La aventura cantábrica :: Comillas y Santillana del Mar

And now the final day of the wondrous Asturian-Cantabrian adventure. The great escape weekend.

We left early again from our hotel in Cangas de Onís, heading straight towards Comillas in Cantabria. Moments before we left for the bus I "purged" the previous night's ghouls from my body in order to insure a much happier ride for all. 

Like Llanes, Comillas is a coastal town, however the bulk of the city center is significantly farther away from the ocean than is was in Llanes. There is a very steep cliff a bit in from the beaches where the majority of the city sits. We got off at the beach. We had to walk up that cliff to get to anything cool or important. Not a problem, I was feeling quite fine and in the shade it was very pleasant out (I could have done without the sun, as I always can). We learned about Marqués López and this fun adventures up in Cantabria from our dear cultural tutor, Fausto. We traveled to his big palace that was furnished by Gaudí (though the furniture was missing at this point...didn't matter as we didn't enter the house, just sat there looking at it from outside). It was your basic walking tour of some historically significant places and buildings that tends to go in one ear out the other, even if you don't want it to. 

The real adventure that occurred in Comillas was my quest for a bocadillo. Cristina gave us 30 minutes free to roam about Comillas before we had to re-meet and get on the bus to head to Santillana del Mar. Others went off to find postcards or some souvenir stuff. I briefly looked at the stuffed cows and other cow things that I really wanted but were far too expensive for what they were, then promptly thought to myself "Shit, I am hungry, I need to get myself a bocadillo before we get on this bus."

I had 25 minutes. There was a bar next to the plaza that we started at and were to meet back at. It looked like a full on restaurant, so I continued past it to another plaza area where there were plenty of terrace cafés. Some had signs saying "sandwiches," which are really not the same as bocadillos, and they happened to be sit down sandwiches, so I kept on. I ended up in a very residential part of town and quickly turned around, realizing that while it would be cool to wander off and explore the town a little more, my hunger was more important.

I returned to the starting plaza, saw a supermarket...but it was closed (as most are on Sundays, ¡qué pena!). However, right next to it was a little bakery/diner place that, on the outside of the shop, had a sign saying "bocadillos." I was in luck. I go in "Qué tipos de bocadillos tienes?" to which the woman replied "No tengo bocadillos." I was shocked and extremely disappointed at this flagrant false advertising. 

I continued on up the street. I thought I was getting away from the bar district, and losing hope of finding a boca in time, until I found a deli with a sign outside declaring bocadillos inside. I go in, ask for bocadillos, to which I get a big "¿Qué? No tengo bocadillos." Seriously, don't put up the sign people if you don't actually have them. I will just keep on walking and not disturb your fútbol game (which the guy was actually watching) if you don't tempt me with the thoughts of fresh tortilla. He was more helpful than the last lady though, he pointed his finger in some random direction and said to go there for something to eat. 

I go there. I walk in the bar, which for being 11:30 am on a Sunday was quite populated with old men shooting the shit (what a life!), and immediately spot the sign for bocadillos behind the bar. Including prices. I go up to the bartender and ask. No, they don't have bocadillos, what am I, crazy? What could possibly give me the idea that there might happen to be some sort of food in this bar, especially any type of bocadillo. He sent me on my way, with the name of another bar that actually had bocadillos, or so he told me. Bar Filipino. It sounded familiar and I remember seeing its sign somewhere.

I headed in the direction he told me, got to the plaza where we were supposed to meet in 5 minutes. Everyone was already there ready to go. I quickly said "hola" and kept walking. I knew I saw the sign around here somewhere, a big, red Coca Cola bar sign that said "Bar Filipino." I walk towards that supermarket, turn back, yes...there it is. Wait a second...Bar Filipino is the same bar that is attached to the plaza where we were meeting. Right at the very beginning of my boca-ventura. I foolishly passed it off, and now here I was, standing inside asking for a bocadillo de tortilla para llevar and clearly they had them. Within a minute I was holding a fresh boca in my hand, and the next minute we left for Santillana del Mar.

And then we got to Santillana del Mar. We only had two and a half hours there. Or, when we got off, what seemed to be forever. I wondered to myself, what the hell am I going to do in the podunk town for two and a half hours? Simple, do what we do best: comer. While I had surprisingly filled up on the boca, the rest of mis compañeros were dying for a good menú del día. We found this wonderful restaurant with a terrace garden, secluded from the din of the street. There was a giant tree next to our medieval feeling table. The table was large and round, and made out of thick, dark wood. We all sat around it in quite comfortable chairs. I just got a café con leche, which turned out to be quite good. The rest got paella and fried eggs and jamón serrano and all that good Spanish food. I wasn't too disappointed by not eating, I tried some of the serrano and wasn't too pleased, more salty than usual. 

We spent the full remaining two hours sitting there eating. I cannot begin to explain how much I love these long lunches that we had up north. There were so peaceful, so full of life and camaraderie and good spirits. I never have felt so comfortable at a dinner table. I've decided what my last meal would be. I'd tell the guards: I don't care what it is, just get me three hours, a big table outside, and all my friends and you can kill me all you want afterwards...I'd be too full and complacent to even care I was going out.

And then the ride home. I wished it could have lasted longer. I was disappointed when Cristina told us, around 8pm, that it'd only be an hour more. I didn't want the weekend to end. I felt I grew a lot closer to my friends. It was a much needed break from school and Alcalá (as fun as Alcalá is, Asturias kicks its ass any day of the week...I really wish I could study there next semester). One of the most memorable moments of the whole trip was one of the last. There we were, late at night on the on the bus ride back, a group of us just standing around in the middle of the aisles...chatting. Just talking, joking around, even talking quite a bit in Spanish (after Cristina complained that we were the group that most spoke English ever). It was wonderful, even magical...so serene and I felt so comfortable. 

Almost. Almost at home.

Probably the best dinner I've had at home, el botellón, and Asturias

Another Thursday, another botellón with our favorite Spanish friends. As always, it starts out a bit awkward, then as we liquor ourselves up, the conversation and jokes start flowing. T'was a good night, as always. Unfortunately this time I had to come home to get dinner and didn't get to stay out with mis amigos. I did spend a good three hours with them though. Tonight's theme drink: calimocho, which I realize will be the drink for the rest of these botellones. 

It's fun getting to know the Spanish. Fran has never been to Barcelona and wants to go with us when we do. Said he wishes he could go with us to Asturias this weekend. <-- Brings me to my next topic: I, and the rest of mis compañeros de CIEE are going to Asturias and Cantabria this weekend. For those unaware, Asturias and Cantabria are on the norther Atlantic coast of Spain. It's supposed to be cold, rain, and green. Basically, my ideal vacation spot. I'm sick of this cold at night and morning but scorching in the sun during the day Alcalá climate. I'm so excited to finally be covered in sweaters and sweatshirts and jackets and scarves and stuck in the rain all day. It'll remind me in the very least a bit of Wisconsin and the beautiful autumn that I'm sure you are all enjoying right now. Since I'll be in Asturias this weekend though I'll be incomunicado all weekend unless I steal a friend's laptop and internet or else go to an internet café (unlikely). So, you'll all be updated on Monday night with a nice long blog post and plenty of photos, so don't worry. Until then, I'll be off having a great weekend, so don't worry about me.

One last bit of news. Perhaps it was the calimocho from the botellón but tonight's dinner was probably the best one I've had so far at home in Spain. It was simple. First: no soup. White (olive oil) rice with a fried egg (which I placed on top of the rice). Even better, I had good (read: not styrofoam) bread. Even better still, spicy chorizo and, get this, Havarti cheese. I went to Carrefour earlier today to get meat and cheese for my bocadillo for the trip. I picked up jamón serrano and Havarti slices. I made the boca at dinner and ate the leftovers. It was delicious. So let's recap: white rice, fried eggs, good bread, spicy chorizo, Havarti, and jamón serrano. Definitely the best dinner I've had at host family's house since I've arrived. 

Jalapeños

As I sit here now, after dinner, my stomach is tearing itself apart. I can only imagine tomorrow's trip to the bathroom being a (quite literal) shit storm. 

I have been craving jalapeños ever since I got here. First night, we went to this Mexican restaurant called "Burrito." They didn't even have spicy food, I was fearing that jalapeños didn't exist in Spain (couldn't find them at Carrefour, my favorite close by super market). However, the other day after our visit to Carrefour, Marisa went to El Corte Inglés and found some jalapeños at Hipercor and, remembering how much I wanted some, bought a jar and gave them to me. For that, I am eternally grateful. The first spicy thing I've had since I left for Spain. I knew coming here I wouldn't be having any spicy food in Spain, so I guess I subconsciously ate as much spicy food as I could the weeks beforehand. Any time I'd got anywhere, I'd get whatever sounded hot and detrimental to my intestines. I was in the garden of earthly delights. 

And now, four weeks of not having spicy food, I'm presented with a jar of jalapeños and nothing really to put them on, so I had to be creative. For lunch, I just ate them raw, straight out of the jar. It was wonderful. My mouth burned a bit, and I even had to drink some water. Oh, the sensations were coming back to me, the fond flavor of food with a bite. My host mother tried the very corner of one (after just smelling the jar she exclaimed that she could smell the hotness), and I feared I was going to have to call the hospital. Now, living her whole life in Spain, without ever hearing of the word "jalapeño," I can understand her reaction. I'm just sad that she doesn't appreciate the wonder of jalapeños like I do. She immediately ran to the garbage to spit out the piece of pepper and I had to hand her my glass of water in fear of her having a heart attack. She downed the whole glass, something that usually takes her the whole meal. Her mouth was still burning afterwards for quite some time. To help with the mental image, for those that were around: think of the first time Mitch tried a jalapeños..yeah, it was kinda like that. At least she tried it. 

For dinner I actually tried mixing jalapeños with Spanish food. Host mother specifically made rice tonight because the previous night I was that jalapeños would go good with rice (I couldn't think of any other food we've had here that would--soup just doesn't cut it). Of course it was just plain white rice doused in olive oil, but I added some jalapeños and it turned out pretty good. Now if only they had sour cream lying around the house, we'd be getting somewhere. Mamá also had a plate of tortilla sitting out, and my least favorite bar bread (the styrofoam kind). Regardless, I quickly made a bocadillo and tossed some jalapeños on top. Now that was delicious. I don't see why this bocadillo isn't more widely available here, all the Americans and Mexicans would eat it, and the Spaniards would learn to love it.

Perhaps then instead of giving us nasty green olives to nibble on while having a drink, the waitstaff would bring out a plate of jalapeños. I can only hope...

Good news on the jamón front: Mamá told me that I can make the two bocadillos for the Asturias trip myself. One of tortilla and the other of whatever I want. She recommended chorizo. I'm going to Carrefour tomorrow and getting the best jamón ibérico and queso I can find. I was thinking of adding jalapeños but I don't want to ruin my first true jamón y queso bocadillo in Spain. My mouth is watering just thinking about it now. I can't wait for Friday when I devour this boca. 

Epicurean Diaries Vol. 3

After quite the wait, here is the next installment. Lots of food and drink since the last one.

Chorizo picante

My first experience with chorizo here in Spain wasn't a pleasant one. Host mother pulled out this moldly looking slab of sausage one night for dinner. It was all dark and full of fat. She sliced me off a piece--I did not enjoy it. However, I was talking one night about how much I love spicy food and how there is no spicy food in Spain. She mentioned some spicy chorizo that Jesús likes. So I had some, uncooked, but still delicious. She said it was "muy picante." Not entirely true but I guess for a Spaniard who has never heard of a jalapeño before, that would be true. It was good chorizo though, and it did have a bit of a bite to it (though not quite like Mexican chorizo). I had it a few days later cooked, was much better still. 

Vino tinto

I was going to have separate categories for all these different red wines I've been having, but then I realized that I'm not skilled enough, if you will, at discerning the differences and subtleties of wines. I've ordered house wines (vino tinto de la casa) at a Korean BBQ in Madrid, restaurante Candela, and two others from there, plus house wine from El Espejo (if you remember from la noche en blanco). They were all good to great. And before this I was never a huge fan of wine in general. Either I've grown accustomed to the taste, or the wine really is just better here. And so cheap too. In the stores, as I've said, you can get a bottle from .79€ -- in most restaurants the tinto de la casa is going to be about 10€, and quite good. So..if you come to Spain, get red wine, and you won't be disappointed.

Korean BBQ

My friends Monica and Kristine took me out to a Korean BBQ in Madrid last week since they were missing Korean food and I've never had it before. Started off with fried dumplings, which I could not tell the difference between Korean and Chinese fried dumplings -- nevertheless, they were quite good, if unfortunately in small portions (only four tiny ones! Really need to find a Chinese buffet around here). The girls had this spicy soup called Kim Chi, I had a taste it was very good -- but you know me, I already get enough soup at home here, that I refrained from having any more. Main course was the actual BBQ ribs, called Kalbi. If you've never been to a Korean grill before...the grill is actually in the middle of the table and either you or the server cooks the food right there on the table. Monica and Kristine knew how so they prepared out meal. I'm not quite sure what the sauce was, but it was amazing. Plus, meat! How often do I get that here? I was quite excited. It was fun actually cooking your meat to your liking then just tossing it on your plate -- a kitchen so close is useful, especially since I was starving. So I filled up on white rice and Kalbi and the fine vino tinto de la casa. Quite the good dinner.

La merienda a la terraza de El Espejo

Merienda is usually a snake during midday, after lunch, but before dinner, in order to hold oneself over until dinner. I'm applying it here to our 2am snack and drink in Madrid during la noche en blanco. Or, as Rebeca put it "You know what this is right here? Fourth meal." We ordered a plate of jamón ibérico and manchego, along with bread. I got a glass of the house wine (as I've said, you can't go wrong here in Spain with red wine). Normally I hate manchego, it's so saltly and strong and just plain foul (I'm starting to think that that's just the manchego that host mother gets) -- but this manchego was much more mild and delicious. That, or I'm just getting used to manchego. A slice of bread, a slice of manchego, and the coup de grâce: jamón ibérico. The best ham you can get in the world. The only thing coming from a pig that I like. Familiar faces should know that I do not like ham nor pork chops nor bacon...however, when in Spain, ham is about the greatest thing I can eat. And this jamón ibérico was fantastic. Cut fresh off the (dead and cured) pig's leg, in tiny little strips, perfect for making tiny bocadillos with the cheese. These bocadillitos and the wine were a perfect combination and an excellent mid-night snack to refuel our energy before we continued on for another four hours.

Camembert

For a while, I just referred to this as the "French cheese" because I didn't know how to pronounce it. As noted before, I was having troubles adjusting to manchego and even the Wisconsin cheddar I brought over (I don't like yellow cheddars...I know, from Wisconsin and don't like cheddar!), so I was determined to find an alternative cheese because I was going through cheese withdrawals (unfortunately they don't have pepper jack here...I may die). Searching through Carrefour for a suitable cheese, I found only two saving graces: Brie and Camembert. I wanted to eat it immediately, and only Camembert came in individually wrapped chunks, so I picked that up. While the mold on the outside was a turn off at first, I have quickly adapted and am now in love with Camembert. It is what keeps me alive and not withering away due to lack of cheese. It's so rich, so creamy...I have a chunk for nearly every meal. Goes great on bread but I can just as easily tear into it by itself. Oh the French, saving me once again. 

Common Fig

Or, in Spanish, higo. A friend of the family rang the doorbell one day and Candela opened the door to reveal Juan, a fast talking and very impassioned Spaniard, friend of Candela's kids Estrella and Antonio. He was carrying grocery bags full of food--and shoes-- and started pouring stuff on the kitchen table (where we had just been eating at--Candela was quite quick to clear the table when she found out he was coming up, never have seen her so excited or so fast). He pulled out this green fruit and basically shoved one in my face, peeling the skin down like a banana, to reveal this half strawberry, half sea coral looking interior. I was intrigued, and shoved my face into the fruit. Oh so sweet. He mumbled that it was "yigo" or something, I didn't picked up what it really was called until a few days later, when I was devouring one I asked Candela and she spelled it out for me (wrong, but Google can help with that). Found out it was the common fig. Makes sense, now that I think about it they do kinda taste like Fig Newtons. I think that if el higo was an animal and not a fruit, I wouldn't eat it. The insides would look disgusting coming from an animal. Weird, I know. It's so delicious, so sweet. It's coated in this gooey sweetness that remind me of honey. So, it's like eating a coral strawberry covered in honey. 

That's all for this installment, expect another one next week. I'm going to be heading out tonight to eat for dinner and possibly again Sunday -- in Madrid. I'm thinking either Casa Botín (Hemingway's favorite) or else something Middle Eastern. Weird that now that I'm in Spain I'm eating at non Spanish restaurants that I could just as easily find in Madison or Milwaukee.