All White Everything

There aren’t many things in life that can make you feel like you’ve entered another world, make you feel like you’re living another life entirely, if only for one day. The All White Polo match in Mallorca I went to with my family did that for me.

It was all very P Diddy, or what I imagine a P Diddy party would be like anyway. It was one of those events I would never even think to go to because it’s just not part of the lifestyle I live… obviously. I’ve got to say though, it went down as one of my favorite days. And I mean out of my life not the trip. We dressed up, not knowing if we followed the dress code properly but very much hoping we did. We arrived early, signaling to the usuals that we didn’t actually know how this works and silently begging for guidance! We somehow managed to secure a white tent in the seating area and scored a perfect view of the polo match. The sun was beaming, the drinks were flowing over to us without  being asked for, our small table was over filled with the same delicious finger food from this post, we choose teams based purely on team colors, we laughed and people watched, we sat with our legs hanging over the polo field and felt the rush as the horses stormed past us.

It was fantastic and relaxing, but extremely exciting as the same time. It was the perfect blend of good feelings. Especially because we kept accepting long, deep whiffs of the dinner that was to come. I wish I could thoroughly explain to you what the dinner spread looked like, but not I nor my pictures could ever do it justice.  It was a feast fit for a king. Probably the King of the North. Rest in Peace Robb Stark.  As the sun started hiding behind the mountains, the lights started dimming and the candles glowing, the conversations got louder and the band started playing. Some people lined up for food with others hit the now open dance floor. It was the best party I have ever been to and I only knew 3 people.

It’s funny. Sometimes I don’t partake in events or outings because I think it’s not very “me”, and I wont fit in. People would look at me funny and feel sad at my uncomfortableness. The word Poser comes to mind. I know myself really well and I like being in situations I sure I’ll feel confident in.  But! this event taught me that “me” is whoever I want it to be. And if I want to be or feel like someone different for the day then I think, by all means, I’ll bloody go for it!

Finger Food Etiquette. A Myth?

I, for one, have no idea what the rules of eating finger food are. I wish I did, but I actually don’t think any exist. I went to an all girls etiquette school when I was 14 years old and I don’t remember there ever being a section on Eating Finger Foods in between How To Set the Table, How to Cook , or French Class. Those rules, if they existed, would definitely be something my mom would know about and encourage us to live by, but instead she gets her hands dirty and joins in on the fun.

The reason we planned to go to Mallora is because my parents, those lucky ducks, were going for work. They were attending a conference and let us tag on as “colleagues”. It was very easy to blend in, until lunch time when the conference split a little bit of finger food and drinks. As we were walking to reserve a table it started. Waiters with trays of food coming out of everywhere, all white tables set up with delicious goodies. It was like the Comic-Con of finger food. I’m talking prosciutto, duck risotto, croquettes, fried brie cheese; you name it they served it.

I want to say we started off slowly and then picked up the pace, but that would be a lie. We all split to cover different tables and got plate fulls for us all to share. Every time a waiter would come out of the kitchen (heaven) we tried what they had to offer, no questions asked. I think the waiters actually caught on to our eating habits because when the had a tray of something new they’d bring it right over.

It wasn’t until dessert came that I looked down at our table and felt – just a little bit – of embarrassment. We lined the table with rows of chocolates and tiny pastries. Keeping each family member in mind, we’d each get four of every bite sized dessert so no one would be left out. Seemed like great team work to us, but probably not from afar.

At one point I looked around and found that there were two kinds of people present. The ones, like us, who took part in the celebration of finger foods, and ones that had no food at all. But I’m positive when I say that none if them, and I mean not one of them, knew the rules and etiquette behind finger foods.

Nothing to see here. It’s ONLY La Cuevas De Drach

Las Cuevas de Drach was something we were forced to go see while in Mallorca, Spain. The Sun’s worst every, called Rain, held our hands behind our backs and changed our plans from one moment to the next. I mean you hear Mallorca and straight away you think Rafael Nadal. Well, I do. Then after that I think of the gorgeous island on the coast of Spain with exotic beaches and polite spanish men in their bathing suits. We sadly didn’t get to explore that side of Mallorca because of the weather. Instead, we planned a taxi tour to one of the coolest, scariest places I’ve been in a while: Las Cuevas de Drach.

They are four underground caves of Mallorca, that come together to form one very impressive cave which extends 25 meters deep, and 2.4 km in length. As I made my way through the caves I was so easily distracted by the beauty of it, I almost didn’t notice how scared I was of it, or how I could actually could die there. Instead I wow’ed and aw’ed my whole way through until we reached Lake Martel, the 115 meter long, 30 m wide lake cheekily hidden at the end of the cave walk. There, I gave my undivided attention to the classical music concert going on various canoes. It’s stuff of the movies.

I’m only disappointed I didn’t find out about this wondrous place on my own. La Cuevas de Drach is one of the places I would normally add to my list of Places I Have To See At Some Point in My Life. I might actually go add it now then cross it off, hopefully making the list look even more impressive.

 

Year 25: Can Eduardo

Baked Seabass with a Salted Crust

I feel like I’ve been having to re-register my life since moving to Australia. That sounds strange. What I mean is I’ve been filling out a lot of forms so I can settle here. Well, a lot more than usual anyway. On most forms I just have to fill in my birth date (July 14th. Bastille Day. I love that date.) On other forms I have to check off a little box that indicates what age group I’m in. It’s never a consistent age group for us 25 year olds though. Depending on the form it’s offered a 18-25 box, or a 25-35 box. A little bit of a I’m Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman scenario, I think.

I’m sure it really means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It’s just a piece of paper that will be thrown out once the information gets transferred on the computer. But it’s made me think about the age 25, and how it’s really a year that still strongly holds the mindset of I Do What I Want, but with a little more love and care.

The older I get the more I want to do; and there is just so much to do! I know I get excited about every birthday, but with one month down I can honestly say 25 shoots fireworks through my body! The feeling started in Mallorca, Spain with my parents and sister as I ordered my first ever baked Seabass with a salted crust. It’s such an exciting dish, especially when you first lay eyes on it and you didn’t actually know what it was meant to look like. We tried some fried Raon as an appetizer, which was exotic, sexy and delicious. We also the fried calamari, a lobster paella and a grilled seabass. I saw “we” because being the birthday girl gave me permission to take as much food as I wanted from everyone else’s plates!

Oh, and all this food all had at an authentic, fancy schmancy restaurant called Can Eduardo. The loveliest restaurant in all of Mallorca if you ask me, it sits right on the water with gorgeous views of the Palma Cathedral. If you’re in Mallorca, please put it on you list and go on the day you’re absolutely desperate for some delicious seafood. It will really make your day, maybe even your year. It started my 25th year off perfectly!

Can Eduardo

www.caneduardo.com/‎

Carrer Contramuelle Mollet, 07012 Palma de Mallorca, Balearic Islands, Spain

The Only Other Spanish Market My Heart Has Room For.

A Spanish Weekend!

I’m going to go ahead and assume that we all absolutely, and dearly love the weekend (Friday included). It’s where we got “Thank God It’s Friday” (Long for TGIF), and “Cheers to the Freaking Weekend!”, which are both phrases I hear every time a Friday rolls around, another that could be tacked which I usually say around lunch time on Fridays is… “Should we have a drink?”

There’s an activity that each and every one of us takes part in during the weekend. This activity, wether it be bike riding, doing the puzzles in the paper, taking care of your vegetable garden which I’m so jealous you have, or going out until the wee hours of the night because the day after is safe for a hangover, makes it feel like it is indeed a weekend. For me, very predictably, it’s going out to eat during the day. I’m talking breakfast, brunch, or lunch or all of the above. I want to walk there, I want to have a coffee, I want to sit and have a great conversation for as long as my butt lets me. I absolutely love it. Hence, this very informational and important blog.

When in Spain though, I realized I really need to step up my weekend game. They don’t use the weekend to just go out for a meal, they know it’s the weekend because that’s when they eat before they really eat! Let me explain… it’s called aperitivos.  It’s the light meal Spaniards eat before their principal meal to open up the appetite. I know, I know it sounds like no big deal, every menu has an appetizers section. This is different. Usually they’ll go to a bar to have aperitivos with some wine and beer before returning home to have the principal meal with more wine and beer. And while aperitivos are always in the form of shareable plates, it’s certainly enough food to feel like you have already eaten a meal.

With my sister’s host family we had two rounds of patatas bravas, boquerones fritas, berenjena empanizada at their usual bar before going back to their house and having appetizers of jamon iberico and gambas (shrimp) and a main meal of my sister’s world famous (you can say that about anything, right?) and ice creams for dessert.

While in my food coma* I thought this surely does not happen every single weekend, it can’t. So I slowly asked my sister’s host mom if this was a special occasion because we were visiting. She implied that I was crazy for thinking that because of her quick “No way”, not because we’re not special, but because it’s tradition. “How else would we know it’s the weekend”, she said. That was a huge swooooooon moment!

*My food coma lasted all the way through until the night when we went to see, “Ay, Carmela The Muscial.” I blame a combination of jetlag and the aperitivos for my falling asleep in the beginning, but if you speak spanish, are into musicals and are in Madrid go see it!

 

 

 

Mercado de San Miguel by Day and Night

If I could have brought anything back to Melbourne with me from Madrid it would, without a doubt, be my family, but since that’s totally unrealistic I’ll have to go with the Mercado De San Miguel. Give me a few airplanes, a cruise ship and a submarine, and it’s totally doable. It would also be completely worth it because  the Mercado de Miguel is probably my favorite place in all of Madrid, with all food biases aside.

The market is located in the heart of Madrid, near La Puerta Del Sol, and the Plaza de San Miguel. You can visit every day of week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Sunday from 10am – 12am, and Thursday, Friday, Saturday from 10am – 2am. Is there anything better than a place where we can come together to have appetizers, entrees, desserts, drinks, and be able to pick and choose exactly the food we want. Not only that, we could pick from the top food makers in the city. It’s the best of all worlds, really. And the atmosphere is the best part! Because you can definitely find an angry, boring, sad person at restaurants, but you will never see one at a food market. With all it’s fast space-ness, all it’s adventuring for a table, all it’s optimal time for selfishness, you really have to want to be there.

You have to want to explore every stand, until you find the type of food that gives your stomach butterflies. You could go in expecting to want a paella, and end up having a love affair with oysters or barnacles (more on these lovely guys later)! It’s just a complete food version of choose-your-own-adventure and I’m obsessed with it. I kept asking my family if we could please spend more time at the market and they about had it with me. On our last day, I asked to go back even though we had just eaten a few hours earlier, and bless their hearts they took me. Well, I guess they actually chose it over the Museo de Jamon (Proscuitto Museum). There are too many food related activities in Spain to not desperately force them upon your family. I gave them two options and made them choose.

I leave you with the words from the markets mouth, because how could you not adore a market whose mission statement and concept is as follows (warning – this is the english translation from the website. Some sentences may not make sense. It’s how we know Google is not perfect!):

Being a community of entrepreneurs. Each an expert in his field and enthusiastic about their product.
Be the Temple of fresh produce where the protagonist is not the chef, but the genre.
Allow “temporality” supply markets, restore prominence to the seasonal changes.
Being a large-scale grocery store. With tasting, ie casual meal.
Having a schedule to meet the activities and needs of consumers, ie, very wide.
Having human, technical and industrial for analysis sensory gastronomic tastings and trials.
Make focus not only on consumer information, but in its formation.
Being a reflection of the plurality gastronomic Spain.
Having a constant presence of food culture through courses, presentations, fairs, etc..
Being incorporated into the culture of Madrid visit with a space for conferences, recitals, concerts.

Mercado de San Miguel
Plaza de San Miguel, s/n
28005, Madrid

High Five for El Paraguas in Madrid

As a general rule of thumb, and also probably as a definite rule of high fives, us humans should accept every breakfast, lunch or dinner invitation that is extended our way. That is only, of course, if you don’t already have other plans. That is precisely the reason my sister and I openly, joyously, and quickly accepted my parents invitation to lunch at El Paraguas in Madrid. Ok, no. It wasn’t so much of an invitation, it was an agreement to go. They had gone the day before I arrived to Madrid and absolutely loved it. They were talking it up so much my sister and I basically begged them to take us. And what’s not to love about a beautifully manicured, well located, gem of a restaurant in Salamanca. It’s perfect for a semi-posh, long break after a very short morning of shopping.

I was at 100% jet lagged capacity when we went to El Paraguas, also known as the brother restaurant of Ten Con Ten, which we also wanted to visit but couldn’t after a luggage mishap at the airport. Our fault, not theirs. Long story. So I apologize for not taking down the english translation of the dishes we had, or the spanish explanations for that matter.

See, I was expecting the food to be delicious there, but I was definitely not expecting to have a feast of a meal like the one we did. From soup, to fish, to risotto, to steak, to avocado and anchovies, to chips, to wine, to dessert… we basically had it all. Oh, and the dessert! I’m pretty certain it was my favorite dessert of the trip, same goes for every one else at the restaurant (the fellow tourists anyway) because we saw those little babies being served at almost every table. A thin apple tart topped with white chocolate ice cream! The entire thing was heaven!

El Paraguas 

C/ Jorge Juan, 16. 28001 Madrid.

Uh, How Much For This?

By the third meal of the trip I noticed something VERY strange that happens when eating out in both Spain and Portugal.

I already knew they charged for water. In Spain we always asked for tap water, in Portugal we paid for fresh drinking water because tap water is a no-no. Most of the time the price of while-looking-at-the-menu-bread wasn’t listed, but we ordered it every time regardless. At least we knew what we were getting ourselves into. What I was very dumbfounded about was the plates of food which we definitely hasn’t asked for being placed next to said bread. Exhibit One – Seven are as follows (and are the only ones I got pics of):

Crunchy thin chips

Gazpacho

Almond cracker with coffee

Plate of prosciutto and 2 blocks of unfamiliar cheese

Delicious garlic infused carrots, with olives, and tuna spread.

Those same carrots, with olive dip, tuna spread served on the same plate as the butter we did ask for (touche, Portugal) .

It’s really one of the most awkward things in a waiter-customer relationship to have to put perfectly good food to the side of the table to be ignored until it is picked back up by the waiter and taken back to the kitchen. The worst part of it all is the lack of communication. We never questioned their motives when they put the plates down in front of us, and they never questioned us when they came around to pick it up.

It worked in their favor most of the time though because 1) if my sister weren’t there I would have never even assumed they were charging us for it. “Oh, how nice of them. They must know we’re not from the country” is what I thought was happening most of the time. 2) when the food is right in front of you the immediate reaction is to say… oh, well if it’s already out why not just try it. And 3) It’s too embarrassing to ask how much the plate actually costs before deciding on wether we should eat it or not; which is what I did with the plate of prosciutto. I was distressed with embarrassment when I pushed it to side after finding out it was 18 euros. Euros!!

Most of my problem with it is caused by the fact that there are definitely other ways to go about it. Why not offer the plate of food to us, price included with the offer, before you put it down on the table. Definitely show it to us, make our mouths water, but don’t place it down if we’re not definitely going to eat it.  It seems wasteful, unless we’re reusing this food which then makes the entire situation take a turn for the strange. I’m sure I’m just not used to the food culture, and I bet most people don’t have a problem, but for a girl that usually eats everything placed in front of her and hates bring wasteful it’s a very big predicament.

That Poor Little Naked Churro

If you’ve visited Madrid you’ve probably been to La Puerta del Sol, smack in the middle of the city. Yes? Great! Because that means you were close to San Gines, Madrid’s favorite chocolateria since 1894. I doubled checked the year, and yes 1894 is what I meant to type. Who would have thought churros existed 100+ years ago. It’s madness! It might even be the reason behind why they’re so different than the churros I’m used to having on this side of the world.

I can’t speak for Spain’s entire churro population but I can comment on San Gines’. And my immediate comment when my 6 hot, long churros, which I swear I was splitting with my sister, were placed in front of us was: Weirddddd. My sister was already used to it, but I felt bad for my churros. They didn’t have sugar on them, given them an air of sadness. They were just a little bit too naked for my comfort. I mean, how embarrassing for all parties involved! I wanted to cover them up with napkins. I could not believe they had served them up with sugarless, bare bodies. I didn’t know how to handle this.

The only thing I could think to do was open the packets of sugar next to the plate and try to stick it on myself. But you really have no idea who hard and frustrating it was to get the sugar to stay on a churro. Or maybe you do, I don’t know. My sister sure didn’t because she did the smart thing and dunked the churro into the rich, and delicious melted chocolate and added the sugar on top after. Ahhhhhh! Light bulb! I had never thought of chocolate as a gluey substance, but I imitated her straight away.

I’ve got to say, once you get the process, once you get past the difference, it’s not all that bad. I liked being able to choose the amount of sugar I would be taking in, I didn’t have to rub any excess sugar on my little pink dress, and I faced a challenge I never thought I would encounter in my lifetime.

You now have the advantage when you encounter the churro’s at San Gines, you’ll know exactly what to do. Sadly, I could not find the secret behind not drinking the melted chocolate once the churros are gone. You’re on your own with that one. Good luck!