Out of this deluge of experience, these things have started to emerge as lasting gastronomic impressions:
Pan con tomate is a Catalan tapa (or tapac) specialty. A flat, broad piece of crusty bread, toasted, rubbed with half a raw tomato to give it a slight sweetness and acidity, then drizzled with olive oil (with its own green smell and flavor), and finally sprinkled with fleur de sel. I could not get enough. An incredibly versatile and consistently delicious dish. This one is from Tapaç24 in Barcelona.
Croissants for breakfast everyday. Damn the consequences. I had been resisting in London...giving in occasionally in Brussels...and finally caved in Barcelona. Every day a croissant and cafe con leche. Exactly the slow start my system prefers. Oddly enough, the croissants in Spain were made with lard, not butter. Heavier, a little wetter, not as flaky, and with a little more bite to them. Perhaps because of my recent infatuation with pork fat, I enjoyed this version the most. (This particular croissant was from a cafe in Barrio Gracia, I forget where.)
Chuletitas de cabrito (baby goat chops!). It's embarrassing to admit, but I'm really into the flavor of animal fats these days. And boy, the fat on a deep-fried baby goat chop is divine. It has something in common with the muttony flavor of broiled lamb chop fat, but you would never confuse it with sheep. It's not that gamey or heavy. I told E with utter conviction yesterday, "There is no way I could ever be a vegetarian now that I've tasted baby goat." Our most delicious cabrito was at Restaurant Envalira, also in Barrio Gracia. (Forgot my camera, so this is from another Web site.)
Fresh butter at St. John in London. I blogged about this earlier. As the initial impressions of my meal at St. John fade, what stays firmly lodged in my memory is the sweetness and freshness of their butter. This is such a fundamental, pure, fresh flavor.
Beef tartare sandwiches from Van Dobben in Amsterdam. It was the weirdest thing: the only word I could think of to describe this phenomenal sandwich was "refreshing." The meat was so fresh and clean tasting. One day I hope to learn about the phases meat goes through as it ages (oxidation, etc.), but I do know that less fresh meat has a more iron-y flavor to it. This had some "hay" (chi) left in it. The sandwich itself: super-fresh soft white roll with butter, fresh ground beef, salt, white pepper, and chopped fresh onions.
Steak tartare with shiso leaf at La Quincaillerie in Brussels. Similar to in Hong Kong, it seems to me that the base level of cooking skill in Brussels is higher than in other cities in the world. La Quincaillerie is not an average restaurant by any stretch of the imagination, but nonetheless I felt that this dish embodied the confidence and sophistication one finds in Brussels restaurants in general: first, the wonderful color contrast of the pinky-brick red of the meat with the yellow green of the large slice of lime. Then the delicate texture of the meat with the crispy-gooey toast and the elasticity/boing-iness of the raw greens. And the sweet-iron-acid meat flavor balanced by the herbal surprise of the shiso leaf. This is such a cool dish.
Belgian waffles at the train station in Antwerp. Even when it comes to low-brow street food, the Bruxellois take things to the next level. The man in the waffle cart took this little brown crust of waffle, put it back on the griddle to warm and toast it, then drowned it in melted milk chocolate that later hardened into a chocolate bar as it cooled in my tray. Finally, he topped it with a generous dollop of real whipped cream. No fake chocolate product. No fake whipped cream. Street food made with the highest quality ingredients!
Frites for breakfast in Amsterdam. Croissants for breakfast are good, but French fries for breakfast are also good. We hit Amsterdam during an unusual streak of sunny days and found ourselves one morning strolling by the canals in the sunlight when I caught a whiff of fried potatoes. The frites guys had barricaded themselves into their stand with a wall of golden potatoes. The frites themselves were extra crispy and had a nice, strong potato flavor. Potato sunshine in a paper cone. It seemed like the best possible thing to eat at that moment. E wondered how I knew this particular frites stand would be good. I think it was the golden color and the fact they had so many fries in there. (Would you make that many if you weren't going to sell them?)
Padrones peppers. Also fried, also good. I get a lot of pleasure from color, and these were so exquisitely emerald green, I kept ordering them just to see them. This particular batch are from Cala del Vermut in Barcelona.
The elegant atmosphere at Mercado de San Miguel in Madrid. My friend J, who relocated from NYC to Donostia-San Sebastian, said "The Spanish do not suffer willingly." From the lovely 300 km/hr AVE train that whisked us from Barcelona to Madrid, to the smooth highways, to the totally unmodern practice of taking lunch for two hours (with wine) during the week, there is a sense in Spain that enjoyment and quality are necessities. Aside from all of the wonderful food in this market, the beautifully restored building, glossy plate glass windows, atmospheric lighting, high-end tableware...created an ideal environment for a sustained period of munching and shmoozing.
Dinner at home at J's sister-in-law's house in Madrid. How long has it been since someone entertained us in their home? I can't tell you how much I've missed this, and how touched we were that my friend J's sister-in-law would create such a beautiful table for us to share. Wonderful wines, homemade chorizo from her boyfriend's family, peppers with anchovies, Manchego cheese, the freshest bread, whiskey, chocolate, Nespresso ;-) The last time we were invited to a dinner in someone's home in HK, we were charged for the privilege -- no joke!
Gezelligheid at Eetcafe Van Beeren in Amsterdam. Real candlelight, a smiling waitress, a small globe of tasty beer, generous portions of gourmet Dutch pub food (e.g., escargots, steak tartare, smoked trout salad), solid wooden tables, laughter from nearby tables...there's actually a word for this in Dutch. According to my Lonely Planet Amsterdam Encounter guide, the word gezelligheid roughly translates as "snug, friendly, cosy, informal, companionable and convivial."
Charles V beer. How do the Bruxellois stay so trim and attractive? I mean really? The only thing I can figure is that they are so accustomed to delicious food and drink that they're not desperate to gobble it up before it can escape (or they have to return home). Maybe better food is the real solution to our public health problems in the US. Anyhoo...this beer, served at an ordinary neighborhood pub, was unlike any I have tasted. The closest flavor comparison I can think of is a good Gruyere cheese: sweet and nutty, salty and tangy, and buttery all at once. I could have sat down and drank beer the entire time we were in Belgium.
A plate of chickpeas at Bar Pinotxo in the Boqueria in Barcelona. Chickpeas are a pretty lowly food to have as a house specialty, but wow, I've never had anything like this. The garbanzo beans in this dish were the extra-big, extra-deluxe version. They were much softer and butterier than the way I've tried them prepared anywhere else. The sauce must have been some combination of tomatoes and shallots and peppers. There was a bit of sweetness and savoryness and acidity to balance the mellowness of the chickpeas, but it wasn't harsh. If this dish were a piece of music, the notes would all be modulating in nearby tones.
And with that, I'll stop rhapsodizing. After this whirlwind tour of so many European cities in so little time, a strong impression of the fundamental differences in Western and Eastern cuisines is bubbling up, but it hasn't yet crystalized so I'll save it for later.
