America.

Ah yes, America. It still is as big and sassy as ever, with an added dash of spicy summer heat. 

We've been back for a week now and it's going to take a while to fully reorient ourselves. Things that have seemed strange include:

• Almond butter, peanut butter, cashew butter, sunflower butter and on and on
• How efficient the security line at the airport is - everyone seems to know the drill. No mass confusion: what? I have to take my shoes off? Both of them?
• Everything really is huge, you guys. Houses. Wide avenues. Elevators. Bathrooms. Sodas. Dogs. Cars. People (you knew I had to say it).
• Dollar bills are really terribly designed currency once you think about it. All the same color and size regardless of denomination? Confusing. And so long and skinny.
• Dr. Pepper and bagels and 100% beef burgers with cheddar cheese.
• Technology. Man it has been racing along. All these apps and mobile bar codes and cool gadgetry.
• Flavors that have been largely absent from our lives: beer with lime, buffalo wing sauce, chipotle peppers.
• All the English. I can't tune out a background conversation with the same ease. 
• Everyone keeps trying to eat lunch at 12, or worse, 11:30. I still think of it as breakfast.
• American flags are everywhere. 

Do you know how great it is though to be able to have a phone and talk and text with friends and family? After two years of email-based communications, it still feels pretty novel to get an instantaneous response. 

Spain is lovely, and it's hard not to fall in love. But I was out in the car yesterday and saw a huge American flag rippling across the wide, blue desert sky - the widest and bluest sky in the world - and I though that yes, yes indeed, I am glad to be back.

Bullfight

I went to a bullfight yesterday. Oh yes, I did.

Saturday night The Mister and I were hanging around, getting ready to meet friends for dinner, when we started talking about things we hadn't done in Spain. Seeing a bullfight was pretty high up on the list, and we both remembered walking past lots of posters in the past few days advertising a bullfight in our local ring on Sunday. Hmm, we thought -- destiny?

And so we went, dutifully punching in our ticket to this particular cultural oddity. Now I know this subject can be controversial: there are the "HELLO ANIMAL CRUELTY" people and the "JUST A CULTURAL THING, NOTHING TO SEE HERE FOLKS" people, and I'd say we fall right in between. I didn't grow up on a farm or anything and I'm not around wild animals that much, so I'm not exactly used to seeing something - anything - die right in front of me. Killed right in front of me, let's be honest.

But I suppose the bulls have had nice lives munching grass and frolicking under blue skies and all that, which is far, far nicer than the life of your average American feed-lot guy. I mean have you seen "Food, Inc."? And I still eat cheeseburgers. So, yeah. I suppose I can't get on my high horse and judge. 

Annnnyway, enough philosophizing. For those of you who think this whole thing is terrible, see below: the bull got his comeuppance. Maybe we saw a crappy bullfight or something but I think there were four or five near-gorings, with men in tights and sequins hightailing it as fast as they could with a raging bull in hot pursuit. And one man fell off a horse and narrowly avoided being trampled by both the furious bull and the confused horse. I can't say I felt that sorry for the men - why can't the bull get in the action too? All's fair in love and war.

 

 

 

Adventures in Paella Making

A little while ago my friend Claire and I put our collective skills together and made a paella. Both of us have tried to watch and absorb paella-making lessons from Spanish friends, and we wanted to test our skills with a good solo effort. There were a few dicey moments but in the end I must say we came out with a pretty bitchin' paella, so if you're into trying to make one, take a peek at what we did:

First, dice up a tomato and a red and green bell pepper. Toss them in a sauté pan with a bit of rabbit (if you don't find yourself with a rabbit niftily in your fridge, go ahead and substitute chicken. We're flexible like that.) Sauté in a bit of olive oil on medium heat until the peppers start to get tender.

Meanwhile, let's make the broth for the paella. Find some fresh sardines and lop off the heads, tails and guts. Don't be squeamish. Paradoxically, these are the parts we actually want. The little filets...well, as far as this paella is concerned you can feed them to your cat.

Put all the heads, tails, fins and all that into a big pot of water. Also add in shrimp shells and heads from the shrimp we're about to put in the paella. If you are a.) squeamish  b.) fresh out of whole sardines or c.) not Spanish, you can go ahead and use a general fish broth for this part. I've even seen people use boxes of chicken broth. A good quality broth will make your paella better, but compromise is golden.

While all this is going on, you should soak some mussels. Nobody likes sand in their mussels. Then strain your fish broth so it's just the liquid. The fish and seafood parts have served their purpose and the broth should be thick and delicious smelling.

Return to your pan of peppers and meat. Make sure there's still a good amount of oil in the bottom, and if not add a bit more. We're in Spain here, olive oil is practically a religion. 

Add in two handfuls of rice per person. As you can see, I measured it out in a very fancy measuring cup first. Sauté the rice for a minute in the oil, then add in a little salt and saffron (or, as they usually use here, paella coloring). Now add the hot seafood broth. Mmmmmm. The liquid should pretty much but not quite cover everything. There are different thoughts on this: some people like soupy, brothy paella and other people like drier paella, with a more fried-rice liquid ratio. I am firmly, firmly, I say, in the dry paella camp. I know someone will hear me say this and try to change my mind, but I will remain strong. But if you like the soupy stuff then add a little more liquid.

Put the heat on medium high so the liquid starts to simmer. This is the sweet spot. Don't stir the rice while it's cooking - the brown crusty bits on the bottom are a delicacy and the best part of the paella.

Scatter some shrimp around the top. You will have already peeled them and thrown the shells in your pot to make your seafood broth, remember? Also, get your mussels nice and steamed. Mussels like lemon as well, so why not toss a bit in there for fun?

When all the liquid has absorbed (add a little more broth if the liquid is absorbed but the rice is still crunchy), you are finished! 

Lay the mussels over top and add some cool slices of lemon. And then pour a cold glass of an adult beverage of your choice. And then it is time. EAT.

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Eurovision

We need to talk Eurovision. If you have not sat through a Eurovision contest with a group of Europeans, you have only lived a half-life, my friend. And by that I mean that you have avoided something that would have inevitably dragged down the quality of your life, so good for you.

Eurovision is a music contest, in which every European country (and, inexplicably, many definitely non-European countries. Israel? Azerbaijan? Sorry y'all, the credited response is ASIA) sends a musician/treacly ballad singer to compete with the other countries. Votes are cast through phone lines in a 15-minute period at the end of the show, and you aren't allowed to vote for your own country. It's like American Idol with a passport and truckloads of trashy Europop. And no Simon Cowell (by the way, I hear American Idol is still on TV even though Simon Cowell left. How can this be, America? This does not compute. He was the one and only star of that show.)

Eurovision has been going on every year for fifty-ish years, and it's a Very Big Deal. It draws 120 million viewers, which is 10 million more than the Super Bowl record. Seriously. Every year, Europeans gather together in their homes to watch this strange spectacle made of equal parts trashiness, campiness, and mediocrity.

If you ever watch Eurovision though (despite my warnings) you should be prepared for the side sport: the Super Bowl's time-honored sister activity is eating buffalo wings, and Eurovision's is complaining about the fairness of the votes. Everyone votes for their neighbors, or so the saying goes. English speakers vote for English speakers, Ukrainians vote for fellow Eastern Europeans, the Portuguese vote for the Spanish and the Spanish for the Portuguese. Complaints abound. Everyone thinks that everyone else is voting against their act because of political reasons, but everybody's song looked equally awful to me. As an outsider with no skin in the game, I claim neutrality - everyone was equally embarrassing. Voting for political reasons or because you simply like the inhabitants of a certain country over another feels like a perfectly reasonable option to me when there is nothing else to distinguish by.

Anyway, if you have watched Eurovision and you think it's amazing, feel free to tell me in the comments. I thought it was amazing...ly funny. In a ridiculous sort of way.

Not that I didn't enjoy myself, that is.

It's a nutso time to be in Spain

Another big strike today in the province of Andalucía. This time it was in the education sector (teachers, all university and high school students over the age of 16, and most students under the age of 16 too) protesting deep budget cuts in education and teacher's pay. So for the second time this spring, I had a day off because of a strike. I slept in late, went to my private classes in the afternoon, and then grabbed The Mister and headed over to watch the protests raging in the streets.

I'm not sure what the number was, but it was several thousand, by far the biggest protest we've seen in Málaga this year. The central arteries through town were cut off to traffic when protestors flooded the streets, although it was peaceful (they are mostly schoolteachers, after all).When everyone began marching, the mass of people was at least two miles long.

  

We kept running into people we knew: Málaga is a small place already, and since we've collectively worked in four city schools over the past two years, we have lots of friends at the education protests. Below are some shots of us with our coworkers (also, the official color of the protest was green, hence the matching color palettes).

Crazy times.

You might be a mental horny

The fad right now in my school is a book of English translations to Spanish colloquial expressions. It's been making the rounds in the teacher's lounge during recess, and my coworkers have been studying up.

The problem, and it's a big one, is that -- you know what? I'll just go ahead and show you:

The problem is that they are completely, totally wrong. After a few of them tried some of these on me (I looked at them blankly), I demanded to see the book. And you know what I found? The book is meant to be a joke. But the introduction and the title of the book, which make it clear that it's supposed to be funny and not serious, is in English.

So they can't read the disclaimer, essentially, and they think it's a dictionary. And they're walking around saying things like "shut up, polliwog!" and "he's an inksucker" with straight faces.

I told them it was a joke, but I don't think they really believed me. They keep saying these things, and I keep trying and failing to maintain some level of personal dignity because I'm laughing too hard.

Who knows? Maybe all my laughing means that I'm really just a mental horny.

How to make a real-deal Spanish paella

Start with snacks. This might take awhile. Jamón and cheese are perfect.

Then, assemble a team of helpers. Provide beer.

First, assemble your ingredients: spices, rice, fish broth, clams, rabbit, chorizo, peppers and tomatoes. Garlic is good also but never, under any circumstances must you put an onion in paella. If you have added an onion, cross yourself and hope God forgives you for your transgressions. Spanish grandmothers sure won't. 

Then, set up an outdoor cooking area if at all possible. Paella making is a community event, and you'll need the space. And cooking outside makes people happy. Spaniards are all about happiness. 

Now you're ready to begin. Soak your clams well. Nobody likes gritty clams. Go ahead and put a lot of good Spanish olive oil in your heated paella pan and add the rabbit. If you use Italian olive oil or otherwise sully your paella with an inferior non-Spanish product, repeat the crossing and praying maneuver as directed in the instructions regarding onions.

When the rabbit is browning well and smells like heaven, toss in the chorizo and peppers. Have another beer. Now add tomatoes and salt. Inhale deeply, it smells good. Add in rice. Two handfuls per person. If you have small hands, better make it three. Nobody hates leftover paella. Add in fish broth. You can boil fish heads and shrimp shells to make some yourself, or you can cheat and buy the pre-made kind. I won't judge you. But someone out there definitely is, so watch out.

Also take this opportunity to throw in your super secret spice mix passed down from your great-grandfather. Add in raw shrimp. In Spain they generally like them with the heads and eye stalks still attached, but this is my friend's paella and he went easy because he knows how squeamish Americans are. Sprinkle your clams in. Have another beer. Wait twenty minutes.

Now, it's done. For Pete's sake, EAT. And then EAT MORE. And have another beer.