Artisans and farmers in Spain are so thankful when you honor their labor by choosing to enjoy their products. This is especially so during the terrible economic meltdown in Spain you have read about called La Crisis. For many of our family producers the situation is a matter of survival. Friends ask us how they can help their Spanish neighbors. There is an easy and direct way: plan to serve more food from Spain.

We find the people from the countryside of Spain truly remarkable – especially their graciousness and personal involvement, even with strangers. One of the most satisfying parts of my life is the opportunity to meet families from all across Spain, and to enjoy the simple integrity of their way of life. In many cases, our partnership with them makes a difference in the lives of their economically fragile families.

I think of María Angeles Flores. A few years ago, Spain was flooded with cheap contraband saffron from Iran, the sale of which devastated artisan producers in Castilla-La Mancha. Because the farmers could not compete in price, they ceased planting the crocus bulbs altogether in the fields next to their villages. A tradition was in danger of dying.

We saw an opportunity to support this traditional cottage industry. Through friends, we learned about María and her family business. We met her in the small farming village of Minaya where, on the plains of La Mancha, the best saffron in Spain is produced.

María Angeles invited Ruth and me and Jamie Jones, our buyer in Spain, into her home to sit down with her family at their worktable in a room next to their kitchen. We explained to María Angeles that we needed to form a partnership with a person whose reputation was above reproach, so that we could personally vouch for their saffron as being the very best.

We told her that we were looking to concentrate our buying with one supplier, hoping that our focused purchase could provide meaningful support. Aware of her family’s reputation for skill and honesty, my only hesitation was whether they could produce enough saffron to meet our customers’ needs. María Angeles replied that she would be honored to provide her saffron to La Tienda. More than that, she added, if we gave her fair warning she could convince her neighbors in the village to start planting crocuses once more in order to meet further demand in the years ahead. And that is what happened.

Her husband Juan Antonio was quite heartened when he heard the proposal. He explained that he had been harvesting saffron crocus bulbs since he was a child. He reflected that he “grew up behind the plow,” and was saddened by the decline of this traditional crop. He proudly introduced us to their daughter, a young lady who is maintaining the tradition for another generation by learning the art of hand-toasting crocus stamens over a silk screen.

María Angeles and her family are now on firmer footing financially, doing what they love to do. More than that, thanks to the support of the La Tienda community, the village of Minaya is experiencing a rebirth as once again neighbors are working together in the crocus fields and the sorting tables, continuing an age-old tradition.

Another example of how La Tienda can sustain a family business is our Senorío de Vizcántar olive oil. When we are in Andalucía, we often pay a visit to the Rodríguez family: Fermín and Aixa and their frisky little daughter, Sofia. In Priego de Córdoba, they produce an extra virgin olive oil that is a favorite of ours.

Fermín artfully blends oil from picudo, picual and hojiblanca olives, adjusting the balance of flavors with each successive harvest. We order a great deal of Fermín’s oil for the La Tienda community, and he faithfully responds by providing the very best of the harvest.

Fermín grew up among the olive groves, and each time we visit he takes us out to his family’s groves, which nestle around the dramatic hilltop town of Priego de Córdoba. He invariably points out the thousand-year-old gnarled tree within whose trunk he used to hide as a little boy. It brings back to him many fond memories.

One more brief story: Not far from Priego de Córdoba is the ancient town of Antequera, where Ruth and I enjoyed meeting a handful of warm and friendly workers in a bakery – we even ended up in a group picture! The bakers’ job was to form molletes out of soft dough. This breakfast bread has been traditional fare in this town for at least fifteen hundred years. With our arrival, the town celebrated that their famous bread was now to be available in the United States, and their economy would grow.

La Tienda is filled with family businesses like these. Their stories and our involvement with the people are at the core of our business. We know the people, we know how they make their products and we gladly lend them our support.

I find it satisfying to be in the presence of healthy Spanish families who take pride in the traditional products they make. It is a joy to be with them, but they are not immune to the effects of the struggling Spanish economy. We are hopeful that they will persevere.

"I will say for the Spaniards, no people I know in the world will exhibit a more just feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature." - George Borrow

These are the words of George Borrow, an Englishman wayfarer who traveled the byways of Spain in the 19th century, lingering in dozens of villages where he met all sorts of people. His book, "The Bible in Spain" makes fascinating reading. It is available for free on Kindle.

Just last week, I heard an account from one of our La Tienda community members that is a modern day affirmation of George Borrow’s appraisal of the Spanish people. A Welshman and his wife stopped by our store in Williamsburg and he told me of an amazing relationship he forged with a Spanish family.

It was many years ago, when he was a young man randomly exploring the countryside along the Spanish border, when a Spaniard came up to him and inquired whether he could be of help. The Welshman indicated where he was heading, and the man said, “Come along with me. That is exactly where I live.“

When the two of them arrived at his house in the neighboring village, his companion introduced the Welshman to his family, and then invited the young man to stay with them, “Why don't you stay with us for a couple of days, or longer if you would like.” It turned out that he stayed two years with the family and gained a deep love for them and an appreciation for the Spanish way of life. Although they only met by chance, the two men continue to keep close contact forty years later. He is a part of their family.

I find that hospitality is second nature for the Spanish people. I remember one day when I casually mentioned to my friend Carmen that Ruth and I were planning to fly from Virginia to the island of Mallorca, she replied “Tell me the flight number and I will meet you there.” Sure enough, she booked a flight from her home in Andalucía, met our plane and devoted two days to showing us the island where she grew up as a little girl. We even had a sumptuous dinner with her family, where Ruth and I met her uncles and aunts and most importantly, her revered father.

A couple of years later, on Good Friday in 2012, we dropped by to visit Carmen and her husband Juan Carlos at his family owned bodega in El Puerto de Santa María. Before we knew it, we were driving with the two of them to visit Juan Carlos’s stately 96-year-old mother. She received us in her drawing room, surrounded by three generations of family members. We even got to chat with the fiancé of her granddaughter. The boyfriend of the other granddaughter was a delightful young man from Scandinavia! They all greeted us warmly – with no thought that we were strangers. The mother apologized that she could not greet us as she normally would because Good Friday was a penitential time, but urged us to return to her home on Easter Sunday, where we would be received properly by her extended family.

It is this kind of spontaneous hospitality that seems ingrained in the Spanish culture. This sense of welcoming and, as George Barrow observed, this “honoring the dignity of human nature” begins at the cradle. The newborn baby is cherished, and showered with affection – not only from his immediate and extended family, but also by his neighborhood – his little universe.

Even when the baby is bundled up for a walk in his stroller, inevitably a kindly old lady will come up, pinch his cheeks, and exclaim adoringly, “¡Que guapo! – How handsome!” and slip him a caramelo.

Even more than that, the little one and her brothers and sisters will be included by the family in all of the events of the day and the evening. When we dine with friends at ten o'clock at night, invariably we will see little children playing together along the margins of the restaurant. They are not viewed as a distraction, but a source of joy. (I think I was in college before I ate out that late! When I was younger, I was popped into bed at an amazingly early hour).

Spanish children feel responsible for one another from an early age, and do not rely on parents to resolve any petty conflicts between them – there is no tearful retreat to mother’s “apron strings.” It is this quality of mutual caring which prepares them for the vicissitudes of life.

I am sure you are aware of the severe economic conditions in Spain. Yet you do not see many violent demonstrations, as dire as the situation may be. My personal theory is that they have grown up in an environment where the extended family can always be counted upon to be there - even the neighborhood.

The jobless youth are not alone; they are welcomed back into the family without question. When there is a misfortune, the family instinctively pulls together, and the neighborhood as well. Let me give you an example from real life in the town where our family lived for a while.

Pacha and her husband Antonio have a very nice life together. They are raising five children – and, of course, grandmother is included in their household. For more than 20 years, Antonio had stable employment in an established business and their future looked secure - that is, until the economic crisis. With little warning, Antonio was laid off and the family of eight people had no income.

Bright and resourceful, Pacha had a close neighborhood friend named Maria facing a similar situation, so they put their heads together and decided to open a café, named Quilla, near the Fuentebravía gate - close to housing on the naval base at Rota. One of her neighbors lent a hand by making available to them a vacant shop he owned.

This was quite a commitment. Normally cafés are open up to 16 hours a day - from around nine in the morning until two or three the next morning, depending upon when the patrons go home from the bar. Prior to opening, Pacha had to go to the municipal market to pick up fresh produce, provisions and bread for the shop. In the meantime, another member of the family had to make sure the children got to school on time.

These long hours were covered by older children in the family as well as friends and neighbors who helped Maria with no thought of compensation. Some of the neighbors donated home cooked dishes to enhance the menu. At various times, others volunteered to cook. To my surprise and delight, I saw my former secretary, Blanca, from the chaplain's office serving desserts that she had made at home. She had no immediate connection with Pacha’s family, and her family owned a small bodega. However, in times of crisis, social position was not given a second thought. All have a common mission.

Last April, Ruth and I returned to the café and found Pacha and her family had established a thriving business. People in the neighborhood recommended the place to their friends, and brought their own families to dine. Of course, this is not a fairytale story. Pacha, Antonio and the children are committed to working long hours. With a little help from their friends they are flourishing as a family and surviving economically. The response to a crisis of these Andalusian families is typical. By helping one another, they preserve their dignity. After all, are we not all part of one family?

Coffee is at the center of virtually all social interaction in Spain. It is as essential to understanding the country as jamón, Spain's iconic ham. Drinking coffee is the event around which the Spaniard organizes his day. It is consumed upon arising; during mid morning break at the office or while shopping. It accompanies the noon meal and at the conclusion of the business day, when people are making a paseo, strolling by cafes in the late afternoon. It is the entrada into tapas time and the focus for impromptu meetings. Your local bartender knows you by name – and your children too!

There is something reassuring about the morning ritual in neighborhood bars across Spain. The bartender presides behind the marble counter as his customers in the neighborhood filter in to begin a new day. He may offer freshly squeezed orange juice, fresh bread and croissants from the local bakery, even thick hot chocolate a la taza (and on Sundays there may be some churros). But the star of the show is clearly his coffee, the preparation of which he executes with pride. It is not from some automatic machine or, even more distressing, from a pot of coffee warming on a hot plate.

The production is serious business and it is served in special ceramic cups as it has been for over a hundred years. If you get to the bar early enough, maybe 9 am or so, you may see that he has lined up a parade of espresso cups, each with its saucer, envelope of cane sugar and a little spoon to stir it. He is ready to greet the day – performing his vital contribution to the community.

A historical note - when Andalucía experienced deep poverty in the aftermath of the Civil War in the early 1940s, many bartenders could not afford ceramic cups, so they served coffee in clear glasses or tumblers. Even today, when cost is no longer such a consideration, many cafés still follow that routine (at the expense of my burnt fingers).

As with any work of art, preparation of espresso coffee is 90% of the story. The bartender addresses his stainless coffee making console as a maestro - with its shiny chrome fittings, clamps and presses, and of course the steam valves, which make the most delicious noise as he turns beans into espresso, and milk into foam. The escaping steam does not create the same level of drama exhibited by the great old train steam engines, but it bravely proclaims "tradition!" in this automated and impersonal age.

He begins with the familiar “clack, clack, clack” as he relentlessly bangs a container against the side of the console to rid it of old coffee grounds. With the whirr of the grinder, he prepares fresh roasted beans, tamps down the fresh ground coffee and clamps it into one of the receptacles of this amazing machine. Finally, with a flick of the switch, the bartender activates the reservoir of steam, and a little stream of rich espresso quietly dribbles into your cup.

You might order café solo – a no nonsense rich coffee - or you may prefer cortado, where it is cut with a small amount of milk. In the morning, many prefer café con leche, where the concentrated coffee is diluted with freshly foamed milk. As a special jet of steam transforms the milk, I suspect the bartender relishes preparing this as his grand finale.

This is a venerable process and each step of the ritual is essential. It is not to be hurried, for then you destroy the comforting rhythm. You might as well dash out to get a semi-automatically made foolproof latté served in a paper cup (!) as you might do at home.

To get to the root of this daily ritual I paid a call on my friend Jaime Borrás, an enthusiastic owner of Catunambú, a coffee roasting company in Sevilla. He is an energetic man whom I first met in the nearby Parador in Carmona (after a 9 hour flight from Dulles) where he regaled me with an immense amount of information about his favorite topic: coffee.

A few days later Ruth, my son Tim, his wife Amy and I met Jaime among piles of cloth and burlap bags of coffee beans in the warehouse of Catunambú, a famous old firm from Sevilla, founded in 1897.

It was an amazing experience to stroll around this fascinating warehouse with Jaime. I saw bags from up to 20 different countries including New Zealand, Papua New Guinea, and of course South America and Africa. They contribute to an array of complex blends that are varied upon request. For example, the house coffee of El Corte Inglés is blended and then roasted by Catunambú, as are the coffees served at the Paradores – the national rural inns.

Catunambú coffees are made of unique blends whose secret is held within the family. Every few days the composition of the blend is adjusted to reflect the current availability of the coffee beans. There are five people present at that meeting: the master roaster and four members of the Borrás family - my friend Jaime, his brother José María, his sister Concha, and of course their father José Manuel. They spend several hours comparing samples of the roasts and adjusting it to maintain its reputation for quality and consistency. They may select up to 16 different varieties of beans for the blend, far more than I can get at my local beanery!

The reason the coffee blends need constant attention, Jaime explained to me, is that at various times of the year the coffee beans grow differently. This is especially so with beans grown in Vietnam and Africa, where there is a considerable amount of humidity, which varies widely during the course of a given year.

Another factor which determines an artisan quality of coffee is how the coffee beans are harvested. On the same plant you will find flowers and unripe beans along with the beans ready for harvest. If only the perfectly ripe berries are plucked from the bush, the coffee beans are superior, but they cost more because the harvesting is labor intensive. As a money saving policy, some plantations strip all of the beans at once even if they are not ripe.

Of course the type of beans are the most important factor is blending a fine coffee. The beans that make up the majority of coffees that Catunambú blends are Arabica. They come from a more delicate plant that is harder to grow, but the quality is far superior. Roasted Arabica beans produce an aromatic, rich coffee with an intense flavor.

Another kind of coffee is called robusto. Although mostly a less expensive bean, there are also high quality robusto beans in the world. It has a full body but very little aroma and is not at all bitter. Catunambú includes quality robusto beans from Papua New Guinea and Java in their blend, adjusting the percentage from either country because the quality is variable.

For acidity, the Borrás family selects coffee from Kenya and Colombia; for aroma, they mix the Colombian coffee with Guatemalan coffee about 50-50; Mexico pluma is very acidic almost like lemon juice; the body comes from Java and Papua New Guinea and the Colombian coffee, which is somewhat weak, fills in the corners. If you look in a bag, you will see some beans, such as Arabica, which have been washed, while the Robusta beans are strip dried.

To fix the base aroma, the Borrás family uses three different coffees from Brazil, because they offer a balance between aroma, taste and body. One coffee bean is Cerrado, which is smooth; another is Minajenais, which has double the flavor; and the third is Santos, which is two times as tasty as Cerrado and has two times the body of Minajenais.

A special blend of coffee rarely found outside of Spain that we offer is called Torrefacto. It is most likely the kind you would savor sitting outdoors at a local café in Spain. Often times our customers want to recreate their experience in Spain with exactitude – and this is the way you can enjoy café con leche as they serve in Granada, Barcelona or Sevilla. The secret is this: they lightly mist a percentage of beans with a sugar solution before roasting them which makes them exceptionally dark and full flavored though not sweet, as the sugar is mostly roasted away.

In the late 15th century, the Borrás family, originally from Mallorca, migrated to Valencia and Alicante and then along the eastern coast of Spain, bordered by the Mediterranean Sea. At first, the family was involved in chocolate production around the city of Tarragona - in the 18th century Spain drank chocolate as the beverage of choice, not coffee.

Later the family migrated to the port of Ceuta, to serve the needs of the Spanish military, which was based in this Spanish enclave in Africa, across from Gibraltar. Their original business remains there to this day. Merchant ships from South America would refuel in the port of Ceuta, and in their holds were bags of coffee beans. The Borrás family recognized the opportunity and was soon roasting coffee as well as chocolate since the same roaster can be used for both.

In the early 20th century, Jaime's father, José Manuel, was sent as a young man to Barcelona in order to learn about chocolate production. The company he visited was Tupinamba. As he learned more about chocolate production and the Borrás family became familiar with the operation of the company, they saw a good business opportunity and purchased Tupinamba – the sister company of Catunambú.

During the subsequent economic realignment of Spain in the mid-1970s after the death of Francisco Franco, the Borrás family had the opportunity to purchase the venerable Catunambú company, a famous old firm from Sevilla founded in 1897. Drawing from their years of experience in Tarragona, Africa and Barcelona they were able to restore Catunambú to its former glory, now known as "El Café de Andalucía!"

In Spain, coffee blends are very regional - there is no national brand of Spanish coffee. Catunambú is mellow and smooth to match the temperament of life in Andalucía. The people in the north of Spain, such as in Barcelona, prefer a coffee such as Tubinamba – it has a more intense flavor, though it is not stronger - it's just more acidic and dark. The Borrás family owns both companies - and each is named after a tribe of Amazonian Indians. Each has a distinct flavor - it is all a matter of taste!

A couple of summers ago, Ruth and I welcomed into our home a friendly young man from Córdoba for a few weeks. Alejandro had just graduated from high school and was preparing to begin university studies in Córdoba upon his return from Virginia. He was inquisitive, eager to learn about American ways, so we included him in our family events, in cookouts with the staff of La Tienda, and of course introduced him to the joys of Red Sox baseball (which he truly enjoys!)

He also was interested in different expressions of Christian worship, comparing them to his experience as a traditional Catholic back home in Córdoba. As we attended various church services and compared the differences and similarities, he told me of his dream to be one of the men who carry on their shoulders the extremely heavy mahogany pasos with images of the Passion of Christ during Semana Santa. This year he turned eighteen and his father gave him permission to take on this arduous responsibility.

Each year Semana Santa, or Holy Week, which leads up to Pascua (Easter) is at the heart of the Spanish culture. This dramatic reenactment of the last days of Jesus’s life on earth is woven into the fabric of Spain, and if you happen upon a Semana Santa celebration, you will be affected by it whether or not you are a believer.

If you are from a Roman Catholic background it will all be familiar, and something in which you can participate and enjoy with little effort. Sometimes for uninitiated North American visitors, it is a puzzling event. It even can be an alienating one: anonymous hooded penitents walking barefoot on the streets into the night, life-sized figures of the passion, which are unnervingly real in their portrayal. However, if you suspend your preconceptions and are willing to identify with the emotion and piety of your Spanish companions I think you will find the processions a memorable experience.

Last month, when we were visiting Alejandro's family in Córdoba, I asked him if he would be willing to share with us what makes Semana Santa meaningful to him. He had just completed training to be a costalero, a man who, with other members of the brotherhood, would be bearing the paso on his shoulders for the first time.

This, unedited, is what he wrote to me in English:

SPANISH SEMANA SANTA
Written by Alejandro Rodríguez Muñoz

La Semana Santa in Spain is a completely different week from the rest in the year: no one is indifferent to it. Every Spaniard takes advantage of this week to enjoy the holidays. However, for most people in Spain these holidays are really special, even a way of life: tradition, passion and strong emotions are the key words this week.

I’m particularly focusing on Semana Santa in Andalucía, specifically in Córdoba.

The previous months before Semana Santa, all the “hermandades” (Brotherhoods) start preparing everything related to this popular week: they select the flowers they’re going to put on the “paso”, they look for a band of trumpets, bugles and drums to play their “marchas”; they design the route they’re following the final day in Semana Santa. Also the “costaleros” start training with the “paso” in order to be ready the final day. (Too many new words? I’m going to explain them later.)

This long preparation is an evidence of the important meaning that Semana Santa has for thousands of people. As I referred before, Semana Santa is a way of life for many “cofrades” who wouldn’t conceive of living without it.

We call somebody a “cofrade” when they’ve got a strong passion to everything related to Semana Santa. These people would know every “marcha” (marchas are the instrumental songs that are played during the procession, normally with trumpets, bugles and drums); every “paso” (“pasos” are the wooden-made figures that represent a part of Christ Passion. They are supported by a base, generally made of mahogany and adorned with, gold or silver leaf). Even the names of every “capataz” (the “capataz” is the person who in the procession guides the “costaleros” who are together under the heavy paso. They’re normally socially recognized).

Generally, in Andalucía it is strange to meet somebody who has not got a special fervor for Semana Santa. Almost every family has got a member who is part of a “hermandad”, and would participate in it as either “nazarenos” - these are the penitents who process before the “paso”), wearing a robe and covering their faces with a “cubrerrostro”; or “Ciriales” (these are four people immediately before the “paso” carrying a high candle); or as “costaleros” (these are the people who carry the “paso”). Regarding the last ones, this emphasizes their passionate involvement with the “hermandad”.

The “pasos” and the images they contain were normally built several decades, even centuries ago. The ones of my “cofradía” for example, were built in 1940’s and 1950’s. That’s why they have such a great value, apart from the time required to make them. They are also considerably heavy, up to 4,000 pounds so loads of “costaleros” are needed to carry it. In my paso, the Christ of the Good Death, we are thirty men under the paso at the same time; and there are more “costaleros” walking behind the paso waiting for the changing time, so that no one has to carry it all the hours of the procession.

Anybody can enter on a “hermandad”. They just have to register themselves and pay a donation. Nevertheless, it is not common to belong to many “hermandades”. Normally, someone who wants to enter is really devoted to the image that is carried on the “paso,” or is part of the parish where the “hermandad” comes from. There is a strong feeling that makes you decide to belong to a brotherhood: not only devotion, but also family tradition or special faith.

In Córdoba, the route of the processions is not too long, around 6-8 hours in most cases. However, in Sevilla for example, some of the processions have a 10-12 hour route (hard for penitents). The processions go through the main streets in the city and everybody is outside watching them. Thousands of people in the street are living the Semana Santa with joy, passion, fraternity and penitence; a mix of feelings that characterizes this week.

I hope this explanation will help you. Any further information, please don't hesitate in asking me. I'm proud of writing all of this for you.

I think you can feel that Alejandro is innately proud of his contribution to his community as he joins his brothers in the hermandad. As you can see from his letter, he is proud to be able to tell all of us about how meaningful his Semana Santa experience is – and he is writing us in English, no less.

I hope many of you will take the opportunity in Spain to witness this unique experience, which is a special part of the Latin culture across the world – from Toledo in Spain to Manila in The Philippines.

Su amigo,
Don

I have talked with some Spaniards within our La Tienda community who tell us how they are building new lives in America. Still more tell stories about their grandparents, parents, uncles or aunts who left everything behind in Spain to take advantage of fresh opportunities for their families in America. Some of them were fishermen from Galicia, miners from Asturias and mountain people of the Basque Country. Their sense of adventure and perseverance is why their Spanish descendants prosper today in America.

A parallel drama is occurring here at La Tienda in Virginia, where our staff is composed of at least a dozen different nationalities from Latin America, Asia and Europe. Many, like the Spaniards of an earlier generation, have come from areas of civil war and poverty, and are determined to start a new life.

Through La Tienda, our family tries the best we can to support them with health benefits and a great working environment. They are welcomed as one of us in the La Tienda family. In the long run, perhaps the most valuable resource we provide them is the opportunity to learn the English language.

When Raúl, a husband and father, joined us, he could only sign his name with an “X”. He now uses English as his first written language, and is proud that he speaks his newly acquired language with growing fluency. Another worker, Evelyn, left behind her large family in El Salvador, and is working hard to support herself and her family as best she can. Her face lights up with a smile when she speaks to me in English.

Another of our employees, Lisseth, is a remarkable woman, inquisitive and full of energy. She is one who has prospered within the family of La Tienda workers. In fact, she has done so well that we have just promoted her to Line Supervisor in our warehouse.

Lisseth Borrego and her husband were happily married for fourteen years when they decided to take the risk of leaving the familiar confines of Cuba in order to improve life for themselves and their children in the United States. They knew there would be major challenges as they tried to adapt to a new culture and way of life. One cannot anticipate all the bumps in the road.

Because they spoke no English at all they knew this would be a major hurdle to climb. However, Lisseth had hoped that with a degree in elementary education from Cuba, there might be some slot for her, however humble, within the American school system. Unfortunately, it turned out that her skills were not marketable.

In an interview by Narille Living in the Williamsburg Neighbors Magazine, Lisseth said, “It was very hard the first two years I was here. I was nervous about going places because I wasn’t sure where it was safe and where it wasn’t. My husband and children were the only family I had here, so I didn’t even have anyone else to ask questions.” But Lisseth was undaunted. She was determined to learn to speak and read English, so that she would not spend her life being fearful, looking in from outside.

Then she signed up for a job at La Tienda and proceeded to work diligently. To her delight, Lisseth soon discovered that La Tienda provided free classes for any employees who wanted to learn English. The tutors came to our work site because of our partnership with a wonderful local group called Literacy for Life, associated with the College of William & Mary, staffed largely by volunteers. Neighbors from the Williamsburg area give their time to meet with those new to the area who would like to learn English.

Lisseth enthusiastically took advantage of this opportunity. Once a week for two hours she attended classes with some of her fellow employees. Wanting to progress as quickly as possible, she also signed up for sessions held after work. In September 2011, she passed her citizenship test, and a month later was sworn in as a United States citizen.

Now Lisseth is able to help fellow workers who do not understand as much English as she does. Although she does not know whether she could become a tutor herself, she encourages others to continue their efforts to learn. She has advice for those who might be struggling with learning the English language. “It’s hard, but if I can do it, you can do it,” she emphasizes.

We are proud to offer help to these hard-working immigrants, and they have become part of our La Tienda family. But we know that they deserve the most credit, for their courage and determination to start a new life and their commitment to learn a new language and learn a new way of living. Like the immigrants from Spain, current and of generations past, they are seeking out a better life for their families, while still treasuring the culture and traditions of their own countries.  

Su amigo,
Don

Through La Tienda, my family and I seek to generate the same trust that was typically earned in simpler times - a time when people bought from the neighbors they knew. Of course you are not able to be personal friends with the Manchego cheese artisan in La Mancha, but we are able to know Fernando in your stead!

We continue to befriend the hard working Spanish artisans who produce the high quality food you seek for your table. Our mission is for you to trust our judgment and feel assured that the traditional person-to-person way of doing business is still possible, ironically, with the help of the Internet.

The relationship I am referring to is what I experienced as a child. I would go with my mother to the butcher shop where Mr. Higgins would give her the best meat that he had on hand – even during the wartime rationing. They had known each other for many years, and over that period of time a sense of trust built up between them.

During the spring and summer during my high school days, I would stop by a local farm truck to pick up freshly harvested produce. The owner, Mr. Hittinger, knew me well, as his daughter and I were in the same class in school. That same trust with Mr. Higgins was there too, because we had lived in the same community for most of our lifetimes. I knew that the vegetables and fruit from Mr. Hittinger’s vegetable stand and greenhouse would always be safe and healthy.

Of course, the variety of produce was limited to the seasonal vegetables and fruits that grew in the region: asparagus in April, strawberries in June and sweet corn in August. There were no raspberries from Chile in November or mangoes from Mexico in January and I did not expect them.

What I have just described happened in my lifetime; but two or three hundred years ago the produce you ate most likely was grown within a few miles of your dwelling, and if you did not grow it yourself, you surely knew all about the person who did. The idea of eating food that was grown anonymously thousands of miles away was beyond the consumer’s comprehension.

Today it is quite different. We rely on government agencies to monitor our food supply and the global food chain is governed by logistics rather than products: uniform spherical tomatoes or California peaches supplied when we can pick them off the trees in Virginia.

The bond of trust between the provider and the consumer hardly exists, except in the nascent buy local/farmers market movement. It goes without saying that the kind of arrangement provided by well meaning government bureaucracy, or the less benign marketplace controlled by agribusiness, does not generate the same level of trust people formed with one another over the years.

In a couple of days, my wife Ruth and I will be spending three weeks traveling hundreds of kilometers throughout Spain, from Santiago to Sevilla. We will be meeting and sometimes dining with the families of artisans who provide La Tienda food for your table. Our son Tim has returned from an extensive visit with several of our artisan jamón producers. There is no substitute for being on the scene and sitting down for a meal together.

We are especially interested in the classic bread from Galicia, which has been greeted with such enthusiasm within the La Tienda community. Ruth and I look forward to getting to know these bakers better, and perhaps along the way discovering another classic Spanish bread or two for you to enjoy.

The first place we will visit, just an hour from Santiago de Compostela, is Lugo, a medieval city encircled by 1,800 year old Roman walls. On the outskirts of the town is the bakery where we will meet the people who make the great Galician breads and rolls that so many of us enjoy.

Next we are taking a slight detour to the small Celtic town of San Cristóbal de Cea, whose local bakers use a 13th century recipe to make what they proclaim to be the best bread in the world. And maybe it is! By chance about twenty years ago, Ruth and I pulled into this village with a van full of hungry kids to feed ("I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m thirsty"), and were amazed at the quality of the bread. We never forgot it, and now we have found it again! Whether we can transport the crusty airy loaves to America is another challenge.

Later in the trip we will visit the small town of Alfacar, near Granada, where a legendary bread is baked following a recipe from Moorish times. This ancient bread has been highly coveted in all of Andalucía for hundreds of years. It will be quite different from the airy, crusty bread of Galicia, perhaps with an olive oil base. I will let you know what we discover.

I won’t burden you with every detail, except to mention that we will be visiting the baker of our Magdalenas muffins, looking for a potentially classic bread from Granada and finally we will be greeted by the people of the ancient town of Antequera whose town bakery provides us with traditional molletes rolls.

We find it important to participate in the spiritual core of Spain as well, so we will start our journey at Santiago de Compostela and will join with the Spanish people who observe Semana Santa. After attending the celebration of Domingo de Ramos (Palm Sunday) in the magnificent cathedral of Toledo, we will drive south to Andalucía. In Córdoba, Ruth and I will spend much of the day with the Rodríguez family. Their eldest son, Alejandro, was a guest in our home in Williamsburg for a few weeks and he will be part of one of the brotherhoods whose men carry heavy pasos in the Semana Santa processions. His father, Abel, is an old friend of ours whose company supplies us with the amazing fresh frozen Ibérico de Bellota chops and steaks.

We will spend the rest of the week in Priego de Córdoba enjoying the solemn Semana Santa observances. Priego is a beautiful white town perched on a cliff, surrounded by olive groves as far as the eye can see. There we will get together with Fermín and Aixa Rodríguez and taste their latest pressing of Señorío de Vizcántar extra virgin olive oil which he personally bottles for us. At the edge of town we will meet Antonio and his wife Maria who hand cook San Nicasio potato chips in extra virgin olive oil.

In addition to visiting our friends in their family enterprises, we keep an eye on the Spanish food scene in general so as to anticipate possible problems. For example, a few years ago low quality Iranian saffron was destroying the traditional market for the famous saffron of La Mancha. Most people would not know how to discern false saffron from the real thing. But we moved quickly to identify María Angeles and Juan Antonio, who had a sterling reputation for honesty and diligence, and shifted all our saffron orders to them.

Quality control is a special consideration when it comes to extra virgin olive oil. Some of you may have read the marvelous new book called Extra Virginity, which among other things outlines the extensive treachery and deceit in the industry. The author asserts that at least 60% of supermarket olive oil is adulterated. It can be hard to identify the tainted olive oil, so we solve that problem by relying on individual producers of integrity.

We have visited Rosa and Francisco in their Castillo (de Canena). Fermín and Aixa are like family with their cute little Sophia, and we count Hans and Daida de Roos, who live in their 12th century finca, Can Solivera, as dear friends, and paragons of integrity. Hans is justifiably proud that their oil has been chosen by the chef of one of the top restaurants in Spain, El Celler de Can Roca in Girona.

We want to reassure you that when we say we offer you the best of Spain, it is not an empty slogan. And there is always room for improvement. We are now encouraging producers in Spain to produce certified humane jamones, so that the animals will be valued as living creatures as they always were before the advent of industrial food production.

My very best to you and your loved ones (and your local farmer),
Don

I just read an article in the paper this morning that illustrates the deep roots of the Spanish culture, which has enabled them both to endure and to enjoy the turns of life. Their fortitude comes from a deep sense of family and community, which seems to be absorbed into the core of their being.

Just in my lifetime, the Spanish family has experienced a ruinous civil war followed by years of famine. Then they enjoyed a fabulous social rebirth to become the European leader in the arts, sports and cuisine. Yet now Spaniards are facing a severe economic crisis with nearly half of the young Spaniards under 25 without a job. But the feeling in the streets is neither violent nor depressed. There are remnants of indignados standing in Madrid’s Puerta del Sol, who are chatting with passers-by. They are understandably indignant, but they are not antisocial.

Because they are resilient, sustained by their family and their neighbors, Spaniards are prepared to enjoy good fortune as well. I want to share with you a vignette that illustrates the depth of their healthy community feeling -- in good times as well as hard times.

El Gordo is the gigantic national lottery, which consumes much of Spain’s attention during the winter months, as people dream of acquiring an immense, life-changing amount of money. What is unusual about the Spanish lottery however, is that it is designed so that there are several winners, not just one winner-take-all, which is the usual American structure of any kind of a contest. In 2012, El Gordo had 138 winners for the top prize: the identical winning number was printed many times! In addition, it is structured so that if you are low on cash you can buy portions of one ticket -- it becomes sort of a communal ticket, which you share with your neighbors.

It is the custom of the people in this tiny village in the Pyrenees to buy their tickets from a woman who deposits the small profit from the sales in a fund to buy decorations for the town feria. This year the lottery lady canvassed the town as she always does, making sure that everyone had the opportunity to participate. It was a little more of a difficult sell this year because each ticket costs $26 and this year the region was experiencing a severe drought in addition to the national economic crisis.

One older woman really wanted to buy a ticket, as she has customarily done each year, but she was extremely short of cash. She asked the lottery lady to set a ticket aside for her, and promised to bring the money later when she could. On the edge of town lived a Greek filmmaker, who for whatever reason, perhaps he was overlooked, did not participate in the lottery at all.

As you might imagine, the weeks leading up to the drawing were filled with anticipation. The bounty is so huge that people fantasize that all their problems will be solved. The 2012 drawing was almost that true, since an amazing $950 million -- all the first prize tickets -- were rained down in this tiny anonymous village of dirt farmers and unemployed construction workers.

How did it turn out for the lady who was not able to raise enough money to buy the ticket she had reserved? As you might imagine, she felt a little sheepish and actually sent over her young son to see whether the ticket had been reserved for her, despite her inability to pay for it in time. The neighbor-lady in charge of the lottery welcomed the little boy and said, "Of course your mother has her share of the lottery. I saved the ticket for her anyway."

The man on the edge of the town who did not get to purchase a ticket took the turn of events philosophically. He said that a neighbor called him up right after the news came out over the television and offered him a fair price for some spare property he had been trying to sell. So he felt he had gained from the lottery as well. Soon after he accepted his neighbor’s offer he got another phone call in which he was offered a higher price. But he took the first lower offer, being true to his word. He wouldn't do otherwise he said, "After all, we live in this town together."

One farmer sitting in the town’s only café was quoted as saying: "This money means that now we can breathe. And the best part is that it isn’t just me. Everybody won." It is this age old interconnectedness which sustains the Spanish family and the Spanish nation. On this level, individual good fortune is trumped by a feeling of brotherhood. They are their brother’s keeper.

Su amigo,
Don

I have great faith in the resilience of the Spanish people. As I think of the major economic crisis my Spanish friends are facing today as a nation, I am reminded of one of my favorite essays: a story of perseverance and triumph despite challenging times.

I would like to share the remarkable story of my friends Pedro and Isabella Díaz, a devoted couple whom I met in Spain in 1975. Pedro is no longer with us, he died in 2006, but the life he lived with his beloved Isabella lives beyond him. Pedro and Isabella are the embodiment of the best of traditional Spain, and an example of the New Spain that has risen out of the ashes of the Civil War. Their story reflects ensuing decades of sacrifice that eventually gave birth to the stronger and healthier Spain we know today.

Our families formed a close bond that grew over the past thirty years or so. We, as parents, have grown old together – and enjoy each other's children and grandchildren. My wife Ruth and I feel especially close to one of their daughters, Olga, since for a few months she lived with us in Virginia, some twenty years ago. Later, I had the privilege of solemnizing her marriage in a medieval church in the sherry town of Jerez de la Frontera.

Pedro was the son of a shoemaker in the ancient Atlantic seaport of Cádiz – one of my favorite communities in Spain. Born in 1934, two years before the beginning of bitter Civil War, which tore the fabric of the nation, and then plunged the mourning survivors into years of famine. The 1940's and 1950's were a time of profound deprivation for the people of Spain as the shattered nation tried to piece together a cohesive life, altogether isolated by her European neighbors. Hunger stalked the land for many years. Theirs was a struggle for survival.

In 1952, when Pedro was 18 years old, he left home to join the Spanish navy, La Armada Española, and lived the life of a sailor. Like many young men his age throughout the world, he went to sea in order to find his place in life. Providentially, as a young, able-bodied seaman, he was chosen to be a member of the crew that was returning a ship to the Americans. After crossing the Atlantic to New York, the ship sailed to its new home port in San Diego.

There Pedro contracted a serious lung condition, which landed him in the Balboa Naval Hospital for several months. He was all alone in a strange country. His Spanish shipmates had to leave him behind because he was too ill to travel. But a warm and generous woman named Robin who was a volunteer nurse befriended Pedro and helped him to learn English while he was convalescing.

Pedro was an eager learner, so the student and the teacher became fast friends; he became in many ways her adopted son. Recognizing what a bright and earnest young man he was, Robin gave him some money with the provision that he return to Spain and go to school once he had recovered.

Pedro loved learning. Completing schooling in Spain, he then went on his own to Oxford for a year to perfect his English. He had no money, except for a small gift from Robin, and lived by his wits in order to complete his studies. He maintained a correspondence with his benefactor back in California for the rest of Robin's life.

After his studies in England, he returned to Andalucía briefly, only to leave for France to learn the French language. This time he was totally on his own. Finally, he returned to his family in Cádiz, several years older and wiser. There he intended to settle down to work with his father as a shoemaker. But he was always open to opportunities.

He heard a rumor that the Americans were going to establish a large naval base near the fishing village of Rota, in conjunction with the Spanish navy. So he rode a local bus for an hour or two to Rota – he was there to meet the US Navy.

The naval officers welcomed him warmly because he was one of the very few Spaniards who could speak any English. That very day the Americans put him to work to teach English to his countrymen. From that time on until he retired 40 years later Pedro was at the Naval Base teaching Spanish sailors how to speak English and American sailors how to speak Spanish!

Rota was a little far to commute from his family in Cádiz, so he looked for a room in the neighboring town of Jerez de la Frontera. A carpenter and his family living over their shop rented a room to this ingenious young man. Soon he was included at the family table, where he came to know their daughter named Isabella Buzón. At first, she was somewhat skeptical of Pedro, he was a bit too exotic for her – he dressed modishly and was not like "the boy next door." Nevertheless, Pedro had dancing brown eyes and a warm heart. They fell in love and within nine months, they were married!

The Díaz family still resides in Jerez de la Frontera, as they always have. There Pedro and Isabella raised three bright daughters: Inmaculada, Olga, and Eva. Inma is married to a Spaniard from her hometown and has a traditional Spanish family. Olga and Eva married Americans. Both sisters are teachers, following in the footsteps of their father. In fact, Olga has replaced Pedro in the classroom on the Naval Base. Just as her father translated letters for me in years past, now Olga translates my updates!

When I first came to Rota with my young family, Pedro was an invaluable partner, both personally when he helped us get settled in the Spanish culture; and professionally helping me to locate a site for a retreat ministry I had designed called CREDO / Esperanza. Because of his deep faith and close ties to his church, he opened many doors for me. You can read about this in my Christmas 2006 Flavors.

Pedro opened many doors for others as well. As he rose to become the intercultural affairs coordinator for the Commanding Officer, he worked assiduously to bring Americans and local Spaniards together so that they could work in harmony.

After years of wandering as a young man, Pedro found a spiritual anchor in his beloved Isabella who was always by his side. She is a pious woman, practicing her traditional age-old faith. With members of her ladies group at the parish she has attended many pilgrimages, including the famous El Rocío, across the Guadalquivir River in the province of Huelva. Isabella remains a spiritual anchor today. As a mother and grandmother, she continues to lend her loving and faithful support to her extended family.

Old Spain and new: steeped in tradition, yet always eager to integrate the changing times. That is the story of the shoemaker's son and the carpenter's daughter. To my mind, people such as this devoted couple are the bedrock of Spain and an inspiration to all of us.

My best to you and to those whom you love,
Don

The essence of the holidays is the celebration of loving relationships, especially within the family. It is the time for children with their joy and enthusiasm and their sense of wonder. What fun it is to be with them as they open their presents with such gusto! It is not the gifts so much as the gathering that remains in our memories with the happiness it engenders.

There is an added dimension for the Christian, and that is the belief that God came to live with us – as a child. The image of Mary and Jesus has deep emotional meaning beyond any theological interpretation. Moreover, it is the same bond of family that saturates the eight days of Chanukah, or, for that matter, any family gathering where love is shared. For at least in my understanding, our ability to love is a gift from God.

I have had the privilege of getting to know many families as I have traveled the byways of Spain, and over the years I have written down some impressions of the heart of these unique group of people we call Spaniards. I would like to share with you a little of what I have written about them, for in my heart I believe their way of life is a model as to how we all can live during the holidays and then beyond, as we seek to fan the flame of family love in our hearts:

What is at the heart of Spain? It is being together as a family, and the special way in which they cherish their children. This begins with the experience of young childhood where the little boy or girl is showered with love within the family, and treasured by the neighborhood. There is no fear of 'spoiling' the child.

The heart of Spain is fostered by daily encounters of affection expressed within the family and neighborhood. From a childhood immersed in seemingly unconditional love, comes an eagerness to engage in personal interchange, and a willingness to maintain these personal relationships through frequent contact. When one begins life with this kind of affirmation, it becomes second nature to engage friend and stranger alike with a kind of personal intimacy.

The companionship of their family soon extends to all those whom they touch. Spaniards refer to people by their given name; in greeting they embrace even the stranger; they acknowledge fellow diners; they sit shoulder to shoulder in the bullring. It is an intimacy that comes from treating one another as sacred, as people of worth.

Needless to say, mine is an idealized image; we are all flawed human beings affected by the vicissitudes of life. That being said, it is this foundation of caring through the communal experience that endows Spaniards with a certain dignity and grace, and a willingness to engage the world with hospitality. Theirs is not a closed society where the value of privacy is elevated; it has always been a way of life that is warm and welcoming.

Uncles and aunts, cousins and grandparents are next-door neighbors. They see each other several times a week while shopping at the local market or at their favorite tapas bar. Members of the family often operate local shops, work together in the fields, or man the fishing boats. These kinds of relationships stand the test of time, and mature throughout the years of one’s life. Even today, this is the customary way of life throughout much of Spain.

There is nothing that can assure our spiritual well being more than a loving, caring human presence. We can never replace the experience of hospitality conveyed face to face – and why should we? It is this duende – a difficult to define Spanish phrase that connotes emotion and authenticity – that is the heart of Spain. It is also her gift to the world.

I think many of you would enjoy getting to know some of my friends I write about – Lola, Fermín, Carmen, Miguel and Jorge. They are churning cheese, harvesting saffron, blending sherry, aging hams, making homemade soups. You can meet them in the pages of my book, The Heart of Spain: Families and Food. It is not a commercial venture so much as a way to spread the word about such a warm and caring culture.

¡Que viva la familia Española!

Feliz Navidad,
Don

If you ever get to visit the fascinating port of Cádiz that guards the Atlantic approach to the Mediterranean in Southern Andalucía, the first place to go is an astonishing public market, which features rows upon rows of fresh catches from the Atlantic Ocean. You will see burly fishermen slicing enormous steaks of swordfish; other fishing families have artistically arranged their merluza so that the slender fish bare their needle sharp teeth while biting their own tails! The last time we were there, a young fisherman was entertaining passersby with lilting songs from the sea as he sliced fillets of tuna!

Get there early, as the people in the market start winding up things at about noon. It is a memorable experience which will never be suggested in any travel book – even the beautiful town of Cádiz, on a peninsula surrounded by beaches, is hardly ever mentioned because it is a little off of the beaten path of tourism. There is an underground garage along the beach close to the cathedral, which is the perfect place to park your car, as the market is only a few yards walk through ancient cobblestone alleys.

Ruth, I and our boys lived in the neighboring port town called El Puerto de Santa Maria in the early 1970s, where I have fond memories of visiting our local municipal market every Saturday morning – hardly the scale of the Cádiz market, but equally friendly. I enjoyed interacting with our honest neighbors who were standing in their stalls every day to offer us the best they could find. I would see amazing freshly picked green vegetables right out of the garden; lots of local berries and fruit; wheels of local cheese; slabs of fresh locally sourced meat; and an astonishing display of the fruit of the sea – whether it be fish that swam in the ocean last night, or an array of shellfish and other sea creatures -- many of which were still alive!

To this day, I remember the cheerful face of a woman whom I called the ‘spinach lady’ because her stall was always piled high with the most elaborate greens in town. Not far from her were amazing fruit stalls where the owners spent a long time each day meticulously building symmetrical pyramids of blood oranges and clementinas. One of my favorite scenes to watch was a farm lady who kept retrieving tiny snails who were wisely crawling away to freedom from her bowl.

One of those Saturdays I forgot my wallet. I was embarrassed when I realized there was nothing in my pocket to pay the fisherman for a beautiful swordfish steak he had just carved for me. He immediately sensed my distress and said, “Take the swordfish with you. You can pay me when you return to the market some other day. By the way,” he continued as he reached in his pocket for a 1,000 peseta bill, "take this money so you can finish your shopping!"

Amazed at his generosity and trust, I finished my shopping errands without having to return home empty handed. My trip included an obligatory stop at the churro lady’s stand, where she served me sizzling hot churros in a newspaper cone for 50 pesetas.

Of course, I am describing the joys of what we now call a farmers market in America, where the produce and meat we buy are from the real human beings whom we get to meet and know. We begin to appreciate the cycle of the seasons, as well as the crops and the farmers. It is the natural way of preparing for meals, and that is the secret to the food we enjoy in Spain. There we enjoy simplicity of flavors, fresh seasonal vegetables and fruits, and a reliance on generations old recipes, which conform to the seasonal cycle.

We have one time a year in America when we pause from our usual buying habits of packaged food from far away places, and follow the same seasonal approach as they do in Spain. That is on Thanksgiving Day, our traditional harvest meal. The dinner has a special meaning in American folklore because it marks the time when the first grateful settlers gathered around a common table with some of their native neighbors, and thanked God for the harvest that saved them from famine.

Our traditional American menu that day is straightforward, in many ways following the simple, honest traditional cooking in Spain that lets the ingredients shine. The centerpiece is a large turkey, simply cooked and served, much as lamb or suckling pig is presented in Spain. The golden roasted turkey is surrounded with local squashes and potatoes. In areas that are more rural, side dishes of pickles and preserves made in the kitchen earlier in the year may also be served. Cranberry sauce, made with cranberries grown on Cape Cod by the Pilgrims, is a standard garnish. Finally, we top off the meal with another American treat: pumpkin or apple pie. Every one of the ingredients on the table is available in the fall, harvest time, and is served in a straightforward manner, showcasing its natural flavors.

Our American Thanksgiving meal, with its focus on community, family and honest seasonal foods, reminds me of many meals that we enjoyed in Spain that featured local products and hospitable company gathered around a table. It is a way of hospitality that extends to all social interactions, not only one ceremonial time of the year.

Sometimes when Ruth and I go to Spain, our neighbors here in Williamsburg will ask whether our trip is for business or pleasure, but that is an unanswerable question because it is not appropriate to categorize hospitality. For example, I have known one man for over ten years. Our initial contact was at a trade fair where his company was seeking to export Jamón Ibérico. Now, every time Ruth and I, or our sons, pass through Córdoba on our various trips, he will take us out to dinner with his wife and three boys. We will enjoy meats and vegetables from the local countryside with a businessman who welcomes us as if we are family.

The Spanish culture revolves around the community rather than the individual. It is all about gathering around a table together and enjoying each other’s company, whether is for café con leche or a big paella. The catalyst for this vital interchange is honest food – amazingly fresh, simply prepared. In some ways, they try to capture the essential spirit of Thanksgiving Day every day of the year.

May you and your loved ones enjoy a loving Thanksgiving Day together, celebrating the hospitality of your family and friends.

Su amigo,
Don

Pork and ham are the foundation of Spain's cuisine, and in many ways its culture. Visit any supermarket (worth its snout) and you will see dozens of jamones hanging from the rafters - and that means hoof and all. Anywhere you visit in this large country, whether it be in the mountains, on the high plains, or along the ocean, you will encounter the iconic ham of Spain. When I was a young man in the Navy with a small family living on a tight budget, I didn't pay too much attention to the ham. But what a shame it was to be living in the heart of Spain oblivious of the food that is her essence.

Especially during the holidays, most households, whether wealthy or humble, will have a jamón on a stand prominently placed on the counter as a sign of hospitality. It is presented in a special wooden stand, with a very long, thin super sharp knife next to it – ready for any friend or family member to slice off a few thin slivers, to be eaten with cheese on a sandwich or with one of many tapas – or just by itself. It will take a few weeks for the whole leg of jamón, weighing 14 or 15 pounds, to be consumed.

It is an art to slice the ham paper thin, but it is a skill well worth learning. My grandson, named Sam, lived in Cádiz with his family for six months. Before long, he had mastered the craft although he was just 9 years old! He would proudly serve a plateful of the thin slices arranged like petals of a daisy as the rest of us were sitting on the patio enjoying the day with a glass of sherry in hand.

However, it is not just during the holidays that you will encounter ham and pork – it is all year-round. You will see tasty chunks of ham in your cocido or country stew, garlic soup, and sometimes in the tortilla Española potato omelet you are served – not to mention the sausages and chorizos unique to hundreds of villages and towns. You will find it as a tapa accompanying Manchego cheese and cracked olives, or served with seafood – the other staple of Spain.

Even among the remains of the cavemen of Altamira, the earliest settlers of Spain, archaeologists have found the bones of pigs, indicating that they were a source of food. The people of Spain consume more pork and ham per capita than any other people on the face of the earth. There are two reasons for this: first, the pig provides an extraordinary amount of nourishment with virtually no waste – it is a very efficient source of food, which has been used for millennia across the world.

The second is a historical reason. As most of you realize, the Christian Spaniards embarked on a 700 year-long struggle to reclaim their homeland from the invaders from Africa and the Middle East, chafing within a society dominated by Islam. They termed this counter-insurgence the Reconquista, or the Reconquest. An easy and certain way to distinguish themselves from their foes, the Muslims, was to make pork central to their diet. So for practical and cultural reasons, ham and pork became foundational.

As the knights reclaimed many villages and towns, they would entrust the reclaimed land to the local Christians, as a sort of grant, thereby assuring the territory would remain in friendly hands. In exchange for their loyalty the local people gained pastures and woodlands to husband. It was not the severe vassalage system of Europe across the Pyrenees. Some of the land was used to raise crops and some to graze sheep and pigs. In fact, much of the choice pastureland and forests of the dehesa, where the prized Ibérico pigs flourish, was originally designated for that purpose centuries ago.

The native pig of the Iberian Peninsula is called the cerdo Ibérico and it has roamed the Peninsula for hundreds and hundreds of years. In earlier times, it was viewed as nothing special; it was just the normal Spanish pig. In more recent times, after the horrendous years of deprivation caused by the Civil War and World War II and its aftermath, Spaniards began to distinguish some of the hams from others by brand names such as Cinco Jotas, Pata Negra and Joselito. On the other hand, they might identify the jamón by the location where it was cured, such as the hams of the former Moorish fortress of Teruel, or the mile high village of Trevélez in the snowcapped Sierra Nevadas of Granada.

About 30 years ago, there was a recognition by the government and producers that there should be a way to distinguish one ham from another – the kind of pig it came from and how long it was cured.

As you can see, if you have any knowledge of the production of American ham and pork, what we are describing in Spain is almost another type of meat. That is why I prefer to call American ham 'ham,' and Spanish ham 'jamón,' as an easy way to avoid confusion. When we think of a Christmas or Easter ham in North America, we probably think of thick slices of juicy meat, which has been roasted for several hours with cloves, and then perhaps glazed with brown sugar and pineapple! Moreover, when we think of a ham sandwich we usually go to the deli counter and have them thinly slice pieces from a giant roll of cooked ham. We put those between slices of white toast or rye bread spread with a little mayonnaise and perhaps spicy mustard -- and there you have it.

Besides, if you know a little more about the production of ham in the U.S., you know that it is made moist by pumping it with water. We certainly would never dream of buying or serving it with the hoof on – heaven forbid!

I would like to guide you through the different variations of Spanish jamón and pork - in the most general sort of way. For more detail, I encourage you to visit jamon.com, our website dedicated to all things ham.

First, there are essentially two types of ham and pork available. One comes from the familiar white or pink pig, which is raised all over Europe and the U.S. In Spain, it becomes jamón Serrano, a dry-cured country ham, somewhat like Italian prosciutto, and unlike American country ham, in that it is neither smoked nor heavily salted.

The other kind, as I mentioned before, is the Ibérico. It comes from an ancient breed quite distinct from the pigs with which you and I are familiar. The sows bear small litters and the young pigs are raised for about two years before being slaughtered. The most highly prized pork comes from Ibérico pigs that feast on acorns from holm oak and cork trees (such as the kind that Ferdinand the Bull used to lounge under). The hams are hung to cure for up to four years, with the consequential loss of perhaps 40% of their weight. The result is a finely marbled ham called Jamón Ibérico de Bellota, which is 60% monounsaturated fat like olive oil: a sliver of which melts in your mouth at 70°F.

This is the Beluga caviar of hams, highly prized, and cured only in one part of Spain from a limited number of pigs. The exquisite flavor, the rarity of the animal, the many years it takes to breed in a free-range situation and the long curing time all contribute to its elite status in the ham world. Remember, this ham is enjoyed over a period of weeks – it is not that roasted glazed ham that you polish off in one Christmas meal!

Over the last few years the prime cuts of Ibérico, which used to be used exclusively for sausage making, have become popular as fresh cooked premium pork. The cuts have unusual names, but are all delicious: presa (shoulder steak), solomillo (tenderloin steak), secreto (skirt steak) and pluma (end loin). The pork is spectacularly different from the 'other white meat' marketed in the United States. With its dark color, it resembles a succulent filet mignon beefsteak.

There is also a world of delicious sausages made from Serrano and Ibérico pork, ranging in price from a few dollars for a typical chorizo to over a hundred dollars for the finest lomo Ibérico. Chorizo, lomo (pork loin), salchichón, sobrasada, fuet, butifarra, cular, longaniza - the list of great sausages from different parts of Spain speaks to the ubiquity of Spanish cured pork.

In Spain, the most popular cured sausage is called chorizo, kind of like pepperoni but seasoned with pungent pimentón smoked paprika. Salchichón, cured with black peppercorns, is somewhat similar to Italian salami. To continue the Italian parallels (which are only approximate), jamón Serrano is like prosciutto de Parma.

Spain's history, tradition and geography are all intertwined with its iconic cured meats. To learn more, especially about jamón, please visit our sister website, jamon.com. I hope that any of you who have not yet tasted Spain’s ham and sausages will take the opportunity to enjoy this central part of her cuisine.

Su amigo,
Don

When our family founded La Tienda fifteen years ago, Ruth and I imagined we were putting together a cozy mom-and-pop business in our retirement so that we could work together with our sons while sharing our love for Spain. The first days of La Tienda began with our son Jonathan working in our basement every day, learning all about the new world of the Internet.

It was winter when we stacked our first inventory of jamón Serrano in our basement. I still recall loading a few hams at a time into my SUV, and driving to our local UPS package service for delivery to our customers. While waiting for the hams, our first customers requested other Spanish favorites, such as extra virgin olive oil, Manchego cheese, tins of bonito tuna, their favorite sauces and special paella rice. At our first 'office' over a dentist's office, we stored all of these items on shelves we fashioned from 2x8 planks resting on cement blocks!

As La Tienda began to grow, our son Tim was able to join us full time. He brought invaluable experience about Internet commerce he had gained from three years running his own dot-com. The two brothers and I are still working together every day.

Today we have a climate controlled warehouse where all of the great products from Spain are kept in optimal condition. We send out hundreds of orders every day to homes across the country. The 2x8 shelves and the hams stashed in the garage are now an amusing memory.

How did this amazing story unfold?

I see two factors that closely intersect. First is that for years, I fostered our family's appreciation of all aspects of the people and their way of life in all corners of Spain. Second, with the advent of the Internet, our deep knowledge and enthusiasm for Spain and her food could be widely shared.

Ruth and I have been involved in Spain and her culture for most of our married lives. It began when, as a newlywed Navy chaplain, I discovered the people of Spain on my first Med Cruise in 1965. Over the years Ruth and I, and later our family, have enjoyed meeting hundreds of farmers and craftsmen who take pride in making things the traditional way. What a joy it is to meet them personally, and to break bread together.

However, we have not just been travelers. Our youngest son, Christopher, was born in 1975 when we lived in El Puerto de Santa María, next to the naval base at Rota. At the time, his older brother Tim was attending El Centro Inglés, a Spanish/English primary school. Later Tim returned to Spain to spend a summer with a Spanish household in Sevilla. Their brother Jonathan spent two months between college semesters walking the 400-mile Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route – all the way from France, and returned there on his honeymoon. Chris returned to spend a summer in La Coruña.

Our enjoyment of Spain continues to grow. It is amazing to think that few people, even those who live in Spain, have visited more areas of Spain than we have. However, none of what we have accomplished could have happened without the advent of the computer and the emerging technology of the Internet.

In 1968, I had a frustrating experience, which drove home to me the value of the computer, which was just then coming on the scene. I was a young Navy chaplain stationed at the Coast Guard boot camp in Alameda, and needed to understand the emerging youth culture of the San Francisco Bay area. Therefore, I asked the recruits – what better resource – to provide a confidential account of their personal behavior and values.

It was invaluable material, but regrettably, there was no mainframe computer capable of analyzing the data. I had to wait for several years before I could deliver my stacks of keypunch IBM computer cards to UNIVAC, one of the first computers at Stanford University!

Entering the world of Internet commerce was a natural progression for our family. As Ruth and I raised our inquisitive boys, we always kept an eye on the computer culture. In 1984, we bought our sons, Tim, Jonathan and Chris, a Coleco ADAM Commander computer. It operated on a tape drive with 64K RAM, and had a dot matrix printer. It came along with a $500 college scholarship, which never came to fruition since the company was bankrupt within a couple of years.

Many of you may remember the early days of computers with dial-up connections, 8", 5.5" and 3" floppy discs; freezing screens; annoying multiple crashes. It was the summer of 1995 when Microsoft launched Windows 95 and Internet Explorer to navigate the World Wide Web. In 1995, Amazon sold its first book on the 'worldwide bookstore.' A little over a year later, in 1996, our family launched LaTienda.com.

When we got together as a family to launch La Tienda, our eldest son Tim, who majored in Latin American Affairs, was employed by a classic ham company in Smithfield, Virginia. Our second son Jonathan was a sculptor fresh out of college, and their younger brother Chris was finishing his degree, with a minor in Spanish. All three of them graduated from The College of William & Mary.

Upon my retirement in 1988 we moved to Williamsburg, Virginia, perhaps the town with the most English ambiance in America. To make our new home our own, we embellished it with many fond mementos of Spain. Among our elaborate renovations, we decided to install classic Andalucian tiles in the bathrooms, kitchen, dining room and our fireplace surround.

As you might imagine, we found it a challenge to locate any authentic Alhambra design azulejos in the United States. When we finally did find a source, we filled our house with such beauty that we wanted to share our good fortune with others in America who had the same appreciation for Moorish tiles.

The challenge was that these Spain enthusiasts were not concentrated in any one area, but rather scattered over the continent. The timing was perfect: through the new technology known as 'The Internet,' we could get out the word to everyone instantly. LaTienda.com was born.

Jonathan taught himself web design, and arranged the display of Andalucian tiles in an attractive format for our LaTienda.com website. One day his brother Tim came home from his job at the country ham producer in Smithfield with a brilliant idea. It was prompted by the experience he had serving as an interpreter for a Spanish Serrano ham producer who was visiting the plant.

His idea was to have his brother post a picture of a jamón Serrano next to the rows of tiles, with a question: "If we could find these jamones would you want one?" What a question to ask a group of people who were predisposed to the Spanish culture! Within days we were receiving enthusiastic messages from across the country, and it became clear that azulejos may be one thing but jamón was quite another. We were on our way.

Next, we needed to encourage a Spanish producer to bring jamón Serrano to America. So we spent the next Christmas season over in Spain on a quest to identify a receptive company. It all worked out amazingly well, and by the end of 1997, LaTienda.com delivered the very first jamón Serrano to an Internet customer in America.

While our potential customers were eagerly awaiting news of jamón Serrano in America, they also asked if we could get their favorite Spanish products for them – ranging from Cola Cao and Nenuco, which brought back memories of their childhood, to aged Manchego cheese and bacalao salt cod. We have been adding products ever since – we are up to nearly 1,000 at last count. I have always kept our customers posted with a monthly newsletter – the predecessor of this note I am writing to you today!

Ruth and I are very grateful for our family, most of all. In addition, it is satisfying to see how our small dream has turned out to bring both joy to our customers and encouragement to several hundred families in Spain. We are also proud to have helped to introduce the idea of Spain to America along with other trailblazers such as chef José Andrés.

We are humbled that our small mom-and-pop business has grown into the largest purveyor of Spanish food in America. By staying true to our values, we strive to help preserve a way of life in Spain, which is unencumbered by the demands of the mass-market. We support our friends in Spain so that they may continue to make their traditional wholesome products. It continues to be a wonderful journey and we thank you for your support.

Su amigo,
Don