15 Gifts for the Wine Lover in Your Life
From must-have wine accessories to over-the-top experiences, wine lovers will love these gifts.
Lyndsey Matthews
La Tienda Porrón Wine Pitcher - Every wine lover should have one of these wine pitchers from Spain. For tamer dinner parties, you can use it as a decanter. But if you want to kick it up a notch, use it like the Spanish traditionally do and pour wine from its spout directly into your mouth.
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Lyndsey Matthews
La Tienda Porrón Wine Pitcher - Every wine lover should have one of these wine pitchers from Spain. For tamer dinner parties, you can use it as a decanter. But if you want to kick it up a notch, use it like the Spanish traditionally do and pour wine from its spout directly into your mouth.
Grilled Chicken and Pork Paella Recipe
Daniel Gritzer
Classic Spanish paella is cooked in huge pans over a live wood fire. This chicken-and-pork version mimics that process on a backyard grill, perfect for a festive party or cookout.
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Classic Spanish paella is cooked in huge pans over a live wood fire. This chicken-and-pork version mimics that process on a backyard grill, perfect for a festive party or cookout.
Fire Up the Grill for a Backyard Paella Party
Daniel Gritzer
One of Spain's most iconic dishes, a large paella for a crowd can be difficult to make at home. The solution is to cook it on the grill instead. Here's how to do it right.
Read more
One of Spain's most iconic dishes, a large paella for a crowd can be difficult to make at home. The solution is to cook it on the grill instead. Here's how to do it right.
Grilled Paella Mixta (Mixed Paella With Chicken and Seafood) Recipe
Daniel Gritzer
This famed seafood-and-meat paella may not be traditional, but it's a favorite of diners all over the world for good reason. The grill makes it possible to cook a one big enough for a crowd at home.
Paella mixta, which combines seafood and meat, is, as any Spaniard will tell you, not a traditional type of paella. But it is enjoyed throughout the world, and it is indisputably delicious. On top of saffron, smoked paprika, and other deeply flavorful ingredients, this version includes smoky, porky Spanish chorizo, which is another no-no among traditionalists (and which is also quite delicious). This version makes a paella big enough for a crowd, and it uses a grill for the even bed of heat needed to accomplish that in such a large, wide pan.
Please note that it's imperative you follow all the doneness cues in this recipe; the times are rough estimates since the actual timing of each step will vary heavily depending on the heat of your grill. This means that if your meat browns in a fraction of the stated time, you must move on to the next step and not adhere to the estimated time; if it takes longer, you must allow it to proceed beyond the estimated time (or boost the heat of your grill).
Read more
This famed seafood-and-meat paella may not be traditional, but it's a favorite of diners all over the world for good reason. The grill makes it possible to cook a one big enough for a crowd at home.
Paella mixta, which combines seafood and meat, is, as any Spaniard will tell you, not a traditional type of paella. But it is enjoyed throughout the world, and it is indisputably delicious. On top of saffron, smoked paprika, and other deeply flavorful ingredients, this version includes smoky, porky Spanish chorizo, which is another no-no among traditionalists (and which is also quite delicious). This version makes a paella big enough for a crowd, and it uses a grill for the even bed of heat needed to accomplish that in such a large, wide pan.
Please note that it's imperative you follow all the doneness cues in this recipe; the times are rough estimates since the actual timing of each step will vary heavily depending on the heat of your grill. This means that if your meat browns in a fraction of the stated time, you must move on to the next step and not adhere to the estimated time; if it takes longer, you must allow it to proceed beyond the estimated time (or boost the heat of your grill).
How to Make Romesco Sauce the Catalonian Way
Daniel Gritzer
Romesco is a bold Spanish sauce that's delicious and incredibly versatile, as good on roasted meats as it is on raw vegetables. Here's how to get closer to the original flavor of the sauce than many English-language recipes will allow.
Most people who know romesco know that it contains pepper, but many mistakenly think that pepper is a roasted red bell pepper. It's not. The pepper used for romesco is a dried one, either the ñora pepper or, according to some sources, the choricero pepper.
Of course, those Spanish pepper varieties aren't easy to get here, which is why the bell pepper became a popular substitute. Roasting a bell pepper does add some of the darker notes that the dried peppers offer, and romesco sauces made with bell peppers can taste good. But anyone who knows what the original sauce, made with those dried peppers, tastes like, knows that bell pepper doesn't really play the part well enough. A better route is to use some kind of dried pepper.
You can buy ñora peppers at Spanish specialty stores, or online at sites like La Tienda. I think it's worth it. The ñoras add a depth that the red bell pepper simply can't. They taste molasses-y, but without a strong sweetness, and there's a bitterness that cuts through everything else. It's a complex flavor that brings the romesco fully into focus.
Read more
Romesco is a bold Spanish sauce that's delicious and incredibly versatile, as good on roasted meats as it is on raw vegetables. Here's how to get closer to the original flavor of the sauce than many English-language recipes will allow.
Most people who know romesco know that it contains pepper, but many mistakenly think that pepper is a roasted red bell pepper. It's not. The pepper used for romesco is a dried one, either the ñora pepper or, according to some sources, the choricero pepper.
Of course, those Spanish pepper varieties aren't easy to get here, which is why the bell pepper became a popular substitute. Roasting a bell pepper does add some of the darker notes that the dried peppers offer, and romesco sauces made with bell peppers can taste good. But anyone who knows what the original sauce, made with those dried peppers, tastes like, knows that bell pepper doesn't really play the part well enough. A better route is to use some kind of dried pepper.
You can buy ñora peppers at Spanish specialty stores, or online at sites like La Tienda. I think it's worth it. The ñoras add a depth that the red bell pepper simply can't. They taste molasses-y, but without a strong sweetness, and there's a bitterness that cuts through everything else. It's a complex flavor that brings the romesco fully into focus.
Romesco Sauce Recipe
Daniel Gritzer
This nutty and fruity Spanish sauce is best when you make it your own. You can serve your romesco sauce a million different ways: with roasted meats or grilled fish, with cooked or raw vegetables, on sandwiches, in soups, you name it.
Read more
This nutty and fruity Spanish sauce is best when you make it your own. You can serve your romesco sauce a million different ways: with roasted meats or grilled fish, with cooked or raw vegetables, on sandwiches, in soups, you name it.
A Tiny Factory in Southern Spain Fries Potato Chips in Award-Winning Olive Oil for Chef Jose Andrés
Sheryl Julian
PRIEGO DE CORDOBA, Spain — If you’re under the impression that a potato chip is a common snack that is crisp and delicious, no matter what brand you buy, then you haven’t tasted chips from San Nicasio, a tiny factory in this Andalucian mountain town in the south of Spain.
These are hand-crafted chips, fried in the extra-virgin olive oil of the region. They are extraordinarily crunchy and not too salty; every chip is perfect and you can actually taste the aromatic oil in which they’re fried. San Nicasio are the chips offered at more than 25 restaurants operated by Spanish-born Michelin-starred chef Jose Andres, who co-brands with the company. It has won the Brussels-based Monde Selection Gold Award 12 times since 2008, and the chips are in such demand that they’re also shipped to Japan, China, Russia, Australia, Dubai, Kuwait, and Western Europe. The Telegraph newspaper in Great Britain listed the chips as one of the 50 foods to try before you die. Brits have dubbed artisan chips like these “posh crisps.”
Priego de Cordoba is halfway between Cordoba and Granada. San Nicasio founder Rafael del Rosal Lopez explains through translator Tim Murray-Walker, who owns the neighboring Casa Olea inn, that Andres discovered the chip company partly because Rosal Lopez’s product is Spanish and partly because the recipe is so simple. The process, except for the packaging, is fundamentally low-tech. “In the end it was quite easy,” says Rosal Lopez. “I don’t want to sound arrogant, but you get found.”
The original little crisps have the same ingredients other chips do — potatoes, oil, and salt — and nothing else. But those three things are the best money can buy and the method is thoroughly thought out to turn them into incredibly appealing chips.
They are made with local, floury Agria potatoes that are not genetically modified and come into the factory still covered with dirt. Extra-virgin olive oil is sourced from an award-winning cooperative mill, Almazaras de la Subbetica, which is stamped with the Priego de Cordoba Protected Designation of Origin. Olives for the oil are pressed just down the road, so there’s no transportation or unnecessary long storage. The pink salt sprinkled sparingly on the hot chips as they emerge from the fryer comes from the Himalayas. Rosal Lopez thinks that a little goes a long way; he doesn’t want his chips to be too salty.
Rosal Lopez, 47, and his wife, Mari Carmen Osuna Granados, 44, began here in 1998 with a churros stand. They sold the doughnut-like fried loops for a year until Rosal Lopez got the idea to add potato chips to the kiosk in the afternoons. Two years later, there was enough demand to build a little factory, then the couple moved a decade later to another facility. When that became too small after a few years, they started building a third one in 2013.
The financial crisis hit in the middle of construction; the couple owed the builders money and their bank wasn’t giving any out. The couple was sinking financially. Finally, the bank said that if they could come up with some of the money, the bank would kick in the rest. A client abroad bailed out the little company, but the plan backfired. “The bank went back on their word,” says Rosal Lopez. After much hand-wringing, the situation was resolved when two friends and the local olive oil cooperative loaned him the funds to continue building.
At the time, the couple had three young children and a 98-year-old grandmother and sick mother, who were both living with them. “It was a financial nightmare,” says Rosal Lopez. He found himself up at 3 a.m. every night worrying about the outcome.
He still keeps those hours, except there’s a factory here and he goes in before dawn to sort potatoes, removing any green spots by hand, so the crew that arrives early — his wife and two others — can begin work. “I’ve done 2,000 kilos by the time everyone comes in,” he says.
In the one-story factory, where there is plenty of space to expand, there is no smell of frying oil as you approach the building, nor any odor at all on the factory floor. That’s due to the low temperature Rosal Lopez is heating the oil (about 269 degrees Fahrenheit, which is far lower than other commercial chip factories). The entrepreneur explains that he doesn’t want his chips to have acrylamide — a chemical found in potatoes fried at high temperatures — and he does what he can to decrease that, like lowering the frying temperature and never refrigerating potatoes.
A water machine scrubs the potatoes using centrifugal force, another peels them, and Rosal Lopez goes through them by hand to remove any eyes on the spuds. Then they’re put into a slicing machine and tipped into the oil.
The frying temperature is so low that Rosal Lopez dips his finger into the vat to show that it’s not hot enough to burn him. He stirs the chips with the paddle end of something that looks like an oar. They’re floating in a giant mesh strainer inside the vat. “Low temperature makes it more labor intensive,” he says. The potatoes can stick together and have to be moved constantly. They’re in the oil for two minutes.
The strainer lifts automatically, drains excess oil back into the pot for a few seconds, then tips the chips onto a short conveyor belt, where they chug along while someone removes any that are too brown or not good-looking. They’re salted and packaged in triple-layer bags; all the oxygen in the packages is removed and food nitrogen is injected into them to keep the chips fresh. Chips are weighed before and after they go into the bags. Any whose weight is light are removed.
Rosal Lopez takes a bag off the conveyor belt and asks me to stand on it. The puffy little bag doesn’t budge. You can practically stomp on these chips and the bags won’t pop open. “I have put them under water and no water can get through,” he says. That kind of packaging costs more money, which is why the chips are priced higher (San Nicasio Jose Andres chips in a 6.7-ounce bag are $7.95; six 1.4 ounce bags are $14.95 on www.tienda.com.)
San Nicasio recycles everything. Dirt shaken off the potatoes and their peels go into local fertilizer; rejected potatoes are sent to local animals; used olive oil is shipped out to be repurposed; water from the machines is captured for another use. All rainwater from the drain pipes is used to irrigate the factory’s gardens. “This commitment to extensive recycling is expensive,” says Rosal Lopez.
In addition to the original flavor with Himalayan pink salt, which comes in pink bags, Rosal Lopez has introduced black pepper, which fills the mouth with a little heat; Pimenton de la Vera, the traditional Spanish smoked paprika, which is so appealing on the crisp bites; and truffle flower, made with dehydrated Italian fungi, which lends a very subtle, earthy taste to the chips.
Rosal Lopez hasn’t had a vacation in 20 years, so his oldest child, who is 16 now, has never been on holiday. All of his income goes back into the business.
“I like a challenge,” he says. “Like a lot of people, I’m always going to the next step. In the back of my mind the whole American dream thing is in there. Could I do this with other products? In the States, take oil from here, potatoes from the States, same salt. We could create the same quality of product. We could do it anywhere. China — you name it.”
The entrepreneur who began with a little kiosk knows the allure of a perfect snack. San Nicasio potato chips, www.sannicasio.es
Sheryl Julian can be reached at sheryl.julian@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @sheryljulian.
Read more
PRIEGO DE CORDOBA, Spain — If you’re under the impression that a potato chip is a common snack that is crisp and delicious, no matter what brand you buy, then you haven’t tasted chips from San Nicasio, a tiny factory in this Andalucian mountain town in the south of Spain.
These are hand-crafted chips, fried in the extra-virgin olive oil of the region. They are extraordinarily crunchy and not too salty; every chip is perfect and you can actually taste the aromatic oil in which they’re fried. San Nicasio are the chips offered at more than 25 restaurants operated by Spanish-born Michelin-starred chef Jose Andres, who co-brands with the company. It has won the Brussels-based Monde Selection Gold Award 12 times since 2008, and the chips are in such demand that they’re also shipped to Japan, China, Russia, Australia, Dubai, Kuwait, and Western Europe. The Telegraph newspaper in Great Britain listed the chips as one of the 50 foods to try before you die. Brits have dubbed artisan chips like these “posh crisps.”
Priego de Cordoba is halfway between Cordoba and Granada. San Nicasio founder Rafael del Rosal Lopez explains through translator Tim Murray-Walker, who owns the neighboring Casa Olea inn, that Andres discovered the chip company partly because Rosal Lopez’s product is Spanish and partly because the recipe is so simple. The process, except for the packaging, is fundamentally low-tech. “In the end it was quite easy,” says Rosal Lopez. “I don’t want to sound arrogant, but you get found.”
The original little crisps have the same ingredients other chips do — potatoes, oil, and salt — and nothing else. But those three things are the best money can buy and the method is thoroughly thought out to turn them into incredibly appealing chips.
They are made with local, floury Agria potatoes that are not genetically modified and come into the factory still covered with dirt. Extra-virgin olive oil is sourced from an award-winning cooperative mill, Almazaras de la Subbetica, which is stamped with the Priego de Cordoba Protected Designation of Origin. Olives for the oil are pressed just down the road, so there’s no transportation or unnecessary long storage. The pink salt sprinkled sparingly on the hot chips as they emerge from the fryer comes from the Himalayas. Rosal Lopez thinks that a little goes a long way; he doesn’t want his chips to be too salty.
Rosal Lopez, 47, and his wife, Mari Carmen Osuna Granados, 44, began here in 1998 with a churros stand. They sold the doughnut-like fried loops for a year until Rosal Lopez got the idea to add potato chips to the kiosk in the afternoons. Two years later, there was enough demand to build a little factory, then the couple moved a decade later to another facility. When that became too small after a few years, they started building a third one in 2013.
The financial crisis hit in the middle of construction; the couple owed the builders money and their bank wasn’t giving any out. The couple was sinking financially. Finally, the bank said that if they could come up with some of the money, the bank would kick in the rest. A client abroad bailed out the little company, but the plan backfired. “The bank went back on their word,” says Rosal Lopez. After much hand-wringing, the situation was resolved when two friends and the local olive oil cooperative loaned him the funds to continue building.
At the time, the couple had three young children and a 98-year-old grandmother and sick mother, who were both living with them. “It was a financial nightmare,” says Rosal Lopez. He found himself up at 3 a.m. every night worrying about the outcome.
He still keeps those hours, except there’s a factory here and he goes in before dawn to sort potatoes, removing any green spots by hand, so the crew that arrives early — his wife and two others — can begin work. “I’ve done 2,000 kilos by the time everyone comes in,” he says.
In the one-story factory, where there is plenty of space to expand, there is no smell of frying oil as you approach the building, nor any odor at all on the factory floor. That’s due to the low temperature Rosal Lopez is heating the oil (about 269 degrees Fahrenheit, which is far lower than other commercial chip factories). The entrepreneur explains that he doesn’t want his chips to have acrylamide — a chemical found in potatoes fried at high temperatures — and he does what he can to decrease that, like lowering the frying temperature and never refrigerating potatoes.
A water machine scrubs the potatoes using centrifugal force, another peels them, and Rosal Lopez goes through them by hand to remove any eyes on the spuds. Then they’re put into a slicing machine and tipped into the oil.
The frying temperature is so low that Rosal Lopez dips his finger into the vat to show that it’s not hot enough to burn him. He stirs the chips with the paddle end of something that looks like an oar. They’re floating in a giant mesh strainer inside the vat. “Low temperature makes it more labor intensive,” he says. The potatoes can stick together and have to be moved constantly. They’re in the oil for two minutes.
The strainer lifts automatically, drains excess oil back into the pot for a few seconds, then tips the chips onto a short conveyor belt, where they chug along while someone removes any that are too brown or not good-looking. They’re salted and packaged in triple-layer bags; all the oxygen in the packages is removed and food nitrogen is injected into them to keep the chips fresh. Chips are weighed before and after they go into the bags. Any whose weight is light are removed.
Rosal Lopez takes a bag off the conveyor belt and asks me to stand on it. The puffy little bag doesn’t budge. You can practically stomp on these chips and the bags won’t pop open. “I have put them under water and no water can get through,” he says. That kind of packaging costs more money, which is why the chips are priced higher (San Nicasio Jose Andres chips in a 6.7-ounce bag are $7.95; six 1.4 ounce bags are $14.95 on www.tienda.com.)
San Nicasio recycles everything. Dirt shaken off the potatoes and their peels go into local fertilizer; rejected potatoes are sent to local animals; used olive oil is shipped out to be repurposed; water from the machines is captured for another use. All rainwater from the drain pipes is used to irrigate the factory’s gardens. “This commitment to extensive recycling is expensive,” says Rosal Lopez.
In addition to the original flavor with Himalayan pink salt, which comes in pink bags, Rosal Lopez has introduced black pepper, which fills the mouth with a little heat; Pimenton de la Vera, the traditional Spanish smoked paprika, which is so appealing on the crisp bites; and truffle flower, made with dehydrated Italian fungi, which lends a very subtle, earthy taste to the chips.
Rosal Lopez hasn’t had a vacation in 20 years, so his oldest child, who is 16 now, has never been on holiday. All of his income goes back into the business.
“I like a challenge,” he says. “Like a lot of people, I’m always going to the next step. In the back of my mind the whole American dream thing is in there. Could I do this with other products? In the States, take oil from here, potatoes from the States, same salt. We could create the same quality of product. We could do it anywhere. China — you name it.”
The entrepreneur who began with a little kiosk knows the allure of a perfect snack. San Nicasio potato chips, www.sannicasio.es
Sheryl Julian can be reached at sheryl.julian@globe.com. Follow her on Twitter @sheryljulian.
Beyond the BBQ
The latest gear to take your Al Fresco meals to the next level
Elle Decor Staff
XL Paella Burner - Paella equals a one-dish party. This propane-fueled grill is made in Spain.
Morsels: Lured In
Exotic, tasty, nutritious - tinned seafood is seriously celebrated around here. Below, some reasons to crave this special assortment.
Lucy N. Casale
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Lucy N. Casale
What Is a Paella Pan? (And Do I Really Need One?)
This wide, shallow pan does make for the best paella but there are alternatives
Jennifer Anderson
Chances are you've seen a paella pan-the wide, shallow cooking vessel used to make the Spanish rice-and-meat (or seafood) dish of the same name. But have you ever cooked paella in one? If you're thinking of taking the plunge and getting a paella pan of your own, here's what's you need to know.
First and foremost, it's important to note that paella is the definitive dish of the Valencia region of Spain, and the pan defines the dish-literally. "Paella" is a Valencian word derived from the Latin term for "pan." Paella pans are wide and shallow to create maximum surface area, allowing liquid to evaporate and to form as much crispy golden crust (socarrat) on the bottom as possible. "Paella is not just a dish, it's a way of life in Valencia; everything revolves around the paella pan … around rice culture … It's 10 or 12 ingredients transformed through fire into a really beautiful and cohesive dish," declares Matt Goulding, author of the IACP Award-winning book "Grape, Olive, Pig: Deep Travels Through Spain's Food Culture."
Carbon, Stainless, or Enameled Steel? Deciding What Kind of Paella Pan to Buy
Paella pans are constructed from a variety of materials. How do you choose the right one? Carbon steel paella pans are traditionally used across Valencia, the heart of paella country. They are affordable, lightweight, and conduct heat very efficiently. Carbon steel does require some seasoning and maintenance between uses, so be sure to follow the instructions that come with your pan.
You have other options, too. Stainless steel paella pans are heavy-duty and do not require any special upkeep. They are more expensive than carbon steel pans but they are very durable and should last you a lifetime. Last but not least, you can purchase an enameled steel iteration. Affordable, lighter than stainless, and easy to clean, enameled steel pans are even dishwasher safe.
Read more
Jennifer Anderson
Chances are you've seen a paella pan-the wide, shallow cooking vessel used to make the Spanish rice-and-meat (or seafood) dish of the same name. But have you ever cooked paella in one? If you're thinking of taking the plunge and getting a paella pan of your own, here's what's you need to know.
First and foremost, it's important to note that paella is the definitive dish of the Valencia region of Spain, and the pan defines the dish-literally. "Paella" is a Valencian word derived from the Latin term for "pan." Paella pans are wide and shallow to create maximum surface area, allowing liquid to evaporate and to form as much crispy golden crust (socarrat) on the bottom as possible. "Paella is not just a dish, it's a way of life in Valencia; everything revolves around the paella pan … around rice culture … It's 10 or 12 ingredients transformed through fire into a really beautiful and cohesive dish," declares Matt Goulding, author of the IACP Award-winning book "Grape, Olive, Pig: Deep Travels Through Spain's Food Culture."
Carbon, Stainless, or Enameled Steel? Deciding What Kind of Paella Pan to Buy
Paella pans are constructed from a variety of materials. How do you choose the right one? Carbon steel paella pans are traditionally used across Valencia, the heart of paella country. They are affordable, lightweight, and conduct heat very efficiently. Carbon steel does require some seasoning and maintenance between uses, so be sure to follow the instructions that come with your pan.
You have other options, too. Stainless steel paella pans are heavy-duty and do not require any special upkeep. They are more expensive than carbon steel pans but they are very durable and should last you a lifetime. Last but not least, you can purchase an enameled steel iteration. Affordable, lighter than stainless, and easy to clean, enameled steel pans are even dishwasher safe.
What Makes This Soup So Good?
Smoky Spanish sausage lends rich flavor to the broth—and a vital link to tradition in a West Virginia community. These recipes make the most of ingredients that have sustained generations in the Mountain State
Mike Costello
THIS IS JUST LIKE religion to me. That’s how I think about it,” Jim Golden said, sitting on his tin-roofed porch overlooking the Buckhannon River in north-central West Virginia. It was early December and Mr. Golden, a retired restaurateur and firearms salesman, was kicking off an annual early-winter rite: the two-day process of making the Spanish blood sausage morcilla. He tied on a black apron, opened a can of lager and took a sip. Then he began feeding slabs of lily-white pork fat through a 1970s-era Cuisinart grinder.
His recipe, scribbled in red ink and pinned to his refrigerator with a “Proud to be Spanish” magnet, remains mostly true to the one that crossed the Atlantic with his grandparents over a century ago. They were among a wave of families that arrived in this part of West Virginia from Spain’s Asturias region in the early 20th century. Settled near zinc-smelting plants around Clarksburg, Anmoore and Spelter, they routinely made old-world sausages as a community, curing them in backyard smokehouses.
“I never thought about not doing it, because you just grow up with it,” said Mr. Golden. But in recent decades, as West Virginia’s population has declined overall and many of the descendants of those Spanish families have left the Mountain State, protecting that culinary heritage has become a priority. Now in his 70s, Mr. Golden has assumed the role of mentor to preserve both the process of making morcilla and the symbolism in each smoky link. He doesn’t sell the sausages he makes; this is a product meant to be shared with family, neighbors and friends.
His nephew John Pierson stood beside him controlling the grinder’s power switch as they turned rigid blocks of pork fat into coarsely ground morsels that piled up in a big steel pan. “It gives me gratification in my heart and mind and soul to know there’s somebody else who cares about it, and they’re going to pass it on,” Mr. Golden said. As they worked the two men traded stories about other sausage makers in the family, including Mr. Golden’s grandmother, Effegiña Alonso, and his great-aunt, whom he calls Tía Maria.
Dark burgundy in color, bold and complex in flavor, morcilla is used by the family almost exclusively in soups and stews, most notably a hearty kale soup with white beans, potatoes and a generous hit of paprika. “It’s the quintessential wintertime food,” Mr. Pierson said of the dish, which he grew up eating with thick-crusted white bread.
Morcilla gets its delicate texture and much of its flavor from its main ingredient: freshly harvested beef or pork blood. Unlike the pork shoulders and haunches used to make chorizo or longaniza, fresh blood can’t be procured on a whim at a grocery-store meat counter; morcilla production must be carefully coordinated with nearby farmers.
This time, the task of procuring the blood fell to Mr. Pierson. He headed to the mountaintop farm of Seth Lucas, a young homesteader who had prepared a yearling bull for field slaughter. A compassionate farmer who adheres to a waste-free ethos, Mr. Lucas talked about the honor of contributing “the very substance that gives the animal life” to a tradition so important to Mr. Pierson’s family and the area’s Spanish-American community. The farmer felled the bull with a clean headshot from his .22 caliber rifle and quickly severed the animal’s jugular. Holding a wooden spoon and a bright-blue collection bucket, Mr. Pierson knelt beside the bull and stirred rapidly as a gush of deep crimson swirled into the vessel.
Later that day on Mr. Golden’s porch, the nearly two gallons of blood Mr. Pierson collected were combined with the ground pork fat, 50 pounds of chopped onions, coarse salt, spices and fresh parsley, then hand-stuffed into natural casings and tied off into short links. Boiled until firm and chilled overnight, the sausages went into the smoker the next morning.
Mr. Golden insisted there are no hard rules for cooking rustic food like the kale and morcilla soup his family has adapted over the years. With a traditional recipe in hand, cooks “tweak it to their own taste,” he said. Ingredients like crisp apples, turnips, potatoes and hearty greens can swap in and out depending on what’s in the garden or root cellar. But in the soups of Spanish origin found in this part of Appalachia, sausage is the cornerstone.
Home cooks who don’t happen to know a sausage maker can find morcilla at local butchers, at many supermarkets or from online sources such as La Tienda, tienda.com. If you haven’t cooked with this sausage before, you’ll be surprised what a long simmer in broth will do. The morcilla is a real workhorse ingredient, partially melting into the pot as it cooks, releasing smoke and spice as it lends body to a soup or stew.
Still, spending time with the people who make this food, you get stories and layers of meaning no trip to the store can match. At the end of the process, Mr. Pierson lifted wooden dowels draped with finished sausages out of the primitive smoker and looked to his uncle for approval. “They’re beautiful,” Mr. Golden said. “I’m happy with this mess. I really am.”
Asturian Kale and Morcilla Soup
TOTAL TIME: 2 hours SERVES: 4
2 Yukon Gold potatoes, diced
4 cups water
4 tablespoons paprika
3 cloves garlic, chopped
½ pound or 3 small links smoked morcilla, sliced into rounds
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 cup chicken stock
2 cups cooked white beans
3 cups chopped kale
4 tablespoons olive oil
1. In a medium stock pot, combine potatoes and water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Add paprika, garlic, half the morcilla and 1 teaspoon salt. Cover and simmer 1 hour.
2. Add beans, chicken stock and remaining morcilla. Simmer, covered, 30 minutes-1 hour. (A longer simmer will bring out more flavor.)
3. Add kale and continue to simmer, covered, until tender, about 5 minutes. Salt to taste.
Caldo Gallego (Galician White Bean Soup)
TOTAL TIME: 2 hours SERVES: 4
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
4 cloves garlic
2 turnips, peeled and diced
2 small-to-medium links Spanish chorizo, cut in ¼-inch slices
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup water
3 cups chopped turnip greens, mustard greens or kale
2 cups cooked white beans
1 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1. In a stock pot, heat 2 tablespoons oil. Sauté onions and garlic until soft, about 4 minutes. Add turnips, chorizo, stock and water, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer 30 minutes.
2. Add greens, beans, parsley, paprika and 1 teaspoon salt. Simmer 30 minutes more. Salt to taste and garnish with remaining olive oil.
Fabada (Asturian White Bean Stew With Morcilla, Chorizo and Apples)
TOTAL TIME: 2 hours SERVES: 4
4 cups chicken stock
3 cups cooked white beans such as great northern or cannelini
1 cup crushed tomatoes
2 small links of smoked morcilla, sliced into rounds
2 small to medium links of smoked Spanish chorizo, sliced into 1/4 inch slices
4 slices smoked bacon, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium turnip, peeled and diced
2 firm medium apples, such as Gala, Honeycrisp or Granny Smith, diced
1 teaspoon paprika
½ teaspoon nutmeg
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
4 tablespoons chopped parsley, for garnish
1. In a stock pot, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium heat. Sauté bacon, onions and half the apples until onions are slightly translucent, about 4 minutes.
2. Add chorizo, morcilla, bay leaf, nutmeg, salt and garlic, and stir to combine. Continue to sauté until bacon starts to brown, about 3 minutes. Add stock and tomatoes, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, 30 minutes to an hour.
3. Add beans and remaining apples. Simmer over low heat 30 minutes more. Remove bay leaf and season with salt to taste.
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Mike Costello
THIS IS JUST LIKE religion to me. That’s how I think about it,” Jim Golden said, sitting on his tin-roofed porch overlooking the Buckhannon River in north-central West Virginia. It was early December and Mr. Golden, a retired restaurateur and firearms salesman, was kicking off an annual early-winter rite: the two-day process of making the Spanish blood sausage morcilla. He tied on a black apron, opened a can of lager and took a sip. Then he began feeding slabs of lily-white pork fat through a 1970s-era Cuisinart grinder.
His recipe, scribbled in red ink and pinned to his refrigerator with a “Proud to be Spanish” magnet, remains mostly true to the one that crossed the Atlantic with his grandparents over a century ago. They were among a wave of families that arrived in this part of West Virginia from Spain’s Asturias region in the early 20th century. Settled near zinc-smelting plants around Clarksburg, Anmoore and Spelter, they routinely made old-world sausages as a community, curing them in backyard smokehouses.
“I never thought about not doing it, because you just grow up with it,” said Mr. Golden. But in recent decades, as West Virginia’s population has declined overall and many of the descendants of those Spanish families have left the Mountain State, protecting that culinary heritage has become a priority. Now in his 70s, Mr. Golden has assumed the role of mentor to preserve both the process of making morcilla and the symbolism in each smoky link. He doesn’t sell the sausages he makes; this is a product meant to be shared with family, neighbors and friends.
His nephew John Pierson stood beside him controlling the grinder’s power switch as they turned rigid blocks of pork fat into coarsely ground morsels that piled up in a big steel pan. “It gives me gratification in my heart and mind and soul to know there’s somebody else who cares about it, and they’re going to pass it on,” Mr. Golden said. As they worked the two men traded stories about other sausage makers in the family, including Mr. Golden’s grandmother, Effegiña Alonso, and his great-aunt, whom he calls Tía Maria.
Dark burgundy in color, bold and complex in flavor, morcilla is used by the family almost exclusively in soups and stews, most notably a hearty kale soup with white beans, potatoes and a generous hit of paprika. “It’s the quintessential wintertime food,” Mr. Pierson said of the dish, which he grew up eating with thick-crusted white bread.
Morcilla gets its delicate texture and much of its flavor from its main ingredient: freshly harvested beef or pork blood. Unlike the pork shoulders and haunches used to make chorizo or longaniza, fresh blood can’t be procured on a whim at a grocery-store meat counter; morcilla production must be carefully coordinated with nearby farmers.
This time, the task of procuring the blood fell to Mr. Pierson. He headed to the mountaintop farm of Seth Lucas, a young homesteader who had prepared a yearling bull for field slaughter. A compassionate farmer who adheres to a waste-free ethos, Mr. Lucas talked about the honor of contributing “the very substance that gives the animal life” to a tradition so important to Mr. Pierson’s family and the area’s Spanish-American community. The farmer felled the bull with a clean headshot from his .22 caliber rifle and quickly severed the animal’s jugular. Holding a wooden spoon and a bright-blue collection bucket, Mr. Pierson knelt beside the bull and stirred rapidly as a gush of deep crimson swirled into the vessel.
Later that day on Mr. Golden’s porch, the nearly two gallons of blood Mr. Pierson collected were combined with the ground pork fat, 50 pounds of chopped onions, coarse salt, spices and fresh parsley, then hand-stuffed into natural casings and tied off into short links. Boiled until firm and chilled overnight, the sausages went into the smoker the next morning.
Mr. Golden insisted there are no hard rules for cooking rustic food like the kale and morcilla soup his family has adapted over the years. With a traditional recipe in hand, cooks “tweak it to their own taste,” he said. Ingredients like crisp apples, turnips, potatoes and hearty greens can swap in and out depending on what’s in the garden or root cellar. But in the soups of Spanish origin found in this part of Appalachia, sausage is the cornerstone.
Home cooks who don’t happen to know a sausage maker can find morcilla at local butchers, at many supermarkets or from online sources such as La Tienda, tienda.com. If you haven’t cooked with this sausage before, you’ll be surprised what a long simmer in broth will do. The morcilla is a real workhorse ingredient, partially melting into the pot as it cooks, releasing smoke and spice as it lends body to a soup or stew.
Still, spending time with the people who make this food, you get stories and layers of meaning no trip to the store can match. At the end of the process, Mr. Pierson lifted wooden dowels draped with finished sausages out of the primitive smoker and looked to his uncle for approval. “They’re beautiful,” Mr. Golden said. “I’m happy with this mess. I really am.”
Asturian Kale and Morcilla Soup
TOTAL TIME: 2 hours SERVES: 4
2 Yukon Gold potatoes, diced
4 cups water
4 tablespoons paprika
3 cloves garlic, chopped
½ pound or 3 small links smoked morcilla, sliced into rounds
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1 cup chicken stock
2 cups cooked white beans
3 cups chopped kale
4 tablespoons olive oil
1. In a medium stock pot, combine potatoes and water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low. Add paprika, garlic, half the morcilla and 1 teaspoon salt. Cover and simmer 1 hour.
2. Add beans, chicken stock and remaining morcilla. Simmer, covered, 30 minutes-1 hour. (A longer simmer will bring out more flavor.)
3. Add kale and continue to simmer, covered, until tender, about 5 minutes. Salt to taste.
Caldo Gallego (Galician White Bean Soup)
TOTAL TIME: 2 hours SERVES: 4
4 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, diced
4 cloves garlic
2 turnips, peeled and diced
2 small-to-medium links Spanish chorizo, cut in ¼-inch slices
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup water
3 cups chopped turnip greens, mustard greens or kale
2 cups cooked white beans
1 cup chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
1. In a stock pot, heat 2 tablespoons oil. Sauté onions and garlic until soft, about 4 minutes. Add turnips, chorizo, stock and water, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer 30 minutes.
2. Add greens, beans, parsley, paprika and 1 teaspoon salt. Simmer 30 minutes more. Salt to taste and garnish with remaining olive oil.
Fabada (Asturian White Bean Stew With Morcilla, Chorizo and Apples)
TOTAL TIME: 2 hours SERVES: 4
4 cups chicken stock
3 cups cooked white beans such as great northern or cannelini
1 cup crushed tomatoes
2 small links of smoked morcilla, sliced into rounds
2 small to medium links of smoked Spanish chorizo, sliced into 1/4 inch slices
4 slices smoked bacon, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 medium turnip, peeled and diced
2 firm medium apples, such as Gala, Honeycrisp or Granny Smith, diced
1 teaspoon paprika
½ teaspoon nutmeg
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
4 tablespoons chopped parsley, for garnish
1. In a stock pot, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil over medium heat. Sauté bacon, onions and half the apples until onions are slightly translucent, about 4 minutes.
2. Add chorizo, morcilla, bay leaf, nutmeg, salt and garlic, and stir to combine. Continue to sauté until bacon starts to brown, about 3 minutes. Add stock and tomatoes, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer, covered, 30 minutes to an hour.
3. Add beans and remaining apples. Simmer over low heat 30 minutes more. Remove bay leaf and season with salt to taste.
4 Of The Best Places To Buy Meat Online in America
From online butcher shops to Spanish ham hawkers, here are four places to get the good stuff delivered.
Mantry Staff
La Tienda -
With over 800 items, ranging from jamon to chorizo, La Tienda is a Spanish food lover’s haven. The Spanish Ham sections will have you drooling.
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Mantry Staff
La Tienda -
With over 800 items, ranging from jamon to chorizo, La Tienda is a Spanish food lover’s haven. The Spanish Ham sections will have you drooling.
