Madrid was my city, as adopted cities so often become when we stay long enough to form attachments, fall in love, and ultimately get our hearts broken when it’s time to leave.  I spent two different summers studying in Madrid, enjoying the delights of red wine and tapas in the old city that Ernest Hemingway called “the most Spanish of all cities,” a very bold statement to make about a country with such varied customs, languages, and cuisines.  Spaniards do believe they are the best after all, with the best food, the best customs, the best culture, and believe me I should know, I’ve grown up around a bunch of them (I admit I sometimes fall prey to Spanish pride myself…it’s in my blood after all).  I am convinced if you tell someone they are the most Spanish of all Spaniards, he will argue to the nail that he isn’t.  On the other hand, if you turn around and tell him how very un-Spanish he is, he will fight you to the death until you believe without a doubt that the person standing in front of you is the most Spanish person to ever come out of Spain.  Madrileños tend to have the slight twinge of arrogance to their demeanor and overall confidence that makes you swoon and envy.  Maybe it’s a Spanish thing, but they take everything very seriously, and thank goodness that trickles down to food.

This year I returned to Madrid after a couple of weeks in Ourense, Galicia, the northwestern most province of the country.  I had but a few days, two to be exact, to take advantage of Madrid, so I did what most any other person with a pulse would do, revolve my days around food.  My beautiful and charming cousin Sonia had an uncanny ability to guess exactly what I like.  Mercado San Miguel is the historical market around the corner from the Plaza Mayor, smack dab in the center of everywhere you want to be.  Like most markets you can pick up fresh vegetables, maybe a pastry or two, or three.  You can even buy a fresh chicken with its feet still attached, enough to make any Yanqui, a term Spaniards like to call us Americans, squirm in discomfort.

The main reason we came to the Mercado San Miguel, besides drooling over the merchandise, was to drink a glass of vermouth on the rocks with a touch of lemon.  The vermouth is typically paired with some tapas in order to avoid the inevitable inebriation when drinking on an empty stomach.  We chose olives from the next counter.  My cousin pointed out that older men are usually the ones that drink vermouth which I imagine would be the American equivalent to drinking scotch in the cigar room; nevertheless, we wanted to be authentic, as if we were a couple of old men gathered together to play a game of brisca with Spanish playing cards.

A more common practice is to have some cañas with your friends after work.  A caña is a small beer and they are cheap!  Sonia grimaced when she looked at the menu at one of the bars we stopped at.  She considered 3 Euros to be a ripoff.  Despite the fact that I’m accustomed to expensive New York City prices, it is easy to get spoiled from the cheap price for beer in Spain, even in big cities like Madrid.  If you get tired of cañas (I’m only saying if you get tired of cheap beer) you can order the girly equivalent.  A clara is tap beer mixed with Gaseosa, a less sweet version of Sprite.  I tried ordering beer with Sprite for kicks once at a bar in New York City and the bartender looked at me with disdain.  They are yummy though, totally worth the bartender rolling his eyes.

Since I wasn’t going to be in Madrid long, we didn’t want to have a big meal at any one place, but rather picar and have small portions at many different places.  This is more commonly known as tapas, you may have heard of it, or even pintxos the Basque, slightly larger version.  We had patatas bravas, fried potatoes with a hot sauce made from guindilla peppers.  We also had pimientos de padron, padron peppers, although they were significantly lackluster because they were out of season.  I knew what I was getting us into, but I couldn’t leave Spain without eating my favorite peppers.  When fried in olive oil and covered in coarse sea salt there is nothing better, I promise.  Being Spanish and a couple of Vazquezes, we ate lots of jamon serrano and other various delicacies splattered and spread onto thick slices of bread.  While passing the street with all the historic cave restaurants, one of the restaurant owners stopped us and asked if we would like to see the inside of his restaurant.  He gave us a tour and walked us to the bottom of the stone caves where people would soon be served dishes of braised chicken and steamed mussels.

Chocolate con churros is quite possibly the most decadent meal you could eat for breakfast.  First you dunk the sugar-covered, fried dough into a cup of thick, melted chocolate.  When you tire of the fried goodness (as if you can) you are expected to drink the chocolate afterward.  Churros con chocolate, hand down, best breakfast ever.

We spent most of our time in the neighborhood called Lavapies which in Spanish means “wash feet” (oh the Spanish and their funny town names).  Lavapies is an immigrant neighborhood and like most neighborhoods of its kind it soon became ‘trendy’ to hang out there.  In the 80s and early 90s it was a neighborhood where low paying tenants and squatters called home.  In recent years it has become an immigrant neighborhood of Chinese, South Asian, and Arab communities moving in and creating businesses.  Indian restaurants and hookah bars line the streets now.  Second generation kids from all over the world have perfect Spanish accents.  Other major metropolises are used to this type of amalgamation, however Spain has been catching up since the fall of Franco.

The pictures below were taken outside of Madrid in the province of Castilla Y Leon about an hour outside of Madrid.  It is here where you can see miles and miles of sunflower covered farms during the summer months.  We stopped at one of these farms/vineyards while driving to Galicia.  If you plan on vacationing to Spain you better get used to the image of ham hanging from the ceilings of bars, pubs and even restaurants.  There are whole sections dedicated to ham in the supermarket, and if you are anything like me, you count your blessings.  There are two popular kinds of ham in Spain.  Jamon Iberico is also known as la pata negra because of the black hoof of the pig.  These cuts of ham are often the finest and most expensive; however with jamon serrano you won’t be disappointed either.  Cheese, jamon, wine, and freshly baked bread, they are the simple components to a simple meal.  Hardly nutritious you might say.  Not a well balanced meal you may admonish.  Sorry I can’t hear you; I’m too busy sipping my wine.

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