jamon it (wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki)

Have you spotted the trend in Madrid?  Art then food, then art and food – and it’s starting to add up. For a country teetering on the precipice of insolvency, Spain is a bit more expensive than anticipated.  Which made stumbling into Museo del Jamon – literally “House of Ham,” a mini-chain with a few outposts across the city – a fortuitous bit of lunchtime economy.  I was lured by the enticing front window: hanging by the hoove were hundreds of haunches of jamon Iberico, the cured Iberian ham also known as pata negra, or black leg after the breed of pig prized for its smooth texture and savory taste.  I hadn’t realized it was a restaurant until inside where, hams cascading down from the ceiling like a chandelier of pork, I discovered a lunch counter and delicatessen cheek by jowl. And more importantly, the best bargain in town: the one Euro menu.  Serrano ham on a baguette: one Euro. Ham and cheese croissant: one Euro. Diet Coke: one Euro. A cortado: one Euro.  Atmosphere to spare and cheap enough to hand the counter man a fiver and say, keep the change, señor, made this a lunch worth oinking about.


what’s good for the belly

What better introduction to a country than a fashionable and defiantly cool lunch?  Relaxed and oh so chill atop the clubhouse at Penha Longa, Arola is chef Sergi Arola’s modern twist on Portuguese cuisine.  A disciple of Ferran Adria, Arola spent eight years in the kitchens of El Bulli and it shows. His respect for tradition and heritage, while contrasting unexpected flavors and textures, is an obvious homage to his mentor. It begins with a bowl on the table that I at first mistook for the centerpiece: garlic cloves, cherry tomatoes, and small toast squares.  I soon learned the trio is a classic Catalan tapa served DIY before the meal in every village in Spain: tomato toast. Halve a clove of garlic, making sure to leave the skin on so as to not get the smell all over your fingers.  Rub the cut side across a piece of the toast.  Halve a tomato and do the same.  Drizzle with a little olive oil, a sprinkle of sea salt, and voila: ridiculously simple perfection that also happens be a convivial, participatory start to the meal.

The fun doesn’t end there either. Rather it’s delivered via the kitchen on plate – no work required: thinly sliced pata negra with spunky  Saõ Jorge cheese, Royal and King crab salad, foie gras-topped oxtail ravioli, ethereal Bravas potatoes dolloped with crême fraiche, John Dory on a puree of boletus mushroom with ox tail. I’m tempted to order the rest of the menu, but I’ve already devoured every tasting plate put in front of me – helped along in no small part by an unassumingly fresh bottle of red from Portugal’s Douro Valley. Partridge cannelloni, Iberian ham croquettes, and Massuça goat cheese will have to wait another day.  I can’t even imagine dessert until something called Arola’s Sweet Moment arrives.  It’s a petite timbale of custard with various textures of lemon that refreshes the palate and brings me back from the brink of a food coma.  I fleetingly think I might be able to go another round but wisely opt instead for a cortado and a glass of muscadet, the lighter, honeyed cousin of port.  Fresh off the plane, I am sated.  And I know I am going to love it here.



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