As the bus rumbled up the narrow road through the towering Picos de Europa, the riders were getting restless. After a morning of meetings, this group of gourmet food buyers and journalists was herded onto the bus with no time for food or a bottle of water. I was sitting next to a German store owner named Gunther who asked loudly if there were any snacks on the bus. He ended with a plea: “But no more f**cking sidra!”

We were in the heart of Asturias, the gloriously remote mountainous region at the very top of Spain. And we had partaken in plenty of the local sidra. Gunther’s colorful comment aside, I had grown fond of this sharp cider. Tart and low on carbonation, this wasn’t the cloyingly sweet, fizzy cider Gunther preferred. Following ancient tradition, servers at the local tavern lifted the sidra bottles high in the air and poured a thin stream into a flat-bottomed glass, creating a frothy portion. We then tossed back the cider in one gulp.

Miles away from Madrid and Barcelona, Asturias is lightly populated and far from glitzy modern Spain. Ancient traditions and ways of life can hide in the steep valleys and mountain passes. Sidra is a great example. For millennia, this remote area had little access to Spain’s wine regions, and grapes did not thrive in the area. So, the Celts and Visigoths introduced apples and fermented them to make sidra. This tasty, healthy beverage was essential in a time when water could not be trusted. To this day, sidra is the national drink of Asturias.

Our bus wove down a steep road into a gorgeous valley of verdant hills surrounded by craggy peaks. We had arrived at the small village of Cabrales. We tumbled into the parking lot in front of a museum dedicated to the famous blue cheese that carries the town’s name. The museum was actually a large cave, representing the remote mountain caves where Cabrales is typically aged. It was covered with multimedia exhibits, with not a real cheese to be seen.

As the group filed in, my host Alejandra tapped my shoulder and quietly escorted me and my colleague Jamie into a waiting car. She whisked us away, explaining that we were going to see the real thing. I was thrilled!

We rolled across an ancient bridge over a mountain stream. Looking up through the window I saw a cow perched on an impossibly steep hill, munching on beautifully green grass. We passed through the stone village and climbed a narrow street into the hills above. The car stopped on a ledge, and I saw a blue metal door built into the side of a mountain. Later I learned that many Cabrales cheese caves are so remote that the cheeses must be carried for over a mile along steep mountain paths.

The cheesemaker greeted us and unlocked the door, leading us into a dark, damp cave. More like a tunnel, the cave was about eight feet wide and tall. The walls were covered with moldy cobwebs and the ceiling dripped with thousands of tiny stalactites – this was no museum showcase! Shelves stood on either side of the cave, holding hundreds of wheels of cheese.

Our host explained that the cave was actually a mine, chiseled by the Romans thousands of years ago. After it was abandoned, it became the ideal place to preserve and age cheeses. Before refrigeration, making cheese was one of the only ways to preserve milk for later use. The traditional way of preserving Cabrales cheese consisted of blending cow’s milk with goat’s and sheep’s milk and forming it into wheels. After two weeks of drying, the cheeses are transferred to one of the local caves that have a constant temperature of about 50 degrees, which keeps the cheeses fresh and cool as they age. They are placed on wooden shelves known as talameras, where they are periodically turned and cleaned.

Coincidentally, the limestone caves are very humid and the perfect environment for penicillium molds. That was why the walls and even the cobwebs were covered in blue mold! Not surprisingly, the cheeses are quickly covered in this beneficial mold, which penetrates them with blue veining. Cabrales is one of very few blue cheeses that are naturally inoculated with penicillium. I noticed that each cheese was a different thickness, some were squat and bulging, others tall and straight. The cheesemaker explained that the cheeses were alive, slowly transforming as the mold grew within, so naturally each had its own shape.

After three to six months the cheese is ready to be eaten. Bold and extremely sharp, Cabrales has rightly taken its place at the pinnacle of the cheese world. In fact, a cheese from the Valfríu cheese factory set a Guinness World Record in 2020 when it sold for $16,142.41 at auction!

Leaving the cool, dark cave I blinked in the sudden brightness of the October morning. I felt like I had just experienced a profound food revelation. In our modern world, food is presented to us precisely cut and uniform, encased in plastic and ready for consumption. But for most of history we have interacted with food that is organic in shape and changing in appearance all the time. Nature does not present nourishment in hygienic rectangles. Stepping out of the cobweb covered cave filled with living breathing cheeses was just the opposite of the world of industrial foods.

Asturias will always be close to my heart, a refuge from the exciting but homogenizing progress of Spain’s modern economy. It also reminds me that Spain is home to an amazing variety of food traditions and landscapes that I can’t wait to discover and explore.

The month of July has a special place in my heart because on the twenty-fifth day is the celebration of Santiago, Saint James, the patron saint of Spain. Some of you know who I am talking about since you have walked the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route to Galicia or have visited Santiago’s burial site in Santiago de Compostela. It is one of my favorite sites in Spain, and I am also sure it is my son Jonathan’s as well. He walked the Camino as a college student, starting in The Pyrenees. He and his wife returned to walk the Camino together on their honeymoon.

I first learned about the Camino many years ago – 66 years to be exact. I was a newlywed and a brand-new chaplain assigned to minister to the crews of five Navy destroyers. It was my first Mediterranean deployment and our ship’s mission was to navigate from Spain to Lebanon, passing through the Suez Canal to sail on to Pakistan! Quite an exotic itinerary, but what changed my life was my visit to four ports of call in Spain: Palma de Mallorca, Barcelona, Valencia and Rota.

We were tied up in Valencia during their celebration of Las Fallas, the spectacular annual festival complete with rockets and flaming statues built to be burned in seemingly perpetual bonfires. It was there, walking along the waterfront of Valencia, that I met many Spaniards, including their young ones, and was struck by how open and friendly they were. I felt as if we were all part of one family.

One day I decided to make a quick visit to Madrid. At the magnificent Prado Museum, I saw rooms full of beautiful and emotional paintings by the finest Spanish artists. For me personally, the most meaningful were the soulful paintings by El Greco. So, I asked the attendant where I could see more. He directed me to neighboring Toledo, a city with a medieval beauty. It was there that El Greco lived for several years.

While I was absorbing many of El Greco’s spiritual masterpieces, I happened to pick up a pamphlet talking about the ancient Gothic churches built along the Camino to Santiago pilgrimage route, which was largely unknown at the time. It was then my lifetime adventure began. The next year, my wife Ruth and I rented a tiny Seat 600 car and, armed with the leaflet, spent a month traveling to tiny villages and majestic cathedrals throughout the land.

In 1965, Spain was still recovering from a civil war where, sorrowfully, brother was killing brother. On our journeys we saw so many widows dressed in black, mourning the loss of loved ones. It was a somber time of great poverty. Yet we were almost always greeted with smiles and embraces of genuine hospitality. And that feeling persists in Spain. I know I will have that warm experience whenever I return.

That is why our family started La Tienda. It has been a way to bond with and to support our generous and hospitable friends in Spain, many of whom we have known for decades. And that is why we chose Peregrino, the Pilgrim, for our house brand. What started as a trip of discovery on the Camino de Santiago 66 years ago continues, as we travel Spain seeking out great products and new friendships in the country that I love.

In appreciation the magical journey of the Camino de Santiago, this year our family set up a foundation to sponsor students to walk the pilgrimage. We hope they will have a life changing experience just as I did.

Tu Amigo,
Don

With the challenges of climate change, growing populations and intensive agriculture, I find it inspiring to explore the ancient sustainable agriculture traditions that preserve the biodiversity and landscapes of Spain while providing excellent foods and a sustainable livelihood to Spanish communities.

In many ways, Spain arrived late to modern agriculture and industrialization. Under the dictatorship of Francisco Franco, much of the Spanish economy remained rural and traditional. While this period caused untold hardships on the Spanish people, a silver lining is that many traditional agricultural practices survived long enough for people to recognize their priceless value. I’d like to share the stories of some of Spain’s oldest (and most sustainable) farming and aquaculture traditions that are alive and well today.

Today let’s look at four amazing traditions designated by the UN as Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems (GIAHS). According to the UN, GIAHS are “outstanding landscapes of aesthetic beauty that combine agricultural diversity, resilient ecosystems and a valuable cultural heritage… They are a living, evolving ecosystem of human communities in an intricate relationship with their territory, cultural or agricultural landscape, or wider social environment.”

The La Axarquía Raisin Region, Ruta de la Pasa

Eat raisins, drink wine, preserve history! In this mountainous region of Malaga, Muscat grapes thrive. The vines are planted on steep hillsides using cultivation techniques that date back to Phoenician times. The vineyards are far too steep for machinery, so the farmers do almost everything by hand, tilling with hoes and harvesting the grapes with pocketknives. The baskets of grapes are then transported by donkeys up the treacherous trails. Finally, the grapes are spread out on paseros, or traditional drying beds. Some become delicious, plump raisins, and some are used to make muscatel wines.

Because of the steep terrain, no other crop can be grown in this landscape. The preservation of this centuries-old growing method not only limits erosion and prevents desertification, it is also an important part of the local economy. In recent years, the Ruta de la Pasa, or “Raisin Route,” has attracted a growing tourist industry, supporting the local community.

The Salt Valley - Salinas de Añana, Mountain Harvested Sea Salt

In the tiny valley of Añana, in the mountains of the Basque region, is a very special spring that bubbles up through a gigantic underground vault of salt, a remnant of a sea that disappeared millions of years ago. This spring water is not drinkable, but it is the source of the incredible “mountain sea salt” of the region. Starting thousands of years ago, the people of the area built a system of channels to direct the water to raised wooden platforms, where the water evaporates, allowing the salt to be harvested. Eventually 5,000 of these platforms were built, transforming the tiny valley into a monument to the salt harvest.

This beautiful salt drying architecture is integrated into the valley, allowing salt to be sustainably harvested without mining or other environmentally damaging processes. Human activity coexists with nature, allowing both to thrive.

Ancient Olive Trees of Sénia

The Sénia region of Tarragona has a special microclimate that is home to over 5,000 olive trees that are older than most civilizations. This is the largest concentration of ancient trees in the world, and amazingly, they continue to produce olives and olive oil that sustain the local community. Some of the olive varieties, called Morruda, Sevillenca and Farga are very rare and protecting the trees preserves these unique olive oil olives.

The trees are under threat because of development and harvesting. Thankfully, the local community and the government have come to realize that these trees are an incredible and irreplaceable treasure. They are now protected and are a growing tourist attraction.

1,200-Year-Old Sustainable Farming - Horta de Valencia

In the beautiful region of Valencia, the "Horta de Valencia" is a stunning example of humans and nature living in harmony. In the 8th century, the Moors began a complex system of canals, ponds and lakes to channel waters from the Turia River to irrigate farms and rice paddies around Valencia. Over the centuries, this system has been maintained and augmented, creating a beautiful region of lush farmland and wildlife habitats. The system even transformed a lagoon into a freshwater wetland, La Albufera, which is now a prime habitat for endangered birds and other wildlife.

To this day, countless small farms raise many delicious crops, like onions, artichokes, pumpkins, oranges and chufa nuts. The most famous crop of the region, rice, grows in the Albufera Natural Park alongside the thriving wildlife of the area. Without Horta de Valencia, we would not have paella!

There are many other amazing sustainable agricultural systems in Spain, from the Dehesas rangeland of southern Spain, where Ibérico pigs and fighting bulls graze under cork trees, to La Doñana, a massive, protected wetland near Cádiz, where fish are farmed in an ecosystem that preserves endangered wildlife. In each case, humans adapted the environment to their needs in a way that that preserved and sometimes enhanced the ecosystem. We have much to learn from these ancient systems, and so much to gain by protecting them. Next time you are in Spain, I encourage you to visit some of these heritage areas and support their preservation.

The world is in love with tapas! But now that they are showing up on menus everywhere, the definition of tapas is getting blurred beyond recognition. Are Thai dumplings tapas? Are Buffalo wings tapas? I don’t think so!

What Are Tapas?
Tapas are small portions of Spanish food served with a drink. Beyond that, there are a big variety of styles depending on the region, or even from one tapas bar to the next in the same town. They can be hot, like my favorite fried fresh anchovies, boquerones fritos, or chilled, like ensalada rus, a potato salad with carrots and peas. A tapa can be a anything from couple of olives served with a drink to a plate of acorn-fed Jamón Ibérico de Bellota.

Are Tapas Free?
Some places serve a small tapa for free with an order of drinks, usually a small portion of olives, almonds or potato chips. These are typically offered in old-fashioned tapas bars.

Far more often, tapas are part of the menu. They are a small portion to be shared with friends as you enjoy a beer or glass of vino. Larger portions are listed as well, usually called a ración or media ración. Quality and price can vary widely – a slice of tortilla española potato omelet might be a couple of euros, whereas a plate of cazón en adobo (fried marinated dogfish shark), a specialty of Cádiz, might cost €15.

How Do the Spanish Enjoy Tapas?
In Spain, tapas are a fun, casual way have a snack with friends. You might grab a drink and a bite after work on your way home. Or you might make a night of it, bouncing from bar to bar, nibbling on the signature tapa of the house. The Spanish use the verb “tapear” for this, you might call it a tapas crawl.

In traditional tapas bars, there are usually very few places to sit, and the delicious small dishes are eaten at the bar or standing around tall tables. This is the case in the famous tapas bars of Logroño, the capital of the wine region of La Rioja. One of my favorite tapas streets in Spain is Calle del Laurel in the historic center of Logroño. There, each tiny bar features a signature dish, often advertised with a color picture above the door. Locals pop in and have a bite with a drink and move on to the next bar a few minutes later. With nearly 50 tapas bars on the street, you will run out of appetite long before you run out of choices!

In the last few years, many municipal markets have been converted to lively tapas destinations. The most famous is the Mercado de San Miguel in Madrid. The stalls featuring vegetable sellers and fishmongers have been replaced by intimate wine bars and a variety of little tapas bars. With over 30 options, it is like an entire tapas crawl in one place, surrounded by the beautiful century-old building. There is some controversy about these renovated markets, as they displace traditional vendors and compete with independent tapas establishments. Plus, they can become quite crowded with tourists. But if you want a one stop tapas experience, they are hard to beat.

Where Did the Name Tapas Come From?
The origin of the tapas tradition is uncertain, but there several theories. The name ‘tapa’ seems to refer to a piece of food covering a glass, since ‘tapa’ comes from the verb tapar, or to cover. Some say the 13th century king Alfonso El Sabio (the Wise) required taverns to serve food with their drinks to decrease drunkenness and fighting, so they began topping glasses of wine with a bite of food.

Another story is that it comes from the sherry region of Andalucía, a famously hot, dry region. A slice of jamón or chorizo was placed over sherry glasses to stop the dust from touching the wine. I am not sure if this makes sense, because then you get a dusty piece of jamón!

Tapas are such a fun and casual tradition, with no need for formality or rules, that I like to think the name came about naturally. I can envision a customer carrying a few glasses of wine to his friends, each topped with a tasty morsel to avoid making another trip to the bar.

What Are Typical Tapas?

There are so many great tapas dishes that I can’t list them all, but there are some classics that you will find across Spain. My father says that excellent croquetas are the sign of a great tapas bar. These creamy croquettes with a crisp breaded shell are so satisfying when made right and can be stuffed with a variety of tasty morsels, like diced jamón, chorizo, mushrooms, salt cod or Manchego cheese.

Tortilla Española, a potato omelet beloved across Spain, is a favorite. Gambas al ajillo is another, fresh shrimp sizzled in olive oil with garlic and chili peppers. Pescaito frito, fried fish or squid, are beloved in the south. In Galicia, steamed shellfish and fried Padrón peppers take center stage. Then there is the straightforward plate of thinly sliced Jamón Serrano or chorizo sausage, a classic across the country.

Montaditos are another form of tapas, consisting of rounds of sliced bread topped with different meats and vegetables. Somewhat similar are the delicious pintxos of the Basque region, which are typically more elaborate. These are usually prepared and presented on plates across the front of the bar – you simply grab what looks good and pay for them as you leave.

There is good reason that the tapas style of eating is conquering the world. This fun and unfussy tradition lets you sample a variety of tasty foods while enjoying a great time with friends and family. And sharing tapas is a perfect example of the warm and inviting culture that makes Spain so special.

This year the striking ceremonies and processions of Semana Santa (Holy Week) will be restricted as Spain works to contain COVID-19. Enjoy this classic article, written by La Tienda founder Don Harris, about this magical event as we hope for a return to normal in 2022!

Semana Santa expresses the heart and soul of Spain. Semana Santa is not a show, nor is it designed to be a tourist attraction. Throughout the preceding year, both the physical and spiritual preparations involve hundreds of people in each town. It just as much an expression of community as it is of devotion. And you don't need to be religious to appreciate the beauty and artistry of these celebrations - there is something profound about a town or city coming together in this way that transcends your personal beliefs.

In many towns elaborate pasos, or heavy wooden platforms, are brought out by the local parishes to recall the last few days of the life of Jesus prior to his crucifixion. Many of the sculptures stretch back many generations and the pasos lie in repose in the local parishes all year long. On the appropriate day during Holy Week, robed parishioners strain to lift and carry the venerated life-like images through the town on a set route that can take many hours. Each parish has a brotherhood of penitential men and boys who are committed to shoulder this immensely heavy burden in procession during Holy Week.

Every town and city throughout Spain has her own rendition. One of my favorites occurs in the ancient walled city of Zamora in northern Spain, near the Portuguese border. It is a city filled with priceless 12th century Romanesque churches. The tone of their Semana Santa celebration is very somber. To this day, my wife Ruth and I can recall looking down from the battlements about midnight and seeing a long candlelit procession headed toward the city gate. It was a remarkable sight.

In Zamora most of the citizens, from toddlers to retired people - called jubilados in Spain - are involved in the preparations. It is a binding communal event. If you would like to share in this amazing experience, I strongly recommend that you make a reservation for the Zamora Parador, a restored 15th-century Renaissance palace, with medieval touches, including suits of armor, tapestries and interior stone walls. The 12th-century Zamora Cathedral is 9 minutes' walk away. However, do it right now for next year, 2017. I am sure most of the rooms are already booked at about $125 per night – not bad for a palace!

On the other hand, if you were to go to Andalucía in southern Spain you would have quite a different experience. Sevilla has a huge and festive Semana. The pasos are equally as beautiful and refined as in the north. The cofradias, the men of the brotherhood who carry the massive pasos on their shoulders, are equally devout as in Castile. But Sevilla is an elegant place, kissed by the sun. As you can imagine, it is hard to capture the severe piety of a place like Zamora when you are surrounded by avenues of citrus trees laden with oranges, spectacular purple bougainvillea and deep red geraniums, all surrounded by palm trees. Sevilla is by nature festive.

Yet another amazing Semana Santa is located in the cliff town of Cuenca with its dramatic hanging balconies. It is only a two-hour drive from the Barajas Airport in Madrid, yet it definitely is another world. Their weeklong celebration is in many ways similar to other towns', but if you stay by the plaza up the steep hill in front of the Cathedral, you will find the ancient cobblestone streets very narrow and the processions are close enough to touch. Spectators are only two or three deep at a maximum.

Another dramatic feature of Cuenca processions is the presence of scores of drummers in traditional garb, whose muffled snare drumming heightens the intensity of the processions. Good Friday morning is an experience you will never forget, as the life-sized statue of Jesus arrives in the plaza and the hundreds of drummers begin to mock him, representing the crowd at his crucifixion.

If this were not enough to recommend this beautiful city, during the day is the international medieval religious music festival. Choirs and musical ensembles come from all over Europe, from Belgium and Germany as well as Spain's El Escorial, to sing at various chapels during the day. As a result, on the same day you attend a moving musical performance, then stop for tapas at a local café, then get ready for the processions in the evening!

The Parador hotel in Cuenca is a restored 16th-century monastery, just a stone’s throw from the Cathedral. On the other hand, we found rooms in an ancient dormitory which was just steps from the old Norman Cathedral.

These are just a few of the mesmerizing and beautiful Holy Week celebrations that occur all across Spain. I can think of no better way to experience the living traditions of ancient Spain than by experiencing Semana Santa. It is a week of beauty, tradition, celebration, devotion, family and community that goes to the heart of what it is to be Spanish.

The weather outside is frightful, so as I stare out the window at the February drizzle, I am daydreaming about my favorite heartwarming, rib-sticking Spanish foods. These are simple, satisfying recipes that fight off the winter chill and bring smiles to family and friends gathered around the table.

1. Tortilla Española Potato Omelet

No, I am not talking about the tasty flat corn tortillas of Mexico, though this Spanish favorite does feature another New World staple, potatoes. Ask anyone in Spain to identify who makes the best tortilla Española and chances are they will say their mother is the master. Fresh potatoes are simmered in bubbling olive oil, then mixed with whisked eggs and fried into a thick cake – tortilla literally means “little cake” in Spanish. Some purists swear that tortilla must have a soft, creamy center where the eggs are just a little runny. If you are not a stickler for tradition, you can add diced onions, bell peppers, mushrooms or asparagus to the mix. Chef José Andrés even has a version made from potato chips!

I tasted one of my favorite examples of tortilla española in San Sebastián. I had just arrived with my wife, Stacey, after a long airplane journey and we stepped into a local bar on a chilly fall afternoon. We ordered a couple of cañas and a plate of tortilla. It was warm and welcoming with an enticing aroma of olive oil and Spanish potatoes, and quickly revived our tired bodies. It probably was not the finest tortilla in Spain, but at that moment it was one of the tastiest meals I’d ever had!

I encourage you to prepare tortilla Española at home. It is a simple recipe and will warm up your day, plus cold tortilla leftovers are a great snack any time.

2. Croquetas

My father says that if you want to gauge the quality of a tapas bar, order a plate of hot croquetas! This bite-sized tapa is fundamentally a creamy béchamel coated in breadcrumbs then fried until crispy on the outside and creamy (and piping hot!) in the interior.

Croquetas are a favorite across Spain and often diced jamón, bacalao, mushrooms or other tasty local morsels are blended into the béchamel to create a flavorful and satisfying tapa.

3. Cocido de Garbanzos

This sustaining stew has deep roots in Spain. Featuring garbanzo beans, vegetables, pork belly, morcilla and chorizo, this classic stew simmers for hours, filling your house with enticing aromas. The stew has its origins in a Jewish Spanish dish, featuring beef and quail, called Adafina, which was prepared on Friday night to be consumed on Saturday the Sabbat. Over the centuries, pork and sausages were added as it was adopted by the Christian community as a hearty favorite.

I remember hiking through the province of León on the way to Santiago de Compostela some years ago. We stopped at a humble restaurant and inquired what was on the menu. The welcoming owner sat us down and went to the kitchen. A few minutes later, she proudly served us two giant bowls of cocido stew along with a fresh loaf of crusty bread. I have never had a more sustaining and delicious stew in my life!

4. Pollo al Ajillo (Garlic Chicken)

When our family lived in El Puerto de Santa María, one of our favorite restaurants was Venta la Rufana. Sitting in the shade of ancient magnolia trees that literally grow through the roof of the restaurant, we enjoyed some of our favorite Andalusian favorites: choco a la plancha, boquerones fritos and puntillitas, to name a few. But our favorite dish was the pollo al ajillo. A whole chicken is chopped into pieces, then sizzled in garlicky olive oil. It had a crispy, brown exterior and a juiciness I can taste right now. And sopping up the juices with the soft local bread was the prefect finish. Pollo al ajillo is easy to make at home and we often try and recreate the garlic chicken of Rufana.

5. Churros con Chocolate

Another favorite memory of living in El Puerto de Santa María was wandering the vibrant town market, watching the vendors standing behind beautiful displays of fresh seafood, colorful fruits and tasty cured meats. After making our purchases, we stopped by the local churreria. There, a masterful cook stood over a hot cauldron, squirting a spiral of dough into the bubbling oil. Deftly pulling the hot churros out with a metal rod, he quickly snipped the spiral into pieces and tossed them into a paper cone and passed them to eagerly awaiting patrons.

Nearby we ordered cups of ‘chocolate a la taza,’ the outrageously thick and creamy hot chocolate with an almost pudding-like consistency. Piping hot churros in hand, we dipped the crunchy pastries into the chocolate for a sinfully delicious combination. This was always the highlight of our frequent trips to the mercado.

As I write these words, I am transported to Spain and memories of these delicious and comforting foods that are so beloved by the Spanish people. While I will continue to try to recreate these tasty dishes at home, I can’t wait until the next time I am able to travel and enjoy the full Spanish experience.

We were on a mission to find the perfect bowl of beans. We were visiting the ancient kingdom of Asturias in the far north of Spain, a verdant region of jagged mountains that march all the way to the Cantabrian Sea. We drove north from Oviedo, seat of the great Visigothic kings who battled mightily against the invading Moors in the 8th and 9th centuries. It was a cool overcast morning, with wispy fog drifting through the valleys.

We were following the advice of cookbook author Penelope Casas, who wrote in her book “Discovering Spain” that the finest Fabada Asturiana stew could be enjoyed at the tiny restaurant ‘La Maquina,’ located at a crossroads near the highway north of Oviedo. Following a crumpled map on the dashboard (this was before cellphones and GPS), we drove in circles trying to find this hidden gem. It turns out La Maquina has no obvious sign, but we finally spotted a whimsical locomotive in front of a modest building – we had found the namesake for La Maquina.

My parents and I scooted in the front door past a stack of beer bottles into a comedor not much bigger than our dining room at home. We sat at a table and took in the décor, which was both elegant and rustic, with wooden beams on the ceilings and white tablecloths. We wasted no time in ordering bowls of their signature dish, Fabada Asturiana bean stew.

Now, I have to admit, I was skeptical. What was the big fuss about a bowl of beans? I wasn’t a big fan of beans in the first place and the idea triggered memories of the insipid franks and beans of my childhood.

A few minutes later, the steaming bowls of fabada arrived, accompanied by big slices of rustic crusty bread. The first thing that hit me was the smoky, earthy aroma, evoking a memory of smoke drifting from the chimneys of an ancient stone village we had visited the day before. I learned that Spain’s amazing paprika, oakwood smoked Pimentón de La Vera, was the source of this heavenly aroma.

The bowl was filled with large white beans, along with chunks of pork belly, blood sausage (morcilla) and chorizo. I scooped a few beans into my spoon and had a taste. They were firm yet delicate, with a creamy texture that had absorbed all the meaty, smoky flavor of the broth. Not a hint of graininess or mushy texture - now this was no ordinary bowl of beans! My eyes were opened to one of Spain’s iconic foods.

Time and time again, I am struck by how simple traditional dishes in Spain are elevated by exceptional ingredients. Dishes like Fabada Asturiana shouldn’t be this extraordinary. But, like so many other cooks and chefs in Spain, the owners of La Maquina refuse to compromise on the quality of the simplest ingredients. Fabada beans from Asturias, called “Fabes de La Granja,” are protected by a Denomination of Origin and must be grown in this mountainous region. They take much longer to mature than typical white beans and are hand cultivated and harvested to make sure they are the very finest quality.

This is another example of local pride and adherence to tradition without compromise that I have found across Spain, from the fuet sausage of Catalunya to the canned seafood of Galicia. Ingredients like fabes beans are simple, but by no means unsophisticated. Instead, they are the result of careful selection over centuries, and painstaking cultivation to capture their best essence.

This was no ordinary bowl of beans. This was an expression of the history of the ancient Kingdom of Asturias, each bite a taste of the pride of place built over centuries.

I left La Maquina with my coat pulled tight against the afternoon drizzle, perfect fabada eating weather in my book! As we drove back to our hotel rooms in Oviedo, I knew I would never look at a bowl of beans the same way again.

This is a classic essay from 2005 featuring Christmas in a rustic bodega with ice storms and power outages. We hope you enjoy reading this Christmas adventure story.

¡Felices Fiestas, mis amigos!

Several years ago, Ruth and I booked plane tickets for the whole family to celebrate Christmas in a remote part of Spain. We drove directly to Granada, spent the night, and then headed southeast toward the area surrounding the mountain village of Cádiar deep in the Alpujarra region. It is a unique area, a natural link between the Mediterranean coast and Sierra Nevada, towered over by some of the highest peaks of Spain. It is there that the remnants of the Moors sequestered themselves after the fall of Granada in 1492; and it is not far from the dramatic mountain town of Trevélez where the local people cure a fabulous Jamón Serrano in the shadow of the highest mountain pass in the country.

Our trip turned out to be quite an adventure! In 1997, much of Spain was experiencing drenching rains and dramatic mudslides of historic proportions. Nevertheless, undaunted by the rain, we navigated the narrow mountain roads in two cars - each driver experiencing his own challenges as we snaked up the mountain range. The least of our worries were the few roadside guard-rails remaining which had been violently uprooted by the mud. As our other car was approaching its destination, a horse started galloping behind us down the road!

It was dark by the time we reached the end of our journey. But for the brilliant full moon, our destination would have been difficult to spot because the road leading to the buildings had been washed out by a mud-slide. We stopped to ask directions from a man alongside the road. He hopped on our hood and guided us down the road. Quite an adventure, but with a happy conclusion: we were greeted by the innkeeper, who, with typical Spanish cordiality served us a simple and wholesome meal.

After a good night's sleep, we awakened to a sunny day in the clear mountain air. We were enjoying a respite from the stormy weather by hiking around on the rocks when our host asked us if we would like him to prepare a meal to celebrate 'La Noche Buena' - Christmas Eve, which would be that evening. He noted that because of the weather there were few alternatives for us, so he and his staff would be delighted to serve us. We gratefully accepted his generous proposal.

That afternoon the seven of us made our way to the village of Cádiar, stopping for café con leche and churros before popping into a little shop in town to pick out amusing little gifts for each other. We decided to simplify gift giving by drawing names: each person would buy only one gift, and that gift could not exceed 500 pesetas ($3.00). As we drove back to our inn, we noticed the village parish church - a late medieval structure - perfect for Midnight Mass.

We returned to one of the most memorable meals we have ever shared together as a family. Our host had set up a long refectory-type table in his cellar bodega. We were surrounded by barrels of wine and overhead were dozens of serrano hams hanging from the rafters. The wonderful aromas of the wine-soaked barrels and the still-curing jamones were soon augmented by the sweet smell of platterfuls of woodfire roasted lamb - it seemed as if there was one for each one of us. The candle-lit table was laden with local vegetables and delicacies accompanied by wine of the region. The feast continued with Christmas sweets and savories, reaching its conclusion with glasses of brandy. No honey-coated spiral ham for us! We felt we were far away from modern America.

After the dinner, as we were opening our little gifts, we noticed the wind gusting stronger, until finally we lost our electric power. Candles were lit, glowing on the rustic wooden tables to light the room. It was a truly rustic occasion. But that did not stop us from getting ready to go to the ancient church in the village. As we were driving to town, our way illumined by the full moon, I romanticized how the lack of electricity would enhance our worship with the people of the village. It would be easy to imagine ourselves living in simpler times, centuries in the past.

We arrived at the church only a minute or two before Midnight, relieved that we were not too late. But, to our dismay, we found a darkened church with the door locked! Just about then the local parish priest roared up in his small SEAT sedan (so much for medieval illusions!) He greeted us, unlocked the door, and then bustled about the building lighting several portable butane heaters (with the familiar orange 'butano' canisters) and rolling them to where the congregation would be sitting - saving one heater for himself by the altar.

Without electricity the medieval church did have an added charm - the flickering candles, the shadowy arches, the crèche in the transept, the villagers filtering in throughout the liturgy at their own pace. By the time the Mass was over, and the villagers were filing by the manger scene venerating the Christ child, the church was comfortably full.

What a wondrous day it had been: our family together; the feast prepared by our inn-keeper and served by young women from the town; opening modest presents and then worshiping together. It had been all that I could hope for - mudslides and lost electricity notwithstanding.

I know we cannot replicate this magical Christmas again. But the commitment to greater simplicity during the holidays can be accomplished, and you do not have to go to Spain to do it. We discovered this truth a couple of years later here in Williamsburg, Virginia. We had a horrendous ice storm during the holidays, which knocked out our electricity, and even our water, for days. That Christmas Eve we tossed a couple more logs on the fire, snaked a hose over from our neighbors’ yard and shared a special time together. I particularly remember gathering to sing carols by the crackling fire. It was simple and very special.

For many people this is the favorite holiday of the year. No matter our personal faith, the universal icon of Mother and newborn Child reflects hope, and the joy of loving families. This is the season for each of us to renew personal ties and extend ourselves to others, so that the shortest days of the year are filled with light and joy.

Our family, and our fantastic La Tienda family, extend to you best wishes for a joyful time in this holiday season. We hope that, amidst all the distractions, you are able to focus on the purpose of all your preparations - sharing your love with others.

¡Felices Fiestas, Feliz Navidad!

Don

In 1996, La Tienda started in my father’s basement. We were a family of Spain fanatics and we couldn’t find any of Spain’s amazing foods or ceramics in local stores. We posted a collection of Mozarabic tiles from Andalucía, plus a few food products on our first website. We started to receive a few orders and our collection began to grow. Then in 1998, Jamón Serrano arrived on American shores for the first time in generations.

We hung a row of bone-in hams by Redondo Iglesias across the center beam of the basement while we worked a few feet away at our desks, our phone modems squeaking and chirping as we logged onto the Internet. Our dog would occasionally leap into the air to try and get a bite of delicious jamón – thankfully, they were well out of reach!

Every day the UPS truck would back into our driveway, and we would toss a few boxes on the truck – a ham, a couple of jars of piquillo peppers, a paella pan or two. We came to realize that, for most people, an 18-pound ham was just too much of a commitment. I started thinking about how to offer smaller portions – we needed a way to offer sliced jamón if we wanted to reach more people.

Talking around the dinner table, my parents and brothers and I had a lightbulb moment – we live less than an hour away from the town of Smithfield, home of Virginia’s iconic Smithfield hams. Surely someone in the ham capital of America could slice for us!

I started calling around to every ham and sausage company in the phonebook. Finally, I found a small bacon producer that was willing to work with us to slice our Serrano ham. I loaded up my father’s Toyota Forerunner with 20 boneless hams, caught the ferry over the James River and 20 minutes later arrived at the plant.

That morning I helped supervise the cutting of La Tienda’s first batch of sliced Serrano ham. At the end of the day, we tossed a few hundred packs into the same cardboard boxes that had held the whole hams, and I was on my way.

A few years later, the enormous Smithfield Foods company embarked upon a series of acquisitions. Dozens of venerable ham brands in the area were gobbled up and generations of experience disappeared as Smithfield Foods shut down their plants as they eliminated the competition. We had to find another way to get our jamón sliced.

We started working with a small sausage producer in Virginia Beach who would slice jamón for us between selling his products at local fairs and attending to his own small shop. After a year or so our volume was big enough that we knew we needed a partner with better machinery but couldn’t find anyone who wanted to deal with this specialty product. So, we decided to start a company to slice Spanish jamón ourselves. We named it Virginia Packing LLC.

Virginia Packing now sits in our warehouse within sight of where the La Tienda boxes are packed and shipped. Our USDA inspected facilities now boast a top-of-the-line Weber meat slicer from Germany, and a packaging machine that flushes each pack of slices with nitrogen, ensuring that the precious Spanish ham is maintained in top condition. We now slice and package Jamón Ibérico de Bellota, a ham that can cost well over $1,400 a leg. We wouldn’t trust anyone else to handle this finest of all hams.

But what we are most proud of is the freshness of our sliced meats. A lot of sliced Serrano and Ibérico hams are cut in Spain and may sit for months as they cross the ocean and pass through distribution channels. We can debone imported whole hams, press them and slice them in our own facilities so our customers receive the freshest Spanish ham in the US. We also source the best quality raw material by working with the finest ham curing houses in Spain.

A lot has changed since our days in my father’s basement, surrounded by the delicious aroma of Serrano hams hanging above our desks. Since 1996, the Internet has transformed the world, and Smithfield Foods is now owned by the Shuangui company from China. La Tienda now offers nearly 1,000 gourmet foods and cookware items from across Spain.

But many things have stayed the same. Our family still makes important decisions sitting together around the dinner table. And we still work hard to make sure we are offering the very best Spanish food for your table. Our Virginia Packing team is an essential part of that mission, by carefully slicing the world’s finest hams for you to enjoy at home.

Spain is in love with tiny fish. As an American, this is one of the most foreign aspects of Spanish cuisine. In the U.S., there is not much appreciation for small fish - sardines are a cheap canned fish often smothered in mustard, and anchovies are most often found roasted to oblivion on pizza. Finding a freshly cooked sardine or anchovy is frustratingly rare.

But in Spain, small fish can be found at restaurants around the country. I've tasted them charred black over a charcoal grill, deep fried in garbanzo flour, pickled in vinegar, canned at the peak of freshness or cold-smoked over oakwood.

These little treasures are celebrated in Spain for their deliciousness, but, like other important foods in Spanish cuisine, it turns out they are incredibly good for your health. High in protein and rich in Omega-3 fatty acids, they are a veritable super food. And because they are so small and relatively short lived, they have no buildup of mercury or other harmful contaminants.

When you visit Spain, you must taste the little fishes whenever you see them at a tapas bar or restaurant. It will open your eyes to a culinary treasure! Here are five of my favorites in Spain.

1. Sardinas - Sardines

Every summer the beaches are packed in El Puerto de Santa María. When we lived there, we went to the beach often, spreading out our towels and looking across the bay to the ancient city of Cádiz, founded by the Phoenicians. Young men juggled soccer balls on the shore as kids splashed in the sea. After a while we would get hungry, so we braved the hot sand and walked to the nearby 'chiringuito,' a pop-up tapas bar built right on the sand.

In the U.S. you might find a shack selling hot dogs and soft serve ice cream at the beach. There we sat at a table and ordered a couple of frosty cañas (small beers). I looked over and saw a man placing fresh whole sardines onto a charcoal grill. As the skin charred, he deftly flipped them over to cook on the other side. This I had to try!

For a few euros I bought a plate of three. My wife and I gently pulled the fillets away from the bones and savored the delicious white fish. Tender, rich and flaky, the taste of those sardines is locked in my memory. The secret? The sardines were extremely fresh, possibly caught that very morning. I fantasize about returning to El Puerto and tasting those amazing sardines again.

2. Anchoas - Anchovies

Like many 'norteamericanos,’ anchovies were not a favorite of my youth. Again, it was because I was exposed to low quality anchovies that had not been treated with the care and reverence they deserve. I only became an anchovy fanatic after visiting the seafood masters at Nardín in the Basque Country.

Zumaia is a small fishing village tucked into the craggy shoreline of the Basque Country. The Oliveri family sources only fresh products from the local seafood auction for their company, Conservas Nardín, so they have very limited production. If the local fishermen didn't catch it, they can't make it.

Because they never use frozen seafood or fish caught in faraway ports, the raw material is exceptional. We visited their small factory and saw a circle of women slicing fillets from silvery anchovies as they chatted away. The fillets were then stacked in a circle and sprinkled with sea salt. When enough anchovies were added, a heavy stone ring was placed on top, pressing the fish and removing the excess moisture. Then they were left to age in refrigeration for a few months. Finally, they were rinsed, then placed one by one into cans and topped with olive oil.

Señor Oliveri served his anchovies at a small table near his office along with a loaf of bread and some bottles of water. Just opening the can changed my perspective on anchovies. The fillets were plump and dark pink, glistening with oil. As I took a bite, I couldn't believe the silkiness of the anchovy. It had a full anchovy flavor and a bold saltiness balanced by the richness of the fish. It had none of the harsh intensity and chalky texture I had come to fear from my childhood anchovy traumas. This was a seafood bursting with flavor and reverently made to preserve its delicate texture. I was hooked!

3. Boquerones en Vinagre - White Anchovies

Boquerones en vinagre are anchovy fillets as well, but a world away in flavor and texture. In fact, the first time I tasted them in a tapas bar in Madrid, I had no idea they were anchovies at all. The secret is how they are preserved. Unlike anchovies which are preserved in salt, boquerones en vinagre are pickled. Fresh anchovy fillets are covered in a simple vinaigrette, and acid in the wine vinegar 'cooks' them so that they turn white and tender.

The result is a very mild, delicate fillet with a bright tartness and very little fishiness. You can find them on ensaladas and canapés, but I enjoy eating them with slices of good bread and a glass of Albariño or other tasty white wine.

4. Boquerones Fritos – Fried Whole Anchovies

Andalucía is the land of ‘pescaito frito,’ translated as the best darned fried fish in the world! My favorites are boquerones fritos, which are small fresh anchovies lightly coated in garbanzo flour then deep fried until crispy. These little fishes are so mild and tender that they usually don’t remove the head, tail or bones before cooking. You simply nibble on the finger sized fish and wash them down with a refreshing glass of Manzanilla sherry or white wine. Whether you are at a restaurant overlooking the beaches of Malaga or sitting at a tapas bar in the shadow of the Giralda tower in Sevilla, you will find these addictively crisp, delicious fried anchovies across the region.

5. Sardinillas – Tiny Canned Sardines

Verdant Galicia is surrounded by the nutrient rich waters of the north Atlantic Ocean. Six beautiful estuaries (the ‘Rías Baixas’) reach into the land, providing a wealth of delicious seafoods. One of my favorites are sardinillas. These tiny little sardines are the size of your pinky finger, and the Gallegos (as the people of Galicia are known) have perfected the art of capturing their mild yet delicious taste in cans.

Hours after harvest, these little fish are cleaned, then poached and placed by hand, one-by-one, into cans. They are topped with olive oil and sealed shut just a few miles from where they were harvested. This meticulous, painstaking canning process is why Galician sardinillas are so good. They have a clean, mild flavor and smooth texture ideal for canapés and fresh salads. I love to simply pop them into my mouth, they are that good!

There are many other delicious little sea creatures that I love to eat in Spain, from tiny fried flounder called ‘acedias’ to exceptionally small squid called ‘puntillitas.’ Because it is so hard to find fish like this in the U.S., it is one of the great pleasures of traveling to Spain. Like Ibérico ham and extra virgin olive oil, these little fishes taste so good it is hard to believe that they are also amazingly good for you.

If you live close to a fishing port, I encourage you to go to the local seafood market and see if you can find fresh small fish to try them for yourself. Or you can buy the canned versions from La Tienda, I promise you will be glad you did! Or you can dream of traveling to Spain, grabbing a table at the local Plaza Mayor and ordering some of the best seafood you will every taste.

This is a reprint of one of Don's favorite stories. We will be back next month with a new article.

Our modern culture seems to be fascinated with fantasy and legend. There is great interest in the legend of the Holy Grail or Tolkien’s Middle Earth; C.S. Lewis’s Narnia and the Harry Potter series. I wonder how many people realize that the tasty little Padrón peppers, which are so popular here at La Tienda, are also wrapped in legend!

The origin of the seeds from which we grow these tasty peppers traces back to a rustic town along the Atlantic coast of Galicia, in farthest northwest Spain. The town of Padrón is so far west that the neighboring village on the storm-tossed Atlantic Coast is called Finisterre - loosely translated as “the end of the world.”

The town of Padrón is shrouded in history and legend that stretch back to pre-history. Archaeologists tell us that it was an Iberian settlement of the Caporos people. Because of its natural location at the confluence of two rivers, the settlement was on the crossroads to what is now Braga (Portugal) to the south and Astorga (León) to the east. Ancient Roman documents tell us that it became a significant town named Iria Flavia under the Romans.

Now here is where the need to sort out history and legend comes into play. According to tradition, it was in a rocky area above Iria Flavia that Apostle St. James first preached during his stay in Hispania, which was at the peak of its cultural ascendency in the Roman Empire. It is conceivable that James would head there, as had St. Paul, according to Biblical accounts.

He returned to the Holy Land, where he was martyred in Jerusalem - and this is where the legend part of the story begins. It is said that his disciples Theodore and Athanasius placed the body of James in a stone boat and set it sail westward. They navigated the mythical stone craft across the expanse of the Mediterranean Sea, sailed by Gibraltar through the Pillars of Hercules, and headed north along the Atlantic coast until they found safe haven in a peaceful 'ria' or fjord. There they moored their stone vessel to a pedrón (Spanish for big stone).

The two disciples remained in Iria Flavia (now Padrón) to preach after burying the body of the apostle. The legendary pedrón mooring stone can be seen today at the parish church of Santiago de Padrón.

Legend has it that some shepherds in a field saw a star shining on the site of the grave of St. James during a key period in the struggle against the invading Moors in the 8th century. As news of the shepherds' miraculous discovery spread to the defending armies they took heart, and at the critical battle of Covadonga, they saw St. James riding out of heaven on a splendid white charger in order to lead the Spaniards to victory.

From that time forward, St. James, or Santiago (Iago was the old spelling), was viewed as the patron saint of Spain, and the name of the site where the funerial stone boat was pulled ashore was transmuted from 'Pedrón' (mooring stone) to 'Padrón' (Patron).

Padrón soon became a popular passing place in the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route, but the focus of attention gradually moved to nearby Santiago de Compostela. But here is where the peppers come in (in case you thought I had forgotten).

Over the years a Franciscan monastery grew up in the barrio of Herbón, a neighborhood of Padrón. It was there at the Herbón monastery where the Franciscans apparently first tried growing the pepper seeds they had brought back from the New World in the 18th century. This place still remains the heart of the Pimientos de Padrón growing area today.

One of the members of the La Tienda community wrote me, “I am actually from Padrón - my family originates from there. We have a 100-year-old farmhouse next to the monastery in Herbón, the small village contained in Padrón. All my aunties and uncles produce these pimientos. There is also an annual fiesta to celebrate the pimiento. People come from all around to visit.”

What do these legends and fantasies have to do with the very tasty and occasionally hot tiny green peppers? Had the Spaniards not believed the legend of Santiago, they might easily have lost the crucial Battle of Covadonga to the surging invaders. Hispania would have had a radically different culture, in which Franciscans could not flourish, nor could they plant peppers in their monasteries. Nor would there be the pilgrims of Santiago de Compostela to enjoy them in their tapas bars, and therefore the fame of the peppers would never have spread across Spain and the world.

Are these stories true? Could a stone ship sail across the Mediterranean? Was the body the shepherds found really that of St. James or just another first century Roman? How could the soldiers have seen James riding out of heaven on a white horse? These are questions that we as children of the scientific age ask. Certainly they would not have occurred to medieval pilgrims. For them, life was a mystery.

So when next you sauté your Padrón peppers and sprinkle them with sea salt before popping them into your mouth as a delightful tapa, think of the amazing history and legend surrounding this humble pepper.

As we take each tentative step towards normal life, I think of what I miss most about Spain right now. For me it is Spain’s vibrant local markets, a place to discover amazing produce, the freshest seafood, a cornucopia of sausages and jamones, and delicious café con leche and hot churros. But most of all, I miss the welcoming community of vendors and customers, coming together to celebrate the mundane yet vital act of procuring good food. Below is a classic article from 2014 all about Spanish mercados, hopefully we can all travel to Spain soon to enjoy them in person!

One of my most satisfying everyday experiences in Spain is to visit the many local food markets, where I marvel at the fresh produce and chat with knowledgeable vendors. The local markets come in all kinds of shapes and sizes, from a little group of stands in a small village to the huge festive markets of Barcelona and Madrid.

My first exposure to local food markets in Spain was during my first Navy Mediterranean cruise back in 1965. While walking along the amazing Ramblas esplanade in Barcelona, with all its attractions and distractions, I happened upon the Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueri, commonly called La Boquería. I guess the only word I can think of is that the market is "astonishing" in the depth and breadth of food of all sorts, and the welcoming community of vendors and customers.

I am sure many of you who read this have visited there yourselves. One lasting image for me is when I was sitting next to a shellfish counter with a shipmate enjoying a cup of café con leche, I was startled to see that a few cigalas lobsters were crawling toward me. Fresh indeed!

In many people's eyes, La Boquería is the granddaddy of all food markets in Spain, but my personal choice is found many miles away in Andalucía, in the ancient and evocative city of Cádiz, located on a thin spit of land reaching into the Atlantic Ocean. Many times I have boarded a ferry from my former "hometown" of El Puerto de Santa María to take a beautiful 20 minute ride across the Bay of Cádiz. When you get off along the waterfront, it is just a 10 minute walk past the cathedral and the flower stalls to enter an amazing display of all the creatures of the sea which are fit to eat. There are curious animals of the ocean that I never even thought about, but the Spaniards know how to enjoy them. A favorite memory is of a cheerful fishmonger who burst out in operatic song as he sold his beautiful seafood.

La Boquería and Cádiz are two of the big markets with vast displays. But often I prefer the smaller cities with more modest markets and friendly vendors who have the time to chat and show you their amazing offerings. Long ago when we were a young family, we would make short trips around Spain with our children and customarily we would stop by a random market to gather the ingredients for our picnic lunch. We would get a crusty loaf of locally baked bread, a chunk of Manchego cheese, perhaps slices of Jamón Serrano, a few juicy fresh oranges, peaches and pears or strawberries – whatever was in season. So we visited markets everywhere.

I recall that forty years ago, when I was a young father with my family at the Naval Base in Spain, I would get up early on Saturday morning and head for the Mercado Municipal in El Puerto de Santa María. The market was essentially the same concept as my local farmers market here in the USA, except that it had vastly more variety - two floors full of local vendors offering fresh vegetables, meat and fish, cheeses, herbs and spices - not to mention the adjacent Buen Pastor bakery and Charro Salgero Veniga that provided us sizzling hot churros.

In those days I regularly visited my favorite “spinach lady" who always had the crunchiest greens; then there was the fisherman who would offer truly fresh shellfish and shrimp direct from the Atlantic Ocean (which was almost within eyesight). I remember one day he carved me some steaks from an immense swordfish, only for me to discover that I had left my wallet at home. He said, “Don’t worry about it, you can pay me later when you come back.” Then he paused, reached into his pocket and gave me a Mil, a thousand peseta bill, and said, “Here, take this so you can finish your shopping for your family.” What an honest and trusting neighbor!

Another favorite image is the lady at the entrance to the market in Sanlúcar de Barrameda who, in the spring, is often tending a huge bowl of tiny land snails. The snails are delicious with a little garlic and parsley, but they are also quite frisky. So the ever vigilant lady constantly swept them back as they tried to crawl out of the bowl!

Last year while wandering about the countryside of Castilla-León, we stumbled across a real treasure: the medieval of the village of Ayllón, where vendors gather every Wednesday morning as they have for centuries. I have never seen such gorgeous heads of cauliflower, greens and vegetables of all sorts, along with homemade sausages, cheeses and other treasures. We stopped at the rustic hotel in town and were served roast suckling pig.

These fresh markets are a major reason why dining in Spain is so enjoyable. Many people grow up visiting the markets where the food could not be fresher. Therefore, high quality fresh food is expected at the humble truck stop, as well as at the fine restaurant. The other week I was in rural Córdoba at a Hacienda with my extended family for several days. Each morning the chef would ask what we would like to eat that day. Three or four hours later fresh merluza or huge rodaballo (sole) would be on our platters.

Traditional Spanish cuisine is straightforward and not dependent on sauces and other means to mask the original product. We try to capture this elusive freshness for you both directly and indirectly. We work with small farmers to provide fresh calçots for you to grill every spring; in the summer, we get shipments of Padrón and other peppers you can sauté; and even fresh judias verdes broad beans (especially tasty sautéed with sliced jamón).

Similarly, we work closely with small family companies in Spain to provide our preserved vegetables and seafood. Spanish farmers form by hand the mounds that guarantee that the emerging asparagus spears are white. We assure that the piquillo peppers are roasted and placed in bottles the same day - very much like home preserves that you might make. Anchovies and shellfish are hand prepared within hours of harvest.

The United States is another country and another culture. But in the last few years many people are trying to recapture the country market virtues via the farmers market movement. I am especially looking forward to the beginning of the season of our local farmers market where I can greet some of the local vendors who over the years have provided me with some amazingly fresh Boston lettuce, delicate spinach, deep red beets and, of course, carrots with their greens still attached – so my guinea pigs (the delight of my grandchildren) can feast with this special treat.

Setting community virtues aside, surely the goal of going to a farmers market is so that you can bring home fresh natural food to serve at your table - produce which was just recently plucked from the vine or tree. Part of the problem of food delivery in the United States is that we live in a huge continent, and furthermore, we are serving 300+ million people. So from a logistical standpoint, it makes sense to grow most of our celery in California, grapefruits in Texas and tomatoes in Florida. That being said, two or three-week old celery or last week’s eggs are not the same.

Our local farmers market started modestly twelve years ago – each Saturday a few gardeners began to locate their stands of local produce in the center of Market Square. Today there are three dozen vendors bringing the best of local Virginia grown products including oysters, fresh chickens, apple or bumbleberry pies. I have to get there no later than 8:30 in the morning to get my local strawberries and peaches in season.

Most of all I enjoy the community feeling of being amongst my neighbors from all walks of life (many of whom bring their dogs along for a stroll). I enjoy seeing children playing together and the proud parents with their babies in their immense strollers. I think that is why so very many people flock to the farmers market on Saturday morning. It is not just the fresh food and the flowers; it is an opportunity to experience neighborliness.

I hope our Spanish friends appreciate what they have. With the availability of huge international grocery stores such as Carrefour, and the pressure of working families that need two incomes, it is faster and more convenient to eschew the experience of absolute freshness and a leisurely community feeling and succumb to the supermarket. Then comes the necessity of preservatives and additives. There is no shelf life problem with produce bought daily from the "spinach lady"! May our farmers markets prosper in America, and may the Spanish people continue to value their centuries old treasure: the local markets of Spain.