Tapa Thursdays: A Gastronomic Experience at Restaurant Puerto Blanco in Calpe

The Novio does’t understand my “world.” He doesn’t understand why I’m a smartphone addict, why I take pictures of details, and why I spent my hard-earned cash (hard-earned on a slot machine in Vegas, that is!) on a DSLR, my trusty Camarón.

Then I dragged him along as my plus-one on a blog trip. During our weekend in Calpe as VIPs for #calpemocion, we ate, drank and made merry with 50 other digital media strategists, and the Novio finally understood why I love blogging and sharing my stories and photos with my readers.

During our welcome dinner at Restaurant El Puerto Blanco, one of Calpe’s most famous eateries, he even graciously held the bite-sized tapas we munched on while I shot them. Score.

Welcomed to Puerto Blanco by the team of Calpemoción, we had a champagne cocktail with fruit  skewers while Mario Schumacher, the event organizer and master in experiences, greeted us. The mayor and tourism board of the fishing village-cum-tourist destination was on hand, too, and we had a few beers while they spoke.

The setting was idyllic: at the foot of a squat, albero-colored hotel (private bungalows can be reserved – but the waiting list is nearly a year!), a pristine dining room welcomes guests just right along Calpe’s lesser port, Puerto Blanco. Even though the night was cool for May, we spent out time on the terrace, complete with a pool and lounge chairs.

Mario presented executive chefs and husband and wife, Maria Grazia and Patrick Marguette, who would be serving us a menu full of Calpe’s flavors. We got to mingle and grab the tapas off trays to our heart’s content – I ate until I was completely stuffed, trying to find room for one more braised pork rib or another pinch of brownie.

Warning: this post contains little more than photos of scrumptious food. You have been warned.

If you go: The Puerto Blanco restaurant is located adjacent to the port of the same name in Calpe, a 20-minute drive north of Benidorm. Most tasting menus are 28 – 38€, which include two dishes and a desert. Be sure to call ahead, as the place is usually booked during the busy summer months. Puerto Blanco is closed during the winter months, and closed Monday in the summer. Check their website for more information on opening times and restaurants.

Are you ready to devour your computer? I didn’t even include everything that we ate! Five desserts and I was in my happy place. As for my tapas Thursday absence…I’ve been eating camp food for nearly three weeks. Nothing else needs to be said about that.

Tapa Thursdays: Gazpacho

I have never been one to stand up to the hot summer sun in Seville. I made the poor decision one year to cycle home from my friend Stacy’s house at 3pm. In August. Trying to beat the Sevici’s 30-minute limit.

I was shaking by the time I got home, and the Novio had to stick me in the shower, clothes on, so that I’d cool down. After that, it was a cold glass of gazpacho and I felt immediately better.

When the temperatures start to rise in Seville, I find that my only defense are cold showers, the AC in our living room and an always full glass of gazpacho.

What it is: A cold, tomato-based soup made of little more than tomatoes, green peppers, cucumber, salt, garlic, olive oil and vinegar. It’s not only a simple dish, but it’s simple to make! Often, a garnish or onions and cucumbers is sprinkled on top, and some choose to eat the dish (well, drink it, really) with croutons on top, too.

Where it comes from: Gazpacho is said to have been invented by the Arabs, but it’s now a staple in Andalusian gastronomy, thanks to the hot summer days. Variations are numerous, including gazpacho manchego, which I tried in Calpe, or by substituting tomatoes for anything else. My favorite? Watermelon gazpacho!

Goes great with: The Novio and I usually use gazpacho as a primer to just about anything we’ll eat. It’s also perfect for practicing the Spanish habit of hacer el barquito, or mopping up the remains with a piece of bread.

Where to get it in Seville: I prefer to make my own gazpacho, though I have fond memories of my first few days in sweltering Seville, drinking it by the glass full in the original Bodeguita Romero on Antonia Díaz.

Are you a gazpacho fiend? Have  certain go-to tapa, or want to see something featured on Sunshine and Siestas? Leave me a message in the comments!

Tapa Thursdays: Caracoles

Spain is a country in which some foods are seasonal: pumpkins are ripest around Autumn, chestnuts are peddled on the street at Christmastime and strawberries show up on the market in February or March.

Then the signs start showing up: HAY CARACOLES. Snails here.

For someone who’s a texture freak when it comes to food, I slurped down my first little tentacled creature during my first Spring in Seville. And I wanted more. Like shrimp, I’ve learned to love them and giddily wait for la temporada de caracoles.

What it is: This little bugger, a common snail in English, has been eaten since the Bronze Age, and in Spain they’re prepared by cleaning the mollusk while it’s still alive, and boiling them over low heat with garlic, spices, salt and cayenne pepper for nearly two hours. You can get a tapa for around 1,80€, a plate for 5€ or even buy bags of live snails on the street near market and make them at home.

Where it comes from: Snails are eaten all over the place, but the caracoles that you’ll commonly find in Seville are found near the Atlantic coast and in Morocco.

Goes great with: Alright, it’s getting trite now…everything just tastes better with beer. The Novio and I often meet after work for a beer or two and a tapa of caracoles.

Where to find them: Bars all over Seville (as well as Córdoba) will serve up tapas of caracoles during the springtime. My picks are Casa Diego in Triana (Calle Esperanza de Triana, 19. Closed Sundays) and Cervecería La Tiza in Los Bermejales (Avda. de Alemania, s/n. Open daily).

Like caracoles? Have a Spanish food you’d like to see featured on my bi-weekly tapas feature? If you’re interested in learning more about mollusks, read more on my guest post on Spanish Sabores.

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: Bar Zapico

Let me just say this: I do not live in Seville’s city center, under the shadow of the Giralda. I live in a working class neighborhood where I’m just known on the plazuela as “esa chica guiri,” where rent is cheap, transportation options are a bit scant and no one really knows what barrio I live in.

When I mentioned to Ryan and Angela, the duo behind Jets Like Taxis and Freshism, that I wanted to do a tapas crawl through my neighborhood, they jumped at the chance. Many of my friends have never been to my house because it’s simply too far, but these two adventurous eaters braved the 32 labeled POLIGONO SUR and joined me for lunch on a perfect Sunday.

The neighborhood adjacent to mine, Cerro de Aguila, is known as being typically sevillano. Low, squat duplexes line the streets shaded by orange trees, and the place abounds with the old man bars that I so love and small, family-run businesses. I did a quick google search and found one of the top-rated places was Bar Zapico, on Calle Pablo Armero, just two streets off of the thoroughfare. Its famous dish is its battered and fried shrimp, gambas rebozadas.

Our original plan was to have just one tapa and one beer in each bar, slugging along Calle Afan de Ribera until we couldn’t eat or drink anymore. Turns out, the bar packed full of old men, lined with azulejo tiles and where your bar bill is still tabbed in chalk right in front of you kept us there for more than just the food. In two minutes, enough time for us to toast our beers and have a sip, a shrill CAAAAATTTIIIIIIIIIII rang through the swinging doors and we had nine shrimp served up with alioli sauce. And this was simply a tapa! I read that Americans consume an average of two pounds of shrimp a year, which I could do in a month. These little gambitas were the best I’ve had.

 

We couldn’t just leave after a perfect introduction to my barrio’s culinary pride! Ryan and Ang are adventurous eaters, so nothing on the menu was off-limits. We chose stewed bull tail, cola de toro, which came right off the bone and was full of fat. There were hints of spice and we soaked up the broth with french fries and bread – my lunch guests are now full-fledged sevillanos. After chowing down, the bill came to just 13€ with drinks, and we had satisfied our food fix.

So much for a tapas crawl.

five beers 5,00€ // one tapa of gambas rebozadas 2,00€ // one media of cola de toro 6,00€ // total 13,00€

Bar Zapico is open daily, save Tuesdays, on the corner of Tomas Perez and Alvaro Benavides. Do you like old man bars, or do you prefer gastro bars?

 

Tapa Thursdays: Gurumelos

I will buy you a beer if you knew what a gurumelo is before this post. I mean it.

Santiago confessed to never having been to Plaza del Salvador, so I knew just where to take him on a perfect, late winter day in Andalusia. The morning cold had given way to a cloudless blue sky, whose bright color set against the albero and salmon colored buildings of the square was dreamy on a day like today. As we sidled up to the bars for a beer, I bumped into my coworker, Helen.

Indeed, she was the fourth person I’d ran into in the center. If the world is a handkercheif, Seville is that pañuelo folded into fourths.

But, I digress. This post is about FOOD glorious FOOD.

Two beers were ordered for my friend and I, and he quickly ordered a revuelto de gurumelos. I had no idea what a gurumelo was, but since Santiago is Galician, I could only assume it was some kind of fish. He’d ordered to quickly, not even bothering to ask if I liked what he’s shouted across the busy bar to the bartender. I HATE eggs, making reveueltos one of my most disliked foods, along with ensaladilla rusa.

I asked Santiago what gurumelo was, and he grasped for the word in English. “Funghi, I think,” he stammered, not quite sure. Sweet, I also dislike mushrooms.

In the end, the revuelto was perfect – light, con su puntito de sal, and tasty, plus peppered with potatoes and bits of ham. The texture of mushrooms tends to throw me off, but this stuff was a perfect way to catch up with an old friend.

What it is: A large mushroom, named so for its weight (up to 1 kilogram!). Its characteristics are its fleshy white cap.

Where it comes from: The gurumelo is commonly found in the southerwestern part of the penninsula; in nothern Huelva, Badajoz and Portugal, to be exact. Because they’re only picked and sold in springtime, go get one quick or look for them in a supermakret or market. Here are some recipes for inspiration.

Where to eat it: La Antigua Bodeguita, one of the bars located adjacent the Iglesia del Salvador, is honestly the only place I’ve ever even seen mention the fungus. The bar is open daily for lunch and dinner though the tables are outside.

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