Several years ago, I was strolling with friends along the narrow cobblestoned streets of the Santa Cruz barrio of Sevilla when we happened to walk past a magnificent stone church with a tall bell tower. I paused to admire its beauty but one of my companions, a local priest, waved his hand in dismissal and said he preferred the old church down the street. As I looked more closely at its architecture and construction materials, I thought to myself that this "new" church must have been built in the 1600s! The very oldest churches in America are barely older than that "modern" church on the corner. The two of us had different ideas of what we thought of as new and old.

Spain is an ancient land full of reminders of the past: the salt flats of the Bay of San Fernando were constructed by the Phoenicians over 3,000 years ago. The people of the neighboring city of Cádiz claimed their walled city was built by Hercules! And to think 75-year-old Fenway Park, where the Red Sox play in Boston, is designated a national monument.

Remnants of Roman amphitheaters and the amazing network of roads they built, some still functional, are part of the landscape. The invading Arabs and Berbers from North Africa were in Spain for over 700 years. Think of it. Towering Moorish fortresses and castles dot the landscape next to medieval Romanesque and Gothic churches.

I rather enjoy the astonishing juxtaposition of this timeless culture with the very modern country that is Spain in the 21st century. Castles and Roman aqueducts share space with bullet trains, avant-garde bridges and towering skyscrapers. Many of the monasteries and palaces of old are now converted to hotels with air-conditioned splendor and free Wi-Fi!

I remember a great example of the contrast between new and old Spain. On a recent visit, I was hurtling towards Córdoba from Seville on the AVE train at 250km per hour. The ride was smooth, and the attendants offered us coffee and hot 'chocolate a la taza.' A few miles outside of Cordoba we passed right under an imposing outcropping. Built atop the rocks is the Castillo de Almodóvar del Río, a stunning castle built by the Moors. Here a princess named Ziada was imprisoned in a tower and died there waiting for her love, Prince Al Mamum, to rescue her. I could barely begin to contemplate the massive castle before I glided smoothly into the Córdoba station and exited the train.

Another example is the Puente de Alamillo, a strikingly modern suspension bridge crossing the Guadalquivir River, designed by Santiago Calatrava. Built before the Expo 1992, it spans the Canal de Alfonso XIII, the waterway where, centuries ago, ships from the New World unloaded their treasures and where the ancient watchtower, the Torre del Oro, still stands protecting the ancient city.

This mix of ancient and modern reaches far beyond architecture. For instance, Spain has a wealth of food traditions, many started even before the Romans arrived over 2,000 years ago. The Spanish people lovingly preserve these food ways and are famously demanding when it comes to quality.

I remember standing on the seashore of a fishing village in Galicia, watching a man raking under the water to harvest fresh clams. I later learned that the underwater area of the inlet actually was divided into small plots within which several families seeded and harvested the famous shellfish of the area. For centuries, the community has worked together in order to maintain this precious harvest.

Because Spain has preserved the ancient food traditions, the abundance of quality products has enabled Spain to become the home to the world's most cutting-edge restaurants. This partnership of the traditional with the contemporary has created a modern cuisine unlike any other in the world.

Over twenty years ago, Chef Ferran Adrià created the groundbreaking elBulli restaurant in Catalunya, named the best restaurant in the world a record 5 times. With his brother, he invented molecular gastronomy, where the essences of different foods were transformed in surprising ways. Perhaps his most famous dish was the "liquid olives" which looked solid but dissolved into refreshing olive brine when eaten. Another foray into modern Spain is in San Sebastian in the Basque Country. There you can visit Arzak and order a Red Space Egg, where pigs feet, mushrooms and sea bass are encased in an "egg shell" made of red peppers and served on a tablet showing a video of sea life swimming below your meal.

While some of these food concepts can seem a little frivolous or silly, chefs like Adrià and Arzak are channeling a profound appreciation for the simple, pure flavors of Spain's cuisine. In fact, they strive to rejuvenate the fundamental flavors of Spain's iconic foods by molding them into new forms and expressions. In many ways their work mirrors the creative tension between the new and the ancient that displays itself across Spain in everyday life.

Can you think of times when events changed your life more than you could recognize at the time? For me, a surprise assignment brought me to Spain and changed my life profoundly!

I remember the day when, as a young chaplain, I reported aboard my first Navy ship. I had just been commissioned as a chaplain 5 months before. My wife Ruth and I were newlyweds who had just settled into our apartment in Washington, D.C., my first assignment. But a personnel emergency came up and the Chaplain Corps immediately reassigned me to a destroyer division home-ported in Norfolk.

It turns out that the five destroyers were preparing for a Mediterranean cruise of six months’ duration. So, I sailed off into the Atlantic, waving goodbye to my new wife, who remained in Norfolk, marooned among packing boxes! I was a complete rookie and had to figure out on my own how I could minister to the officers and men of five destroyers. As unsettling it was for Ruth and me, that “Med Cruise” changed our lives and the way we would choose to raise our three boys in the future.

The first two ports of call were in Spain: Palma de Mallorca and Valencia. If that were not enough of Spain, the final two ports were Barcelona and the naval base in Rota - a favorite duty station of many of our customers who were stationed there. I took every opportunity to go ashore either by myself or with a couple of my shipmates, strolling the beautiful cities. I became familiar with many Spanish families and I very much liked what I saw. By the time I returned to my bride six months late, I had befriended many wonderful Spanish locals.

I particularly noticed how the Spanish raise their kids. From the moment of their birth, Spanish children are cherished, not only by their immediate family, but also by their close relatives and the neighborhood. They accompany their family everywhere: daily visits to the grocer, butcher and vegetable lady in the local market. They are also included with their parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents and friends as they gather at the local tapas bar or restaurant.

The result of this style of child-rearing is that the child is treated as part of a nurturing community - the neighborhood. Rather than the American feeling of “a man’s home is his castle,” sometimes sequestered in a gated neighborhood, the Spanish neighborhood as a whole assumes responsibility for all of the children. It forms a strong community. For example, if a little child falls down and scrapes her knee in the plaza, she might turn to the other children for help, rather than her mother.

During this festive time of year, the focus is upon our children and their seemingly loving approach to life. Particularly during this cynical time where there is not much encouragement expressed in the media, I find that being with my family, our grandchildren or any group of children lifts my spirits: for after all is said and done, it is all about love - whether it expressed in the baby in the manger or in loving your neighbor as yourself.

May you be surrounded by those whom you love.

Felíz Navidad

La Tienda is a labor of love for our family. Spain is our second home, and sharing time with our providers in Spain is truly satisfying – whether visiting a fisherman on the rocky coast of Galicia or a cheese maker on the plains of La Mancha.

What originally drew me to Spain was the closeness of families, and how they share meals together – I think this is the essence of the healthy Spanish way of life. Unlike many modern cultures, where we eat on the run or separate into small family units, Spaniards tend to welcome extended family and friends to enjoy food together, whether at home or in the local restaurant.

I remember with a smile meeting Lola for the first time in a small village in rural Córdoba. She runs a small company called Despensa La Nuestra that prepares classic soups and sauces for people to enjoy at home. Her mission is to create jobs in the community and make wholesome foods that can bring families together around the table. She convinced some of her friends to get up early to go to the market for the fresh vegetables needed to prepare sauces and soups for their working “sisters”. They choose to make this little sacrifice because it enables the village to continue the centuries old tradition of the mid-day family meal, even during a time of widespread unemployment. They gave a boost to the working families - mothers, fathers and their school children - so that the daily family meal is not compromised by financial necessity. The added bonus is that the traditional recipes of their ancestors are now enjoyed across the world!

One impressive Spaniard who embodies this spirit of community is a fascinating, dynamic man named José Andrés, the chef based in Washington, DC. Our family has known him for almost twenty years. During the time when we were beginning to grow La Tienda in Virginia, José was founding his Jaleo restaurants in Washington, D.C., just a few hours away.

We felt an immediate kinship to this dynamic young man, since we both shared a love of Spain and America. I guess I felt another bond: José and I were both sailors in our youth! Since those humble beginnings, José has created a fabulous culinary presence from coast to coast, including a TV series on PBS, teaching at Harvard, collaboration with the White House and over 20 restaurants reaching from D.C. to L.A. to Las Vegas to San Juan.

What is most appealing to me is José’s generosity and creative energy. While he was launching critically acclaimed restaurants across the country, he did not let his fame go to his head. At the same time as he was delighting the restaurant clientele with his artistry as a chef, he was serving healthy meals to the hungry through the D.C. Central Kitchen charity. When disaster struck Haiti in 2010, he didn’t just wring his hands. He founded the World Central Kitchen, a nonprofit dedicated to feeding the most vulnerable and empowering them to feed themselves. And he didn’t forget Haiti once the immediate crisis subsided. His foundation continues to offer help in the area, supporting the use of solar and natural gas stoves to help feed people and prevent deforestation by reducing the amount of wood used for cooking fires. He returned in 2015 to make a PBS documentary showing the beauty of the country and people he had grown to love.

Currently he is in Puerto Rico in the aftermath of Hurricane Maria. He's been on the ground for weeks, serving meals to people and helping coordinate a massive effort to support our fellow citizens. Led by José, the World Central Kitchen team has now served a half a million meals to families in Puerto Rico. One of my favorite images shows a line of big paellas, bubbling away under a tent. What better way to feed a battered community than with paella, the most communal dish of them all.

It is inspiring to see people coming together to help neighbors in need. And what better way to help others than with food. Not only is it nutritious for the body, but it is just as important for the spirit to know that others care and are willing to help. My friend Lola worked to help the families of her village in Córdoba in whatever way she could. José is making an extraordinary effort to help his brothers and sisters in Puerto Rico. While I don’t think this generosity is exclusive to the Spanish people, I think the remarkable sense of community and family that I sensed when I first visited Spain is reflected in these selfless actions.

The hurricane in Puerto Rico wiped out 80% of the agriculture industry and the entire power grid for the island. Over 3.5 million people are in need of food, water and shelter. If you would like to help our friend José in his efforts, you can contact his team at Donate to World Central Kitchen. Your donation would help fund food, fuel, chef travel and logistics.

When I travel through southwestern Spain, it is tempting to hurtle through the countryside on a modern highway, barely glancing out the window as the hundreds of oak trees whiz by. Without realizing it, I might miss one of the most beautiful and ancient cultural treasures of Spain - the dehesa.

The dehesa is a vast area of forested rangeland; it covers over almost 8,000 square miles, about the size of Belgium. This special habitat covers much of southern and western Spain, across large parts of Andalucía and Extremadura, and reaching into Portugal. The dehesa is especially important because it is one of the few ecosystems where humans continue to play a constructive role, improving and maintaining the landscape to benefit wilderness and mankind equally. And this has been going on since the Bronze Age and before.

The dehesa is the home to Spain’s most iconic domesticated animals. This is where the famous Ibérico pig wanders among the holm and cork oaks, feasting on sweet acorns. Local breeds of cattle, sheep and goats also graze the lands, each bred over centuries to be perfectly adapted to this special habitat. These animals gain nourishment from the land and in turn fertilize the soil.

Spain’s magnificent fighting bulls spend most of their lives in the dehesa, growing strong and powerful while grazing on the plentiful grasses. You may remember the story of Ferdinand the Bull, who refused to fight, but loved to smell the flowers that grow plentifully in the idyllic dehesa landscape! Whether or not you agree with bullfighting, it is clear that these bulls spend most of their lives in a grazing paradise that can only be imagined by cattle elsewhere in the world.

The endangered Iberian lynx and Spanish imperial eagle call the dehesa home, along with hundreds of other species of wild animals which also thrive in this remote and protected landscape. Last year, my brother Tim and I visited the dehesa near Jabugo to drop in on a herd of Ibérico hogs that were contentedly munching on emerald green grass and sweet acorns under centuries-old oak trees. Unexpectedly, we spotted a tiny striped javali piglet emerging from the middle of the pack of rotund black pigs. This lost wild boar baby had been adopted by the Ibérico pigs. I was delighted and surprised, but in a way, it made total sense. The indigenous Ibérico breed undoubtedly descended from wild boars that were domesticated thousands of years ago in these very hills. Naturally they felt comfortable with this distant relative!

The backbone of the dehesa consists of the ancient oaks that dot the landscape. Each tree is pruned and cared for by the ranchers and foresters of the region. The space between the trees is cleared of brush so that the oaks get optimal sunshine and water. Some scholars think that this forested land is one of the original forests in Europe, predating man’s influence.

I used to think of primeval forests as dense groves of trees, with a dark, cool understory, but this is not the case in the Iberian Peninsula. In prehistoric Spain, the western forests were inhabited by very large herbivores, including bison as well as the ancient aurochs - massive bovines that were the precursor to modern cattle. Their voracious grazing cleared away the brush and saplings in the forest, leaving open spaces between those oak trees that survived to maturity. When these huge animals went extinct, humans stepped into this role, allowing the prehistoric oak forest ecosystem to continue and thrive.

The dehesa is also the source of natural products such as wild mushrooms, honey and aromatic firewood. The cork oaks (Quercus suber) have a spongy, waterproof bark that is skillfully peeled away every nine to twelve years to make corks used for wine bottles. The cork tree must be about 25 to 30 years old before it is mature enough for harvesting. The trees are not harmed by the harvest and in many places, it is illegal to cut down a cork tree without government permission. One vintner told me that the corks for his finest vintages cost him more than 1 euro each! Finally, I learned that our famous Pimentón de La Vera paprika, that flavors every chorizo in Spain, is smoked over smoldering holm oak wood from the dehesa region.

The dehesa forest offers so much bounty to humans that there is every incentive for people to protect and maintain its health and well-being. This tradition of stewardship of the dehesa has lasted throughout history. Over the millennia, Spain was conquered and reconquered, as the Romans, Visigoths, Moors, Catholic monarchy and modern government each took control of the land. Throughout times of tumult, each wave of newcomers learned and appreciated the value of this very special landscape. I just spoke with a jamón producer from Extremadura who says that he fears there is not enough dehesa to supply all the acorns needed to meet the high demand for premium Bellota grade jamón (made from acorn-fed pigs)!

In modern Spain, with its impressive infrastructure and fast-paced lifestyle, you might think the dehesa would be forgotten or neglected, an outmoded type of agriculture ripe for modernization. Thankfully, this is not the case. In fact, because of the ever-growing demand for iconic foods like Jamón Ibérico de Bellota, as well as free-range beef and lamb, the dehesa continues to be valued and protected from development. It is even conceivable that the dehesa will expand, as people plant more oak trees to meet the demands of the modern market.

Many of us are searching for authenticity when it comes to our food. How can we enjoy the finest quality meats and cheeses while ensuring that animals are treated well? How can we protect the environment from damage at the hands of intensive farming? How can we stay in touch with natural food ways without sacrificing the pleasure of a great meal?

For me, the special relationship that humans have with the dehesa landscape is the perfect example of a way forward. With careful stewardship, the landscape can flourish, even as it sustains healthy animals and forests for the benefit of humans. Following this ancient and proven path, we can truly have our steak (or ham), and eat it too!

Dear Friends,

During our decades of traveling across Spain, Ruth and I (and later our sons) have always loved visiting the municipal markets that are central to the life of most towns and villages. I remember fondly visiting the "spinach lady" in our town of El Puerto de Santa Maria as well as the Panadería del Buen Pastor, The Good Shepherd Bakery, where I bought bread for the family. Eventually our attraction to the marketplaces of Spanish villages inspired us to be the virtual farmers market for all of you in the La Tienda community.

When I was the father of our young Navy family in Spain, I used to get up early on Saturday morning and check out the busy local market in our town: there I saw farmers with all kinds of local produce, fishermen offering big slices of swordfish and barrels of various table olives. I remember an older man straddling a revolving wheel as he sharpened our kitchen knives by hand.

Of course, I always stopped at the bubbling caldron of oil where I was greeted by Charo Salgueso and her son. Almost every day from as far back as her grandmother's time, Charo’s family has been at the market serving sizzling churros pastries wrapped in cones fashioned from sheets of newsprint.

Some forty plus years later, I sometimes still get up early on a Saturday morning to visit our local popular farmers market here in Williamsburg. There is always the anticipation of what fresh local treasures will appear among the stalls of fresh fruit, vegetables, meat and flowers. As I am sure many of my fellow market shoppers will agree, our visit to the market is not just to do some grocery shopping. It is to connect with neighbors who bring produce from their gardens and their hen coops in the surrounding countryside.

I sense that the vendors share similar values: their chickens are humanely treated and their vegetables are not loaded with chemicals and fertilizer. I feel that, perhaps in a little way, I have jumped the industrial food chain where vegetables and animals are viewed merely as commodities. My local butter lettuce and beets are not trucked in from faraway places, or my eggs from huge industrial farms where it is “off with their heads” if the hens do not lay eggs efficiently. These local people are my neighbors - both farmers and shoppers alike we are rooted in a common soil.

Sometimes I connect with them on the most unexpected levels. I now have a dear friend, Dianna, who crosses on the Jamestown ferry on her way to the market. She usually stops at our La Tienda shop to buy our wonderful bread baked in Galicia. She swears that it is the only authentic European bread in town! Sometimes she drops by to leave me some fresh eggs, cucumbers, tomatoes and berries from her friend "Farmer Joe's" garden.

She is a warm and generous lady who has seen a lot of life since, at age 12, she fled with her mother and their family dog as they sighted the approaching Soviet army coming down the road to their home in the Ukraine. She also brings some Galician bread to her friend, "Farmer Joe," who works his small vegetable patch across the James River, near her home. During the Hungarian uprising of 1956, he also escaped the Soviets.

At any rate, she and hundreds of our fellow townspeople make an effort to visit the farmers market to meet the growers and tradesmen who will bring us the honest quality which was the pre-industrial agriculture. At home I enjoy a BLT sandwich made with a truly hand-picked tomato and bacon smoked in the countryside. And what is more delicious than ears of corn that the farmer picked this morning?

You may think that what I am writing about is all very romantic, and it surely is. But it is also real. It has been part of my life in one way or another since I was a child. Back in the 1950s as a schoolboy I would walk over to Hittenger’s farm stand when my mother found some extra money to buy their special cauliflower or lettuce. When we were vacationing in New Hampshire, we would drop by the farm stand for fresh Golden Bantam corn, which at the dinner table we would drench with melted butter.

Our search for healthy food is characteristic of the American farmer's market shopper. This is exactly the same process our family follows in Spain. I am sure many of you have been amazed by vast Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria that you visited in Barcelona. I love to witness the vast array of creatures from the sea which overflow the tables and booths of the ancient port of Cádiz, way down south in Andalucía. The catch is brought in by the boatload each day by the fishermen: whole tunas and swordfish, octopus in all sizes, merluza, bacalao, lobsters, crabs, cockles and mussels. All so fresh that some of the snails are still crawling away at their usual pace until the lady scoops them up and returns them to her bucket.

In looking for the best in Spain, our family seeks out the same kind of farmer and supplier you might find at your local market! We seek to make connections with artisan suppliers so that we know how they work and we can vouch for the integrity of their products.

A few years ago, Ruth and I were in the kitchen with Maria Banuelos and her husband Juan Antonio drinking coffee and talking about the saffron harvest in their village, and how to protect them from falsely labeled products coming from Iran and Turkey which could greatly affect their town. In another part of Spain, we are in close contact with the farm family of Jose and Amalia Salcedo, founders of Navarrico. We partnered with their sons to restore traditional wood fire roasting for their piquillo peppers, and learned from them how their white asparagus is tended by hand locally in Navarra - not imported from China as many items are today.

Most importantly, we bring to you products produced on a small scale, and can guarantee their integrity. Let me give you an example: You may be able to buy a wedge of inexpensive Manchego cheese at the local supermarket in New York or Austin. It seems like a great deal, but most of this industrial Manchego has been mass produced from sheep’s milk anonymously purchased somewhere in Spain. The milk for this cheese must be highly pasteurized, robbing it of much of its flavor and texture.

In contrast, one Easter Monday on our way back from Semana Santa festivities in Cuenca, Ruth and I stopped to visit two different Manchego cheesemakers who live close by, a few miles south of Toledo. The first was Artequeso, run by the Alvarez Valera family who tend their own small flock of sheep, and craft a wonderful cheese. We saw the cheesemaker, who personally blends fresh milk with wine and rosemary before forming it into cheeses. The owner invited us to drop by his mother’s shop to get some cheese for our return trip. It turned out that the wall of her shop was covered with trophies that he had earned as a national champion in track!

We drove a little further south to Porzuna, a small dusty sort of town you would typically find in La Mancha. We wanted to drop in to see Antonio at Villajos, who provides our very popular Villajos and Villegas cheeses. There was very little action this day since it was Easter Monday. Nevertheless Antonio and his wife graciously greeted us in their modest office. (There are few days off when you own a dairy.) Their teenage daughter was helping by entering data into the computer, and her younger brother was “hanging out” as sixteen-year-old boys are wont to do.

The phone rang, as we were exchanging pleasantries about our families. It was a local sheep herder who called to say that he had more fresh milk from his ewes and would like to drop by a few gallons to the family dairy. That he did, and right away the cheese master began the artisan process of producing a small batch of finest quality cheese. The cheeses of the Villajos brothers that we offer to you could not be less industrial unless you churned the milk yourself! We can vouch for the quality of each wedge.

Probably the most glaring example of the need for quality control is in the area of olive oil. I recommend the absorbing book Extra Virginity: The Sublime and Scandalous World of Olive Oil by Tom Mueller if you would like to know all the skullduggery related to the international olive oil market. The fundamental reality you will learn is that it is next to impossible for you, the consumer, to spot adulterated olive oil that has been diluted by cheaper oils.

The source of the oil might not be what is indicated on the label. Each year, for example, tankers full of Spanish extra virgin olive oil are shipped to Italy to be bottled and labeled as Italian! The moral of the story is the only way you can be guaranteed the quality of your extra virgin olive oil is to purchase it from a trusted source who can vouch for it. That is why our family is constantly on the move amongst the olive groves.

We have known Fermín Rodríguez, an olive oil taster and producer for over 20 years. His family’s Señorío de Vizcántar extra virgin olive oil is La Tienda’s favorite, and among my personal favorites as well. The Rodriguez family owns acres and acres of different strains of olive trees, some of which are over one thousand years old. Let me know you are coming and I can arrange a visit for you.

Each year, during the first days of harvest when the fresh oil is most pungent, Fermin artfully prepares his unique blend (coupage) for La Tienda. This particular extra virgin olive oil, as many of you know, is frisky and fruity. It is the oil I keep handy in my kitchen. It is pressed from the olives picked on the first day of harvest and is alive with blended flavors.

Their olive groves surround the beautiful “white town” of Priego de Córdoba, a village which retains a medieval Moorish feel. It was once an important part of the silk trade. Whenever we are in the area we enjoy tapas with his family, which includes his wife Aixa who is from North Africa. She describes herself jokingly as a Jewish, Muslim Catholic Berber - embodying the cultural history of Spain in one person.

The supermarkets have all sorts of olive oil nowadays, even from Wesson oil to Procter & Gamble. Some have Italian sounding names. But remember, you get what you pay for. Extra virgin olive oil is a labor-intensive product with many careful steps along the way. If it is too much of a bargain, corners must have been cut. That is why it is important that you trust the provider who sells the product to you.

As a consumer, the question you need to ask yourself is for what purpose are you going to be using the oil. If you are going to fry pollo al ajillo (garlic chicken) in a supermarket olive oil, that is okay. As with jug wine, it is an inexpensive substitute, or so I thought about jug wine, when I was young and foolish! I did not expect too much. On the other hand, if you are going to serve a green salad, or use olive oil for dipping in crusty bread, you want the most flavorful and healthful option. Treat yourself to a quality Spanish extra virgin olive oil. You will recognize the difference immediately, it is a new world of flavor, and we can personally vouch for the quality.

I hope you will enjoy our virtual farmers market from Spain. We have a lifetime of experience and many fond bonds with our Spanish friends, who truly produce the best in Spain for our tables. We enjoy sharing it with you.

Tu amigo,
Don

Text message, email alert, newsfeed, Facebook update, Instagram post ... enough! How can we get away from hectic daily life and find some peace? Spain has a 1,000-year old solution that is more popular than ever. It is called the Camino de Santiago.

Every year hundreds of thousands of pilgrims walk and cycle the ancient road to Santiago de Compostela. They travel through tiny stone villages and over mountain ranges, through bustling cities and across vast rolling fields where they may only encounter a few other humans in a day of walking. Most modern pilgrims are not specifically on a religious journey. But they share many of the same motivations as the men and women who walked the Way centuries ago.

Santiago de Compostela was a major Christian pilgrimage site in the Middle Ages, the resting place of Santiago, the patron saint of Spain. In its heyday, it rivaled Rome and Jerusalem as a pilgrimage center. The Roman Catholic Church decreed that if you walked all the way to the holy city of Santiago, or died along the way, all your sins would be forgiven.

Alongside the purely pious individuals making the trek were other pilgrims with a variety of motivations. There were some who wanted to be healed from an illness, others who were looking for adventure. Some troublemakers were sentenced by their fellow townspeople to walk to Santiago to pay for some petty crime – probably in the hope that they would never return!

These ancient pilgrims were seeking escape and a source of meaning, a respite from the troubles of daily life and a path towards a better place. I think we can all identify with these motivations. Whether petty or profound, the burdens that weigh a pilgrim down can be eased, step by step, as they walk on the ancient stones of the pilgrimage route. The goal is to feel lighter, with a clearer vision of their place in the world, and a new appreciation of the people around them.

I have walked the Camino twice, once in college and once on my honeymoon. Both times I was struck by the change of pace the pilgrimage imposes on the mind. Walking 8 or 10 miles a day forces you to notice all the small details of the countryside, the flowers, the stones, the small sounds that are usually drowned out by machines. It also recalibrates your sense of place and distance. The little village on the other side of the mountain is not a fifteen-minute drive at 120 kilometers per hour on a 21st century highway. On foot, it is a difficult 9 hour walk up steep paths and over small streams, with several breaks to rest and note how far you have come. Upon arriving, the landscape is noticeably different, and there is a much stronger sense of “here” and “there.”

The world expands when traveled by foot. Looking at a map, it is astonishing that people who live a few miles over the Galician border speak a different language - until you walk over the steep, imposing mountains to get there! These very mountains were also home to thieves and bandits in the Middle Ages, and I could easily spot some wonderful ambush opportunities as I trudged up steep paths and through heavily forested passes. No wonder the two areas were so culturally different.

At the end of the day we would spend the night in an ‘albergue,’ or pilgrim hostel, usually hosted by volunteers. These simple dwellings were usually large rooms with dozens of bunk beds, though one time we slept in a tent by a flowing river. Here the personal spiritual journey transitioned into a communal gathering of travelers from all over the world. If the Camino de Santiago is all about leaving the treadmill of our personal daily lives, sharing time with a fishing captain from Brazil or a Dutch land-use negotiator certainly opens up new perspectives.

One night at a hostel in Villafranca del Bierzo stands out for me. The albuergue was situated in a beautiful old stone building. It was a very basic setup, with rooms full of bunks and simple showers with hot water provided by a solar heater. After sharing a meal and discussing the day’s journey with a dozen other pilgrims, the host brought out a ceramic cauldron into which he poured a bottle of aguardiente liquor. He added coffee beans, lemon peels and herbs, then lit the brew on fire. He called it a ‘quemada.’ He recited a Galician spell to ward off bad spirits, and then poured the warm brew into cups for all of us to share. We sipped and talked into the night, sharing stories from the road and from home. It was an experience distinctly different from normal daily life, a chance to shed our personal concerns and commune with our new friends.

As we approached the magical city of Santiago de Compostela, we felt a bittersweet mix of accomplishment and sadness that the journey had come to an end. Some of us lingered in the old city, celebrating together with tables brimming with the delicious local seafood. Others continued walking for a few days to reach Finisterre, the “end of the world.” In medieval times, this stone outcropping that reaches into the Atlantic Ocean was thought to be the furthest west you could travel, with only the sea beyond. What a fitting end to a journey.

At times life can seem overwhelming, a never-ending procession of responsibilities and problems. While we experience this in our own modern way, I am sure pilgrims of the 13th century shared similar feelings. It is wonderful that the Camino endures to this day, over 1,000 years since the first pilgrims visited the shrine of Santiago. Walking the same path as millions of pilgrims before you is a moving experience. While each pilgrim has individual motivations, whether religious, spiritual or athletic, in the end this ancient path helps you transcend your personal situation, connect with a community of travelers and realize that we are all on a journey together.

Abrazos,
Jonathan Harris

Don HarrisDear Friends of La Tienda,

Valencia is the hometown of paella, the festive rice dish cooked over open fire. Many would say it is Spain’s most famous meal. During the incredible Las Fallas celebration each March, the streets are full of revelers, and just about every street corner has a stand selling an inviting pan of paella.

My first experience with Valencia was many years ago when I was a rookie chaplain on my first Mediterranean cruise. Before we stopped in Valencia, our first port of call was scheduled to be the scenic bay of Palma de Mallorca. Unfortunately, permission for the crew to go ashore was restricted, due to the behavior of a few of the crew of a submarine which had preceded us. It seems some of the sailors found the beaches a little too inviting and were spotted scampering naked across one of the hidden coves by the vigilant Guardia Civil. (I recall the recruiting slogan at the time “Sailors have more fun!”)

All this explains why our first port was Valencia. And what an exciting port it is: teeming with ships from all over the world. Many of our products at La Tienda are shipped in containers from the still vibrant port. That first visit, I loved to stroll the waterfront when I was on liberty, and I especially enjoyed meeting both students and young workers at some of the many cafés and tapas bars. It was there that I began my adventure of sampling the many flavors of Spain, including of course, paella.

Paella began as a laborer’s simple meal of rice, meats and vegetables which he prepared while working in the fields, vineyards or rice marshes. He would kindle an open fire with available sticks or even vine clippings and simmer the ingredients over an open fire. Now paella is enjoyed across Spain and throughout the world. It is a delicacy equally at home in fine restaurants or prepared on the backyard grill. The secret to paella’s allure is that it is a shared dish - a flexible combination of flavors that can be prepared and enjoyed by a group of friends or family.

As it became popular, the pure paella of Valencia morphed into a thousand variations, many of them wildly different from the original. Valencians deride most attempts as “arroz con cosas,” translated as “rice with a bunch of stuff in it,” not real paella at all. While I have suffered through some ill-conceived paellas in my time, I have also eaten some spectacular creations that did not follow all the rules. That said, before you break the rules it is important to know them! Here are some key aspects of authentic Valencian paella that all novice paella chefs should know:

1. It’s all about the rice. Valencian short grained rice (senia or bomba) absorbs flavor without breaking down or becoming mushy. When served, the rice in paella should be intact and almost “al dente.” We favor Calasparra rice grown in the mountains not too far from Valencia, irrigated with cold, fresh water supplied from ancient aqueducts. This results in an extended growing period, making the rice grain very dense and thirsty for the flavor base you are building.

2. Use real saffron from a source you can trust. This famous spice consists of the stigma of a special crocus flower, plucked by hand and toasted. Don’t use cheap alternatives, such as “colorante.” Saffron adds a beautiful aroma and subtle yellow color to your paella that you can’t do without. It is rated by the intensity of its flavor and color. You will not economize with bargain saffron, because you will have to use more in order to compensate for its deficient flavor.

3. The original Valencian paella features just the chicken or rabbit, flat green (Italian) beans and snails (if you can find them)! Some variation is accepted – such as adding mushrooms or creating a seafood version. The ingredients most offensive to paella purists are chorizo sausage, peas and onions.

4. Once you add the liquid to the rice in the paella pan, do not stir! A thin film of oil will cover the cooking rice, sealing in the liquid. If you stir, this barrier will be broken and the rice will not cook correctly.

5. Use a real paella pan. This broad flat pan distributes heat quickly and evenly, and it also cools rapidly once the heat is removed. This is critical so that you can adjust the heat quickly and so that the paella doesn’t continue to cook after it is done. Our favorite pan is the traditional carbon steel version.

Our chef recently took a trip to Valencia to learn from the masters. He studied under three chefs, including two gray-bearded brothers at the restaurant El Famos, where they still cook over an open fire of orange wood. He was surprised to learn that they do not use a rich broth, but instead sear the meats and vegetables in the pan. This leaves the flavors in the pan, and when they pour in the water it mixes to create the flavor base for the paella. He also noted that the completed paellas consisted of a relatively thin layer of rice dotted with tasty morsels.

As you can see, high quality ingredients and simple preparation are very important for making authentic paella. The goal is to showcase the flavors of the ingredients that you can see in the finished dish, without adding anything that would mask the taste. On many menus in Spain, paella is solely listed as “arroz” – simply a “rice.”

Finally, you must resist the temptation to add a lot of extra meats or seafood. Sure, they look impressive piled on top of the finished dish, but they might drown out the true star of paella – the beautifully cooked rice.

Once you have mastered the original Paella Valenciana, you can understand the charm of this delicious communal meal first cooked by workers around a wood fire.

¡Buen provecho mis amigos!
Don

Dear Friends,

The last time I wrote, I shared with many of you the projected itinerary for the April trip to Galicia that I shared with my wife Ruth and another couple. Some of you wrote to me asking how our trip turned out. In a word, it was wonderful. It is so easy to immerse yourself in Spain independent of the planned tour operators who, of necessity, must treat their clients as sheep.

We settled on a ten-day trip, starting in Richmond, Virginia, and ending in a grand finale at the ancient pilgrimage city of Santiago de Compostela. Ruth and I had a wonderful time for a total cost of about $3,000. (I am not in any way a travel agent, but I mention the cost to dispel the automatic reaction: “Oh I would love to go to Spain, but it will be too expensive.”)

Our expenses included a rental car, dining out and stays at splendid (but not expensive) hotels. One place we enjoyed was a rustic 500-year-old rural inn where we stayed for a day or two during Holy Week (Semana Santa). It was located on the outskirts of a fishing village bordering the Cantabrian Sea in northernmost Galicia.

We ended our trip by staying at the palatial Parador hotel in Santiago de Compostela. It was a virtual medieval palace adjacent to the towering cathedral designed and built for the pilgrims in the late 15th century by Queen Isabella.

There are three aspects of the trip which I would like to address. First, traveling along the coast and the interior of Galicia. Second, staying for a few days in a small town where we became involved with the people, who are, after all, essentially the same as you and I. Third, participating in a major celebration which included people from all over Spain and beyond.

Upon arriving in Madrid, we promptly caught a feeder plane to Galicia. We did not want to be involved with big cities, as interesting as they are with their museums and monuments (and their expensive hotels).

After renting a car in our destination, Santiago, we drove about an hour to Cambados, a famous fishing village and a source for La Tienda’s seafood. The couple who traveled with us slipped across the street to a small café close to the water and started feasting on the famous local fresh mussels and scallops harvested just a few miles away, while Ruth and I were checking into the Parador, formerly an ancestral mansion built in the 17th century. (Paradors are historic hotels often based in converted monasteries, castles or palaces.)

The next morning, we were joined in Cambados by our friend Pablo, who took a few days off from his studies and work to show us his beloved Galicia. I originally met him on the internet a couple of years earlier when we exchanged photos on Flickr. (Visit our Flickr page and you can see over 3,000 pictures of Spain which Ruth and I have taken over the last 50 years. They are arranged by province). Pablo is a thoughtful young man and gifted photographer. Over the past few years, we have formed a bond of friendship based on our common interests as we began to exchange thoughts about Spain and life in general over the Internet.

That I could form such a relationship so easily is one of the most important and unusual aspects of Spanish culture. At the risk of making generalities, my experience is that the Spanish are a people who share a common life with all those whom they meet. From infancy, they are surrounded by relatives and neighbors. Children are not excluded from anything. Even if their parents are visiting friends at a local tapas bar or café at 10:00 pm, the children are likely to be there playing with other children. The Spaniards have no idea what the phrase “children are to be seen but not heard” means. They truly believe that, “it takes a village to raise a child.” Of course, it does. The English idea of privacy is replaced by community.

So, when Pablo and I began to get to know each other via email, and he heard we were returning to his native Galicia, he responded with spontaneous generosity. He drove his motorcycle a couple of hours from his home in the port of Vigo and spent the day and evening with us. A few days later he drove four hours and stayed overnight to share Semana Santa with us. One could say the entire experience of being with Pablo the Galician (Gallego) was one of inclusion and generosity.

This comes to my second point: the ease of being welcomed by the local people. We decided to visit a small town of about 15,000 on the coast of the Cantabrian Sea. Viveiros is not a village where a tourist would be conspicuous; rather it is a prospering town where we could more easily blend in. We chose a rural inn with beautiful grounds and a gracious host and manager named Sara. We asked Sara to recommend a good place to eat and she referred us to a café on the second floor of a side street in town. There we had a feast in this unpretentious restaurant. It was maybe the best meal of the trip. While we were finishing our dinner (we ate a little earlier than many) we saw Sara and her husband (the chef at our rural hotel) arriving for their meal.

Over the following days, the entire town was involved in the Holy Week processions. This was neither a tourist event, nor specifically a church one either, strange as it may sound. It was an all-hands celebration with hundreds of people participating - boys and girls included, as well as their parents and grandparents. For the occasion, there were bands from military and police contingents playing appropriately somber music. Of course, the pasos, life sized floats, came from the local parishes and were carried by brotherhoods of men from each church. A feeling of unity embraced the town. It would be hard not to be involved with the people who surrounded you each day.

This brings me to my third impression. The normal Spaniard’s attitude to his neighbor is “we are all in this together” rather than “I am the captain of my destiny” or “my home is my castle.” We finally ended the trip with people from all walks of life, and all countries of origin at the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. Many of them were pilgrims of the Camino de Santiago who had walked hundreds of miles across Spain from France. A lot of them were Spaniards, of all ages. And then there were others like us who were drawn to this spot for a variety of reasons. We could see many pilgrims, having reached their goal, stretching out resting in the sun on the vast Plaza Obradoiro.

That Easter morning, the 12th century cathedral was filled to capacity three times over. As we waited patiently for access to the church, we were among hundreds of people who were patient and respectful of one another. No cutting in line or shoving. I was using my walker in the dense crowd, and it has a little seat. From my left came a frail old lady and she looked up at me, pointing at the seat. Before I knew it, she had rested her weary bones there. I felt fully part of the community.

Was this the trip I imagined as I built my itinerary? Yes, and much more. With a little preparation, and maybe some suggestions from those who have been before, you can create a visit to Spain that you will treasure the rest of your life.

Tu amigo,
Don

Spain has a passion for pigs. Or more specifically, the delicious cured jamón that is arguably the signature flavor of Spain. Spaniards eat over 5 kilos of cured ham per person per year – that is double the amount the Italians consume. So, it should be no surprise that when the Spanish explorers set out for the New World, they brought plenty of hams and Ibérico pigs along with them.

The first Ibérico pigs arrived on the second voyage of Columbus, when eight hogs were transported from the Canary Islands to what is now the Dominican Republic. These first pigs, along with subsequent arrivals, quickly established themselves on the islands. Subsequent explorers, such as Cortes and Pizarro also brought pigs with them as they traveled.

Why were the pigs so valuable that they earned precious space on the cramped sailing ships? The answer is that they were tough, adaptable, had lots of piglets and tasted delicious. Remember that these were not the plump pink pigs of modern farming stock. These were hearty Ibérico pigs adapted to living outdoors day and night, with long legs to help them travel across the forests and hillsides foraging for food. To this day, the very same breed braves the harsh climate of southwestern Spain, living on grasses, herbs and acorns and sleeping under the stars.

When the traveling Spanish ships landed on hospitable shores, they often released a small group of pigs, knowing that when they returned there would be more for them to harvest. The pigs were so adaptable that they sometimes preceded the Spanish into new lands.

Interestingly, meat was only one benefit of having a dependable pork supply. Pork fat could be used to make soap or candles as well as cooking oil.

The Ibérico pigs’ first recorded foray into North America came in 1539 when Hernando de Soto landed in what is now Tampa with 13 animals. From this beach head, they spread up through Florida and across present-day Georgia and the southern part of the continent. Many of the feral hogs that still live in the region trace part of their heritage back to this small heard of hearty pigs. If you live in Texas you may be cursing de Soto for the millions of feral pigs that cause so much damage to crops in the region!

Not long after de Soto’s pigs landed in Florida, a Spanish galleon landed on the beautiful Ossabaw Island off eastern Georgia. They deposited a few adventurous swine that settled into the harsh sandy environment and found a way to survive. Over the following centuries these hearty animals adapted to a diet of sea grasses and briny water. They developed a type of insular dwarfism, rarely growing over 200 pounds. They also had the ability to store lots of fat during times of plenty, allowing them to survive during the lean periods.

In 1978, the state of Georgia took over ownership of the island. Because of their voracious appetites, these descendants of the noble Ibérico pig survived by eating not only vegetation, but the eggs of sea turtles and birds, as well as small mammals and reptiles. The state decided to control, and possibly eradicate, what they saw as an invasive species and began culling the population.

At the same time supporters of heritage breeds transported some of the pigs to the mainland to be raised on farms. The pork of Ossabaw Island hogs is dark and flavorful, much like the Ibérico pork from Spain. Fans of traditional foods began to seek out this pork to make hams and sausages, a way to create cured meats that taste similar to how they were in colonial times.

Amazingly, this story ended up right at our doorstep. La Tienda is based in Williamsburg, Virginia. I was at a local bar a few years back and bumped into a reenactor who worked at Colonial Williamsburg. He was one of the intrepid souls who dresses in 18th century woolen clothing and inhabits the wonderful living museum that makes up the heart of our city. As happens all too often, I started rambling on about Ibérico pigs and the amazing hams of Spain. His eyes lit up. He told me he was curing Ibérico hams right there in the colonial capital!

Well, not exactly Jamón Ibérico, but the salted Virginia hams of our region, made from Ossabaw island pork! It turns out that some of these hearty hogs ended up at Mount Vernon, the home of George Washington. Years later, some of the pigs were transferred to Colonial Williamsburg where they lived at a farm in the colonial area. In the fall they were butchered, salted, smoked and hung to cure in the smokehouse right next to the Governors Palace in the heart of town!

I had to see this for my own eyes. Soon after this chance meeting I headed to the colonial area and walked the historic streets to the Governor’s Palace. There in the smokehouse hung three or four hams along with slabs of bacon. As if this was not enough of a treat, I walked right next door and in the kitchen I could see a table covered in colonial era puddings and biscuits along with a tasty smoked ham made from Ossabaw Island pork. Two women in colonial garb were preparing an 18th century feast!

I’ve always found it ironic that our family founded our Spanish food company in the most English town in America. It turns out that the Spanish have influenced our local history, culture and cuisine more than we knew. In fact, the Spanish first arrived in the Chesapeake Bay area decades before the English arrived at Jamestown Island, which happens to be located just a few miles from our retail store and tapas bar. But that is a story for another time!

The history of the Ibérico pig and the Spanish people have been intertwined for thousands of years. This hearty breed with its lanky legs and easy-going demeanor has shaped the cuisine, culture and very landscape of Spain. It is no surprise that when the Spanish set out to explore the world they brought along their porcine companions to share the journey.

Springtime is here and I am planning another Spanish adventure! I will be flying to beautiful Galicia in northwestern Spain with my wife Ruth. I would like to share our day-by-day itinerary with you in case you want to plan a visit, or just want to daydream about a trip to a distant land.

As an introduction, I could not describe it any better than my friend Pablo from Galicia did in a recent email. Here is an edited version of his note:

"Galicia will surprise you. This special part of Spain defies the typical image of olive trees, sunshine, bullfights and flamenco. As you will see, the northern third of Spain is a very different experience. The great thing is that Galicia is not flooded with tourism like the Mediterranean areas.

Galicia is a green and fertile land. We are the main producers of pork and beef, milk, potatoes, and peppers, etc. As an anecdote, I can tell you that I'm 38 and remember being a child and feeding the cows and pigs of my grandparents, and still today I usually help in the grape harvest or harvesting wood for winter in the house of my girlfriend's family. Galicia is the place of Spain where you can eat best. No comparison possible with other places, we're at another level!

Galicia is surrounded by the ocean and is the capital of fishing in Spain. Vigo is the biggest fishing harbor of the world (really). We live in Vigo, biggest city of Galicia with 300.000 people, and even now, behind the buildings of a big avenue you can still find a few little houses where people grow vegetables or raise chickens. Here, life revolves around the sea.

Galicia has Celtic roots, the traditional musical instrument is the bagpipe, as it is in Scotland or Ireland. Due to traditional difficult communications with the rest of the Iberian Peninsula, it was only lightly touched by the Moorish invasion and was one of the first territories liberated in the 770 years long Reconquista. There are Roman and Celtic ruins everywhere, some of them, bridges or lighthouses still in use (take a look at the Torre de Hércules in A Coruña).

Traditionally we're the rainiest part of Spain. We have a hundred words in Galician for describing the different types of rain, similar to the inuits with the snow. There is a joke here (don't be scared, its exaggerated): "It rained for forty days and nights, and they called it the Great Flood. Here we just call it: summer.”

Of course we share a lot with rest of Spain, but our mindset is a bit different. Compared with northern Europeans, in Latin countries (Italia, Greece, Spain, Portugal), we tend to be too loud. Don't worry, we're not angry, we're just this way. I hope this differences can enrich your vision of whole Spain." - Pablo

I would like to walk you through our planned itinerary as an example of how you can visit Spain independently, with no need for tours or tourists. All you need to do is pick up a rental car at the airport (which you have signed up for back in the States), pick a section of Spain you would especially like to visit, and you are on the way. My wife Ruth and I decided to go to Galicia with two friends, leaving on 6 April and returning the day after Easter. Of course we plan to meet up with Pablo and Rosana for a couple of days.

Our Itinerary
Thursday & Friday, April 6 & 7 - Fly to Spain
We plan to fly from Boston on Spain-based Iberia Airlines (codeshare with American) leaving at 6:25 PM and arriving in Madrid the next morning at 6:25 AM. We like Iberia because the staff on the plane are typically Spanish and are therefore very warm and friendly.

Friday, April 7 - Parador in Cambados
When we arrive in Madrid we will linger in the Barajas airport for a couple of hours where we will drink glasses of freshly squeezed Valencian orange juice, and then catch another Iberia flight a little after noon. In just about 90 minutes we will arrive at the magical pilgrimage city of Santiago de Compostela.

While at the airport, we will pick up our rental car (diesel is most economical) and head for the Parador in Cambados. (We decided to stay at Parador hotels, government-restored palaces and castles for the most part. They are beautifully decorated with handmade fabrics and furniture recalling a chivalrous age, yet they cost the equivalent of a garden variety motel in the States.)

The sheltered port of Cambados on the Atlantic coast is dotted with commercial fishing boats with local fishermen hauling in the day’s catch. This village is where most of La Tienda’s gourmet seafood is caught and canned, much of it from the rias, or fjords which feed into the bay. I like the little cockles (berberechos) which are particularly plentiful this time of year.

By the time we arrive at the hotel we will be ready for a good siesta following the long flight. Two or three hours later we will be refreshed enough to stroll around the town and sample some seafood tapas, maybe a little pulpo a la gallega (octopus with smoked paprika).

Saturday, April 8 - Parador de Baiona
After a restful night we will enjoy a sumptuous buffet breakfast featuring local cheeses, thin slices of Jamón Serrano and Ibérico, tortilla española, many pastries or fresh rolls -- and the ever present fresh jugo de naranja. Around 10:00 AM we will be on our way to the amazing town of Baiona, where Atlantic waves lap on the shore of a medieval settlement. The Parador there is astonishing with its grand staircase accenting the promontory on which it is located. After hiking by the crashing sea we will drive inland to Montfort de Lemos.

Sunday, April 9 - Dia de Ramos/Palm Sunday/Monforte de Lemos
This is a peaceful region of steep valleys covered with spectacular vineyards whose grapes produce delicious wines. The Ribiero Sacra artisan wines are big and aromatic, a favorite of ours. We will be staying at the parador which is composed of the keep, San Vicente do Pino Monastery and the palace of the counts of Lemos, which houses the Parador de Monforte.

The monastery dates back to the ninth century, although the current structure was built in the seventeenth century in the neoclassical style. The town dates back into the mists of history. Before the Romans conquered the peninsula it was inhabited by Visigoths and Celts. There is evidence of Paleolithic people living here in the Bronze Age, from 600-900 BC! In town there is a small museum of sacred art, and a gallery of exquisite Sargadelos porcelain which ceased production a couple of years ago.

Since this is Palm Sunday, the first day of Holy Week, we hope to see the beginning of the Semana Santa processions that occur throughout traditional Spain. Usually a brotherhood will together carry a heavy mahogany paso, or platform, on which are life sized sculptures depicting one of the Stations of the Cross, events during the last days of Jesus’s life on earth. A penitential brotherhood in robes carries their paso on their shoulders, often for several miles into the night. The arduous journey may involve nearly 50 young men with their fathers, uncles, friends. Since the mahogany paso likely weighs more than a ton there are frequent stops. During the rest of the year the pasos reside in the various parishes in town until the appropriate time next year.

Monday, April 10 - Parador Corias in Asturias
We will continue along the heavily forested hills and valleys of indescribable beauty to the province of Asturias, the only area in Spain which was not conquered by the Moors (Berbers and Arabs). We will spend the night at the 11th century Benedictine monastery/Parador of Corias a couple of miles out of town from Cangas del Narcea.

About 24 km beyond is Xedré (also spelled Gedrez), and there we will find a perfectly preserved Romanesque church of Santa María in a tiny village deep in the jagged Picos de Europa. Nearby is Xinestosu, a remote village where shepherds are making their sheep’s milk cheese and wrap each round in esparto grass. The strong cheese is only available in this one little town. Whether we can get some will somewhat depend upon the weather, as the dramatic Picos de Europa Mountains are steep and treacherous.

Tuesday, April 11 - Torre de los Condes de Andreada Parador
Next we return to inland Galicia. Some pilgrims walking the Camino de Santiago may be familiar where we are next staying: the Torre de los Condes de Andreada which has been made into a cosy medieval Parador. It is a nice place to stop and unwind.

Wednesday-Saturday, April 12-15 - Viveiros, Pazo da Trave
The next four days we hope to share in the lenten devotion of the local fishermen in the small fishing town of Viveiros, located in the far northwest corner of Spain where the Cantabrian Sea meets the Atlantic Ocean. The area is called the Sea of Death because of the many ships that have wrecked in the stormy waters (including some of the Spanish Armada as it sailed to an untimely end while planning to defeat the English fleet).

If we are fortunate we hope to hang out with some of the handful of men who risk their lives harvesting percebes (goose barnacles) in the angry surf. The barnacles tenaciously cling to the rocks where they are constantly pounded upon by the turgid Atlantic surf. The young men either lower themselves by line, rappelling across the granite cliffs, or approach by a small skiff in order to chisel off some of these creatures.

Each year some of the courageous men are swept out to sea or smashed against the rocks. Generation after generation commits themselves to this perilous way of life. I almost feel guilty when I sample these treats, since I can only enjoy due to the bravery of these men. Percebes are cleaned and boiled in seawater. They taste very “oceany,” somewhat like mussels or “steamer” clams from the North Shore of Massachusetts Bay.

The main goal of our trip is to witness the processions of Semana Santa in the small town of Viveiros. We have visited Spain for perhaps eight different Holy Week observations and found this Spanish devotion truly meaningful. The various towns and sections of the country follow the same format, but the expression of their piety differs greatly.

Over at Cuenca scores of young men are rhythmically drumming their snare drums. It is almost hypnotic as it echoes off of the stone walls and cobblestone streets. During the day, Cuenca sponsors an international celebration of medieval music, performed by people from all over Europe. It made for a very full day. Down south in Andalucía the processions are more outwardly emotional. The stately walled city of Avila, the home of Santa Teresa, is only two hours drive west of Madrid. But I digress.

We selected Viveiros this time since their Semana Santa was awarded an international designation. Several of the sculptures carried on the pasos are centuries old, but it is “catch as catch can.” One year I identified a walled medieval village in Castile that was so remote that we found hardly anyone was left living there. We had to look elsewhere for a celebration of Semana Santa. On the other hand we have discovered a couple of villages which were jewels of authenticity.

To lay our heads, we selected Pazo da Traves, a rustic fifteenth century stone lodge situated on the outskirts of Viveiro. Hotels.com described it as “a stone house dated from the fifteenth century, about three miles from the routes of the various processions.” The town even has volunteer guides who will help us find the best location to observe the processions, which are usually at night. During the day we can explore the rocky shoreline.

The hotel is located in a charming valley bathed in tranquility amid large country houses. There is a large garden with trees and vegetation indigenous to Galicia, an authentic traditional Galician grain store and a chapel, all surrounded by forest belonging to the hotel.

Easter Sunday, April 16 - Hospital de los Reyes Católicos. Santiago de Compostela
All week long are dramatic processions in Santiago, but there are significant crowds, many of them tourists, rather than the faithful whom you might find in a small town. However, Easter (Pascua) in one of the most celebrated pilgrimage spots in all of the world is not to be missed. The vast Romanesque cathedral holds thousands from all over the world, and I will feel a sense of cameraderia with my fellow Christians as we celebrate Easter together.

One of the most memorable events which occurs during designated holy days is when eight acolytes, tiraboleros, add frankincense into a bed of glowing coals within a giant silver thurible. The incense pot (weighing 125 pounds) is called a botafumeiro and through pulling on a block and tackle it produces a huge arc of billowing incense smoke. The pendulum gains speed traveling across the transept of this huge church filled with pilgrims until every corner is filled with clouds of the sweet aroma of frankincense.

As if that would not be enough, we will spend our last night in a Parador del los Reyes Catolicos which Queen Isabella built in 1494 to accommodate weary pilgrims. They were lucky pilgrims to have stayed in such a magnificent building. This is the ultimate parador and the climax of our trip.

Easter Monday, April 17 - Williamsburg Virginia
Fly Iberia from Santiago de Compostela to Madrid to Boston. (Legal Seafood Clam chowder is healing before the trip home to Richmond and Williamsburg.)

¡Feliz Pascua! Y buen viaje
Don

I travel to Spain in April with my wife Ruth. Planning our trip is half of the fun, and I thought I would pass along some of my ideas on how to have a memorable and enjoyable trip to this wonderful country.

First, a few tips for the first time visitor. Driving in Spain is easy: the highways are in excellent condition (generally better than ours) and signage is good, you can use your US license. ATMs are plentiful, and credit cards are accepted virtually everywhere, but be sure to alert your bank that you are traveling. Use Booking.com for making reservations. You can cancel or revise with no penalty until 24 hours before. If possible, avoid July and August, which is the traditional holiday time for locals and tourists alike. May and October are ideal.

Once you arrive, there is a whole world of culture and food to explore. Spain is a country of incredible variety, with at least four languages and 17 distinct regions. Because of its location, many cultures have streamed through Spanish history, each leaving a lasting mark. The Romans laid a foundation of language and culture throughout Iberia. Andalucía, in the south, is heavily influenced by the presence of the Moors who lived there for more than 700 years. Galicia is affected by the longtime presence of the Celtic people. In fact, some say Galicia is the source of the people of Ireland. So expect bagpipes, seashore, cow's milk cheese and green hills.

Another reason for this wonderful variety is explained by the mountains. Next to Switzerland, Spain is the most mountainous country in Europe. Before mechanized travel the mountains were a very real and intimidating boundary. Crossing a mountain pass was not only strenuous, but also filled with the danger of brigands and outlaws who might attack a traveling band. Because of this physical separation, people living less than 20 miles apart developed different customs, food traditions and dialects.

Your first decision is how you narrow the field, otherwise, you will end up seeing a lot, and at the same time experience very little. A friend of mine from Spain planned a similar trip to America a few years ago. He wanted to show his wife the United States in ten days! He flew into Washington, DC, from Sevilla, visited us in Williamsburg for Thanksgiving Day, then flew on to Las Vegas the next day, followed by a rafting trip on the Grand Canyon, then Death Valley and San Francisco before returning to Sevilla. I am exhausted just writing about it!

In the past, I attempted similar trips in Spain. I love the Andalucians who live in the far south, just north of Morocco, and I equally enjoy the Celtic people in Galicia who live by the ocean in the far northwest corner of Spain. I couldn’t decide whether to visit the Alhambra of Granada or the pilgrim cathedral of Santiago. A couple of times I have attempted to fit in both regions, with Extremadura tucked in between. I ended up exhausted trying to stuff in so many memories.

So my first suggestion is for you to focus on which part of Spain you want to visit. Over 70 million visitors a year visit the country, and there is a lot to see. It is a good thing Spain is so large, for it easily absorbs them all, with the exceptions of Barcelona and perhaps Malaga which at certain times of the year have more tourists than locals!

This time we have a dilemma. Do we fly south to Sevilla in order to visit cherished Spanish friends in Córdoba, Cádiz and the sherry towns? But then we also want to go to a rustic fishing village on the northern coast of Galicia which has very moving processions during Semana Santa (Holy Week). Maybe we can top it off with Easter at the medieval cathedral at Santiago de Compostela and then fly home.

When we were young and foolish we would have packed it all in, but now we realize you can't do everything you want to. Since our trip will end on Easter Day, we decided to concentrate on the pilgrimage towns of Galicia. Next time we will visit our friends down south, and revisit the magical port of Cádiz (which is the favorite town of many seasoned travelers, such as the NY Times writer Penelope Casas).

Since we are less familiar with the interior of Galicia we decided to rely upon the amazing Parador system of hotels and inns which dot the country, sometimes located in beautifully restored palaces and castles (Paradores.es). Some of our favorites are the Montfort de Lemos palace, built next to the site of a 9th century monastery, Verín, a fortress and monastery site for pilgrims, and finally on Easter we will stay at an extravagantly beautiful hotel first built in 1496 by Queen Isabella as a hostel for pilgrims. It is adjacent to the 12th century Romanesque cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

Many tell me that they are going spend their first trip to Spain in Barcelona. To some extent, it is like saying you are going to get to know the United States by spending your vacation in Manhattan. Don't get me wrong, Barcelona is an exciting, fascinating city which you should explore by walking down the Ramblas, seeing Gaudi's amazing constructions and visiting the amazingly vast food market. But I urge you to do more. In the city you can visit the Museum of Catalan art on Montjuic. There are sublime thousand-year-old murals taken from the walls of mountain monasteries. If this moves you, you can rent a car and drive for only one hour to the ancient city of Vic in the Pyrenees, which has an exquisite new Diocesan museum filled with amazing polychrome wood carvings you will see nowhere else in the world. I can give you the name of an excellent and knowledgeable guide should you want to drive into the mountains for three or four hours.

From Barcelona, you can take a train or drive one hour to Girona. It has a medieval Cathedral, whose seemingly hundreds of stairs lead to a precious needlepoint tapestry of the creation made in the 12th century. Down the street, in the former Jewish Quarter, is the fascinating museum and library at the Sephardic Center which can connect you to volumes of information concerning Jews (Sephardi) in Spain. Girona also hosts El Cellar de Can Roca, a Michelin 5-star restaurant (you will have to make reservations months in advance).

This legendary restaurant serves Can Solivera Wild Olive Oil made by our friends Hans and Daida de Roos in a neighboring town. They are gracious and will welcome you with open arms and show you all there is to know about the production of gourmet olive oil. It will be an unforgettable experience. Send me an email to harris@tienda.com if you would like to visit them.

I think by now you can see that with a little imagination you can stray from group travel and discover parts of Spain which are even more memorable. What I have described in these two provinces of Galicia and Cataluña is available to you, whatever your age. Good roads, warm and friendly people, amazing history which stretches back to pre-history - all of it is yours if you have an adventurous spirit.

¡Buen Viaje!
Don Harris

How in the world do you judge 3,000 cheeses? The logistics of tasting such a volume of cheese is mind boggling in itself. Do you chew and swallow all of those tasty morsels? Or do you spit the samples out like a wine connoisseur? Imagining both options gave me a bit of indigestion.

Last November, I was selected to be a judge at the World Cheese Awards in San Sebastian, run by the Guild of Fine Food based in Gillingham, England. I was simultaneously thrilled at the honor and a little terrified at the responsibility. Of course Spanish cheeses are warmly familiar to me after a career of sampling amazing cheeses like delicate, creamy Tetilla from Galicia or the powerful Cabrales blue cheese from Asturias. Beyond Spain I had a passing knowledge of famous cheese like Gouda, Stilton and Roquefort. But what do I know about cheese like Taupinette Jousseaume from France or Forest Phantom from South Africa?

I promptly ordered the World Cheese Book and pored over the pages as I planned my journey to San Sebastian in the Basque Country. Chosen as the European Capital of Culture in 2016, San Sebastian (known as Donostia in the Basque language) is a gorgeous city right out of a fairy tale. In fact, the sandy shores of the beautiful curving Concha bay are protected by Castillo de La Mota, a castle perched above the old city.

San Sebastian in its current form came to being during the Belle Époque period of the late 19th century when it was a summer destination for Spanish royalty. The city hosts three 3-star Michelin restaurants, incredible for a city with just over 400,000 inhabitants.

The restored old quarter is filled with lively bars serving pintxos, the Basque answer to tapas. Pintxos consist of a delicious bite of meat, seafood or vegetable beautifully prepared and presented on a piece of bread. Simply choose what you like and you pay when you are ready – very civilized!

I recruited my wife Stacey to travel with me (not a difficult task!) and arrived soon after in San Sebastian. Jetlagged but none the worse for wear, we stopped at a bar for a restorative wedge of tortilla Española and a cold caña of beer. Feeling much better, we headed to the Kursaal congress center near the old town, a startlingly angular modern building that hosts the famous San Sebastian Film Festival, Spain’s largest. There we registered for the World Cheese Awards and met my old friend Iker Fernandez who had arranged the visit.

Iker is a native Basque who now lives in New York with his family. He represents some of Spain’s finest food producers, including Arztai, a consortium of small scale farmers specializing in Idiazabal, the famous smoked sheep’s milk cheese of the region. He led us into a huge room already filled with thousands of cheeses sitting on white tablecloths, ready for the tasting in the morning. Every shape and color of cheese you can imagine sat there quietly, waiting for the morning when each would be cut, sniffed, nibbled and judged.

That evening we attended a welcome party at the old royal palace overlooking the Concha bay. As we arrived, a band of musicians in folk garb marched into the crowd, followed by men dressed in wild beastly costumes in the ancient local tradition. The local cheesemakers then welcomed us, passionately sharing their mission to protect the shepherds and artisan cheese producers of the Basque Country. I was particularly touched when some of the older cheesemakers passed on the torch to the next generation and a tall bearded man sang a beautiful folk song a cappella.

After the ceremony we were treated to a feast you could only find in Spain. There were tables covered with Spain’s finest cheeses: sharp aged Manchego, spoonable Torta del Casar and complex Payoyo to name a few. A line quickly formed next to the Joselito Jamón Ibérico de Bellota, where a professional carver expertly served fresh slices of this finest of all cured hams. As I walked out the beautiful glass doors to the back of the palace, my eyes opened in wonder at the biggest grilling pit I’d ever seen! Over a bed of hot natural charcoal sizzled at least twenty whole lambs on metal spits, filling the air with enticing aromas. The tender lamb was fall-off-the-bone tender and one of the highlights of our visit.

The next morning I couldn’t wait to get to the cheese awards, despite the fact that my luggage was enjoying a separate trip to Portugal. I was lucky that my rumpled outfit would be covered with an apron for the event! At the Congress Center I mingled with a few of the cheese mongers, food writers, importers and cheesemakers that made up the 250 judge panel. Entering the cheese judging room my senses swooned at the dozens of tables covered with thousands of the world’s most amazing cheeses! From Istanbul to Oregon, from Norway to South Africa, cheesemakers had delivered their very best wheels, spheres and blocks of delicious cheeses for us to enjoy. How would we choose from such a variety?

Thankfully the organizers broke the tasting into bite-sized pieces, and I was assigned just one table of “only” 60 cheeses. I joined three other judges, including a dignified gentleman who was an artisan cheese maker, a warm and expressive cheese consortium representative and a focused and energetic gourmet food store owner. It turns out all of my preparation on world cheese names and locations wasn’t necessary: this would be a blind tasting focused on one question – is each cheese poor, good, great or exceptional? My team boasted decades of experience judging the texture, aroma, flavor and appearance of cheeses, we didn’t need to know the precise facts of each sample. This was going to be fun!

We gathered around our first cheese and got to business. Between samples we crunched on tart apples to clear our palates. Over two hours we sniffed, prodded, sliced and nibbled until we finally reached the other end of the table. Incredibly I did not collapse in a cheese coma or begin to bleat like a sheep. In the end we awarded a couple of dozen silvers and bronzes, a handful of golds and one super-gold to the best of our lot. I peeked at the label and the super-gold turned out to be a cheese called Maxorata Curado con Pimentón from the Canary Islands – a Spanish cheese won our table! I vowed to add this cheese to our selections and you will see it on La Tienda later this spring.

I said goodbye to my new friends and met Stacey and our export manager Jamie at the cheese trade show in a nearby part of the building. After tasting a few more cheeses, we watched a Basque woman fill glasses with sidra dispensed in a jet from the tap of a large wooden barrel. After downing this traditional hard cider in one gulp (I swear this is the local custom!), we set out to explore the old city of San Sebastian.

The sun was shining and the air was warm – not always so in the month of November in this coastal city. Astonishingly I found myself still hungry, so we walked through beautiful stone archways and entered one of the hundreds of pintxos bars in the area. We ordered glasses of Txakoli, a fresh white wine made just miles from the city, and snacked on grilled anchovies in a vinegar sauce, steamed clams with garlic and bites of sautéed bacalao. We received word that our errant luggage had arrived, so we made plans to meet Jamie and his wonderful wife Biki in a few hours for a proper pintxos bar crawl.

We reunited that evening. Jamie grew up in Idaho, home to a large Basque population, and ended up falling in love with a Basque woman, his wife Biki. Decades later, they live in Zarautz, just down the coast from San Sebastian. Jamie has been a part of La Tienda for over ten years, and it is always a pleasure to visit him in his adopted home. And we are in luck – Biki gives tours of pintxos bars as a part time job!

We begin at Gandarias, a traditional old town bar with stone walls and pillars. While the old town attracts a lot of foreigners, and we were clearly in that category, the bartender greeted us warmly. Soon we were feasting on Cocochas de Bacalao al Pil Pil (salt cod cheeks in a creamy parsley sauce), Alcachofas (whole roasted artichokes) and finally a plate of grilled fresh Anchoas (anchovies with garlic and parsley). These amazing dishes left us craving more, and we walked on to Cuchara de San Telmo.

This tiny bar is proudly rough around the edges, with a bright artistic mural outside and barely enough room for twenty patrons standing shoulder to shoulder. We elbowed our way up to the bar and the chalkboard listed an amazing selection of pintxos. Between refreshing sips of Txakoli we shared plates of Cochina de Salamanca Asada (roasted suckling pig), Pulpo Gallego Asado (roasted octopus) and Oreja de Cerdo Prensado (roasted and pressed pigs hears). Every dish was a revelation and we shuffled back to the hotel wishing we could have tried every dish on the menu!

The next day we traveled into the mountains to visit one of the artisan cheesemakers that make the local favorite, Idiazabal. Like all of the farmers in the Artzai collective, he owns his own small herd of 300 sheep that were grazing next to the cheese workshop. Every day the ewes are milked and the cheese is formed into wheels for aging. I was struck by the passion and dedication of these Basque farmers to preserve their food heritage. The cheesemaker proudly offered samples of Idiazabal cheese and chilled bottles of sidra, which pair beautifully together. After scratching the enormous Basque sheepdog and her giant puppy, we headed back to San Sebastian for our last evening.

It was imperative that we head back for more pintxos after such a fun tour with Biki and Jamie the night before. We started at a pleasant modern bar with a caña of frosty beer and a plate of fried Gernika peppers. These fresh little green peppers are much like the more famous Padrón peppers of Galicia, except that they are always mild. After finishing our plate we couldn’t resist returning to the vibrant atmosphere of Cuchara de San Telmo. Stacey and I wedged ourselves between other enthusiastic patrons and surveyed the menu. We settled on Carrillera de Ternera (roasted beef cheeks), Morcilla de Pascal Massoualde (a local blood sausage) and Foie Gras a la parrilla washed down with glasses of Txakoli and Ribera del Duero.

In the morning our whirlwind came to an end, and we headed to the airport in Bilbao. I reflected on the fierce pride the people of the Basque region hold for their local food traditions and the lengths they are taking to protect these treasures. I could say the same of the people of Galicia or Andalucía or Cataluña. All of these regions of Spain have distinct cultures and even different languages, but they share a profound reverence for the quality and history of their local cuisines. And these great foods are democratically enjoyed, at tapas bars, pulperias, chiringuitos and mercados across Spain. Exceptional food is not reserved for fine dining – it is a part of Spain’s daily life.

And I am thankful to organizations like the Guild of Fine Food, which organizes the World Cheese Awards. Through their efforts, excellent cheeses from small communities can receive acclaim and reach a larger market, helping preserve local traditions in Europe and across the world. There is a broad movement now to support locally produced artisan foods. For me the word “locally” does not mean I can only buy cheese from a farm down the road from my house. Instead I am inspired to support small traditional producers no matter where they are located so they can continue to nourish the variety and character of local communities across the world.