En una pequeña galería de alimentación situada en el barrio de Arapiles de Madrid, que ha visto tiempos mejores y que no se distingue precisamente por la modernidad de los rótulos de sus entradas, hay un puesto, según entras al fondo, que tiene algo especial...
Esta receta es tan sencilla y está tan buena que es de las que te da rabia que no se te ocurriese a ti antes que al italiano/a que la inventó.
El fin de semana pasado (el de antes del puente) se suponía que uno que yo me sé y yo íbamos a hacer una pequeña escapada al norte de Italia, concretamente Bolonia y Florencia aprovechando unos días que nos quedaban.
I grew up watching my mum cook fish several times a week. It could be breaded and fried squid, grilled monkfish "lubina a la sal", "lubina al horno" or any other combination you could think of.
After a week of turning into an Englishwoman, eating oats in every possible way and combination imaginable, last Sunday I felt like I needed something truly Spanish.
I have a bit of a problem with trusting fishmongers. Of all food stuffs, fish I find, is the hardest one to buy well. Ok, I have read the books, I know the tricks about looking at the eyes, but then when I get to the fishmonger, every fish eye looks weird, I am not too familiar with what each species should cost and if they are priced correctly and, to be perfectly honest, I am not even able to identify them all.
I have never been a patient person. I am all about instant (or quite quick) gratification. I want to achieve something without always wanting to go through the natural process of doing it or learning about it.
After having thoroughly explored all the intricacies of the theoretical side of "The Domino Effect", it is now time to put it into practice.
Lately I am strangely attracted to meatballs. This is probably the weirdest-creepiest introduction to a food post you will ever read, but there it is, I said it and I am not ashamed!
There is something quite grown up about going to the fishmonger, ordering some clams for the spaghetti vongole you want to make for lunch and then having a discussion with your sister about whether to use tomato in the sauce, or just go for a sauce "bianca".
I often find myself having the same conversation with different friends: how can it be so hard to find a good restaurant in Madrid?
All our life we have associated lamb cutlets to the grill, to the classic combination of salt and olive oil, to our mum or even to out grandmother, but times change and one must immerse oneself in the theme chosen for the night.
Chicken is usually bland, so it tends to need some help in the flavour department. Alec suggested we made a Chermoula rub for the chicken. “ Cher what” – we asked him. He explained and as soon as we heard about the combination of herbs, lemon, garlic and spices we were convinced.
The hardest thing for someone who likes to cook and to try new things is to be able to do all that without achieving a certain roundness we generally like to avoid.