans seemed a little limp as though they had been allowed to cook for too long. Turmeric gave the onions and cucumber a yellow color, but it added only a subtle flavor to the dish because of the dominant vinegar dressing.

Our final dish was another Java special called semur, made with beef stewed slowly in soya sauce. The meat was a little tougher than what I had been imagining, and the sauce was more like a soup. The abundant liquid had muted flavor without very distinctive or assertive spicing and was generally too watery. Still, the lemon zest on top added a nice acidity, and we hungrily sopped up much of the sauce with the accompanying rice. The leftover sauces from the pastel added a welcome occasional kick.

After hearing so many great things about Java Indonesian, EB and I really wanted to love it. In the end, we enjoyed it, but didn’t think it stood up to the hype. We may consider giving it another try the next time we set aside the time to dine in the Slope, but there are so many restaurants to visit that we’ll likely end up moving at least a few doors down the street.

Java Indonesian Rijsttafel
455 7th Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11215
718.832.4583

For my July Gourmet, Unbound entry, I selected a recipe for ratatouille from the July 1967 issue. Unlike today’s recipes, the recipes in old Gourmets tend to be elegant dishes made in the classic style— no twists or fusions necessary. They are also written in paragraph form with less detailed instructions and fewer steps. This basic, yet delicious, recipe follows in that tradition. It consists of slowly stewed vegetables and minimalist spicing—salt, pepper, basil and marjoram. The resulting flavors evoke the French countryside in their warm, robust, simplicity. Ratatouille makes a nice side dish and a great main course, served with crusty bread and topped with a poached egg. I have been making pisto manchego, the Spanish version of ratatouille, since I got back from studying abroad in Spain in 2003. I may now have to add this French version from Gourmet history to the regular rotation. And even if she never made it, I can always imagine my grandma whipping this up to show off her European flair to the guests at one of her parties.

Ratatouille
In a large saucepan cook 2 large onions, thinly sliced, in 1/2 cup olive oil until they are transparent. Stir in 2 green peppers, seeded and diced, and 2 eggplants, peeled and cubed, and cook the vegetables for about 5 minutes. Add 4 small zucchini, cut in 1/2-inch slices, 2 cups sliced celery, and 5 ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and cut into cubes. Stir the mixture thoroughly, cover the pan, and cook the ratatouille over low heat for 45 to 60 minutes, stirring occasionally. Season it with 1 garlic clove, mashed, a pinch each of basil and marjoram, and salt and pepper to taste. Cook the ratatouille about 5 minutes longer and serve it hot or chilled.

See my other Gourmet, Unbound posts:
June 2010, Potato Salad with Olives and Peppers
May 2010, Moroccan-Style Mussels
April 2010, Shrimp Scampi Pasta
March 2010, Chicken with Black Pepper Maple Sauce
February 2010, Mexican Chocolate Ice Cream
January 2010, Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
December 2010, Walnut Spice Cake with Lemon Glaze

Baconhater and Halo-Halo arrived before we did, and just to be sneaky, they sent me a text saying the lines were out the door. When we arrived at the pleasant, airy little cafe, they were seated at one of two populated tables drinking cafe con leche. We ordered some coffee, sangria and tropical fruit juice mimosas and got down to the business of ordering. While we waited for our food, the server brought excellent buttered toast triangles, which would later serve as the perfect egg-yolk mops.

Café Cortadito has about ten items on its brunch menu, all of which looked appealing in some way. EB ended up ordering Holguin: poached eggs over seared ham atop a croissant, finished with Creole sauce. This was the Cuban take on the breakfast sandwich, and it was a tasty take indeed. When punctured, the eggs ran over the whole thing and made it necessary to eat with a fork and knife. Halo-Halo ordered a delicious Cuban omelet made with potatoes and embedded with smoky, salty bits of chorizo. A piece of seared ham and two sausages balanced out the meat to potatoes ratio.

Baconhater got an exquisite dish called Camaguey. Made with fresh mango and papaya (both a little too green), plantain chips and grilled shrimp, the dish was colorful and light as a breath of tropical spring air. The shrimp was nicely cooked, but the downsides were the under-ripe fruit and the lack of sauce or cohesive seasoning over the dish. If even one of the fruits had been riper and more succulent, this dish would have been more successful. Camaguey had all the pieces, but didn’t live up to its potential.

My dish was Mazorca de Maiz Dulce Estilo Cortadito. A mouthful, both in name and in essence, it consisted of two fried eggs alongside sweet corn on the cob and a small green salad. The dish was simple and tasty, with corn that was actually sweet and perfectly fried eggs, but I would have appreciated a stronger sauce or some spices to jazz it up. The ingredients in my dish may have been a little too simple to justify the $11.95, no matter how cheap the restaurant was relative to its brunch neighbors. All in all, though, Café Cortadito fit my criteria for a worthy brunch place: The food was mostly flavorful and different from anything I would typically make at home. Which is not to say I couldn’t replicate these dishes— I’ll be working on my potato-chorizo omelet the next time I want something new to make for brunch at home.

Café Cortadito
210 E. 3rd St.
New York, NY 10009
212.614.3080

The Boqueria is the most sumptuous city market I have ever visited, while also being one of the most utilitarian. The market is ogled by tourists and relied on by actual citizens looking for the freshest meat and fish, the most flavorful produce and the best baked goods. Some of the most tasty tapas can also be found there, thanks in large part to the fact that many are simply made from the market’s ingredients. After checking in at our pension and changing our clothes we stopped by the market for some breakfast at Forn de Betlem Pa I Patisseria the excellent bakery inside. The displays there are piled high with crusty baguettes, chorizo-laden bocadillos and beautiful pastries. We had two out of three breakfasts here and between us tried a chocolate-coated croissant (called a Magdalena), a wonderfully delicate apple cake, an ensaimada and a chocolate filled croissant. (I’ll bet you can guess which two items Empanada Boy ordered.) Both times we got cafe con leche from one of the bars and then stood somewhere out of the fray to chow down.

We spent some time walking around the city and checking out the architecture and then decided to go back to the Boqueria’s Kiosko Universal for lunch; we had seen people eating some exquisite looking seafood and just couldn’t stay away. We ordered a plate of almejas, small clams from Galicia. These were simply prepared, cooked in olive oil with some minced parsley, but they were so incredibly fresh and tender that eating them was like eating candy. We popped them into our mouths and savored every bite. We also ordered a plate of calamares a la plancha, grilled squid cooked in their full tubular shape. They were pinkish, tender and delicious, served with crispy, salty fries. A glass of cava and a caña (Spanish name for a small glass of beer) made the perfect accompaniment.

EB was in the fresh seafood zone, so that night we decided to try one of the restaurants in La Barceloneta, the city’s beachside neighborhood. We read about Can Ros in the ancient version of Time Out Barcelona we brought along with us. It was described as fresh seafood at a good price. As it turned out, the price was fine, but nearly everything on the the mixed seafood platter we ordered (prawns, langostines, hake, squid and mussels) was overcooked and underseasoned. To top it off, the wine we ordered—a still blend made from the varietals used in cava— was corked. Our waiter brought us a new bottle, but we didn’t dare request a new seafood platter. In hindsight, this place was a little too beachside touristy and should have aroused suspicion.

We planned to go to Montjuic, the hilltop park area of the city that houses the Olympic grounds and multiple museums. We knew weren’t going to be near many great restaurants, so we stopped at the Boqueria that morning to buy some provisions for a picnic. That meant a visit to the bakery for a small baguette, a stop at a canned goods station to buy roasted red peppers, another stop at a produce stand for some pretty little tomatoes and a visit to the gummy booth, which boasted a huge array of brightly colored gummy chew candies in every shape and size. Most importantly, we went to cheese and ham booth where the proprietress helped us pick a worthy Catalonian goat cheese and some very high quality jamón serrano de bellota (acorn-fed).

EB and I ate our picnic in a small gated park near the Olympic stadium. The jamón was the best we had tried since our arrival in Spain. Nutty and rich, it melted in our mouths. We ate it alone, as the woman who sold it to us instructed, and made little sandwiches with our bread, cheese, tomato and red pepper. It was a fantastic meal. The flavors reminded me of the lunches I had while hiking in the Picos de Europa during my first visit to Spain in high school. It was those flavors that made me fall in love with the country.

For dinner that night, we tried to go to Bar Inopia, the highly touted tapas bar owned by Albert Adrià, the brother of molecular-gastronomy master Ferran Adrià. When we arrived at the typical Spanish hour of 10 pm, the line was already so long that the host knew he wouldn’t be able to seat us. He told us to come back early the next day. So we trekked over to Taverna El Glop, restaurant Auntie Pasti had recommended. The restaurant specializes in grilled meats. Not knowing which was the best, we opted for a meat sampler, which came with chicken, sausage, beef, pork loin and potatoes. We also ordered a plate of snails cooked a la llauna, in wine, garlic, olive oil and parsley. The meat was unremarkable and overly salty, but the beef and sausage exceeded the leaner chicken and pork, both of which were dry. The snails were very different from the French-style (removed from their shells and cooked in a rich mixture of parsley, butter, garlic and Pernod). These were also doused in fat, but we had to extract each of the little curlicues from their shells with tiny forks. Once we got over our initial squeamishness, we started to enjoy their slight chew and rich flavor. Also worth noting was the Gandesa wine we drank. It’s a strong, almost fortified-tasting wine typical of Catalunya. We paid only 2.50 euros for half a liter! (I don’t know how much more I could drink, but it definitely started to grow on me.)

We went to the beach the next day so EB could dip his feet in the Mediterranean. We had a tour of the Palau de la Musica Catalana scheduled for later in the day, so we didn’t have the time for a long drawn-out meal. Not being very impressed with the beachside offerings, we decided to try Pans&Company, a Barcelona sandwich chain. The restaurant looked like a typical American fast-food joint with the menu on the wall offering value meals with the option of fries or patatas a la brava (fried potatoes with a spicy paprika-infused dipping sauce) and the counter workers wearing visors. As it turned out, Pans was different from our fast food restaurants in two key ways. First, the food was much better. My sandwich, made with tuna, red pepper, olives and tomato, was flavorful and refreshing, served on a baguette. EB had pork loin, roasted red pepper and onions on an even tastier, crustier baguette of a quality that you’d be hard pressed to find in many American bakeries, let alone fast food places. We ordered patatas bravas on the side, which were crispy and surprisingly flavorful. The second reason Pans was definitely not a typical fast food joint is that the food preparation was not very fast. We waited at our table looking over the harbor for about 15 minutes for our food to be ready. As it turned out, it was worth the wait.

That night, we arrived at the aforementioned Inopia at 7:30 pm. We still had to wait for about half an hour, but we finally got a seat at the small, lively restaurant’s winding bar. From there, we could see the fish line cook making each dish, occasionally plucking fresh herbs from water-filled vases. We ordered a bottle of cava and got down to business. We had heard about the restaurant on the PBS series “Spain on the Road Again” when Mario Batali took Gwyneth Paltrow to dinner there. We knew we had to start with the olives, which were intensely flavored and very distinct from one another. One tasted like smoked meat, while another tasted fruity and another was pickled. Next came an order of Inopia’s famous anchovies. We got the ones from Cantábrico, which came fresh and vibrant in a bath of olive oil and herbs and were accompanied by crunchy, bubbly bread with tomato. Our next dish was a salad of tomato wedges, topped with fried, salted almonds and mullet roe. It had the perfect balance of salty, savory and sweet and was incredibly refreshing. We moved on to one of the best dishes of the night: fried eggplant with molasses. The eggplant was cut into cubes, dipped in molasses and fried into ethereal sweet-salty bites that burst in our mouths and disappeared in a poof. Who needs molecular gastronomy when you have this?

Our next course was patatas a la brava. A step up from Pans&Company, these were cut fairly thinly, making for extra crispiness, and the sauce made of pimentón de la vera (Spanish paprika) was bold and pretty spicy. Then came croquetas de jamón iberico, soft, crusty potato croquettes filled with delicious pieces of nutty Spanish ham. We were nearing our limit, but we weren’t done yet. EB wanted to try more fish, so we asked for a toast topped with the beautiful, thinly sliced tuna steaks we had been watching the guy in front of us prepare. This was fine fish, but the dish stood out less than the more original offerings we tasted. Last, but not least, came dessert: a round of grilled goat or sheep cheese drizzled with truffled honey and served warm. Need I say more?! This was a beautiful and delicious finish to a beautiful and delicious trip.

Mercat de Sant Josep “La Boqueria”
La Rambla, 91
08002 Barcelona, España
93 412 1315

Can Ros
Calle Almirall Aixada, 7
08003 Barcelona, España
93 221 4579

La Taverna El Glop
Calle Sant Lluís, 24
08012 Barcelona, España
93 213 7058

Pans&Company
Carrer de la Marina, 16-18
08005 Barcelona, España
93 221 1101
(and various other locations)

Bar Inopia
Calle Tamarit, 104
08015 Barcelona, España
93 424 5231

My only complaint is that there seemed to be too little dressing. I halved the recipe based on the number of potatoes I used, but It seems like I could have used half again as much dressing to really bring out the flavors in those potatoes. It would be an easy problem to fix. Either way, there are numerous potential variations on this recipe, offering the opportunity to add a twist here and there. I think it would be good with anchovies, lemon juice or capers added to the mix. It’s food for thought, but happy almost summer, nonetheless.

Potato Salad with Olives and Peppers

yield: Makes 6 servings
active time: 30 min
total time: 1 1/2 hours

Ingredients
3 garlic cloves
3 tablespoons Sherry vinegar
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon dried hot red-pepper flakes
5 tablespoons olive oil
3 pound hot cooked small (2-inch) boiling potatoes, quartered
2/3 cup bottled roasted red peppers (4 ounces), rinsed, patted dry, and chopped
2/3 cup fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

1/3 cup pitted brine-cured black olives, halved

Preparation
Mince garlic and mash to a paste with a pinch of salt using side of a large heavy knife. Transfer to a large bowl and whisk in vinegar, salt, and red-pepper flakes, then whisk in oil.

Add hot potatoes to vinaigrette and toss to coat. Let stand until potatoes cool to warm, about 30 minutes, then stir in peppers, parsley, and olives. Serve warm or at room temperature.

See my other Gourmet, Unbound posts:
May 2010, Moroccan-Style Mussels
April 2010, Shrimp Scampi Pasta
March 2010, Chicken with Black Pepper Maple Sauce
February 2010, Mexican Chocolate Ice Cream
January 2010, Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
December 2010, Walnut Spice Cake with Lemon Glaze

After walking in the hot sun along the ancient, high walls that surround the outside of the city, we ate lunch at a spot called Restaurante Tres Siglos. Salmorejo selected a robust wine from Ribera del Duero, and we ordered two thin tenderloin steaks. Before those came, we ate a mashed potato dish, infused with smoky pimentón (Spanish paprika) and topped with crunchy pieces of ham. We also had gambas al ajillo (shrimp in a garlic oil sauce) and a platter of sliced chorizo and lomo (pork loin). Of these non-steak dishes I liked the pork platter the best. The potato dish was heavy, and the bacon pieces were too hard. The shrimp were measly, flavorless, cocktail adornments, not like the gambas we would see later in Barcelona.

But that steak was by far the best part of the meal. It was juicy and full of the flavor of the Castillian countryside. I prefer my steak to have gristle and chew—more ribeye than filet mignon—and this one had all of those elements expressed in their full glory. I could have taken or left the fries that came along with it, but this was a nice piece of meat.

We left Ávila after lunch and continued on to El Escorial, the town that houses the palace built by Felipe II, who was the king of Spain from 1556 to 1598. In addition to the austere, but impressive palace, the grounds house a crypt where nearly all of the Spanish kings (and their wives) from Felipe onwards are entombed. Empty tombs ominously await the bodies of the parents of the current king, Juan Carlos. There is also a series of adjacent rooms filled with the coffins of innumerable princes, princesses and other royalty. Needless to say, we emerged from our tour of El Escorial burdened with the solemn weight of Spanish Catholic history.

Luckily, El Escorial is also known for its churros con chocolate. We went to a nearby café and ordered some. They were crusty on the outside but perfectly light and chewy on the inside, and the chocolate was almost as thick as syrup and very rich. Churros must be accompanied with chocolate that’s much thicker than the typical drinking variety because they must retain the chocolate like sauce after being dipped. Isla Flotante told me the secret is to buy chocolate powder with flour mixed in for thickening. Inferior varieties use gelatin, which should be avoided.

A couple days later, EB and I hopped on a bus to Toledo, the home of El Greco and the marizipan capital of the world. Culinarily speaking, Toledo is known for small game like conejo (rabbit) and perdiz (partridge). EB and I wanted to taste some partridge, so we stopped for lunch at a restaurant called Restaurante Ludeña, which we read had it on the fixed-price menu del día. As it turned out, the less expensive menu del dia offered cordoníz (quail), which is basically like a smaller cousin. I decided to start with gazpacho and then order the cordonices. EB started with paella and then got merluza a la plancha (grilled hake).

The gazpacho was refreshing, although I couldn’t help thinking about Mango Mama’s complaint that it just tastes like watery, mild salsa. (That’s one reason I prefer Salmorejo, the bread-thickened gazpacho of Cordoba, or the Southern Spanish gazpacho de almendras made with almonds instead of tomato.) The cordonices were succulent, cooked in a rich sauce made with rum, bacon and onions. In typical Spanish fashion, the dish came with French fries. These were somewhat disappointing compared to the luxurious richness of the dish. They also did little to cut the considerable saltiness of the cordonices.

EB’s paella was excellent, with plump prawns and gently cooked mussels. The rice was al dente and evenly cooked. It was a substantial serving, so when the merluza arrived, it was almost as though another meal was being served—and eaten—in quick succession. The fish was perfectly done, but blandly seasoned and fairly boring. The plate, complete with the ubiquitous French fries, looked a little too white for my taste. Some fresh green herbs could have made that fish pop visually and flavorwise.

For dessert we ordered flan and natillas, another creamy, eggy pudding, typical of Castilla-La Mancha. The desserts were fine, but they set us over the edge in terms of fullness. We basically rolled out of Ludeña and gradually managed to work off the lunch through some aggressive touring of the mind-blowingly ornate cathedral, the El Greco sites and the ancient synagogues. By the time we had finished all of this, we were finally starting to get a bit hungry again. It was time for our merienda, the pre-dinner sweet snack, a meal that only the Spaniards could have invented. Luckily, I knew exactly where to go.

As I mentioned before, Toledo is known for its marzipan. The best marzipan in Toledo may well be the Mazapanes Santa Rita made and sold by the nuns in the Real Monasterio de Santa Úrsula. I never much cared for marizpan until I stopped in and bought some from the nuns when I was last in Toledo with Daddy Salmon, Mango Mama and Flava Flav. This has a soft chew to it and a genuine, sweetly almondine flavor, unlike others I had tasted that reeked of almond extract. Because this order of nuns lives a very cloistered existence the process of buying the marzipan is noteworthy. We walked into a dimly lit tiled lobby and climbs a few stairs to a door. Inside is a small window, occupied by a metal lazy susan turntable with a little wooden door on the other side. Then we rang a bell and a nun opened the little wooden door to request our order: the largest box full, of course. We put the money in our side of the turnstile, and the nun spun it toward her. She then sent it spinning back to us with our box of marzipan inside.

We ate a few marzipan, which come in different traditional shapes, as we sat and watched the sun set over the hillside. The candy was just as good as I remembered it. I could have eaten many more pieces, but EB and I wanted them to last. We ate our last one about 10 days ago. As with the madeleine for Proust, eating them will always bring me back to that sunset with the steep slope from the old city of Toledo to the new, coated in toasty almond gold.

Restaurante Tres Siglos
Calle de los Comuneros de Castilla, 11
05001 Ávila, Spain
920 228 772

Restaurante Ludeña
Plaza de la Magdalena, 10
45001 Toledo, Spain
925 223 384

Mazapanes Santa Rita
Convento de Santa Úrsula
Calle de Santa Úrsula, 5
45002 Toledo, Spain
92 222 235

We begin in Madrid where we arrived bleary-eyed on the morning of Saturday, April 24. We couldn’t check into our pensión until 1 pm, so we left our suitcases and went in search of breakfast. I studied in Madrid during my sophomore year of college, so I knew EB would get a proper introduction at a real institution like Mallorquina. Occupying one side of the plaza that surrounds the Puerta del Sol (an old entrance to the city), Mallorquina was founded in 1894. It continues to serve some of the best baked-goods and cafes con leche in the city. We walked through the crowded bar where madrileños stood eating pastries from the decadently filled glass cases, up to the second floor where suit-clad waiters serve at tables.

EB began his trip-long love affair with chocolate croissants. These were called napoletanas in Madrid, but would later be known as magdalenas in Barcelona. I ordered an ensaimada, an ethereal twist of barely sweet dough made with lard and dusted with a cloud of powdered sugar. It was a great start, and the café con leche— strong coffee brewed with an espresso machine and topped off with rich whole milk— brought back many a Spanish memory.

Our next meal didn’t occur until about 7 that evening after we had walked around for many more hours and finally stumbled back to our pensión for a nap. We were scheduled to meet my friend Isla Flotante and her boyfriend Salmorejo at a theater to see a performance of traditional Spanish dancing by the National Spanish Dance company, but we needed a snack beforehand, so we went to a bar in the posh neighborhood of Salamanca whose name I was too exhausted to remember. We had wanted to visit a tapas place called Txirimiri, but it was closed when we arrived. (As we would be reminded time and time again, the Spanish schedule doesn’t conform to any rules.)

We ordered glasses of red wine and three pinchos (like tapas), which came on toasted bread: one rubbed with tomatoes and laden with anchovies, another with garlicky mayonnaise and shrimp and a final one with tomatoes and jamón serrano, the Spanish ham we had been anticipating for weeks. All were tasty; although I am not a big fan of the whimpy little cocktail-sized shrimp that were all too prevalent in land-locked Madrid. My favorite was the anchovy and tomato combo. Spanish anchovies, and really all Spanish canned goods, are leagues above what’s commonly available in the U.S., in terms of flavor and quality of original ingredients.

After the show, which was stunning, Isla, Salmorejo, EB and I went out for a meal at La Tabernilla, a restaurant in the outlying neighborhood where the theater was located. We had una revuelta de morcilla con pasillas y piñones (blood sausage tossed with eggs, raisins and pine nuts); setas fritas (battered and fried wild mushrooms); and patatas revueltas con jamón (potatoes tossed with eggs and ham). EB and I didn’t love any of these dishes. The morcilla, usually a wonderful ingredient, was lost in the mix, as was the jamón. And the potatoes in that dish were underseasoned and mushy. To make matters worse, our biological clocks had no idea what time it was, and we were struggling to focus on our Spanish amidst the encroaching presence of sleep.

See the following post for the food we ate with Isla Flotante and Salmorejo the next day in the towns of Ávila and El Escorial.

For breakfast the morning after our outing, EB and I headed to Café Comercial, a famous old place located on the glorieta de Bilbao. I had some good memories of breakfasts eaten there as a student, but despite the excellent quality of the pan con tomate (bread spread with fresh tomato and olive oil), I will not be going back. The reason is that EB and I went into the bar where a menu was posted advertising breakfasts with coffee and pan con tomate for 2.50 euros each. But when we sat outside and ordered, the bill came to nearly 11 euros. As it turned out, the prices we had seen were only for the bar, while they got away with charging more than double for the tables outside serviced by a waiter. It’s common in Spain to have a discrepancy in price between tables and bars, but it’s not common for the discrepancy to be so wide. We had experienced what the Spaniards call “un timo,” better known as a ripoff.

Our luck did not improve at lunch, when I suggested we try the menu del día (fixed price set lunch) at El 26 de la Libertad, a restaurant in the Chueca neighborhood that I faintly remembered fondly. (I looked up El Sur, my favorite restaurant from my student days, but the restaurant at that location wasn’t open either day we checked, and there was little to suggest that it was even open at all anymore, at least at that location.) El 26 de Libertad is housed in a funkily painted building and has a small bar in the front room which bears reports of its many accolades from travel publications. After a scowling waiter kindly moved us out of the way of a direct line of cigarette fumes, we ordered a lentil stew, salmorejo (gazpacho typically from Cordoba made with almonds instead of tomatoes), pork ribs and calamari “a la romana.” Nearly everything about this meal was disappointing: the restaurant was out of salmorejo, and the cream of chicken soup we got instead could have come from a can; the ribs were poorly cooked and were doused in a too-sweet barbecue sauce; the calamari came in limp fried rings that might just have been defrosted. Only the lentils were passable, and even they were underseasoned.

Our Madrid dining experience was not going as well as I had hoped. I had forgotten so much about where the best places were, and many of the ones I remembered were no longer there. There was also not enough time to devote to finding the best food when we had so much to see in such a small window of time.

Still, we were determined to do better that night. We went to a popular tapas strip in the La Latina neighborhood and got a table at Taberna Tempranillo, a wine bar almost exclusively devoted to Spanish bottles. I ordered a lovely fragrant albariño, and EB got a glass of “Les Terrasses” a well-regarded wine from the Priorat region by Alvaro Palacios. A glass of it would surely have cost $12 in a New York wine bar, but here a small glass went for 3.50 euros. For tapas, we ordered a platter of delicious spicy chorizo and two montaditos— toasted bread topped with other ingredients. We selected one spread with tomato and lined with delicious Spanish tuna called ventresca and other piled with cured duck “ham” and roasted zucchini. Both were excellent, and we felt our spirits begin to revive.

But EB still hadn’t gotten a good taste of jamón serrano, so we continued down the street looking for a platter of the good stuff we could afford. A man standing next to a leg of ham outside a restaurant called Toma Jamón convinced us to stop by offering us a free sample of some freshly sliced pieces. The place had a sort of cheesy, chain-like atmosphere, but they were offering a half portion of ham for 7.50 euros, much less than anything we’d seen. We stood at the bar and ate our delicious platter of ham with massive slices of pan con tomate and cañas (small glasses of beer). Even if this was a chain, it was better than almost any American chain I’ve been to.

See my later post about our day trip to Toledo and the food we ate there.

It was late when we got home from Toledo the next day, but EB wanted to try a bocadillo, a sandwich made with one or two ingredients on a baguette. There are almost never condiments of any kind: no mustard; no mayonnaise. EB had his eye set on a particular place, another Madrid institution called El Brillante. A sparkling, mirrored palace of a restaurant near the Atocha train station, El Brillante serves the widest range of bocadillos of any place around. It’s staffed by a surly bunch of seasoned behind-the-counter waiters and frequented by madrileños of all ages and occupations.

El Brillante is supposedly famous for its bocadillo de calamares, but after the poor limp fried calamari rings we had at 26 de Libertad, I wasn’t going to risk it. Morcilla was EB’s filling of choice, and we chowed down on the sandwich together, each eating half. It was juicy, salty and delicious. EB still felt hungry, so he topped it off with a mini bocadillo of tasty jamón.

We spent the next day visiting the Prado and needed a quick nearby respite for our lunch break. The Parque del Buen Retiro, Madrid’s largest park, was the natural choice. We went to one of the restaurants overlooking the park’s main lake and watched people rowing boats as we ate bocadillos made with jamón and chorizo. We also had ice cream from the Nestlé cooler, offering EB the opportunity he had long been awaiting: the chance to try the Maxibon, the latest trend in dessert. This was half ice cream sandwich, half chocolate coated ice cream bar and came in a variety of flavors. I didn’t care for the cookie part, but EB declared it awesome.

We met up with Isla and Salmorejo again that evening and visited, the Templo Debod, an Egyptian temple that was gifted to the Spaniards and rebuilt in the Parque del Oeste. After touring the temple and enjoying some sodas in the park, we went in search of some dinner in the very tony surrounding neighborhood of Rosales.

After finding too many places that were obviously beyond our price range, we decided to eat at an Argentinian steakhouse of sorts called La Vaca Argentina— not exactly my top choice for my last night in Madrid, but the food was pretty tasty. It also tasted remarkably Spanish for being Argentinian. Case in point: The grilled chorizo we ate before our steak. We also had a delicious salad with avocado, tomato and hearts of palm and a juicy sliced steak, which arrived raw so we could grill it ourselves on the hot ridged pan on our table. All went nicely with a robust Ribera del Duero.

When we finished the meal, we said goodbye to Isla Flotante and Salmorejo and told them one last time how much we wanted them to come visit New York. Then we got our bags from our hostel, bid adios to Madrid and headed to the bus station to catch the overnight bus to Barcelona. We had eaten well in Madrid, but we had high hopes for the fresh seafood, cava and baked goods of Catalunya.

La Mallorquina
Puerta del Sol, 8; Mayor, 2
28013 Madrid, España
91 521 12 01

La Tabernilla
Plaza de Ribadeo, 1
28029 Madrid, España
91 730 77 11

Café Comercial
Glorieta de Bilbao, 7
28004 Madrid, España
91 521 56 55

El 26 de la Libertad
Calle Libertad, 26
28004 Madrid, España
91 522 25 22

Taberna Tempranillo
Calle Cava Baja, 38
28005 Madrid, España
91 364 15 32‎

Toma Jamón
Calle Cava Baja, 10
28005 Madrid, España

El Brillante
Plaza del Emperador Carlos V, 8
28012 Madrid, España
91 539 28 06‎

La Vaca Argentina
Paseo del Pintor Rosales, 52
28002 Madrid, España
91 559 66 05

Either way, this could probably be a better recipe with better salt and more liquid. In the meantime, here is the framework of the dish as it stands.

Moroccan-Style Mussels
May 2006
Yield: Makes 4 main-course servings
Active time: 30 min
Total time: 40 min

Ingredients
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped (1 cup)
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
1 1/4 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon paprika (preferably hot)
1 teaspoon ground ginger
3/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon cayenne
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1 (15- to 19-oz) can chickpeas, rinsed and drained
2 teaspoons sugar
1 (28-oz) can whole tomatoes in juice, juice reserved and tomatoes coarsely chopped
3 lb cultivated mussels, scrubbed and beards removed
2 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley

Preparation
Cook onion, garlic, and spices in oil in a 5- to 6-quart heavy pot over moderately low heat, stirring, until onion is softened, about 6 minutes. Stir in vinegar and simmer 1 minute. Add chickpeas, sugar, and tomatoes with their juice, then increase heat to moderate and gently simmer, uncovered, stirring occasionally, until slightly thickened, about 15 minutes. Add mussels and return to a simmer. Cover tightly with lid and cook until mussels just open wide, 3 to 6 minutes. (Discard any mussels that remain unopened after 6 minutes.) Stir in parsley and serve in shallow bowls.

See my other Gourmet, Unbound posts:
April 2010, Shrimp Scampi Pasta
March 2010, Chicken with Black Pepper Maple Sauce
February 2010, Mexican Chocolate Ice Cream
January 2010, Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Garlic and Pancetta
December 2010, Walnut Spice Cake with Lemon Glaze