Simple Spanish Food

How Are Your Guindas?

Back in July when cherries were in  season I put away some guindas al licor, cherries in aguardiente or brandy.  

Here's what they looked like then:

Now after five months maceration, they look like this:

The aguardiente (a type of pomace brandy similar to grappa) has taken on a rich cherry flavor and color, and the cherries are now spicy with aguardiente.  These make a great dessert and digestif just as they are, but you can also use them in some traditional Spanish sweets--hopefully the subject of a near future post.

See my post on guindas al licór, cherries in aguardiente or brandy for more information.

 

A Great Spanish Bubbly: Juvé y Camps Brut Nature Gran Reserva Cava

In the under $10 range, it's hard to beat Segura Viudas Brut Reserva, but if you're willing to spent a bit more ($18 and up)  Juvé y Camps Brut Nature Gran Reserva is an even better bargain.  Unlike the overrated Anna de Codorníu,  Juvé y Camps Gran Reserva is a truly special cava   In Spain this is the cava often included in the more elegant cestas de navidad (Christmas Gift Baskets).  It has a high reputation, and it deserves it. We drink Juvé y Camps on New Year's Eve and other special occasions.  It's one of the few cavas that achieves that magical, ethereal quality of a great sparkling wine.  This is best cava I've tried.  

For years we could not find Juvé y Camps here in the U.S.--at least not in our area--but lately World Market has been carrying it at a great price.  

 

Horchata de chufa: Tigernut Milk, The Other Vegan Milk Substitute

In Spain horchata de chufa is a summer drink, especially in Valencia.  It is served cold, sweet, and thick, almost like a milkshake.  It is especially popular at outdoor cafes on hot afternoons. 

But there is no reason not to enjoy tigernut milk at other times of year. Think of it as a neat alternative to the usual vegetarian or vegan milks (soy, almond, rice, coconut, etc.). Tigernut milk can be used in all the same ways. You can make vegan hot chocolate with it, or use it as a replacement for milk in all sorts of recipes.  You could even make a smoothie out of it (I have). It's also fantastic on its own, sweetened with a little honey and spiced with cinnamon.

Here's a recipe for tigernut milk--really more of a leche de chufa than a true horchata de chufa (Check out  La Tienda's recipe if you want to try for a thick, shake-like horchata de chufa).   It is necessary to plan ahead for this, as the tigernuts need soaking twenty four hours, but other than that, it's  easy.

Here's how to do it:

Soak 1/2 pound of chufa nuts in water for 24 hours

After soaking the chufa should look like this:

Drain them. Put them in the blender (not a food processor) with one quart of water. Blend thoroughly. Let the mixture sit at least half an hour.

Line a colander with cheese cloth and place it over a bowl. Pour the chufa mixture through the strainer. When the milk has gone through, wrap the cheese cloth around the chufa solids and squeeze out all the milk you can.

Stir into the milk a heaping tablespoon of honey, or more if you like. Add a dash of ground cinnamon. Stir.

Chill the milk for an hour. Stir again, and it's ready.

Try to use the tigernut milk the day you make it or the day after, while it's still fresh.

No time to make horchata de chufa? La Tienda  sells a good brand of bottled horchata de chufa.

 

 

 

Eric Asimov Contrasts Two Styles of Rioja in The New York Times

Check out Eric Asimov's latest article "Gentle Soul in a World of Bold Fruit" in The New York Times to learn about two very different styles of Rioja--the traditional Gran Reservas which he describes as  "smooth, pale, harmonious" versus the newer, fruitier (and often pricier) types of Rioja that now dominate the market.

Personally, I much prefer the old Gran Reservas, which seem to be finally coming back  into fashion. 

New Organic Tempranillos Worth Trying

We recently tried two organic tempranillos, a Spartico from Valencia and a Viña Cuesta Colorá from La Mancha.  I wanted to try them  after reading  Matt Kramer's praise for organic wines in the Wine Spectator, and I'm glad we did.  Both (especially the Spartico) are light, clean, fresh, with some fresh fruit, just  what a tempranillo from these regions should be, but too seldom is, at least here in the U.S.

In Spain, finding this easy-drinking style of tempranillo from La Mancha or even further south is easy. Go to just about any bar in Madrid and ask for the vino tinto de la casa and you'll probably get a light and mellow tempranillo  from Valdepeñas--a perfect accompaniment for just about any tapa on the menu. But for some reason the wine exporters seem to lean towards a completely different style of tempranillo when choosing for the U.S. market. They go for heavy, thick, high alcohol wines with often muddled flavors of overripe fruit, a style we rarely come across in Spain.   

But this isn't the case with these two organic tempranillos.  Is it because they are organic? Because they contain no sulfites? I don't know. But if you're looking for a light red of the sort Spaniards would actually drink with paella or countless tapas, these organic tempranillos are the way to go.

Both of these tempranillos are vegan. Neither has added sulfites, so it's probably best to finish the bottle the day or day after you open it. We paid under $15 for the Viña Cuesta Colorá and the Spartico was a steal at around $8 a bottle.

 

Some Ruedas, Good and Fantastic

 

Rueda (a denominación de origen in Castilla y León) produces some of my all-time favorite Spanish white wines.  White ruedas are usually made with an ancient variety of grape called verdejo.  A good rueda should be nearly-bone dry, with a very light astringency.  The Spanish wine writer and mystery novelist Manuel Vázquez Montalbán even goes so far as to say that ruedas should have "a very light touch of bitterness."  This may sound unappealing, and in fact some people (such as Ana's Aunt Lely) find ruedas to be too harsh.  Others (like me) love them.  The touch of astringency makes ruedas unusually refreshing.  They go great with fish and salt cod dishes (and though I have not tried it, I bet a good rueda would be absolutely fantastic with rabbit).  Also, ruedas offer a change of pace. Like many Spanish whites, they are the exact opposite of the heavy, peachy whites that seem to dominate the world wine market these days--only more so.

   

The other day Ana and I had a fantastic rueda, a Vevi 2011. It was everything a rueda should be. We had it with local-caught amberjack and steamed Florida lobster and it was out of this world.

It was less than $12 a bottle--not a bad price by rueda standards. It's made with a blend of verdejo and viura grapes. I used to think that the best ruedas were always %100 verdejo. This one proved me wrong.

This Naia 2009 for example is made with 100% verdejo, and it was pretty good--but not quite as dry as I think a rueda should be, and with riper fruit. (I liked the Vevi much better). I felt the same way about this Palma Real 2009.  I suspect that both of these ruedas are toning down the dryness and that "very light bitterness" to suit mass market tastes, but by doing so they lose a lot of what makes ruedas special.

 

And then there are some ruedas out there that don't taste like ruedas at all, such as this El Hada, 2008.   It's a fruity crowd pleaser, a rueda that sold out.

 

One day I hope to go to rueda and try some of the old-style "rancio" wines there, which are completely different from the new style ruedas I've described here. I'd also like to try some of rueda's reds. 

 

Time to Make Guindas al Licor (Cherries in Brandy)

Summer is the season to put cherries in brandy, a tradition in Galicia, in the North of Spain.  After the cherries have macerated a month (or better yet several), they are used in all sorts of Spanish desserts--turrón de guindas is especially good--or eaten as they are. The liqueur makes a pleasant digestif. 

In Galicia the traditional cherries used are sour cherries, guindas, and the brandy is aguardiente de orujo, which is clear and quite unlike brandy sold in U.S. liquor stores.  Here in Florida we can never find sour cherries or Galician aguardiente, but Ana still makes pretty good guindas al licor using regular sweet cherries or cerezas--as many Spaniards these days do--and a pisco brandy, a Peruvian or Chilean version of aguardiente. You could also use grappa. And vodka, though far from Spanish, wouldn't be bad either.

Wash and dry some fresh cherries.  Remove the stems.  Place the cherries in a clean jar (one with a lid) along with a cinnamon stick and sugar. Traditional recipes using sour cherries may call for a good bit of sugar, but for sweet cherries we only use 1/3 cup per pint. If you want a very sweet licor, add more.

 Some gallegos add other spices--a pinch of nutmeg or even a sprig of lemon verbena.

Pour the aguardiente (or whatever liquor you are using) over the cherries, sugar and spice until they are covered.

Put the lid on the jar, and place it in a cool dark place.  Let it sit at least a month before you try it  . Some people like guindas al licor best when the cherries have macerated for several months, by which time the liqueur is quite mild and cherry-flavored--and the cherries taste a lot like aguardiente!

 

 

Boutique Sherries?

In his  recent article in The New York Times, "In Spain, Sherry Producers Learn to Think Small" Eric Asimov is somewhat misleading about jerez--one of my favorite styles of wine--but he also gives lots of information about where the world of sherry may be heading.

In the beginning of the article, when Asimov writes  "in a business largely built on selling vast quantities of inexpensive mediocre wine" he should make it clear that he is referring to the sweetened sherries bottled almost exclusively for the export market--NOT the sherries that Spaniards drink, almost all of which are dry and, as Asimov himself admits, "can be good."

Can be?

The wine writer Oz Clarke has included one of these sherries,  La Gitana manzanilla, in his "World Class Wines That Don't Cost the Earth" list for years.  Andrés, my father-in-law, knew his sherry, and loved La Ina. 

If you've ever tried a La Gitana manzanilla, you will know it is a truly fantasic wine, especially for the price: even here in the U.S. it costs less than $20 a bottle--when you can find it. 

But  Asimov's article is still worth reading.  It explains how the sherry industry has begun producing smaller batches of even higher quality sherry for the new sherry-aficionados. It has a pretty good slideshow too. 

How good are these boutique sherries? How much will they cost?

Asimov promises to tell us more in an upcoming article.

In the meantime, you may want to check out  La Tienda's selection of sherries, and also my other posts on jerez or sherry.

The Sweet Wines of Spain, Vinos Dulces

Pedro Ximénez, Málaga, and moscatel are the three main sweet wines of Spain, but there are many, many others. Together they are an too-often-overlooked treasure in the world of wine.  The vinos dulces of Spain are some of my favorite wines of all.

Pedro Ximénez is the most famous of Spanish sweet wines. Pedro Ximénez (usually) comes from Jerez (it is considered a type of sherry) or Montilla-Moriles.   Unfortunately, as with many famous things, it can be difficult to find a really good Pedro Ximénez, and when you do it is almost always pricey. 

At its best, Pedro Ximénez can be incredibly rich and complex--with all sorts of candied fruit and herb notes--but most of the ordinary stuff (such as the Osborne pictured above) tastes simply of raisins and, to me, is rarely worth the $20-and-up price. 

Wine writers often succumb to the cliché of comparing Pedro Ximénez to blackstrap and mention that it can be served over ice cream.  The truth is that Pedro Ximénez, while thick, is never anywhere near the consistency of molasses, and believe me, if you ever have a good glass of this stuff, the last thing you will want to do is pour it over ice cream.  The trick, again, is finding a good Pedro Ximénez, which is not easy, even in Spain. The best we've ever had was in Córdoba--Montilla-Moriles, a region that specializes in Pedro Ximénez. Even there it was far from cheap, but it was a truly amazing wine. I will never forget it.

Málaga is  not so well known as Pedro Ximénez, but it can be just as good, and it is nearly always a better bargain.   It is everything that Pedro Ximénez should be (but often isn't) at a fraction of the price.  Even brands of  Málaga carried in Spanish supermarkets, such as the roughly-named Quitapenas ("takes your cares away"), are quite good, and prices start at just seven or eight euros a bottle.  A steal.

Málaga is often made with the Pedro Ximénez grape and it can be put through a barrel system much like sherry, but it may be made from other grapes, as well as other ingredients (the reduced juices of other grapes), which makes it a different style of wine.  In my opinion Málaga is always worth trying.

Moscatel is a sweet wine you will find in just about every neighborhood bar in Spain.  Like Pedro Ximénez and Málaga, it is a traditional, fortified wine (or vino generoso), but it's lighter, usually a shade of gold in color.  (Please do not confuse traditional moscatel with the new "moscatos"  Spain has recently begun to export to compete in the  world-wine moscato market: the bottle should say "moscatel," never moscato.) Though sweet, moscatel can have a twang of acidity,  like a Madeira, and it may be served like some madeiras, with savory foods. 

In the picture above, taken at the old-school restaurant and bar  Lhardy (one of my favorite places to go in Madrid), moscatel (the gold-colored wine) and Portuguese Madeira (the dark one) are served with a cup of rich consomé and little lettuce sandwiches--a beautiful combination. 

There are many other sweet wines in Spain. Many little towns will have their own recipe, and most of the time you have to search out the town itself to try them. There are exceptions. The Madrid bar called El Anciano Rey de los Vinos serves a vino dulce de Tomelloso, an old fashioned sweet wine from the village of that name. 

Obviously, Spanish sweet wines are perfect for dessert.  (It is often said that a glass of Pedro Ximénez is a dessert in itself). But traditionally these sweet wines are also enjoyed at the merienda--the evening snack, around six p.m. or so--often with old-fashioned Spanish pastries like pestiños.

See La Tienda's Sherry Page for a selection of Spanish sweet wines. 

 

 

 

 

Wines Under $10: Pinord Clos de Torribas Tempranillo Crianza 2007

As I  pointed out a few months back in my post on a little-known red wine from Spain,  one of the best ways to find a good wine at a low price is to avoid the famous D.O.'s (Rioja, Ribera del Duero, etc) and instead explore wines from lesser known regions, such as Navarra, Castilla y La Mancha, or Tarragona. 

Pinord's Clos de Torribas Tempranillo  Crianza 2007 is another example. It comes from Penedés, a D.O. usually associated with sparkling cava, not red wine. Just a few years ago red wines from Penedés were usually dismissed as ordinary. Now things are changing.  I enjoyed this Penedés more than any Rioja I've had in recent memory (except maybe a nice reserva Esperanza, my mother-in-law, served during our last trip to Spain). The cost? Only $6.99, a fraction of the price of almost any decent Rioja.

Pinord Clos de Torribas Tempranillo Crianza 2007 was selected as one of The Wine Enthusiast's best buys.