Spanish

A classic tapa that’s challenging only to the extent that it’s hard to find good chorizo; it should not be too well dried but rather fresh and soft. Plenty is being made in the States now, especially in Florida, California, and New York—the major centers of Latin cuisine. Since chorizo is so intensely flavored already, it takes few ingredients to make this dish, but it’s still pretty powerful. In northwestern Spain they make this with the local sidra Asturiana, or hard cider; to try it that way, omit the garlic and parsley and substitute hard cider (English, French, or American hard cider is fine) for the red wine.

A nice little appetizer from Galicia—northwestern Spain—great served warm or at room temperature. Your olive oil should be of the highest quality possible. For more about cooking octopus, see Grilled Octopus (page 49).

This is a standard at tapas bars in Spain and a perfect addition to any cocktail party. The salt will adhere to the nuts better if you grind it for a few moments in a food processor or spice or coffee grinder; this gives it a more irregular surface than it usually has.

Along with Spanish food in general, these have become increasingly popular in the States, and they’re fun, rewarding, and easy to make at home. Of course, the key is to begin with superfresh anchovies, and we are finally seeing more of these. (You can use the same method with fresh thin fillets of mackerel, a more common fish, or with smelts, which can be handled the same way as the anchovies.) These are good served on buttered toast or crackers and passed as a snack. You might wonder why your boquerones are not as white as those sold in restaurants; it’s because you’re not using a bleaching agent.

I remember a time when gazpacho became very trendy and was on every menu. I decided to come up with a different version—even with a different color. It was José Andrés of Jaleo in Washington, D.C., who made the best Spanish gazpacho I ever tasted, so I borrowed his technique of frying the bread in olive oil. The toasted flavor and richness of the fried bread helps mellow the acidity and round out the flavors of the other ingredients. The shellfish garnish is not necessary but makes the dish a little more elegant and sumptuous.

I know what you’re thinking: “Aren’t tortillas those Mexican things that you make quesadillas out of?” Well, yes and no. In Spain, tortilla is an eggy dish a lot like an omelet or a frittata. When I was in Spain, my friend took me out for tapas (Spanish hors d’oeuvres) and one was tortilla. That one was gigantic—really thick, made in big round pans, and sliced for individual servings. Here is a smaller version, but it’s just as delicious. It can be served warm or at room temperature.

When my Catalan friend Pep made me fideos, the Spanish dish that’s much like a paella but with pasta instead of rice, the first thing I thought was: delicious. The second: What a great thing to make for one. You don’t have to boil the pasta, the whole dish can be made in a single skillet, and you can scale it down easily. I like to make it with sardines because they last so long in my cupboard or refrigerator, they’re considered one of the more eco-friendly fish in the world, and they give the pasta a salty, funky taste I love. This makes a hearty meal for one, but you can easily stretch it to serve two with a salad or another vegetable and bread on the side.

I don’t make a habit of having potato chips in the house, because I really don’t have much self-control around them. But when I read in Anya von Bremzen’s go-to cookbook, The New Spanish Table, that chef-genius Ferran Adrià makes a tortilla de patatas (that glorious traditional Spanish omelet) with potato chips, I was tempted to buy some. That same year, 2005, my friend, chef José Andrés, a protégé of Adrià’s, also included a potato-chip tortilla recipe in his energetic book, Tapas: A Taste of Spain in America, so the decision was obvious. It turns out that this humblest of dishes, one of my favorites when I traveled in Spain, was perfectly easy to scale down to single-serving size. To justify its place on my dinner table, though, I added shrimp to make it a meal. Eat with a green salad or other crisp vegetables on the side. If desired, spoon some Red Pepper Chutney (page 17) on top.

Torta—Spanish for “cake,” “loaf,” or “sandwich”—is also a substantial brunch entrée in which the eggs are baked, often with vegetables. In this version, caramelizing brings out the natural sweetness in the onion and red bell pepper. Serve this torta either hot or at room temperature with sourdough toast and slab bacon.

Tortilla Española is an indispensable dish: It makes a great breakfast, goes well in a sandwich, and makes a hearty hors d’oeuvre when cut into small squares. The only challenge is removing the tortilla from the pan intact, but you can cheat by waiting until it’s cold. Embellish the tortilla with Stinging Nettle Pesto (page 115), Cilantro-Jalapeño Sauce (page 184), or plain ketchup. For a light meal, serve the tortilla alongside the Puntarelles with Anchovy Dressing (page 156) and fresh bread.

Exactly what makes this rice Spanish has never been clear, but with this collection of tasty Tex-Mex ingredients, it is clear why it’s such a delicious dish. It also easily becomes vegetarian if you omit the shredded meat and stock. Please note that rice prepared in the slow cooker will not retain the shape and individuality of each grain as it would in a rice cooker.

Spanish Basque immigrants first arrived in the United States in the mid-1800s. This recipe contains typical ingredients found in a Basque lamb stew, which is often served at traditional family-style restaurants in the Basque communities that can still be found throughout the Pacific Northwest and West. I suggest you cook it until the meat is just about to fall off the bone.

Should you ever find yourself in Spain, withering away during the fierce heat of summer, rejuvenate with the locals at one of the many heladerías that make the country a top destination for any ice cream aficionado. I always order leche merengada, a cinnamon-and-lemon-flavored frozen meringue. To make it more invigorating, I sometimes ask for a shot of high-strength café exprés poured over.

While navigating my way through the Barcelona train station, I was suddenly surrounded by a squadron of Spanish police, guns drawn, barking orders at me in Spanish. Aimed and ready, they gestured to me to open up the suspiciously overstuffed valise I was dragging. I carefully unzipped my bulky suitcase, revealing rows and rows of peculiar brown paper-wrapped bundles, all packed neatly in rows. An officer demanded that I unwrap one of the packages. I slowly tore the paper off the first one and held it high for all to see. The policemen let down their guns and had a good laugh. My crime? Smuggling home blocks of crispy Spanish turrón. This ice cream duplicates the taste of turrón with crispy almonds, honey, and a touch of candied orange, and it can be made, without raising any suspicions, in your ice cream maker at home.

With all the recent interest in Spanish cuisine, it’s no surprise that membrillo—Spanish quince paste—has become a global hit. Anyone who has tasted it paired with Manchego cheese and a glass of sherry understands why it’s become so popular the world over. But that popularity doesn’t come easy: it takes at least 30 minutes of almost-constant stirring to make quince paste. I always wear an oven mitt while stirring with a wooden spatula because the hot mixture occasionally pops and sputters as it thickens.

It seems during the last decade or so, America has gone completely crazy for coffee drinks. All sorts of overpriced caffeinated concoctions are foisted on the public under the guise of coffee. But there’s nothing you can buy that can beat this simple coffee dessert. Blanco y negro is the Spanish variation of affogato, an Italian creation consisting of an innocent bowl of ice cream drowned in hot espresso; affogato comes from the Italian verb affogare, meaning “to drown.” I’m not fond of dessert names that reference morbid things like drowning and death (as in “death by chocolate”), so I opt for the kinder, gentler Spanish interpretation that refers to snowy, white (blanco) sherbet mingling agreeably with the black (negro) espresso that’s poured over the top. They come together in an unexpected, but very winning, way.

The Basque region is an area that spans the border between Spain and France, where a strong sense of nationalism has fueled a desire for independence among some of the Basque people. (I recommend not bringing up the topic if you go for a visit.) But one thing that all sides can agree on is that gâteau Basque is one of the region’s tastiest achievements and a great source of pride. I’m an impartial observer, but I am partial to this dessert, which is a cross between a cake and big cookie. But being Basque, it’s naturally subject to controversy: some versions have pastry cream sandwiched between the layers and others are filled with cherry jam. While happily tasting my way through various examples in the region, I’ve enjoyed versions of both, which is a pretty good way to keep the peace. Don’t be too concerned if the dough falls apart as you roll it; it can be pinched together and will still bake up perfectly.

Spain just might be the genius of the food world. While Spanish cuisine certainly isn’t my all-time favorite, Spain sure does churn out a lot of my favorite dishes. Among them is gazpacho, a delightful chilled soup that cries for a hot summer day and a cold, crisp cerveza. If you are unable to find Persian cucumbers, feel free to substitute the English or hothouse variety.

A collection of vegetarian soups wouldn’t be complete without this Spanish classic. It’s especially delicious topped with Garlic Croutons (page 159).

Think of this no-cook soup as a Thai-flavored gazpacho. It’s best with really lush summer tomatoes. Serve with a cold noodle dish for a quick summer meal.