First off, no excuses. Here I am, after a long absence. Welcome back, followers.
For many years, I've dreaded my (more and more infrequent) trips to Madrid. Not because I've assumed the typical Catalan disregard for and snubbing of the capital of Spain, oh no; sadly, I will never be a Catalan patriot. Maybe it has to do with the uncomfortable sleeping conditions at my mother in law's: a sofa bed even I, at 5-foot 2-inches tall, am too long for (whoever invented the sofa bed surely went to hell for all those sore backs anway), in a room that is really a hallway between her bedroom and the living-dining area.
Israel, my husband, is from Madrid. But then, you surely wonder, I should have some regard for the place, right? But Israel not only comes from Madrid, he comes from a big family. And I mean very big: my mother in law has 9 brothers and sisters, each with ther own set of children and grandchildren, which makes up for huge reunions with lots of small talk, smiling until your jaw hurts, and being asked the same questions over and over. This for a person who comes from a tiny, over-psychoanalyzed family in which typical over-the-dinner-table conversations (even when we haven't seen each other in over a year, my usual visiting Buenos Aires rate) can verse on anything from our sex lives, to childhood traumas, to the meaning of life, to how our parents messed us up. Which also means that, given the sensibility of said topics, my family members can often spend long periods of time not speaking to each other.
Anway, last week Israel and I enjoyed our second consecutive summer week without the kids. We spent three days in Madrid on our way back from 4 days in southern Spain (cross your fingers, post to follow). This time, we were alone at my mother in law's (she was with the kids at her weekend house). For a couple on a romantic trip, the attic flat is ideal: it has the most coveted asset in the city: a large terrace overlooking a quaint square, an oasis smack in the middle of the city. The perfect place for lazing around once the sun goes down and Madrid's unique sky lights up with stars. We also got to sleep in her bedroom, a loft-like room with a futon and tatami, just like we have at home.
This time, we played it like tourists (which we are; Israel has been living out of his home town for over a decade now) and Madrid managed to surprise me: the weather was exceptionally acceptable for August, and we came across lots of new (to us, at least) cool spots and things to do.
I always say that the thing I miss most in Spain are cafés like the ones in other cities I've lived in and traveled to (Buenos Aires, San Francisco, New York, Berlin are full of them); you can eat your heart's galore here in Spain, but there are hardly any cafés where you can get a light lunch or a snack at any time of the day (feeding hours are by the book in Barcelona) and spend hours just reading or working. Wireless internet access is almost impossible to come by in bars and the no-smoking law is still pretty much of a joke.
Madrid seems to be incorporating the café thing sooner than Barcelona, though. Harina, a bakery and café right by the Puerta de Alcalá, instantly became our favorite breakfast spot. They bake real bread, an unfortunate scarcity in this refined-flour day and age. They also open at 8:30 am every day, amazingly early for Spanish hours. I do suspect the owners are Argentine, though, due to the suspiciously foreign to Spain sandwiches de miga, medialunas (Argentine version of croissants), vigilantes, and cañoncitos de dulce de leche.
My beloved Le Pain Quotidien (yes, I know, a chain, but still good!) already has three branches in Madrid and no sign of showing up here in Barcelona yet. So we made a point of visiting each of the three at least once; we even spent an entire Saturday morning reading lazily on the terrace of the new Pain Quotidien in Madrid's Plaza Mayor (and were shocked that their prices are even higher than the other two branches, which are already pretty expensive; tourists will be tourists, we dished out every cent and it was worth it).
Madrid seems to be incorporating the café thing sooner than Barcelona, though. Harina, a bakery and café right by the Puerta de Alcalá, instantly became our favorite breakfast spot. They bake real bread, an unfortunate scarcity in this refined-flour day and age. They also open at 8:30 am every day, amazingly early for Spanish hours. I do suspect the owners are Argentine, though, due to the suspiciously foreign to Spain sandwiches de miga, medialunas (Argentine version of croissants), vigilantes, and cañoncitos de dulce de leche.
My beloved Le Pain Quotidien (yes, I know, a chain, but still good!) already has three branches in Madrid and no sign of showing up here in Barcelona yet. So we made a point of visiting each of the three at least once; we even spent an entire Saturday morning reading lazily on the terrace of the new Pain Quotidien in Madrid's Plaza Mayor (and were shocked that their prices are even higher than the other two branches, which are already pretty expensive; tourists will be tourists, we dished out every cent and it was worth it).
Then we visited the nearby Mercado de San Miguel, a gorgeous, recently renovated market that now holds more places to eat than actually shop for food (there are a couple of overpriced stalls, like the produce stall we bought dessert from: two nectarines for two euros!). There used to be a stall that sold fancy cooking utensils and another with a well-thought out selection of books on food, but this time I saw that they had been replaced by more stalls to pig out on. The place is so beautifully presented, it makes you want to try something from each and every stall. Even though we had just eaten a full brunch, we couldn't resist and had some pinchos at one of the seafood stalls. I considered the oysters but left them for a future visit.
Another discovery we just happened to stumble upon was Espiritu Santo street, a picturesque narrow street in the city center. Trendy cafés, bakeries and shops have recently popped up along the entire street.
We had a light dinner of gazpacho, a warm vegetable salad, and eggplant parmiggiana at a cute corner café called El Rincón.
I also noticed that the cupcake craze has reached Madrid as well, this corner bakery is very American in its decor as well as the colorful frosted little cakes I'm not particularly crazy about myself (but the place was so cute and I had to go in and take a picture):
But my favorite place on the street was a tiny hole-in-the wall grocer's selling only very select merchandise. They opened only a month ago, and the owner was only happy to tell us stories behind the provenance of several products we asked about. We picked up several items to lug back home with us, such as a pound of beans very similar to black eyed peas (called carillas, and from León in Castille), mint green tea from Navarre, La Vera smoked paprika, and my favorite of all: a jar of violet jelly (French, of course). The man tempted us by showing us the jar in the light, and the beautiful purple specks just did me in, I had to have it to spread on my morning toast. We left the shop fulfilled and anxious to tell my mother in law about it so she can become a regular customer. About half a minute later, as we sat down for an apéritif, Israel accidentally dropped the bag and the 6-euro jar of flower preserves smashed to bits. In a frenzy, I rushed back into the shop, hoping the man would take pity on me for my clumsy husband and replace the jar free of cost, just because we were nice people. But no, these are times of crisis, freebees were never heard of in Spain anyway. I bought a second jar on the spot.
But my favorite place on the street was a tiny hole-in-the wall grocer's selling only very select merchandise. They opened only a month ago, and the owner was only happy to tell us stories behind the provenance of several products we asked about. We picked up several items to lug back home with us, such as a pound of beans very similar to black eyed peas (called carillas, and from León in Castille), mint green tea from Navarre, La Vera smoked paprika, and my favorite of all: a jar of violet jelly (French, of course). The man tempted us by showing us the jar in the light, and the beautiful purple specks just did me in, I had to have it to spread on my morning toast. We left the shop fulfilled and anxious to tell my mother in law about it so she can become a regular customer. About half a minute later, as we sat down for an apéritif, Israel accidentally dropped the bag and the 6-euro jar of flower preserves smashed to bits. In a frenzy, I rushed back into the shop, hoping the man would take pity on me for my clumsy husband and replace the jar free of cost, just because we were nice people. But no, these are times of crisis, freebees were never heard of in Spain anyway. I bought a second jar on the spot.
Today I had a couple of hours alone at home in the afternoon and I decided to put the violet jelly to good use, so I baked these cookies, based on a recipe I learned at the summer intensive course I took at the Natural Gourmet Institute in New York last month (stay tuned for future post!).
These cookies have a wholesome flavor I love; they're made with almond meal and oat flakes (plus a bit of whole what pastry flour) and sweetened with maple syrup. You can fill them with any jam or jelly you're in the mood for (I've also filled them with orange-ginger marmalade, and once with carob and hazelnut spread, which the kids loved), though I must say that the violet jelly suits them almost too well, as the rich batter contrasts with the delicate flavor of violets. The original recipe called for grinding the oat flakes in a processor; I like them whole though so I skipped this part. The recipe also called for almond and vanilla extracts; as we have been away from home, I only had orange blossom extract on hand and thought, why not. It was a good thought. Be very careful not to burn them; the recipe called for 18-20 minutes in the oven, but I had to remove them promptly after 15 minutes, just in time. They keep well in an airtight container (they're so delicious, they probably won't last too long!).
Violet Jelly Cookies (from a recipe by the Natural Gourmet Institute)
Ingredients:
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup almond meal
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup melted coconut oil
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon orange blossom extract
1 cup almond meal
1 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup maple syrup
1/2 cup melted coconut oil
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 teaspoon orange blossom extract
Jam or jelly, your favorite kind
Directions:
Preheat oven to 175ºC and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a medium bowl, combine flour, almond meal and oats. Whisk well. In a separate bowl, whisk together oil, maple syrup, salt and orange blossom extract until emulsified. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry and stir until combined. With a scoop (or your hands) make little balls with the dough. Pat down a bit and place on prepared baking sheet. in the center of each cookie, press down with your thumb (or pinkie) to make a small indentation. Fill with jam or jelly.
Place in the oven and bake for 15-18 minutes, or until bottoms of cookies are slightly brown. Place on wire rack to cool. Yield: aprox. 20 cookies
