Sevilla: A Feast of Tapas and Finger Food!

My philosophy is that when you’re in a country you should eat the local cuisine, except, of course, when you’re “at home” – wherever that may be – in which case you are allowed to sample any nationality of food available to you, on the principle that sticking to one kind in this modern world is boring, and anyway eating Italian or Thai or whatever brings back happy memories!

You might think that visiting Sevilla didn’t qualify as “foreign” for me, since I already live in Spain, but Canarian cuisine, although it owes a lot to Spain (and also to the Moors – because of the conquests (of Spain by the Moors, and in turn, of the Canaries by Spain) not because of the proximity of the islands to Africa – is different in many ways. The relative isolation of the islands historically, and simply because they are islands, meant that resources for traditional dishes had to be sourced locally.

These days tapas can be eaten in any major city of the world, and in lots of smaller towns too, and what you find in Tenerife, generally, is what you can find almost anywhere – Serrano ham, Manchego cheese, marinated anchovies, potato croquettes (with ham or fish usually), salpicón (a bit like cheviche) of tuna or octopus, meatballs, mushrooms or prawns in garlic. These dishes are pretty standard, but what we found in Sevilla was that they do them with a twist, and the very best way is to let my friend, Maria (anyone wanting to employ her as a t.v. food critic please contact her through me!) talk you through a typical lunch we enjoyed a couple of weeks back.

Mouth watering now? That was just one lunch!

On our first night, lured in by the promise of cheap (but in the end non-existent) mojitos, we were just a little disappointed to be served very ordinary food. It wasn’t bad, it was just ordinary, except for the sweetest, juiciest pineapple ever for dessert.  My disappointment wasn’t huge.  I have lived almost all of my life in touristy places, so my expectations weren’t over-high, but happily for me, for the rest of the time, they were so far exceeded as make me quite giddy! Sevilla was, quite simply, a feast of tapas and finger foods, and not only that, but very reasonably priced too – especially considering that the purchase tax there is three times that I’m used to in the Canary Islands!

I have an aversion to bars PR-ing but in the case of Ramon at Bar Jacaranda I’m SO glad he did! In the first place, the food was marvellous, and in the second, the irrepressible Ramon did it with such charm and good humor it didn’t feel like I was being PR-ed : Tenerife bars do you note? Jacaranda is one of those tiny, “hole-in-the-wall” bars, where we perched on stools at trendy tables outside. Passing through this little square late at night it was so quiet and deserted that you would have no idea that there was even a bar there. Their meatballs were quite simply the best I ever had, rich and flavoured with cumin (Moorish leftover I guess?) to give them that extra umpff, the tuna salad was ample, with a dressing much less acidic than I’m used to,and, well the goats’ cheese drizzled with a caramel sauce – don’t get me started! and after,  Ramon lived up to his promise by giving us shots of yummy caramel vodka to finish.

Wandering Sevilla’s narrow and ever-surprising streets night and day, we were assailed by the irresistible smell of fish and batter each time we returned to our hostel. To nostrils educated in the north of England there is no more tempting aroma I can tell you, and the day we popped into its source, a corner shop, decorated inside and out with traditional and spotless tiles of blue and white, and came out with paper cones full of fried fish and seafood was another “not-disappointed” occasion. We took them to the park and picnicked in a wee garden surrounded by more of Andalucia’s iconic tiling.



However, I leave the best for last, as one should. You can’t visit Sevilla without experiencing flamenco, and we spent time selecting the venue we thought best suited our budget and seemed least touristy, Bar Huelva Ocho in Calle Huelva, Alfalfa….. more about that another post. The utter and unexpected delight was that the small bar we chose had tapas to-die-for. We sussed out the location during the day, and left with the impression that, well, there were a few tapas, but Sunday was a quiet night, so maybe not so much. Okay with us, we wanted to experience flamenco, we weren’t especially going for the food, but we did decide to eat there because we were advised to go early to get the best places. All I can say is, if these were tapas on a slow night then I must go back on a busy one! There was goats’ cheese with apple jam, delicate crêpes filled with cod and slices of pork in a sauce I can’t remember (*slaps hand* – too busy scoffing to make notes!). So good was it that we returned the next night just for the food, and on a visit where you want to experience as much as possible that’s the ultimate praise I think.

Since we walked everywhere it was a treat to wash down all this wonderful food with wine without fear or guilt. We quaffed tinto de verano, red wine mixed with sparkling lemonade (ok, so technically it wasn’t verano/summer, but refreshment was needed at Fall temperatures of over 35ºC!), and Maria introduced me to rebujito which is manzanilla (an Andalucian wine like dry sherry) topped up with fizzy lemonade too, refreshing without being sweet.

As a footnote, we spent each day searching for pringá, which, we had been advised, was a must-try local dish, but though we asked in every bar we entered (including some in which we didn’t eat) we couldn’t find hide nor hair of it. Looking back, it strikes me that maybe this traditional, Andalucian dish is being by-passed in favour of more sophisticated cuisine, which is, of course, a shame. It was described to us in one bar as being a left-over dish, something like bubble & squeak is to the English, and that’s not something you often find on a menu either. Wikipedia, however, doesn’t describe it that way. All I can say is, I simply have to go back to Sevilla to take up the search again!

Er…..Trying toThink of a New Way of Saying Cultural Variety!

Trying to think of a new way of saying it because it happened again. This weekend the choices were excruciating, and a bit of bad luck (or was it bad planning?) didn’t really help.  Imagine this:

Friday night? Well, the choice was going to Santa Cruz to watch the beginning of the re-enactment of the Battle of Santa Cruz, music in a local bar or going to see The Moscow City Ballet performing “Swan Lake”. Of course “Swan Lake” won. I was going to say, “because I’ve seen the re-enactment before”, but then I haven’t seen it nearly as many times as I’ve seen “Swan Lake”!! The exciting thing about this, particular performance was that it was in the South of Tenerife, in the aforementioned Magma Center, so it was also being a small part of a little bit of local history.  The South of the island has always felt like something of a Cultural desert.  Oh, sure there has been the odd oasis, and I emphasize I speak of Culture with a capital C, (of culture with a small C there has always been an abundance) so it’s the first time I didn’t face an hour’s drive after an event.

The Culture

I’d never entered Magma through the huge, front entrance before, and pretty impressive it looked as we approached, pretty lights – and a stage hand spray painting props (now, that didn’t give us a smile when we saw them on stage!) Amusing variety of dress, one or two looking as if they were going to the beach (which is pretty standard attire for just about anything here), and one or two looking as if they were expecting to bump into the King and Queen i.e. dressed up to the nines – which is not normal for the South of the island. Still, I wasn’t there to conduct a fashion survey!

I’d intended to have a siesta to ready myself for the late start (10pm) but the screeching from the pool, almost below my window, reached epic levels Friday afternoon, and sleep was impossible , so I read through the little program which came with the tickets.  Anticipation shivered down my spine a little as I recalled the story, and remembered the video I used to have of Fonteyn and Nureyev performing this ballet, so I set off in good mood and refreshed in any event.

The production was excellent, if a little theatrical sometimes – “Ah”, you say, “but it is theater!”……good point! The sets and the costumes were both stunning. The Corps du Ballet was absolutely superb, in fact, though it’s a very long time (12 years, in fact) since I saw classic ballet I don’t think I’ve ever seen better. The leads were very good, Odette/Odile especially, and despite it being a version unfamiliar to me I settled down to it quite nicely very quickly. 9 out of 10 for the production definitely. That said, I will make the effort to go up to the theater in the North next time. Impressive though Magma is, it isn’t a theater. The seating was, basically, office chairs…..and remember this is long ballet….so there was a lot of squirming going on at the end, and because it isn’t a theater the floor wasn’t on a gradient, so even though we were quite close to the front, there were several people spoiling my view. In fact, for a lot of the time, I couldn’t see center stage at all. The acoustics, however, were a marvel, given the circumstances. The salon was huge and high ceilinged, but the music filled it with passion and grace, not a note was lost. So, overall verdict on the night will only rate a 6/10 from me. I know that sounds picky, but this isn’t a theater review either, and the performance made it more than worthwhile for me, but because of the discomfort I couldn’t surrender myself to the story the way I wanted to.    It’s just a word of advice – the next time Magma offer theater – make the effort to go to Teatro Leal, Teatro Guimerá or the Auditorio if whatever is playing there too.

So taken with the magic of it was I, though, that I couldn’t sleep when I got home, which didn’t signal well for the next day, when I woke to strains of Tchaikovsky flitting through my head.

The Sport

The choice for Saturday was a no brainer, because Austin was participating in the local triathlon, here in El Médano, so I passed on the chance to go to the World Music Event in Santa Cruz, and the main day of the re-enactment, amongst other things. I thought I might make the World Music Concert in the evening though, and if I didn’t, I had an invite to join some friends on a “tapas crawl”, so all looked rosy.

The triathlon is annual, well-organized and looks both fun and serious at the same time. Last year they had to battle fierce winds, and the day dawned that way this year too, but calmed down in time for the 4.30 start. The town was fit to burst, so I guess it is also good for stimulating business, and, of course, motherly pride beating intensely I was there to take snaps.

Other than the London Marathon, which I didn’t really get snaps of due to the circumstances and the way it’s organized, this was the first time I’ve ever really tried to photograph a sports event….and it ain’t easy! I knew it wouldn’t be, but I was ok with the results for a first timer. I thought it didn’t interest me as a genre, but could be wrong there, although I think I’ll always prefer landscapes.  I did discover a new talent, though, …. I can dig an elbow as well as the next person, duck under official tape which is there to stop me, and squeeze in between people to get where I want to be.  Now, that might all sound quite normal to you, and you can blame my mom for bringing me up right, but I’ve always been too darned polite -so this is a new me!  ’bout time some pals will say.

Scene in the town square just before the start

Waiting for the start

Entering choppy water

And coming out of the water.  That’s Austin in the middle in the black suit with white stripe on the arms, and the white goggles on his head.

My favorite snap of the day.  He was going very, very fast at this point, so I am really happy with it, even though I missed out the bottom of one of the wheels!

And the home stretch.  He has about five minutes left to run here, of an event which took him 1 hour 17 minutes, which knocked 8 minutes off his previous time for this event.

I arrived home pleasantly sun-kissed, but not burned, footsore (“Wow”, my friend said, “Who’s running this race, you or him?!”) from running from one vantage point to another to try to catch him as he passed, and tired in that tired but happy way.  Reluctantly,  I decided to give the concert a miss. I was on a high from the afternoon, but I didn’t trust myself to drive home after midnight, so I opted for the tapas crawl, intending to just have a couple and then call it an early night.

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

La Ruta de Tapas is something I only discovered a couple of years ago, and I don’t think it goes back much further back than that, at least in the South.  Local restaurants in a town are invited to join in providing patrons who are walking the route with a tapa and a drink (wine, beer or water usually, although sodas are offered in La Laguna) for €3 (in La Laguna €2.50) for the period of the event.  If you want to join the route you can get a map of participating establishments from the internet or the local town hall.  Just in case anyone doesn’t know a tapa is, it’s  a small portion of food, a snack or a taster might be a good translation.  In big cities like Madrid or Barcelona great nights are to be had, walking from bar to bar and sampling the local brew and a tapa or two in each, but it’s not so much of a tradition here.

My last experience in Los Cristianos had been really good, so I showered and changed eagerly, and wasn’t more than five minutes late to meet my friends.  The first place we tried, in fact, ended up being so enjoyable that we didn’t move!!  Given that we had a small child and a little dog with us, it was probably a wise choice, it isn’t always that easy to accommodate either, though children are accepted almost everywhere here at just about any time of day or night, and Leo is a stunningly well-behaved one year old :=)

One of the ideas of this promotion, other than stimulating business, is to promote local products, everything used in the making of the tapas has to be of local origin.   We began with a mousse of sea bass drizzled with a mustardy mayonnaise, and I mean, drizzled, so it complimented the fish, didn’t drown it, and served with gofio crisps.  Then,  two tapas of tuna and vegetables bound into a rough kind of paté and drizzled with a maracuya coulis. All washed down with local wines.

By then, we were cozy under a canopy of bamboo, on a balmy evening, child and dog happily comfortable, the urge to move on deserted us, and we ordered more food.  That might have been a mistake, depends on which way you look at it.  For some reason I never fathomed there was a long, long delay in bringing the main course.  On the one hand, the conversation was great, varied, funny and intelligent, so it wasn’t that important, but it put an end to my intention to have an early night.   I have to say it was worth it, though.  The fresh goats’ cheese salad I ordered was out-of-this-world, and well worth the wait.  Shame that driving meant I couldn’t have another glass of that lovely wine, but you can’t have it all ways, as we English say.   It was a mellow, relaxing night, but way later than I intended!

One of the delights of living here is the standard and diversity of restaurants, and within that a further delight is how you find a little place like this, very unpretentious and welcoming, but serving food as good as you can get anywhere.

If you’re holidaying in Tenerife in July check out which towns are offering la Ruta de Tapas.  We were in Costa del Silencio last night, but as well as there and Los Cristianos it happens in Valle San Lorenzo and Las Galletas too, that I know of.  It’s a fun and sociable way to try new foods, and you will also feel more in tune with the locals  as you wend your way around.  If you’re staying in Los Cristianos then no worries on the drink driving thing either!   although you’ll meet mainly other visitors.  What I really want to do is try the route in La Laguna if I can make it this year.

So, to today.  Today, the choice was going to the Lido in Santa Cruz, where I heard they have a Dixieland jazz band in the restaurant on a Sunday, taking in the British “surrender” at the Battle of Santa Cruz, and a movie about the Japanese invasion of China (yes, I know that might sound boring, but I know nothing about that bit of history, and I want to know, and it’s won awards), or all three, or any one or two plus a visit to the Sunday street market.  Which one do you think I chose?  I hit the alarm, turned over and had a rare lie in.  Bad decisions maybe, but, like I said, there is just so much going on here, you just cannot do it all!