Tapa Thursdays: Apple Strudel at Buda Castle

While Spanish food is one of my biggest loves, I am not one to turn down local fare in any of the places I visit. This meant wild boar tortellini in Florence, leubuckhen in Passau and even grasshoppers in China. A happy tummy means a happy Cat.

When I was on a shoestring budget traveling around Europe, I typically ate street food and made sandwiches in hostels and splurged on one meal. Now that I have a big kid job, I find that a far larger part of my budget on eating and visiting local markets.

Then my parents came to Europe and they offered to pick up the tab.

As part of our package on our Viking Cruise down the Danube, we were offered the option of taking walking tours with local guides. As someone who has traveled independently for six years, I tend to stick to a map and my own intuition, but I found Viking’s guides to be knowledgeable and quite humorous.

My most frequent question: Where do the locals go to eat?

Our guide in Budapest, Julia, showed us around the Buda Castle area and directed us to the Ruszwurm, a nearly 200-year old coffeehouse that had retained its recipes ever since. Famous for strudel – apple, sour cherry and even nut – it’s one of the most frequented and most beloved of the Hungarian capital.

When we walked into the cramped café, one of the other families on the cruise was leaving, so we snagged their seats and ordered an espresso for me, a cappucino for my sister, and an apple strudel and tiramisu to share. One thing you have to understand about my family is that we’ve all got a severe sweet tooth, so a certain amount of self-restraint was required to not get an individual pastry and fend off wandering forks.

The strudel was heavenly, flaky on top and tart in the middle. Our bill for two coffees and two cakes came out to 9€ (most places in Budapest accept euros). Warm apple strudel? These are a few of my favorite things.

Marek told us that we should wait until Vienna for apple strudel. Or, you could just wait until Ruszwurm. 

If you go: Ruszwurm is located at Szentháromság utca 7, just steps from the St. Stephen’s Cathedral on the Buda side of the Danube, and is open daily from 10a.m. until 7p.m.

Tapas Thursday: Sampling La Brunilda

I have visited so many places whose names ring famous, and usually have felt like something was missing.

When it comes to food, I’m beginning to have high expectations.

In Seville, a city that’s home to seemingly hundreds of tapas bars, it’s hard to not fall victim to the newest or the trendiest. New bars and eateries pop up so often, and even a week’s absence from traversing the center means I’m bound to come across a new bar.

When La Brunilda opened (I think) earlier this year, my friends raved about the food. Websites raved about the food. I went earlier this month, a bit skeptical but looking forward to a new place.

Like many trendy new bars, the space – which looked like a converted coach house, thanks to a large door and exposed brick – was airy and not busy  early on a Tuesday. Having to work two hours later, I chose to not even read and weep the wine list and opted for a beer.

My friends suggested asking the wait staff for daily specials, but we were clear: D chose papas bravas and a magret de pato with a carrot cream, G and I both got an oversized tapa of dorada with pisto and cream of Idizbial cheese, and I couldn’t resist risotto with crunchy onions and asparagus. 

Believe it or not, I liked each dish more than the last.

I hope you haven’t taken a bit out of your computer.

While the food was spectacular, I didn’t feel that the service was. Our dishes came out quickly, but it took ages to refill beers and get the bill – I couldn’t even imagine how long it would take on a busy weekend night.

If you go: La Brunilda is extremely popular, so it’s best to go early or during the week. Located on Calle Galera, 5, near Reyes Católicos, the bar opens at 1p.m. for lunch and 8:30 for dinner. Closed Sunday night and all day Monday.

Tapa Thursdays: My Most Memorable Spanish Meal

I squinted, trying to make out the words on the menu as the sunlight reflected off the bay near Mogán, a small port on the southern end of Gran Canaria island.

Enrique gave me a quick tsk and a shake of the head as he signaled the waiter over effortlessly. As if they’ve previously spoken, a mug of cold beer was slammed down on the table in front of me. We toasted, giggling as the clinking of the glasses caused a bit of beer to splash onto my wrist and over the basket of bread we’d been brought.

We were at Restaurant El Faro, an unassuming snack bar shaped like a lighthouse. Wide white umbrellas shielded us from the sun, though the heat of midday irritates our pink skin, covered in sea salt from a morning spent on a nearby beach. The waves lapped gently at the rocks, causing the nearby sailboats to bob up and down. Fisherman passed close to our table, giving us a quick salute with their long fishing poles on their way to the wharf. I wondered if their catch would end up on someone’s plate tomorrow.

I picked up the menu again, but Enrique snatched it from my hands, calling out an order to the waiter without even glancing at the specials of the day. One parillada of grilled shellfish, a plate of hot baby potatoes accompanied with spicy mojo picón sauce and a fresh mixed salad. For once, I was on his turf, and I let him make the decisions.

The small potatoes, called arrugás for their crispy skin, arrived first, drizzled with rock salt and olive oil. I watched Enrique peel off the jacket and dunk it into the mojo picón, a spicy sauce typical to the island, and did the same. The dish was simple – paprika, garlic and cumin – but tasted fresh and local. The large stone slab of seafood didn’t disappoint, either. The breeze from off of the port ruffled Enrique’s hair as he spoon-fed me the last bit of potato.

We doused the enormous prawns, crab legs, fried calamari and fried baby squid in lemon, each eagerly squeezing the last drops onto the plate. As a Midwesterner, I was shocked to find that I actually liked almost anything from the sea, so I went about mopping up the remains with a hunk of bread, satisfied both in body and spirit.
It was one of those meals where we didn’t exchange many words – we focused on our food, at stealing clandestine glances at the other. Enrique congratulated me on learning to peel shrimp with my hands as he’s showed me on our fourth date, and I kicked him gently under the table, mouth so full of the plump, grilled meat that I couldn’t speak to counter his teasing.

I can’t recall how much the bill was or who paid, but I will always remember the shade of pink that Enrique’s nose had turned, what he was wearing, and breathing a sigh of relief knowing that I really did love him, that they weren’t wasted words simply because I was merely having fun.

This is my entrance to the Trujillo Villas Food Blogging Competition. Trujillo Villas are a collection of luxury accommodation in the beautiful region of the same name, famous for its castle and for being the home of several conquistadores. For more on the region and their stunning offers, follow them on twitter, @trujillovillas.

Have you ever been to Trujillo? What are your recs for eating and visiting? And what’s your favorite Spanish meal?

Tapa Thursdays: El Gallinero de Sandra

El Gallinero de Sandra – Sandra’s Chicken Coop – was what I expected to be an over-priced, chicken-heavy restaurant.

Always one to try a new place and follow my group of American chicks around, I went anyway. My girlfriends always know how to find the good places.

Housed on a pedestrian alleyway between Trajano and Amor de Dios streets, the joint is part of a recent surge in gastrobars, boutiques and trendy watering holes that has the Alameda neighborhood, once associated with junkies and the homeless, ranking as one of Seville’s top nightlife barrios.

Sandra herself greeted us and showed us to a table on a breezy terrace fashioned with fresh white linens, hanging lamps and red accents. We took advantage of one of the last balmy nights to dine al fresco, though the open concept bar and dining area reminded me of an upscale farm restaurant.

As Sandra rattled through what was available off the menu, I went into a temporary coma because everything sounded beyond delicious. L took care of the wine – Garum, a favorite of our group of friends – and we toasted to hatching new plans and a new friend.

The menu at El Gallinero changes constantly, and it had more than just chicken – baked fish dishes, revueltos with everything imaginable, a tempting presa ibérica, though few thoroughly vegetarian dishes. We settled on tuna tartar with vegetables, salad with shrimp and curry sauce, pork loin with creamy rice pilaf and the most decadent foie on top of a flatbread and a garden of caramelized onions. So good, in fact, that I stopped taking pictures and just ate. Dishes were reasonably priced, as well, between 8€ and 16€ for a ración.

Washed down with another French wine – El Gallinero has wines from around the world, as well as a few bottled microbrews and regional liquors – we bellied up for dessert. The lemon meringue was reminiscent of key lime pie, and the coulant and creme brûlée heavenly. Our bill came to roughly 28€ per person with a small tip included.

We agreed the place would be perfect for date night – cozy and intimate – though we were a group of four guiri hens clucking about our summers at lightning speed at a place named Chicken Coop.

What’s your favorite place to have a meal in the Alameda? I’ve got an exciting new food project coming up with the backing of Caser Expat Insurance, so stay tuned!

If you go: El Gallinero de Sandra is located on the pedestrian street Pasaje Esperanza Elena Caro near the Plaza del Duque. Expect to pay 8€ for an omelette or fritata, 9€ for a salad and 11€ for a meat or fish dish. Desserts are 5€ and worth every calorie. The restaurant is open from 13:45 a 16:45 y de 20:30 until close, though closed Sunday night and all day on Monday. Reservations are welcome at reservas@elgallinerodesandra.es.

 

Tapa Thursdays: Pescaíto

One thing that stuck out about my host mother and her eating habits was that she’d fry a fish and just suck the meat right off the bones, leaving the head. Emily and I claimed we were allergic to fish to not have to eat them, vying instead for her awesome tortilla de patatas.

My, how times (and tastes) change!

Just a few Mondays ago, the Feria de Abril’s festivities began with the lighting of the main gate, known as the portada, at midnight. Right before, around 9pm, the owners and members of the makeshift caseta tents gather for a traditional dinner of fried fish, known as the pescaíto. Seville’s isn’t exactly the gastronomical gem of Andalucía (minus its tapas scene), though fried fish, pescado frito, is one of its most typical dishes.

What it is: Battered and fried fish. My favorites are choco (cuttlefish), adobo (brine-soaked dogfish), puntillitas (baby squid) and sardinas (sardines).

Where it comes from: Owing to Spain’s many coasts, fried fish can be found throughout the country. It’s especially popular in Andalucía and considered one of Seville’s most typical dishes.

Goes great with: Beer, and fried onions and peppers, called calamares del campo.

Where to find it: Seville abounds with small shops called freidurias, places where fish are fried, weighed and served up hot in wax paper cones. While those I like best are in my neighborhood, I like Mara in Triana (San Vicente de Paul, 22-24), El Arenal in the barrio of the same name (C/Arfe, 8) and Frieduría Puerta de la Carne near the Jardines de Murillo in Santa Cruz. If you’re in Málaga, El Tintero is a great restaurant experience, and you can pick up sardines cooked over coals, called espetos.

 Have a favorite tapa you’d like to see touted on Sunshine and Siestas? Leave me a comment below, or on my Facebook page!

Tapa Thursdays: Cevapi

Right, this blog is about Spain, and Tapa Thursdays should be about Spanish tapas.

But I can’t get over the spicy sausage sandwiches we ate in the Balkans, called cevapi. It’s street food perfected, easy enough to eat and affordable. Hayley and I easily devoured three or four of these for a quick meal during our week in Croatia and Montenegro, and often as a coplete meal for less than 5€. My favorite was probably the first, snarfed down on a side street in Dubrovnik when we first arrived with a tall boy (dios, the beers in Spain seem so small now!), or the roadside grill we found where we watched the attendant grill it, hardly waiting until we got back to our apartment to sit and eat them. Behold the sammich-as-big-as-your-head:

What it is and where it comes from: Cevapi is a widespread dish in the Balkans and considered a national dish in Bosnia, Serbia and Yugoslavia. Between seven and ten minced meat sausages, typically served in a flatbread with onions, tomato and lettuce, have been eaten since the 14th Century in the region. I found it quite like kofte, a lamb meat sausage from Morocco and the northern Maghreb area, or a spicier turkish kebab.

Where to find it: Try Preša Fast Food in Dubrovnik, Đorđićeva ulica 2. The staff speak English and the cost is affordable. You’ll find it right off of the Stradun, three or four streets into the Pile Gate, just past the Onofrio fountain.

Goes perfectly with: In true fast food tradition, we always ate the grilled sausages with a tub of french fries and our favorite Balkan beers, either Jelen or Ožujsko.

Have you ever eaten cevapi or something like it? If you’d like to make it at home, try this recipe.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...