THE MANY VERSIONS OF GAZPACHUELO

Gazpachuelo nine different ways was the special offer at a seaside Málaga restaurant, Balneario Baños del Carmen. We sampled four of them. Following on platters of sardines roasted on espetones (skewers) and accompanied by a crisp Albariño white wine, the gazpachuelo soups made up birthday lunch for my friend and colleague, Gerry Dawes, the expert on Spanish gastronomy, wine and travel, who does specialized custom tours for culinary luminaries (Rozanne Gold, chef and cookbook author, and Michael Whiteman, restaurant consultant, were the guests at this lunch). 

Tables on the edge of the sea at Málaga's Balneario Baños del Carmen. 

Gazpachuelo is not gazpacho. It’s a hot soup, typical of Málaga’s fishermen’s quarter. Basically, it is nothing more than egg, olive oil, bits of fish or shellfish and either bread or potatoes. In the inland village where I live, it is even simpler—egg, olive oil and potato. But, gazpachuelo is more than the sum of its parts. The egg and oil make an emulsified mayonnaise, creating a creamy, satisfying, tasty soup that has inspired local chefs to ring the changes on the simple original.

Seafood and Viña AB Sherry.

Of the ones we sampled at the Balneario, two were almost identical—the malagueño and the one with almejas (clams). The Viña AB, which I remember from the now defunct Restaurante Alegría in the center of Málaga, contains more fish and shellfish, plus a shot of Viña AB amontillado Sherry. The fourth one we tried was pretty radical—gazpachuelo de callos, or tripe. The soup had a pinkish-orange tinge, probably smoked pimentón, and a background flavour of morcilla, or blood sausage. The pieces of pig’s tripe were incredibly tender and succulent.

Inspired by our gazpachuelo lunch and a review of the book, Gazpachuelos de Málaga, by Fernando Sánchez Gómez, with 102 versions of the soup, I tried some variations of my own: turkey meatballs in a chicken-broth-based soup.

Gazpachuelo with turkey meatballs, purple and white potatoes and a snippet of chorizo sausage.

Play with the garnishes to add color and texture. Perhaps some saffron in the meatballs, to give them a yellow color?

Turkey Meatballs in Gazpachuelo Soup
Gazpachuelo con Albóndigas de Ave

You can prepare the soup in stages. If you’re making home-made chicken broth, start at least a day before finishing the soup, so it has time to chill, solidifying the fat on top of the broth. 

Chicken breast could be used instead of turkey for the meatballs (or, look at other meatball and fish ball possibilities, listed at the end of the recipe). Turkey bones could be used instead of chicken for the broth. Sub in rice in place of potatoes. Use different varietals of olive oil to change flavors. (Hojiblanca varietal is typical of Málaga.) Vary the garnishes when serving the soup.

For the chicken broth:

Makes about 10 cups of broth.

2 pounds chicken pieces, such as backs, wings, necks
12 cups water
1 leek
½ onion
1 carrot
1 stalk celery
Parsley stems
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
10 peppercorns
1 bay leaf
Sprig of thyme

Wash the chicken pieces and place them in a large soup pot. Add the water and bring to a boil. Skim off the froth that rises to the top. Add the leek, onion, carrot, celery, parsley, salt, vinegar, peppercorns, bay leaf and thyme. Bring again to a boil, reduce heat and cook, covered, 1 hour.

Remove from heat. Let the broth cool slightly, then pour it through a colander into a heat-proof bowl that can be refrigerated. Save the carrot, if desired, to add to the finished soup. Discard the bones, vegetables, spices and herbs.

Refrigerate the broth, covered, overnight or up to 3 days. Before continuing with the soup, remove the congealed fat from the top of the broth. 

For the olive oil mayonnaise:
1 large egg, room temperature
¾ cup extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons or more freshly squeezed lemon juice
½ teaspoon salt

Blender mayonnaise.

Place the egg and oil in the container of an immersion blender. Blend at high speed until the mixture begins to thicken and emulsify. Raise and lower the blender blade to completely combine the mayonnaise. Blend in the lemon juice and salt. Taste the mayonnaise and add more lemon juice as desired.
Keep the mayonnaise in the blender container while continuing with the soup.

If making the mayonnaise in advance of finishing the soup, refrigerate it, covered. Bring to room temperature before continuing with the recipe.



For the turkey meatballs:

Parsley, garlic, nutmeg for meatballs.

This is traditional seasoning for meatballs—garlic, parsley, nutmeg. You could vary the flavors—a pinch of thyme, perhaps, or grated ginger. As these meatballs are not floured and fried before being added to the soup, they are very white. A pinch of saffron would be a nice addition.

The meatballs can be prepared in advance of making the soup. Either poach them in the chicken broth or in salted water. Reheat the meatballs before adding to the soup.

Makes about 30 (1-inch) balls

1 pound ground turkey breast
3 slices bread (3 ounces), crusts removed
¼ cup milk
1 egg, beaten
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 clove garlic, finely minced
½ teaspoon salt
Freshly grated nutmeg
Freshly ground black pepper

Break the bread into pieces and place in a small bowl. Pour over the milk and allow it to soak 5 minutes. Squeeze out as much of the milk as possible. Place the bread in a mixing bowl and mash it with the beaten egg. Add the parsley, garlic, salt and nutmeg. Mix in the ground turkey, using a fork to combine it thoroughly.

Chill the meatball mixture at least 30 minutes or, covered, until the following day.

Dip hands in cold water and roll the meat into small (1-inch) balls. Place them on a rimmed baking sheet while heating the soup.

Cook the meatballs in the simmering soup (see below).

For the soup:
The process is pretty simple. First, you’re going to “temper” the mayonnaise by blending in some of the hot soup. Then, you will whisk the diluted mayonnaise into the soup. Either serve the soup immediately or very gently reheat it without letting it come to a boil, which would cause the mayonnaise to “break,” or coagulate, spoiling the gorgeous velvety texture of the soup.

Be sure to taste the soup after the addition of the mayonnaise to the soup pot. Depending on the broth, the soup may need more salt or more lemon juice.

Classic gazpachuelo contains potatoes. I chose to use part purple potatoes, just to give the soup some visual pizazz. Rice can be used instead of potatoes. And, why not add some more vegetables? On a second day appearance, I added baby spinach to the soup and meatballs.

Serves 6.

10 cups chicken broth
Turkey balls
2 medium potatoes (12 ounces), white and/or purple, diced
¼ cup fino (dry) Sherry
¾ cup olive oil mayonnaise
Cooked carrot, sliced
1 slice cured chorizo, cut in small triangles
Chopped scallions or parsley to garnish
Toasted croutons (optional)

Place the broth in a large soup pot. Bring to a boil. Lower the heat to moderate and add the turkey balls. Cook, stirring them gently, until they are cooked through, about 6 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to remove the meatballs and keep them warm while finishing the soup.

Add the diced potatoes to the soup and cook them until just tender (5-10 minutes, depending on variety). Add the Sherry and the carrot to the soup and cook 4 minutes. Lower the heat to low.

Ladle 1 cup of the hot broth into a heat-proof measuring cup. Give the mayonnaise another whir with the blender. With the blender running, slowly pour in the hot broth. Whisk the tempered mayonnaise into the hot soup.

Place the meatballs in shallow soup bowls. Ladle the soup and potatoes over them. Garnish with pieces of chorizo and chopped scallions. Serve croutons on the side.

To reheat leftover soup: Bring the soup to room temperature and strain out the meatballs. Combine 1 tablespoon cornstarch with ¼ cup water. Place about 6 cups of the soup in a pan on moderate heat and whisk in the cornstarch mixture. Cook, stirring, until soup is hot (180ºF). Do not let it boil. Return meatballs to the soup to heat.

Meatballs and potatoes in creamy olive oil-chicken soup.

Happy birthday, Gerry! Carrot cake and Veuve Pelletier rosé to finish our seaside lunch.

Related recipes:
Mediterranean Seafood Chowder (classic gazpachuelo).
Classic Gazpachuelo with a chef's suggestions.
Fish Balls.
Cuttlefish Balls.
Meatballs (pork and beef).
Chicken Meatballs.

The Jornada Gastronómica del Gazpachuelo at Balneario de Baños del Carmen continues through November 25.

Gazpachuelos de Málaga, by Fernando Sánchez Gómez is published by the Diputación de Málaga and Sabor a Málaga.

Gerry Dawes.
Rozanne Gold.
Michael Whiteman.

BACALAO IN DISGUISE

“Te conozco, bacalao, aunque vengas disfrazao,” is an old Spanish saying, meaning “I know you, codfish, even if you come in disguise.” It’s roughly the same as “pull the wool over your eyes,” deceive someone to prevent them from discovering something. Considering the thousand-and-one ways of preparing salt cod during the Lenten period, it’s also a sly way of saying, “you can’t fool me, no matter how you doll it up!”

But, here’s a recipe for salt cod that might fool anyone! It’s a garlicky, creamy dip or schmear that might remind you of hummus or Greek skordalia or taromosalata. This one, from the Axarquía region east of Málaga, is somewhat like Catalan brandada and atascaburras or ajoarriero from La Mancha. But, it has, besides salt cod and garlic, a big dose of pimentón (paprika) that gives the mixture a ruddy hue. 

Ajobacalao is a dip or spread made with salt cod blended into a creamy mixture of garlic, bread and olive oil. Pimentón (paprika) gives it a reddish color.

Spread the ajobacalao on crusty bread for a satisfying snack.

A tasty spread for canapés. In Málaga, local green olives are typical, but the black ones make nice contrast.

Use breadsticks as dippers.

The resulting thick spread can be slathered on bread or toasts for a satisfying snack, spread on crisp crackers as a canapé or dipped with breadsticks. Serve it as a luncheon entrée with artichokes, quartered hard-boiled egg and lettuce. 

Salt cod is to fresh fish as cured ham is to fresh pork. The process of salting and curing changes both flavor and texture. Salt cod has to be soaked in several changes of water before being incorporated in any recipe. It needs very little cooking on gentle heat. 

In Spain, it’s easy to find bacalao in many different cuts. I used a packet of bacalao desmigado, scraps of cod with no skin or bones. The small pieces needed only 12 hours soaking. If you have a thick, loin cut of bacalao, it may need as long as 48 hours to soften and lose excess salt. 

And, if you’re really, truly not into bacalao, disguised or otherwise, try making this spread with canned, water-pack tuna, well-drained. You can tell folks it´s bacalao---

Salt Cod-Garlic Spread
Ajobacalao

In bygone times, this traditional dish was made in a lebrillo, a large clay bowl, or a wooden mortar, the ingredients mashed together with a pestle. Nowadays, a food processor makes quick work of it. It's important to mix very well to emulsify the oil and bread.

Use extra virgin olive oil. In the Málaga area where this is a popular dish during Lent (Cuaresma) the local oil is made from the Verdial variety of olive. The pimentón is normal, sweet paprika, not smoked. Use additional hot pimentón or cayenne to taste.

Bacalao desmigado.

6-8 ounces dry salt cod
1-2 cloves garlic
8 ounces day-old bread (4-5 slices)
2 teaspoons pimentón (paprika)
Pinch of hot pimentón or cayenne
Cod cooking liquid
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons lemon juice
Salt, if necessary

Bread, toast, breadsticks or crackers to serve

Wash the pieces of cod and place them in a bowl. Cover with cold water. Refrigerate, covered, 12 hours, changing the water twice. 

Drain and rinse the pieces of cod. Place them in a pan and cover with water. Bring the water to a simmer (bubbling gently) and cook 1 minute. Drain, saving the cod cooking liquid. When the cod is cool, flake it with the fingers, discarding any skin or bones. Reserve cod and liquid.

Ingredients for ajobacalao--day-old bread, extra virgin olive oil, pimentón, garlic, cod that has been de-salted, cooked and flaked and lemon juice.

Finely chop the garlic in a food processor.

Remove crusts from the bread. Break it up and add to the processor with the garlic. Add the two kinds of pimentón. Grind the bread into fine crumbs. Add ½ cup of the reserved cod cooking liquid and process until it is absorbed by the bread. With the processor running, slowly add the oil. Process until the oil is completely absorbed and mixture is very smooth. Add the lemon juice and 2 or 3 tablespoons more of the reserved liquid to make a smooth, thick cream. 

Add the flaked cod and process a few seconds more to combine well. The cod does not have to be completely pureed. Taste and add salt if necessary.  

Cover and refrigerate the cod until serving time or up to 3 days. Serve with bread, toasts, breadsticks or crackers.

Feliz Semana Santa.

Recipes for similar salt cod spreads:

Salt Cod Arriero.

Garlicky Salt Cod Spread.

CANE “HONEY”—A MÁLAGA TRADITION

As the plane descends into Málaga International Airport, you might catch a glimpse of fields of waving cane fronds. Sugar cane still grows here. Once the Málaga coast, from the capital east to Motril on the Granada coast, was big sugar country, supporting large plantations and numerous sugar mills. Nowadays, with the expansion of runways, roadways, beach resorts and shopping centers, the growing of sugar cane has nearly disappeared.

Once sugar cane was extensively grown in the area around Málaga airport. A few plantations remain.

The Arabs introduced the growing and refining of sugar to Spain as early as the eighth century. After the Reconquest from the Moors in the 15th century, sugar mills thrived in this semi-tropical region right up until the middle of the last century, spawning related industries, such as rum distilleries.

Molasses is by-product of making sugar from cane.

To make sugar, cane juice is boiled to a concentrate, causing the sugar to crystallize and precipitate out. The remaining thick syrup is molasses, known as miel de caña, or cane "honey," (now officially called concentrado del jugo de la caña de azucar). Miel de caña is part of Málaga´s culinary tradition. It is drizzled over fritters and fried foods, making an intriguing contrast of salty and sweet. It is used as a sweetener in desserts such as sweet potato pudding or served with fresh goat cheese.

Miel de caña.

One factory in Málaga province still produces miel de caña. Ingenio Nuestra Señora del Carmen in Frigiliana, situated in a mill first established in 1630, imports cane juice from countries where sugar is still grown commercially. (After the discovery of the New World in 1492, Spaniards carried the cultivation of sugar to new continents.)

Here is a recipe for a very traditional  tapas bar dish, fried eggplant drizzled with molasses.

Thinly-sliced eggplant is dusted with flour and fried in olive oil, then drizzled with molasses.

The intriguing contrast of salty and sweet makes this an outstanding dish, popular in tapa bars.

One medium eggplant serves two as a starter or six as a tapa.

Finger food.

Fried Eggplant with Molasses
Berenjena Frita con Miel de Caña

One medium eggplant (about ¾ pound) makes 18 to 20 slices, serving two persons as a starter or five or six as a tapa. Soaking the sliced eggplant in salt water keeps it from absorbing too much oil during frying and also flavors it with salt. 

A small quantity of semolina flour adds a little texture to the coating. Omit it, if preferred.

Use dark molasses, not blackstrap, for finishing this recipe.

1 medium eggplant (¾  pound)
3 cups water
1 tablespoon salt
½ cup flour
1 tablespoon semolina flour (optional)
Pinch of cumin
Olive oil for frying
Coarse salt (optional)
Molasses

Slice eggplant thinly.

 

Cut stem and end off the eggplant. Slice it crosswise very thinly, in 3/8 inch-slices. Combine the water and salt in a bowl and stir to dissolve the salt. Add the eggplant to the water. Place a dish on top so the eggplant slices stay submerged. Soak the eggplant 30 minutes.

Combine the flour, semolina, if using, and cumin in a shallow bowl. Drain the eggplant and pat it dry with a kitchen towel.

Heat oil in a heavy skillet to a depth of ¼ inch. Dredge the eggplant slices in flour, patting off excess. Fry the eggplant in two or three batches until browned on both sides, about 1 minute per side.

Drain fried eggplant on a rack. Serve it hot.

 

Remove the fried eggplant from the skillet and drain briefly on a rack. Sprinkle with coarse salt, if desired. 

Serve the fried eggplant drizzled with molasses. 

Another recipe with molasses:

Cod Fritters with Molasses.

More recipes for fried eggplant:

"Land Fish" (Fried Eggplant).

Eggplant and Shrimp Rollups.

OUT TO LUNCH IN MÁLAGA

We were five at table for lunch, all us semi-professional eaters—cooks, food writers, restaurant critics and guides. (See, I totally avoided saying “foodies.”) Málaga food mavens.

Our leader was Shawn Hennessey, she of Sevilla Tapas (I wrote about Shawn and Sevilla tapas here ), who was spending a week in Málaga. Shawn brought us together and chose a venue. (I had balked at going all the way to Málaga to eat sushi, so it had to be Spanish or, anyway, “Spanish.”)

Here I am at lunch with new friends, from left, Andrew Forbes , travel writer and communications consultant ; Victor Garrido, Málaga guide, and Fred Shively, photographer . Shawn Hennessey took the photo.

So, here we were at El Tres, which bills itself as “alta cocina clásica,” a mash-up of Spanish, Basque and French, right in the center of Málaga—not a tapas bar, but a proper restaurant (wonderfully comfortable chairs and welcome air conditioning on a blazing-hot day), part of Grupo Gorki which has several restaurants and bars in Málaga.

Presented with the carta, the menu, we dithered. For €47 per head (including wine), we could have a nine-course tasting menu. Or, we could exercise choice, with a la carte starters ranging from €12 to €23 and mains from €18 to €28. Many of the a la carte choices offered the option of media-ración, a half-serving.

A tasting menu is a good way to get to know a restaurant’s specialties. But, then you are locked in to what the chef wants you to eat. Shawn, who has plenty of dining-out experience, solved the dilemma—we ordered half-portions of eight different dishes on the a la carte menu—three starters, five mains—and split each of them between five of us (Shawn is an expert at divving up portions), providing a generous bite of each.

Here’s what was for lunch.

Porra antequerana

Two taste-teasers—a classic porra antequerana, sort of thick gazpacho cream with garnishes of chopped egg and ham, and a leek terrine with a smear of monkfish liver pâté and parmesan cream.

Porra is very similar to salmorejo, a Córdoba dish. Someone asked me, "what's the difference?" I don't rightly know. (My recipe for salmorejo is  here.)

Smoked eel terrine--divine.

Starter. Silky and rich, smoked eel terrine layered with sweet williams pears. Gorgeous. Best-liked dish by all of us, even Andrew who claimed he wouldn’t eat eel! Of course, we were famished and our palates were fresh.

Vegetable menestra.

Starter. Menestra de verduras con velouté of jamón ibérico, a vegetable melange, each one cooked to crisp perfection, with the unctuous ibérico ham as garnish.

Smoky rice with octopus and rabbit.

Starter. Arroz meloso de conejo y pulpo de roca al sarmiento (rice with rabbit and octopus, smoked over vine shoots). This was my favorite dish of all. Meloso rice has a juicy, creamy texture, somewhat like risotto. The smokiness brought together the mar y montaña—sea and mountain—of pairing octopus with rabbit.

Hake in green sauce with clams.

Entrée. Merluza de pincho en salsa verde, almejas y patatas confitadas (line-caught hake in green sauce, clams and confit potatoes). My second favorite dish—a classic rendition of a Basque dish (my recipe for this dish appears here.

Monkfish with artichoke.

Entrée. Rape envuelto en guanciale con crema de cangrejos y alcachofas (monkfish wrapped in cured pork cheek with crab cream and artichokes). The sauce was based on a traditional Málaga dish, with ground almonds as a thickener. Monkfish is a “toothsome” fish, as chewy as meat. The cured pork made it unusual.

Juan José López prepares steak tartare.

Entrée. Steak tartar de solomillo de ternera gallega (steak tartare made with Galician beef, prepared tableside). Classic.Galician beef is the finest.

Shawn snaps the steak tartar and tweets it to the world. (Follow her on Twitter @SevillaTapas.)

One bite--crispy roast pig.

Entrée.  Cochinillo con su piel crujiente y confitura de manzana (suckling pig with crispy skin and apple confit). Succulent. Time to switch to red wine!

Squab with carrot purée.

Entrée. Pichón deshuesado con puré de zanahoria y tostada de higaditos (boned squab with carrot purée and toasts topped with livers). Loved this, my third favorite.

The chef at El Tres is a young malagueña, Rosa Serrano, who has been in the kitchen since the restaurant opened in April.

Our made-to-order tasting menu worked fine. Enough food and a wonderful variety of tastes. Personally, one bite of steak tartare was enough. I’d rather have my beef with nothing. And, I could happily have eaten much more of the hake in green sauce and the squab with carrot purée. Good reason to return to El Tres.

El Tres
Calle Strachan 7; Málaga center
(34) 952 22 33 64
http://grupogorki.com/eltres.html
Open for lunch and dinner; closed Sunday.

One bite--smoky rice with octopus and rabbit.

One bite--flaky hake in green sauce with clam and potato.

One bite--menestra of vegetables with ham.

CLEANING HOUSE, FINDING STUFF, REMEMBERING PLACES

Sherry ad from an old Gourmet magazine.

Needing to clear some closet space in the spare room (which is no longer spare), I started pulling out storage boxes full of papers and sorting through 25 years worth of—stuff.

First to go—no need even to sort—were thousands of pages of cookbook manuscripts and  printers’ page proofs. I’ve written eight cookbooks (five are still in print; read about the books here). How many compressed trees was I saving here?

The most recent books went back and forth to editors digitally, via e-mail. But, ten years ago, my editor at HarperCollins-New York wanted the whole printed manuscript shipped to her. It came back to me once with the copy editor’s notes and was returned to me after publication. I also received a set of page proofs. All this went to the recycle bin.

The next couple of crates I pulled down contained, roughly speaking, “files.” In the pre-Google days, when I was researching for a book, article or travel guide, it meant writing or phoning to tourist offices and collecting travel brochures about the regions I intended to visit. Along with yet more material picked up on my travels are hundreds of maps, including dozens from little towns of La Mancha, where I spent a month or more traveling around, talking to people and collecting recipes, for COOKING FROM THE HEART OF SPAIN—FOOD OF LA MANCHA. 

I had enough travel brochures to open a tourist office. These all went to trash, though, I have to confess, I enjoyed looking through them and remembering places I’d been. Nowadays, anything I need to know, no matter how obscure, can quickly be located on the internet. But I love printed stuff.

There were also clipping files—reviews of my books; tear sheets of articles I wrote for various magazines and newspapers; articles by other writers pertinent to my subjects; printed menus from restaurants all over Spain. One file contained clippings from Gourmet magazine of articles only about Spain. I got rid of the magazines-- dating back to 1964!—but not before first cannibalizing them for “keepers.”

That picture at the top was a keeper—an ad in Gourmet from unknown year. There is also a marvelous four-page color spread, “Three Spanish Dinners,” from January 1966 (the very month I arrived in Spain), with some excellent recipes. And, a wonderful article from July 1964, “Málaga, Mi Málaga,” by Frederick S. Wildman, Jr. Málaga is “mi Málaga” also.

Here’s what Wildman (I never met him, although our paths might have crossed) wrote about the food of my region: “The food of the province of Málaga is as original as the face of its countryside.” He made note of the fruits and vegetables, almonds, olives, pork sausages, serrano ham. “But the glory of Málaga is certainly its fish.” One of his recipes is for “Sopa de Rape de Málaga.” Although poorly translated as “skate soup,” (rape, pronounced rah-pay in two syllables, is monkfish, not skate), it is a typical Málaga recipe.

Sopa de rape--monkfish soup, a Málaga specialty.

Here is my version. You could use dry Sherry, such as Tio Pepe, or white wine.

Monkfish Soup
Sopa de Rape

Whole monkfish.

Monkfish (also known as angler fish) is one of the least attractive specimens in the market, but very, very good eating. A grey color and without scales, the monkfish has a huge head and slim tail, a little like an enormous tadpole that  never got around to turning into a frog. It is easy to cut fillets off the center spine. The flesh is firm and sweet-flavored and can readily be substituted in recipes that call for lobster. Firm-fleshed, It doesn’t disintegrate when cooked in soup. Slices from the tail are very good grilled or braised with sauce.

This recipe calls for a whole fish—the head is used for making stock. If this is not possible, use any prepared fish stock and monkfish fillets. Shrimp can be added as well.

Serves 4.

1 monkfish, 3 to 4 pounds
8 cups water
Bay leaf, oregano, thyme, parsley and celery
Salt and pepper
1 onion, cut in half
4 tablespoons olive oil
1/3 cup almonds, blanched and skinned
3 cloves garlic
2-3 slices bread, crusts removed
1 sprig parsley
Pinch of saffron, crushed
¼ cup dry Sherry or white wine
2 tomatoes, peeled and chopped
2 teaspoons salt


Have the angler fish cleaned and the head separated. Remove the back bone, leaving two fillets. Cut them into bite-size pieces. Cover and refrigerate.

Put the water to boil in a pot with the herbs, half of the onion and salt and pepper. Add the head, bones and any trimmings from the fish and bring again to a boil, skimming off froth that rises. Cook for 30 minutes. Strain the stock and reserve it. Pick any flesh off the head and bones and discard head and bones.

Heat the oil in a soup pot or heat-proof casserole and in it fry the almonds, peeled garlic, sliced bread and sprig of parsley, just until almonds, garlic and bread are toasted. With a skimmer, remove them to mortar, blender or mini food processor.

Chop the remaining half onion. Sauté the onion in the remaining oil. Add the tomatoes and fry for 15 minutes. (This sofrito can be used as is or puréed in a blender or passed through a sieve.)

In the mortar or blender, grind the toasted almonds, etc., with the saffron, and salt, adding the Sherry or wine to make a smooth paste. Stir this into the tomato mixture, add 6 cups of the reserved stock. Bring to a boil and simmer for 15 minutes. Add the pieces of monkfish and simmer another 10 minutes until fish is cooked.

Monkfish soup is thickened with ground almonds.

A SUNNY SATURDAY IN MALAGA

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig. Or small goat. A grand grouper or a heap of spiny sea snails. 

One sunny Saturday a friend and I hopped on a commuter train for the 50-minute ride to Málaga to visit the recently reopened Atarazanas market and have lunch at La Moraga a “gastrobar” that’s been getting a lot of attention since it opened two years ago.

We entered the market through a grand marble arch, all that remains of a naval fortress from the 14th century when Málaga was under the Islamic rule of Moorish tribes. The fortress, known as Atarazanas, gradually fell into ruin and was demolished to make room for a municipal market. Opened in 1879, the market was built of iron struts, somewhat in the style of Les Halles in Paris. It shut its doors two years ago (stall holders moved to provisional locations) for complete remodelling and reopened to the public only a few months ago.

Many years ago, when the variety of produce and food products was very limited in the small Andalusian village where I live, I trekked to Málaga to shop every couple months. Now, with big hyper-markets near my home, I had not been to Málaga market in many years. It was a delight to see the great variety of local foods.

All the parts of a pig—snout to tail, fat and lean, fresh and cured—were on display at market stalls. Blobs of white fatback hung from meathooks and coils of skin for making cracklings were piled on counters. At the delicatessen stall were several sorts of cured hams, both ibérico and serrano, as well as manteca colorá, paprika-flavored lard, the Andalusian alternative spread to butter.

Málaga is famous for its chivo, small kid-goat, as esteemed as baby lamb and just as expensive. It is the meat of choice for Malagueños for the family feast on Christmas Eve.The province is also known for goat cheeses, from the fresh, white ones to crumbly aged ones. The market is the right place to find a good selection of them.

Produce stalls were heaped with seasonal fruits—persimmons, quinces, custard apples, as well as the more usual apples and pears. Wild mushrooms shared pride of place with fresh chiles. Jugs of new olive oil were displayed on many counters and tubs of new-harvest tangy, thyme-scented olives were lined up on others.

Málaga is a famed fishing port, so the market reflects the seafood riches, from the sublime—whole grouper, jumbo shrimp—to the curious—armored fish, spiny sea snails, fatty livers from monkfish (considered a delicacy like foie gras).

 I Checked out almost every shoe shop on Calle Nueva and Larios, Málaga’s main shopping streets; discovered a purveyor of body creams and bath salts called LUSH, where the products quite literally looked and smelled good enough to eat, then wound through the narrow lanes off Plaza Constitución to find LA MORAGA (Calle Fresca 12), a trendy “gastrobar” directed by Dani García. Dani is chef of La Calima in Marbella, a one-star restaurant, but the La Moraga franchise serves up “designer tapas,” or ”haute cuisine in small plates”. (Look for La Moraga to open in New York in the near future.)

At 2 pm on a Saturday, the place was packed with Malagueños, mostly young, some with kids in tow. Most belly up to the bar to select from a varied tapas list. We decided on a tasting menu (menu de degustación) and claimed a small table off the bar. For €20 (about $27) each we selected four different tapas.

We sampled a pair of gazpachos—cherry with a powdering of queso fresco, and peach, with tiny cubes of tofu. Olive oil, Sherry vinegar and a hint of garlic brought them all back into Andalusian focus.


Next came a brace of ensaladilla rusa, “Russian” salad, a tapa bar standard. One was almost classic—smashed potatoes, olive oil mayo, and tuna belly. The other was bound with a smoked salmon mayonnaise, dill and sprinkled with salmon caviar. Quite delicious.

Two croquettes each, crisp balls with hammy-fatty meat (pringá) in one and sausage in the other.

Then a cazuelita of pork cheeks stewed with spicy garbanzos and the house signature dish, bull burger, a patty of oxtail cooked sous vide until meltingly tender, heaped on a mini-bun and served with mushroom-mayo. With a couple glasses of cava to celebrate a birthday, this was a very nice Saturday lunch.