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by M.E. Romero
There are many gastronomic traditions in Spain. I'm not talking about famous dishes like paella or tortilla or culinary styles like the über famous tapas, a miniature showcase of abundance reminiscent of roman bacchanals, medieval feasts or royal excesses, conveniently sized to fit modern eating habits and most importantly, all pockets. Gastronomic traditions are a completely different experience to me, they have the attraction of the ritual, they are firmly rooted in the land where they were born, they don't travel well, in fact they don't travel at all, they celebrate local indigenous products and techniques making them impervious to outside experimentation and interpretation. This hard-to-get attitude and the promise of a unique culinary experience is what makes them irresistible. Whilst easily exportable dishes and styles are the reserve of the passive gourmet, traditional culinary experiences are sought out by those who desire to take a journey of a different kind. What makes people travel to Alba when the white truffle season begins to enjoy the exquisite simplicity of fried eggs with white truffle? Is it just to try Alba's best known delicacy? To partake of a gastronomic festivity? To join a seasonal harvest celebration that brings a more modest dimension to our consumer ego?
To me, it's a mixture of all of them and a pinch of the hunter-gatherer nomadic journey to the source.
I've made it a yearly ritual to enjoy a Calçotada in Valls, a town in Tarragona – a province little known to tourists – nestled between Barcelona and Castellon on the Mediterranean coast. Its traditional calçots, a type of re-sprouted giant spring onion that looks like a leek, have been celebrated since the late 19th Century. Calçots go through a lengthy growing process and are harvested between November and March. This delicious onions are consumed massively, usually in large groups or communal calçotadas. The traditional way to cook them is to make a fire on the ground with local vine shoots and spread hundreds of them over the rack until they are thoroughly chargrilled. They are served in the hollow of terracotta roof tiles. There's a "pinching" technique used to undress the creamy white sweet onion that hides inside – any local taking part will guide you with gusto – the calçot is then dipped in a luscious romesco sauce. To eat it you must tip your head back and consume it in one go. The calçots come accompanied with lamb chops, grilled chorizo, white beans, butifarra sausage and barbecued artichokes and lots of wine and cava. The wine is served in the typically Spanish porrón, a rounded glass bottle with a spout and again, you must tip your head back extend the arm holding the porrón and let the wine flow, if you miss your mouth, not to worry, you will have been given a bib on arrival. Calçotadas are a fun and freeing communal gastronomic experience. I hear you can eat calçots in some posh London restaurant these days but quite frankly, I rather get my hands dirty, cover my face in wine and be surrounded by a celebrating crowd in calçot land.
To join in this season's calçotada visit this page.


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