Spanish

Here earthy ingredients from sunny Spain come together for a richly flavored meatball. A sharp Manchego sheep’s milk cheese and paprika-spiced chorizo sausage are mixed with ground pork and just a hint of red pepper flakes and garlic. When rolled into minis, these are a tapas treat. These balls stand up to the Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57) but go just as well with Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

Paella is one of the great composed rice dishes of the world. Many regions in Spain boast of serving the “finest” rendition, but Valencia, its original home, claims the blue ribbon. Many tourist guides acquiesce. Located close by the sea, the city provides its cooks with a daily supply of fresh seafood. Squid, which blackens the rice with its ink, and mussels are abundant and have become key elements in paella valenciana, along with snails and green beans. That repertoire has been expanded to include a selection of chicken or rabbit pieces; small sausages; other shellfish, such as shrimp, crayfish, or cockles; and other vegetables, such as red bell pepper or artichoke, though not all at once. I like to use shrimp in the shell, but if you don’t think your guests will want to peel their own shrimp, you can cook them as directed, then peel them before returning them to the pan. Paella is traditionally cooked over a charcoal fire in a large, wide, two-handled shallow pan called a paellera. As is common in many Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures in which dishes, such as shish kebab and gyros, are cooked over an open fire, the paella cooks are traditionally men because the men own fire. Nowadays, the paellera is more often used indoors, and women as well as men cook the dish. It is always a festive offering, worthy of a get-together of any size, indoors or out. No matter who is cooking, the key to a successful paella is the rice. It must be Spanish or Italian short grain.

Omelet, frittata, egg tortilla—all are different words for essentially the same thing: eggs mixed with vegetable and/or meat bits and cooked into a cake or pancakelike round. The advantage of this version is that it follows the Spanish or Italian custom of baking the assembled dish. That means no intimidating calisthenics to flip the cake to cook the second side. I serve this informal dish in its cooking skillet, but it’s also easy to lift it out onto a platter.

These cookies originated in Spain, but today they are often associated with the American Southwest, particularly New Mexico, where they are the official state cookie. Lard imparts incomparable flavor—it’s worth seeking it out, although vegetable shortening can be substituted.

Pimientos de Padrón are little peppers that hail from Spain, where they’re simply prepared and served as a tapa or snack. You can eat these tender peppers whole, and they go perfectly with a glass of crisp dry sherry. This preparation hardly requires a recipe, but it’s so good that it deserves the formal attention of one. If you can’t find Pimientos de Padrón, look for Italian friarielli or Japanese shishitsu peppers (often stocked at Japanese grocers). In their absence, fresh okra spears make an excellent substitute—they just take a little longer to cook. You may also want to add a sprinkle of chile flakes to replicate the occasional heat of the Padróns.

Brian teaches a paella class at the winery occasionally to help take the fear out of preparing rice the Spanish way. It’s a great dish for parties because guests love watching paella come together, the flavors and fragrance building as ingredients are added. Brian cooks his paella by the traditional method, outdoors over a hardwood fire. Gauging the heat of the fire is the only challenge; if it is too hot, the rice will scorch. Be sure to let the coals burn down until they are well covered with white ash before starting. And if you still lack confidence after trying this recipe, sign up for the class. Paella tastes best warm, not hot, so allow for some cooling time.

WHY IT’S LIGHT Gazpacho is traditionally made with pieces of stale bread as a thickener. In this lightened version, vegetables alone contribute heft, and toasted bread is offered as an optional side.

The spanish tortilla has nothing in common with the Mexican tortilla except its name, which comes from the Latin torta—a round cake. In its most basic form, the Spanish tortilla is a potato-and-egg frittata, or omelet, which derives most of its flavor from olive oil. Although the ingredients are simple and minimal, when made correctly—and there is a straightforward but very definite series of techniques involved—this tortilla is wonderfully juicy. And because it is better at room temperature than hot, it can and in fact should be made in advance. (How much in advance is up to you. It can be fifteen minutes or a few hours.)

Piquillo peppers are wood-roasted peppers from Spain, sold in cans or jars. If you cannot find them, substitute homemade roasted peppers or canned “pimientos.”

An Andalusian dish with a sweet, aromatic sauce. Do not use canned chickpeas here.

Some people argue that a true paella must contain only meat or seafood, never both, that a true paella can be prepared only in a paellera, or that true paella must be cooked outdoors over wood. Perhaps they’re all right. What’s clear to me is that you can produce a fabulous rice dish I call paella in just over half an hour, which makes it a great option for weeknights.

The scallop is ideal for fast cooking, because even a large scallop needs only to be browned on both sides to complete its cooking. A good sear on the outside caramelizes the shellfish’s natural sugars and leaves the interior cool, creamy, and delicious.

Much of the flavor of shrimp can be lost in the cooking, especially when you’re grilling or broiling, which allows the juices exuded by the shrimp to escape. Far better at preserving the crustacean’s essence is cooking it in liquid, and among the best of those liquids is olive oil. This is not sautéing, but cooking the shrimp slowly in the oil, to tease out its liquids without evaporating them, so these juices combine with the oil to create an irresistible sauce. I usually peel shrimp before cooking, but in this instance the shrimp are better left unpeeled, for the simple reason that the shells contain as much flavor as the meat (maybe more), and you want that flavor in the sauce. The results are a little messier, and certainly more difficult to eat, but they are tastier—and the dish is easier to prepare.

Many years ago in Barcelona, I saw mussels and clams cooked a la plancha—on a thick slab of hot metal much like the griddles used by short-order cooks. The technique is common in Spain, indeed throughout the Mediterranean. Though the mollusks are usually served unadorned, they’re filled with their own flavors as well as a certain smokiness contributed by their juices, which burn on the hot surface. This smokiness sometimes makes people think that mussels cooked this way are cooked over wood, but that is not the case, nor is it necessary. It’s best to serve the mussels in the same skillet in which they cooked. To eat, remove a mussel from the shell and dredge it on the dried juices of the pan.

Adapted from Chef Jim Cohen, Chef/Partner, The Empire Restaurant, Louisville, Colorado, and Pizzeria da Lupo, Boulder, Colorado This showstopper was created by Jim Cohen, who has both updated and upended tradition. Black tea? Pasilla chiles? Sweet fruit? Use ancho chiles if you can't find pasillas.

Montezuma introduced Cortés to chocolate in the sixteenth century, and the Spaniards immediately began messing around with it. The original Mexican beverage (preceding recipe) was tweaked to suit the tastes of the Spaniards, and their associated versions of hot chocolate remain different to this day. Spanish hot chocolate is incredibly rich and thick—almost like loose pudding—and perfect for dunking Churros (page 655). Some people use cornstarch (or eggs) to thicken their chocolate, but I prefer the natural thickness that comes from melting chocolate into milk.

The original sangria is this: good red wine, spiced with lemon juice, served with a piece of lemon over ice, with a splash of soda. That sangria has become more complicated, and a cliché of America’s Spanish restaurants, does not detract from its basic appeal; it’s as good a way as exists to spice up insipid red wine. Of course, the better the wine you start with, the better the sangria; decent but inexpensive (red) Zinfandel, wine from the south of France, and Rioja are all good.

This dish incorporates many of the distinctive elements of Spanish cuisine: almonds, garlic, saffron, and sherry. The addition of hard-cooked eggs to poultry dishes, traditional and still popular, is called pepitoria. Serve with Yellow Rice (page 518) or any other rice or potato dish and whatever vegetable you like.

Escabeche (see also pages 235 and 350) is a great way to flavor food, by marinating it after it’s cooked rather than before. The cooked chicken (in this case) is bathed in an aromatic marinade. The soaking need not be long, but since the dish is best served at room temperature (it makes a good picnic option), you should plan to wait a while between cooking and eating. Use this as part of a picnic or buffet.

I love baked eggs, so I was delighted to come across this elaborate version, served as an appetizer before a Spanish dinner (I like it at brunch). When it was made for me, it contained small amounts of asparagus and peas, but you could use bits of any vegetable you like; leftovers are the best option. Use both meats, either, or neither; this is essentially a dish that was created to combine eggs with whatever else is on hand.