There are a few more pleasant ways to 'get away from it all' than to go to the Balearic Islands, off-season. I have heard of hordes of tourists coming in the middle of the summer, but the times that I have visited there in the off-season, it has been a delight.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful times of the year in Mallorca and the other islands is late January through early March when the islands are blanketed with almond trees in full bloom. The effect is breathtaking.

We recently had a delightful weekend in Palma de Mallorca and met some of the local people. One of them was a wood carver and his son who lived in a small village, another was the family of a retired Spanish naval officer who had family in the area.

Other than Castillian Spanish, the normal language spoken throughout the nation of Spain, one will run into the Mallorcan language, which is heavily influenced by Catalan, the language based around Barcelona. It is viewed as a dialect of Spanish by those who do not live in the area, but the locals claim it as a language unto itself. Without getting into all the endless and prideful discussions, the regular tourist who speaks Spanish will find Mallorcan close to unintelligible, and Catalan slightly easier to comprehend.

Palma itself has a spectacular cathedral in a dramatic setting on a hill overlooking a beautiful harbor. It is not a particularly pure architecture, but rather an example of exuberant late Gothic with lots of slender flying buttresses. Inside, the apse and side chapels have some interesting enhancements by Antoní Gaudi and other 20th-century artists.

The many tree filled plazas in the semi-tropical city are very appealing. There is even a small tram, which leads out into the mountains. The railroad cars are wooden and beautifully crafted. The experience brings back memories of 100 years ago.

The town the tram leads to in the mountains is Sóller, one of those delightful mountain towns built on a steep slope. The day we visited there, there was an infectious feeling of delight as I saw fruits and vegetables in the municipal market virtually spilling out into the streets!

This particular town was built high above the ocean to protect it from Moorish pirates who regularly attacked the small port below. In fact, one of the town’s most interesting events is the annual Moros and Cristianos reenactment. Some of the townspeople dress as Moorish sailors or pirates and land in the port below. The struggle between the Christians and Moors continues for several hours until, according to tradition, the tables were turned due to the attack of strong and resolute women who repulsed the invading Moors as they approached the hilltop town. In one of the squares there is even a statue celebrating the women's bravery.

There is a plethora of remarkably fresh fish, juicy citrus, crunchy almonds, cracked olives and olive oil. The olives and olive oil are unique to the island and have an almost acrid note to them, but once you start eating them, it is hard to stop. The olive trees are now protected by the government so that they will not be indiscriminately destroyed.

The Balearics are particularly famous for sobrasada, a spreadable sausage which shows up all over town in different manifestations, as well as many variations of paella and Arroz a Banda -- a variation of paella which concentrates on the preparation of the very rich seafood broth, which takes hours to prepare. One of the islands, Minorca, produces Mahón, a mellow buttery cheese from the milk of the herds of cows which roam the island.

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Spain is fanatical about its chocolate. Do you really think the Spanish explorers were looking for gold? Well they found it, black gold: delicious cocoa.

Before coffee became ubiquitous across Spain, chocolate was the drink of choice. It all started in 1544 when Dominican friars, accompanied by Mayans from Guatemala, presented containers of frothed chocolate to young Prince Philip, soon to be Philip II. He and his whole court were enchanted.

Soon any Spanish nobleman worth his salt renovated his home to feature a Chocolate Room - usually located between the Large Hall and the drawing room. There, as a man of leisure, he would spend hours in pleasant conversation with friends and political associates sipping at the luxurious drink.

Spaniards enjoyed large amounts of chocolate for the next hundred years, while the rest of Europe was unaware. Chocolate sweet shops called chocolaterias sprung up throughout Spain, and by the 19th Century one third of the world's entire Cacao production was consumed by Spaniards. Have you heard of the famous Belgian chocolates? The origins of this fame comes from when it was part of the Spanish Netherlands in the 18th century!

Spain is still a champion of chocolate, whether the fine bonbons to be found at gourmet confection shops, or the humble cup of thick, hot chocolate a la taza enjoyed in the morning with a crunchy churro pastry. They have a grand tradition of roasting cocoa beans and producing some of the world's finest chocolates.

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Modern Spain is complex, an amalgam of medieval kingdoms. In fact the autonomous region of Navarre still refers to itself as the "Kingdom of Navarra." I find it fascinating when I stroll the streets of many historic towns of Spain to recall the "place in the sun" they once enjoyed. It is a good way to put things into perspective and to realize that the concerns we may think are so crucial today are actually so ephemeral.

The city of Córdoba comes to mind. It is a pleasant regional city in Andalucía, which I visit quite often, yet it was quite different 1,100 years ago. At that time Córdoba represented the zenith of Islamic culture, rivaling Babylon, Rome and Baghdad in magnificence and importance. It was viewed by many as the greatest city on earth. At a time when few Christian monarchs could write their names, Córdoba had a library of half a million books and possessed far more wealth than all of European Christendom. Scholars and artists abounded.

Córdoba had a thoroughfare stretching along the bank of the Guadalquivir River that was used for elaborate public processions. It had an astonishing array of shops with products from China, India, Central Asia and the Near East. The royal market for luxury goods, al-Qayseriyya, was fabled. Taverns, caravanserais, baths and inns served the merchants and other travelers who flocked to this, the most important cultural center of the western Mediterranean.

Córdoba had nine hundred public baths and countless private baths at a time when baths were a rarity in the rest of Europe. Six hundred years later there still was no effective sewage system in the largest cities of Europe. Many posit that it was the influence of this flourishing Moorish culture of Córdoba that gave the Spanish people that unique sense of personal dignity and courtesy that they still possess. Perhaps it is the best gift we received from the glorious Moorish culture.

Today the splendor of that magnificent culture has faded. All that remains of Córdoba’s glorious days is the Mesquita: the Mosque, now called La Catedral. Should you choose to enter one of the Mosque’s nineteen doors, you find yourself in a forest of more than 860 slender columns of marble, porphyry and jasper that support a timber roof, arches richly decorated with scarlet and gold. Hundreds of years ago, 280 huge silver or brass chandeliers burned perfumed oil to illuminate the interior on special occasions. The largest was 38 feet in circumference with 1,454 lamps. Fitted into its reflector were 36,000 plates of silver, riveted with gold and decorated with jewels.

The Mosque of Córdoba was as sacred to medieval Islam as the sublime Hagia Sofia in Constantinople was to Christendom. Is it not a monument to the folly of man that the two greatest religious structures in the West have been reduced to museums by bitter religious rivals? Still, when I visit either of them, I experience a little of the sense of the divine which inspired their builders.

There are many other cities of faded glory in Spain that are intriguing to visit even though they have a less monumental aspect. One is Tordesillas, a few miles west of Valladolid, where a treaty was drawn up in 1494 which affected all of the New World. It was clear after Columbus’ discoveries that conflict would soon arise over land claims by Spanish and Portuguese explorers.

On May 4, 1493, Pope Alexander VI took action to clear up any confusion that may have arisen. He issued a decree which established an imaginary line running north and south through the mid-Atlantic, 100 leagues (480 km) from the Cape Verde islands. Spain would have possession of any unclaimed territories to the west of the line and Portugal would have possession of any unclaimed territory to the east of the line.

After further exploration, the Portuguese grew dissatisfied with the agreement when they realized how much more land Spain had been given. In June of 1494, the line was renegotiated and the agreement was officially ratified during a meeting in Tordesillas. The Treaty of Tordesillas reestablished the line 370 leagues (1,770 km) west of the Cape Verde Islands. There were many unanticipated, if not tragic, consequences.

But the Treaty may not be the most fascinating period in Tordesillas’s past, even if it might be the most astonishing from our modern perspective. Originally a bulwark of the defensive line of the Reconquista, Tordesillas received its charter in 1262 from Alfonso X, the Wise. Eighty years later, his grandson Alfonso XI built a substantial castle with adjoining convent. Alfonso’s son, Pedro the Cruel, embellished it in the style of the Alcazar in Sevilla. It was there that he abandoned his bride Blanche de Bourbon on their wedding night, locking her up in the palace and Convent of Santa Clara in order to run off with his lover, María de Pedilla. Ultimately Pedro gave the convent and palace to his two illegitimate daughters by María.

Ah, but if that were not enough intrigue for one little town, Princess Juana, the troubled daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella became Queen of Castile in 1504, only to be overwhelmed with grief when her beloved husband Philip the Handsome died in his prime only two years later. Although she remained a monarch, in name only, she was confined in the convent from 1509 to her death in 1555, a melancholy period of 46 years.

Tordesillas now? It is a transit hub for trucks going from Madrid to Salamanca and beyond, with a population of 8,643 souls. Agriculture is its basic source of income. Although it is situated on the Duero, the river silted up long ago. When Ruth and I decided to visit the Convent of Santa Clara, we parked our car in a broad area, almost like a playground. While young boys were playing soccer energetically nearby, we slipped into the convent. In the chapel, remnants of the past still echoed, not only in the elaborate ribbing of the ceiling, but also in the silent harmonium that Juana enjoyed playing as she whiled away her hours and years.

Then there are the cities of Cartagena, Zamora, Oviedo, Soria, Ciudad Rodrigo, El Burgo de Osma, Sanlúcar de Barrameda – my list is long. As I said at the beginning, a way to gain a healthy perspective is to know what has gone before. Our country is so young that it is harder to do that. But when you dig into an ancient culture such as Spain’s, you learn that much of human endeavor fades. What is lasting are the bonds of love we share with family and friends.

My best wishes for a productive and happy new year!
Don

Andalucía is an amazing place rich in its monuments, warm and engaging people, abundant citrus fruits and fresh produce, and incredible variety of seafood. It is a virtual cornucopia of shrimp, langostinos and any fish one can imagine.

Where to start writing about Andalucía? With the fabled castles and wine bodegas, the city streets lined with orange-laden trees, the rugged snow capped mountains and endless beaches, or the olive groves which stretch beyond the horizon? Andalucía is a simply fabulous and romantic destination; it is a place of fervor and fiesta. After more than forty years of traveling there, our family still has places in Andalucía which we want to visit for the first time.

It seems many civilizations have shared our attraction to this sun-swathed portion of the Iberian Peninsula. In beautiful Cartagena, Medina Sidonia or Cádiz you will see evidence of Carthaginians and Phoenicians. Andalucía contributed significantly to the Roman Empire: it is the birthplace of Hadrian, and provided nearly all of the olive oil used in Rome. Greeks and Visigoths also left their marks there for over 700 years, and called it Al Andaluz.

Standing on the shores of Tarifa, you are at the western boundary of many an ancient civilization. To your right, wind surfers ply the pounding waves of the Atlantic. Straight ahead of you, south across the gentle Mediterranean, you can see the mysterious mountains of North Africa, the land of Berbers and Moors. It is only eight miles way.

It was right here that the Muslims crossed over into Christian Spain in 711 AD and established the amazing culture of Al Andaluz, which, for centuries, was the envy of the Mediterranean Basin. The Moorish era came to a close in 1492 AD with the surrender of Granada to Fernando and Isabel, Los Reyes Católicos. They are buried overlooking the glorious Alhambra, a former seat of Muslim power, just as Columbus is buried in the great cathedral in Sevilla with its Giralda tower (formerly a minaret). Although we regularly visit these historic places, we find that simply standing quietly in the Mesquita, the Mosque of Córdoba, is a spiritual experience unto itself.

Most significant for us are the people: the garrulous and generous Andalucíans. They live a life of intimacy and warmth that spills over into just about every contact we have with them. They freely share their lives with one another – and with us. This is especially expressed in a seemingly endless series of festive public gatherings.

Each city and village sets aside nearly a month to celebrate the Christmas and Three Kings' Day holidays. Not long after, the ancient city of Cádiz stages its fabled carnaval. Next is Semana Santa, Holy Week, celebrated in pious efforts of small cities, and the amazing processions of Granada, Córdoba, Málaga and Sevilla.

There are ferias to visit one after another from early spring until summer, such as the amazing Feria de Abril in Sevilla, the courtly Feria del Caballo in Jerez de la Frontera with its parade of exquisite Andalucían horses drawing classic carriages. At other times we enjoy a 'hometown' fair in El Puerto de Santa María, and later go to Sanlúcar de Barrameda to share the joy, the alegría, of the two other sister sherry cities.

Perhaps the most extraordinary experience our family has witnessed is the Rocío, a pilgrimage of up to a million people on Pentecost. On their way to venerate La Paloma, the Virgin whose image resides in the dusty town of Almonte, pilgrims converge on the banks of the Doñana National Park, which is a wildlife preserve. Many families with flamenco-dressed women of all sorts and sizes make the pilgrimage in rustic painted wagons, vans and carts, punctuating their journey with flamenco guitars and song – and lots of manzanilla sherry.

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Our family enjoys visiting the proud and gracious Basque people -- not only to enjoy their famous cuisine, but because we enjoy the flavor of their life as sea-going people. They are intimately tied to the sea in every imaginable way – from the many small fishing boats plying the Bay, to the great port of Bilbao and the elegant seaside city of San Sebastián.

Formerly only known as a bustling industrial port, in recent years Bilbao has been transformed by the dramatic new Guggenheim Museum. Along with tourists from the four corners of the world, we have enjoyed their collection of modern and contemporary art displayed in a fascinating architectural setting.

San Sebastián, the other famous Basque port, is the pinnacle of sophistication and leisure. We find there is nothing quite like the city’s pintxos, Basque-style tapas bars, with merry makers spilling into the narrow streets of the Gothic quarter with an elegantly fragile, clear glass of the local sidra hard cider. Opportunities for seafood dining are legendary, as are the grand hotels and luxury shopping.

Throughout the region there are literally one thousand txokos or gastronomic societies. Each one was founded by a group of friends who gather to cook amazing Basque dishes and enjoy them around a big fraternal table. These traditional societies are typically 100% Basque and male, though this has changed in recent years.

The Basque Country is a seafood oasis, and is most famous for its incredible silky anchovies preserved in olive oil, its delicately flavored bonito white tuna and its bacalao salt cod.

We find there is a certain purity in being served bonito which a fisherman caught by line, and brought into the port at the end of the day. Since our office is in Zarautz, it is not uncommon for us to dine at a café with the fishing boats tied up nearby.

The most famous catch of the Basques, bacalao salt cod, has been caught by fishermen for many centuries as they braved the North Atlantic sailing as far away as the Great Banks of Newfoundland. Cod was caught in such quantities that it was key to warding off famine during hard times. Today bacalao has risen from its humble origin to become a gourmet’s delight when served as the classic Bacalao al Pil Pil in its own juices.

For us the combination of straightforward mountain people along with salty fisherman, mixed with the sophistication of the people of its great cities, make this one of the most enjoyable places to linger – not just for the fabulous cuisine, but also for the warm interchange with the people.

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Each of our traditional bota wineskins is crafted from flawless goat's hide. Each hide is cured with vegetable oils to make it pliable. Then the skin is cut and sewn by hand to make a tight pleating. Next, it is turned inside out and pitch is applied. Very short bristles of hair are left on the leather to hold the pitch for the inside of each bag. This is heated to create a water proof resin that will last for years. Finally, the bota is sewn together by hand and the final touches are added. There are about 40 stages from the time the skin arrives and the wineskin is finished. This is truly one of the finest botas you can buy.

The pitch lining of the traditional bota has a strong taste of its own. Therefore it is necessary to prepare your traditional bota before using it to hold good wine. First, warm it in the sun so that the pitch within will distribute evenly. Next, blow into the mouth of the bota to inflate it and separate the pitch from its sides-- the more you have warmed the pitch the easier it will be to inflate the bota.

Add cold water and set the bota aside to cure. After 24-36 hours, replace the water with inexpensive wine and let it cure for as long as you can. Discard the wine and your bota will be ready to use.

You only have to do this process once if you are going to keep the wine-skin in continual use. If you are going to set it aside for a while, drain out the contents and leave the cover off. You will need to go though the break in process again when you begin to use the bota later.

This procedure is only necessary for the pitch-lined botas, not those lined with latex. Caring for an authentic bota can be a bother, except for the purist. For most people, the latex lining makes life simpler.

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We can all recall a time when we have looked in awe at a precious, fragile newborn child – perhaps our own, or a cherished grandchild. No matter what our background, the tender image of a mother cradling the newborn infant reflects hope and life, and recalls the joy of loving families. It is a universal emotion: the fundamental one.

It is also the central theme of Christmas, Navidad – the birth, and why Silent Night is the all-time favorite carol: "all is calm; all is bright...mother and child. Sleep in heavenly peace." Soon the faithful in Spain will celebrate the light of God's love in the person of a newborn child.

Particularly in Spain this is no abstract concept. The centrality of mother’s love and the preciousness of her child are reflected in a culture where children are cherished, and are central to everyday life. Even families out for dinner at 11:00 PM will have their children playing near the table. Children are so central to the family that it is not unusual in a traditional Spanish home to find sons and daughters living at home well into their twenties.

This close and nurturing way of life is what attracted me to Spain and has affected the way we have raised our family. I understand there are similar cultures around the Mediterranean, where mothers have a unique place as do their children, but I have not experienced them first hand. On the other hand, I am well aware of cultures where this emphasis on the sanctity of the child is not the case; where children are to be "seen and not heard."

The difficulty now, even in Spain, is that the culture has evolved into a two income family structure, sometimes by choice as mothers pursue their personal careers and also because of economic necessity. The result is that many of us are unable to replicate the traditional home. But with dedication and commitment our children can be assured of their value.

To me, this is why this holiday season is so important. It is the time for us to enter into their world as best we can. Whether or not there is a religious setting such as Christmas or Chanukah, parents enjoying time with their children within the extended family is a deeply spiritual occasion. During this time of the year there is a natural human tendency to want to be closer together, to share each other’s warmth and hopes. That is why from antiquity, this is the season for children. In their joyful play and tender interactions they are oblivious to the long shadows. Children are pure life, as any grandparent understands most fully.

One of the nice things about the Spanish culture, and some Eastern Mediterranean countries, is that all twelve days of Christmas are celebrated leading up to Three Kings Day, Tres Reyes, on January 6. Their Christmas is not our abbreviated time leading up to an explosion of presents on December 25, followed by a rush to capitalize on the huge sales the next day!

During the several days and evenings after Christmas, Spanish families stop by the homes of uncles and aunts, grandparents and cousins to enjoy each other’s company while the little ones - cousins and brothers and sisters - are having a good time together. A few slices of jamón and a table full of holiday sweets: polvorones, mantecados, mazapán and other delicacies unique to the season make it a warm and welcoming occasion for the visiting family members.

My wife Ruth and I have had the pleasure of participating in Three Kings celebrations in various parts of Spain. We find it most enjoyable to be amongst the young parents and their children for the Three Kings Day parade on January 6. We have seen all sorts of variations - from the Cavalcade of the Wise Men (and their cart loads of candy) slowly proceeding along the ancient stone arcades of Santiago de Compostela, to a more simple but elegant parade of the Magi in Jerez de la Frontera, where some of the mothers jostled with the children to catch toys tossed to the crowd! Then there was the time we were in precious Guadalupe, deep in the mountains where the Wise Men approached the steps of the monastery on flat beds pulled by John Deere tractors!

Our favorite of all, which I wrote about a few years ago, was the arrival of the Three Kings in beautiful rural Trujillo, tucked in a corner of Extremadura. The town is off the beaten track so that there were no tourists, only excited local children with their parents and grandparents. As part of the cavalcade, many of the children saw their young fathers looking quite splendid as they rode into town erect in their saddles. The Wise Men arrived and mingled with the children giving them holiday treats. And in the center of the vast Plaza of the Conquistadores was a homemade Belén, a crèche, with a young local girl as Mary looking at her infant child, and a not completely convincing teenager as Joseph, attentively protecting the holy family.

Then off the families would go to their homes. Before going to bed they would set out hay for the camels, some food (and maybe a little sherry) for the Wise Men whom they expected would stop by their house in the dark of the night to leave special presents. With excitement the next morning the children would see what Gaspar, Melchior and Balthazar had left. When the excitement settled, they would gather at the family table to enjoy a special bread called Roscón de Reyes (the Ring of the Kings) and a cup of hot chocolate. El Rincón is a sweet bread studded with candied fruit, often with a prize placed in the dough by the baker.

I hope you have the opportunity to spend time with children, whether they are toddlers or soon to be young men and women. Time flies, and soon they will be on their way to discover the world. So don’t miss a moment while you can. Even grandchildren grow up! But they are so much fun as you see them view life with wonder. We have two granddaughters, ages 3 and 7, and two grandsons, ages 7 and 9. What fun it is to see them play together, and to see the uncles and aunts in action – not to mention the attentive mothers and fathers.

May all of you have a fulfilling holiday season, filled with family and love.

¡Feliz Navidad!
Don

I met my first Spaniard almost 45 years ago at about 2 in the morning. He was a young bartender at Casa Angel, a tiny café in Valencia, and I was a young naval officer who had just walked off my destroyer to explore the gothic quarter of town by myself. He welcomed me as if I were an old friend, and while we were awkwardly talking to each other in two languages, he prepared for me a cazuela of gambas al ajillo, garlic shrimp sizzling in olive oil. When I told him how much I enjoyed it, he wrote out his special recipe and gave it me saying, "Why don’t you call it "Gambas Angel?"

Since that time, I have found that a distinguishing characteristic of the Spanish culture is this kind of spontaneous generosity. Hospitality is extended to all: whether you are a visitor or one of their extended family. It seems second nature for the Spaniard to want to spend time with you around a table spread with freshly prepared food. The Spaniard seems to know instinctively that eating together is central to our identity as fellow humans.

I remember sitting with my son Tim in Sanlúcar de Barrameda at an outdoor café where we were contemplating a dinner of shrimp and langostinos. The seafood was quite expensive, but that did not faze the young working class family beside us. They were having a great time laughing together as they feasted on a large platter of the freshest shellfish available. I was at first quite surprised, but then it occurred to me that they had their priorities right.

I can hardly recall a time in Spain visiting those who provide products for La Tienda, that we did not seamlessly migrate to the dinner table. There we could forge bonds which transcended business, enjoying each other’s company and the conversation about our families and the delicious meal before us.

In a couple of weeks we Americans will gather around dinner tables across the land to celebrate Thanksgiving Day. Although on one level it is akin to harvest festivals all over Europe, our Thanksgiving Day is a civic holiday unique to our nation. This American gathering, which stretches across the continent, reflects a new kind of society where people give thanks in a land of plenty, focusing on what is really important: their bonds as human beings.

Tradition says that in 1620 (or is it 1607?) after enduring difficult circumstances to become established in their New World, English settlers gathered with their native neighbors, to give thanks to their Creator for their survival. Those who braved the Atlantic storms to settle in Cape Cod were seeking to worship in freedom. The Virginia settlers in Jamestown, on the other hand were supported by the English crown and worshiped according to the Anglican tradition. What was unique is that these settlers celebrated their providential survival by sitting down at a table with their neighbors: earlier Americans native to the soil, whom they thought of as Indians. In these idealized accounts you see the seeds of America’s disparate backgrounds gathering within their common traditions of hospitality.

I remember back to my childhood when the Harris family would gather each Thanksgiving Day in Brookline, Massachusetts. My grandparents met as teenagers on the ship that was taking them from their homes in Northern Ireland. Through legendary Scottish frugality and just plain hard work, William and Ann raised a family of eight children – 4 boys and 4 girls. In time they in turn raised their own families so that by the time that I came along our Thanksgiving gathered a clan of between forty and fifty. What fun! We would have the obligatory touch-football game with the uncles and cousins in the crisp autumn air, and on one memorable occasion my Aunt Marion brought along a cute little kid (four legged type) who proceeded to leap onto the middle of the dining room table! For the Harris family there was much to be thankful for and the gathering reinforced our bonds to one another as kin.

As many of you well know, this kind of gathering is not just a special once a year occasion in Spain, or in other Mediterranean cultures. Throughout the year the extended family meets together. From infants to pensioners they enjoy each other’s company by the hour. It is in this affirming environment that children feel both treasured and nurtured.

Unfortunately, in America these days not many people have large families living within a few miles. As the American culture has evolved, even our immediate families may be scattered across the continent and beyond. My wife Ruth has a sister and brother in Vermont and another sister in Guam. In contrast, my brother and cousins still live largely in Massachusetts, but we no longer gather as an extended family.

Still, we Americans think that the Thanksgiving gathering is so important, that despite the fact that our families are strewn across the continent, we want to be together. Each year our airports experience their peak volume of travelers at Thanksgiving – even more than at Christmastime. And our telephone lines are jammed with calls as we renew our bonds with family and friends.

The roots of this elemental occurrence reach beyond family feasts in America or the long dinners in Spain. Perhaps it is because cooking for others, unlike daily chores such as mowing the lawn or cleaning the house, is something that strikes a deep emotional chord in us. I read an excellent article in the August 2, 2009, issue of the NY Times Magazine that suggested that eating a meal together might even go to the heart of our identity as human beings. When taken seriously as a human activity, sharing a meal which we have prepared is very important to our happiness and to our health.

According to the author, Michael Pollan, cooking made us who we are. It is a symbolic way of distinguishing ourselves from the animals. He says that cooking is a metaphor for the human transformation of nature into culture; anthropologists have begun to take quite literally the idea that cooking is the key to our humanity. For our early ancestors, it was the discovery of fire and then cooking and eating together — not just tool-making or language – that made us human. In the Paleolithic art in the caves of Altamira we see our earliest ancestors depicting their hunt for game.

If we let ourselves be governed by the Food Police we miss the sacredness of the occasion. How many a dinner is drained of joy by discussions of calories and fiber, or the mercury content of the beautifully prepared fish before you! Breaking bread together gives us not just the physical nourishment but also the occasion of being together at an appointed time and place.

I think we all know that when we set aside a regular time to eat together with our children, looking at their faces and hearing their stories, having a meal becomes not just a way to assuage our hunger but an occasion to build bonds of caring and love. We miss something important when we choose to skip meals altogether or graze at convenience stores where our only contact with others is waiting in line with our paper cups of coffee.

I hope that this Thanksgiving Day you will find that being together with those with whom you bond is restorative and nourishing. Even if you are not a confident chef, I hope you just take the plunge and cook away. That’s what Julia Child did. Being in the kitchen together is fun, which is why so many of us instinctively gather there. Don’t be intimidated by some complex recipe, and certainly tell the Food Police they are not welcome at your hearth – at least for today. I hope you can take pleasure in what the Creator has laid before you, and perhaps extend hospitality to those beyond the family. That’s what the Pilgrims did, and that is what America is all about.

Tu amigo,
Don

I have been doing some research about the production of traditional bread in Spain as I am interested in importing some absolutely authentic Gallego bread such as I enjoyed in Santiago de Compostela. Some of you know exactly what I am talking about — whether you are pilgrims, tourists or natives of Galicia. The closest I have found in the States is a slightly sourdough version (which is not the same thing.)

So I asked a traditional baker in Aragón about his experience in bread making, and whether the starter they used was sweet or sour. I think you might enjoy his reply which I have posted verbatim.

Dear Don,

I’m Spanish baker, working from wheat to bread, recuperating old varieties of wheats; using stone-milling, sourdough fermentation and a wood-firing oven.

All these characteristics of bread preparation were everywhere in Spain in use until a hundred years ago. In the twentieth century, progressively appeared “manufactured” white flour, commercial yeast, modern wheat varieties that replaced the natural and ancestral bread.

From mid of the century, these change accelerates, and the “residuals” of these old methods were near extinction, when democracy arrived in mid 70’s. By then, in “conscious,” organic, health-worried “circles”, it was a rebirthing of organic, whole-flour and sourdough bread.

Now situation is that there is a minority of artisan and “small-industrial” working on it. And the organic market tends to emphasize the spelt bread (a type of wheat still grown in Asturias), due to an “ancient grain fashion”.

That’s my opinion. I hope it’s useful for you. Anyway, bread made from a natural yeast flour, especially from stone flour, results in a better nutrition than yeasted “white” bread.

Ramon

Our son Christopher is an inveterate traveler. He and his wife Rian are US State Department diplomats who take every opportunity to travel to remote areas of the world. We have traveled with them to the rugged Caucasus Mountains of Armenia, to fortified monasteries in Serbia and the rain forest of Tikal in Guatemala. Chris and I even drove from Williamsburg through Mexico to Guatemala City (a zany idea!) Probably Chris caught the travel bug at infancy. When we were living in El Puerto de Santa María we would pop him and his two brothers Tim and Jonathan in the car any chance we got to continue our exploration of our beloved Spain! (No straps, harnesses or car seats in those days – and somehow they made it through.)

So it was no surprise that Ruth and I found ourselves traveling to remote areas of Romania last month. Chris and Rian lured us there with tales of fortified Saxon churches, orthodox monasteries covered with frescoes inside and out, and most of all, of the country people they met while staying in a tiny village not far from the Ukrainian border.

We met the people, visited their villages, passed their horse-drawn carts, dodged their sheep, cows and chickens which were strolling down the rugged small roads (one could not call them highways). We even had a rare opportunity to worship with villagers outdoors in their churchyard. It was a major feast day and their small wooden church could not hold them all. The long and elaborate Orthodox service was almost otherworldly: their native dress, ancient rituals and customs transported us to another kind of awareness.

And then it struck me that Ruth and I were experiencing something very familiar and close to our hearts: we were revisiting the country people, their villages and churches whose way of life we grew to appreciate during our early trips to Spain almost fifty years ago. These Romanians are rising out of the wreckage of wars and a series of totalitarian regimes as were the Spaniards when we first visited them. Life is rough and very basic for the Romanians today. Hunger is not a distant memory for them. Such was the case in rural Spain when we first visited the people of Galicia, Asturias, Extremadura, the Basque Country La Mancha, Andalucía – in fact all of Spain in the 1950’s and 1960’s.

Yet in our travels through Romania we could discern a spirit of hope, especially in the young, some of whom in recent years have worked in Spain in order to send money home to their families. I am sure the story sounds familiar to some of you whose roots are in Spain, especially those who fled Galicia, Asturias and the Basque County during hard times. Often what strikes me most as I live out my life is the resiliency of the human spirit.

Something else came to mind as Ruth and I drove many miles with our friends along the rugged roads of rural Romania. We saw fields of tall corn flourishing in the rich soil; and we saw the country people on their knees harvesting potatoes with hand hoes. When we ate the hearty food of the region in the local restaurants, we found that their cuisine was based on soups, potatoes, tomatoes, polenta (cornmeal pudding) and some meat. Sometimes the cook would garnish our plates with little peppers – sort of like the Spanish guindillas.

I remarked to my traveling companions, “Isn’t it remarkable that virtually all of the staples of their subsistence originated in the New World? Had Columbus not sailed from Pozo and Sanlúcar de Barrameda, the families here would not be harvesting potatoes and enjoying tomatoes and polenta. They would be subsisting on gruel made of millet or barley.”

Then we started taking it a little further. Our friends have been Spain enthusiasts for 40 years – since we met in Rota, so of course our thoughts turned to all of the food we love from Spain. The delightful Pimientos de Padrón peppers which we sizzle in our pans are a direct result of plants Christopher Columbus brought to Ferdinand and Isabella at the Monastery of Guadalupe.

Virtually all the peppers of Spain, piquillos, guindillas, and the unique smoked paprika pimentón de la Vera, owe their origin to the curiosity of the Spanish explorers. Can you imagine hundreds of chorizos and stews, without pimentón? We decided we could not imagine Spain without being able to purchase churros from the local stand and dip them in thick chocolate a la taza. What would Andalucía be like without chilled gazpacho and salmorejo made of red ripe tomatoes? No patatas fritas? Why, it wouldn’t be Spain!

Nowadays it is fashionable to emphasize our diversity – that which makes us different. Together with Martin Luther King, I find it much more reassuring to celebrate our common humanity. The Romanian people Ruth and I were with last month were building a better life grounded in their close families and their faith. Their future is bright, just as was the future of Spaniards whom we met forty five years before.

The 12th of October is a national holiday in Spain known as the Dia de la Hispanidad. Following tradition, King Juan Carlos and Queen Sofia will journey to the ancient Aragonese city of Zaragoza, to give thanks at the Basilica of Nuestra Señora del Pilar and participate in a variety of festivities which celebrate the contribution of Spain to the world at large. Villagers dressed in traditional costumes will process many miles, or even several days, to celebrate their unity as Spaniards. It is quite a splendid occasion.

The bridges built across the Atlantic from Spain to the New World have changed the world for the better. It certainly changed the possibilities of Ruth and my ancestors. Our families came to the New World too, and the cross fertilization we all have achieved in our common lives in America is a good thing.

The La Tienda community is a vivid example of how "the best of Spain" has brought people together. When we cook with Lola’s sofrito, or enjoy the olive oil that Fermín and Aixa blend; when we have a slice of Serrano ham prepared by Miguel Redondo’s family, or Ibérico from Santiago Martin’s family we are experiencing our common ties across the ocean. But more than that, when I and the La Tienda family receive and reply to your many personal notes it is a fulfilling way for all of us to share our common humanity.

This Columbus Day I am thankful for Christopher Columbus; for the courage and singleness of vision of that remarkable, if flawed, man. ¡Viva España and the millions of people who have been touched by the traditions of her culture!

Tu amigo,
Don

Often I have been asked, ‘How is it that the Harris family, without a drop of Spanish blood, (that we know of), ends up being the leading source of fine Spanish food in America?’

It all goes back to our family – the ties we feel toward each other and how they in turn mirror the best of the Spanish tradition of family. We were a Navy family, with all that this entails. Ninety days after Ruth and I were married in Long Beach, and we were settling into our assignment in Washington DC, I was ordered to be the chaplain to a destroyer squadron which was bound for the Mediterranean for six months. Ruth was left among a pile of moving boxes in Norfolk. It turned out to be a blessing, as my Spanish port calls changed our lives. There, for the first time, I experienced the traditional Spanish culture where family ties are strong and children are cherished.

For some families the sailor’s life is too unpredictable and strains the family. For other families, such as ours, the unpredictability and uncertainty of the Navy way of life encourages closeness and bonding that might not be necessary in a more settled circumstance. It is a hard life, but one full of adventure. Over the course of our life in the Navy, we moved twenty-six times. Tim, our eldest was born in Virginia, Jonathan in San Diego and Christopher is our Spanish son. He even has a birth certificate from Rota in Cádiz, emblazoned with “Hijo de la Raza”!

Our kids had to fit in with classmates of many schools. Tim set the record with thirteen different schools before college. Jonathan was in three fourth grades! Thus they did not have the luxury of taking many years to build friendships, so of necessity formed them within their family. I remember many times Ruth and I would urge the boys to go out and make friends in the new neighborhood. They invariably replied, “Why? We have our brothers.”

When the Navy gave us our dream assignment to Spain, Ruth and I saw in the typical Andalucian family the same kind of family closeness and interdependence that we fostered as parents. Paradoxically our family grew strong because constant change made close relationships within the family vital. On the other hand, the Spanish family formed lasting bonds because there is no change at all. They have years – even generations – to build family ties.

Whether it is a family in Spain or America, it takes hard work and commitment to foster healthy relationships. People are people anywhere on the globe; we are all imperfect, to be sure. But with the model of a loving extended family as the ideal, it is easier to keep your eye set on the goal. One difference is that the Spanish families are quite communal and regularly sharing meals together. They also have a strong sense of hospitality for the stranger, who is treated as a friend. When we visited a Spanish family we could count on sharing tapas or a freshly prepared meal with them, either at home or at their favorite local restaurant.

When we were stationed in Spain, we elected to live with the Spanish people, rather than on the Base. We wanted to be immersed in the life of the generous Spanish people in order to experience first hand the culture which we found so appealing. We enrolled Tim in El Centro Inglés where he spent the school day with Spanish kids as well as a few English and Americans.

Tim valued his experience at the school so much that he and Amy will spend the first 6 months of 2010 in the same neighborhood where he grew up, and will send their two boys, Ben and Sam to a small school in Jerez de la Frontera. There they will spend each school day with a mix of children from Spanish and English speaking families, just as Tim experienced before.

When we were in Spain, at a moment’s notice we would pile the kids into the car (no cumbersome car seats in those days) and head north, showing them castles, Romanesque and Visigoth churches and beautiful old towns such as Trujillo, Guadalupe, Cáceres, Úbeda, Jaen, Cuenca and Soria. I must admit that sometimes their eyes glazed over as we showed them yet another church, but castles were no problem.

Santiago de Compostela always struck a chord with our family - so much so that many years later when Jonathan was a young man in college he spent one summer walking across the north of Spain to Santiago on the pilgrimage route, Camino de Santiago. Later, he and his bride Stacey walked from León to Santiago on their honeymoon. Our youngest son, Chris, spent a summer in La Coruña as a college student, and Tim spent a summer with Spanish friends in Sevilla. (He says he spent many hours cooling off from the roasting heat by lingering in the air-conditioned El Corte Inglés!)
So we grew to be a close cohesive family with a shared love for Spain, whose culture was built on the same foundation of family as ours. When we were back in the United States we would take the boys back to Spain on military MAC flights, revisiting our old haunts and finding new people and places to enjoy. On the return flight we would load an extra suitcase with memories of Spain: those long tube glasses they use at tapas bars, ceramics and cazuelas of all sorts, María cookies and, most of all, bars of Heno de Pravia and Magno soaps whose familiar fragrance still waft through our home. A lot of other passengers were, too.

When I retired from the Navy we settled in Williamsburg. Ruth and I decided to dress up our house with lots of classic Moorish style tile to remind us of our happy years in Andalucía. We adorned our bathrooms and kitchen, our fireplace surround and dining room with classic Moorish designs reminiscent of the Alhambra.

Just about the time when our two older sons began making lives of their own after college, a serious medical situation occurred at home, which caused the family to draw even closer. As the medical crisis was resolved, we realized how much we enjoyed each other’s company and thought of ways in which we could work as a family in a common enterprise. It was the early days of the internet, and so while Tim was at work with a Virginia ham company, Jonathan, with a degree in fine arts, experimented with web design. Since the Spanish tiles were very hard to find, Jonathan posted them on the web to help others with their quest for authentic tiles. With that action, La Tienda was born, just a year after Amazon.

Soon Tim suggested adding a picture of a Jamón Serrano to our tile site, to see whether anyone would like one, if we could get them imported. The response was immediate and enthusiastic. It was clear that La Tienda had made contact with the Spanish soul.

We continue to work together. Tim, Jonathan and I share the same office; other family members have found ways to contribute on a regular basis. Our youngest son Chris never got the wandering lust out of his bones. And so he and his wife Rian travel the globe as diplomats for the US State Department, and yet keep close contact with the progress of the family company through the Internet and Skype. All of the family continues to travel the highways and byways of Spain, some more than others because there are little children to nurture. We enjoy meeting other families with small artisan businesses, and buy their products for La Tienda. We find great satisfaction in supporting their families and way of life with which we so much resonate.

In our veins may flow the blood of the Dutch, Frisians, Scots-Irish, English and Armenians – we are American, all from immigrant stock. But our hearts have absorbed the essence of Spain and we feel at home there. After all, our wanderings across the landscape of Spain reach back to 1965! We find it a source of joy to work together, and to bring you our love for traditional Spain, as expressed in their cuisine. What gives me great personal satisfaction can be summed up in an email I received just as I was writing this reflection:

My father left Spain as a refugee in 1939. Behind he left his childhood, his country, and his favorite "Galletas Marias" (Maria Cookies).… I bought a box and handed it to my father in person. For the first time since leaving Spain, at 83 years old, he enjoyed his first authentic galleta in almost 70 years. Now every night he shares one cookie with everyone present so as to conserve his treasure and enjoy the moment. Gracias La Tienda! You have not only provided us with great authentic products, excellent personal service. You have given us a wonderful family moment! – Gali Sánchez

It all goes back to family. As a young husband and father, coming from a chaotic childhood, I was inspired by the traditional Spanish family and the way they cherish children. It may not be perfect, but with all its flaws it is a good model, and one that still exists in many parts of America. It takes dedication and focus, in the culture in which we live, but it is worth it – and it is never too late to strengthen family ties.

Best wishes to you and your family,
Don

I would like to tell you the story of some remarkable women my wife Ruth and I met last spring. Our hearts were warmed by being with people for whom adversity became an opportunity to do something better. Because of the vision and hard work of these women, they assisted working mothers, preserved a precious social tradition and made available to all of us the artistry of their cooking, even though we may be a continent away.

It all began when a sugar beet refinery was built in rural Córdoba during the early 1950’s. It was a time when parts of Spain faced famine, and Andalucía was barely awakening from the economic devastation wrought by the Spanish Civil War and World War II. The factory, Azucarera San Rafael, was a boon to the region as they processed locally grown beets into sugar. Before the factory was founded, only subsistence farming provided income to that part of rural Córdoba.

It was not long after the factory was built that the village of Villarrubia began to take shape. Workers built their houses close to the factory so it would be easier for they and members of their family to go to work or school, and return home for midday meal and siesta. This desire to integrate all phases of their daily life: work, school, food preparation and dining is the basis of the traditional Spanish culture. It is inter-related families working together and supporting one another for the good of them all. In the small town of Villarrubia families were able to sustain the natural rhythms of their lives.

Each day the family would arise, children would head for school, father would go off to the Azucarero and mother would go to market and bring home fresh produce. The rest of her morning was spent preparing the midday meal for her family who would gather from work or classroom at about 1300 or 1400 to share the central meal. After they enjoyed their meal together, family members would relax or nap, and then head off to school or work until they would rejoin at the end of the day.

But then a shattering event occurred: after over forty years of production, Azucarera San Rafael closed its doors. The owners could not sustain any more losses and determined that their business was no longer viable, leaving hundreds of people without their jobs. The traditional fabric of life became frayed.

Fathers no longer could go to work and come home to be with their families at dinnertime. Many of them were traveling over the countryside – some as far as the city of Córdoba - looking for any kind of job to bring food to the table. Many mothers had to leave the home too, in search of income. If the family was fortunate enough to gather for the mid-day meal, it had to be something made quickly, for there was no one home during the morning to prepare the traditional fare that had been integral to their daily experience together.

One woman, Lola León was a woman of action. When she heard the news of the plant closing, she recognized the pending crisis. She and her husband Antonio were the parents of two daughters, Lola and Melissa, who were students in the local school. There was no time to be lost. So she gathered with some of the other mothers at the local center in Villarrubia, and inspired them to take action to protect their way of life.

For years, Lola had dreamed of creating a selection of traditional products that would make it easier for working mothers to continue the tradition of serving good food to their families. It was her treasured recipe for sofrito, the cooking base for almost every Mediterranean meal. She thought sofrito mild pepper and tomato sauce would be especially valued by working mothers who had pride in their own cooking but had not the time to maintain the quality demanded of traditional recipes. Many other women responded enthusiastically, suggesting recipes from their mothers and grandmothers – all typical of the traditional cuisine of Córdoba.

It was time for them to roll up their sleeves and get to work to make Despensa la Nuestra (Our Pantry) a reality. For the next year, the women worked together to gather and test recipes from home, took classes to learn the standards required for food preparation and planned the layout of the kitchen where they would work together. There were labels to design, food resources to identify, equipment to buy – the details seemed endless. Nevertheless, through diligence Lola’s dream became a reality – today the combined labor of many families is producing some of the finest artisan food in all of Spain.

Over ten years later, Envasados Lola still is composed of the original core of women. In addition to Lola, there is Amalia Moreno, a mother of two daughters Gema and Sandra. Her husband is Manuel, a builder. Margarita Almagro is married to Matías, a farmer, and they have two sons, Matías and Sergio. Ana María Sierra and her husband Jose Antonio have two daughters, Ana Belén and Lola, who go to school in Villarrubia with the rest of the children. Paqui Hermoso lives at home with her dad, after her mother died. Together these women have created in their rural town an amazing commercial kitchen which produces the highest quality artisan foods for our tables here in America!

These women believe in what they are doing - theirs is a vocation, not just a job. The mothers on the staff come to work early in the morning so that they will finish in time to pick up their children at the village school. Sandra, Matías, Sergio, Ana Belén and Lola all come home from school as they always have, and Mom continues to serve her family a wholesome traditional mid-day meal. The other women without young children finish the daily cleanup at the commercial kitchen, so that their “sisters” can go home. It takes some sacrifice on every one’s part, but there is never a complaint.

When my wife Ruth and I visited Villarrubia, we were greeted with a warm and expansive smile by Lola and her young associate Angela, who joined the staff recently. With great pride Lola introduced us to the women who were hard at work in a spotless kitchen. One was stirring a caldron of fresh Crema de Coliflor soup. Another was bottling some tomate frito. In the storeroom, we saw nothing but the highest quality ingredients. They were even using Señorío de Vizcántar extra virgin olive oil – the very favorite olive oil of the Tienda community and the same that graces our salads and sauces at home.

Then we sat at a long table where Angela, who spoke perfect English (which she learned from her Swedish boyfriend!) and Lola proudly served us all of their products – all of them were probably better than anything we serve from our kitchen at home! As I remarked before, it warmed our hearts to be with people for whom adversity became an opportunity to do something better. Such fine, down to earth people doing the best they can to make their world a better place. I think of the 19th C aphorism: “Tis an ill wind that blows no good.” Hats off to Lola and the women of Villarrubia!

Tu amigo,
Don

P.S. Other people share our enthusiasm. These dedicated women have received the following national honors:
Premio Meridiana 1999. Instituto Andaluz de la Mujer.
Premio a la Mejor Empresa Alimentaria Española 2006. Modalidad La Mujer en el Mundo Empresarial. Ministerio de Agricultura, Pesca y Alimentación.
Premio a la mejor iniciativa de mujeres, 2008. Consejería de Agricultura y Pesca de la Junta de Andalucía.