To round out this trilogy on epicurean Madrid I bring you Adventurous Appetites, a perspective on an authentic madrileno tapas tour.
In Spain, tapas are the upgraded equivalent of peanuts and pretzels at an American bar. Whenever ordering a drink, one is presented with a small plate of food-- whatever the bartender fancies to give you. In theory, each time a round of drinks is ordered, the tapas get better and better. Free tapas used to be commonplace throughout all of Spain (actually, it was signed into law by King Felipe as a way to keep the violent drunkards off the streets), but unfortunately it seems to be going the way of the siesta in many places: put out to pasture in favor of modernity. The best free tapas still exist in the southern Andalusia region of Spain (more on that to come), but in other pockets of the country as well.
For the tapas tour, we were taken in a small group on the Spanish equivalent of a pub crawl: traipsing between bars, stopping to order drinks and get free food, continuing to order more drinks and then pay for food, and finally rolling out the door to begin again at the next place.
The first bar brought us some very pungent and fuerte blue cheese and empanadas (with layered dough rather than the wrapped up packages we see over here), alongside a traditional, unsweetened cider. We dined gathered around small barrels of sherry, and all trash (toothpicks, napkins, etc.) were tossed upon the floor, as a layer of waste becomes a badge of honor for the bar at the end of a successful night.
The cider-drinking itself is something of a sport; always served by the bottle, the cider must be poured into glasses from as high as possible in order to incite the carbonation, and then the drink must be downed in a single go. The best pourers reputedly do so while gazing upon the loveliest girl or guy in the bar, but my mother had not reached that level of proficiency yet.
The second bar brought us platters of meat and cheese to eat with fingers, and the third bar treated us to ramekins of tripe with chickpeas and chicken with pineapple.
Other classics were the ratatouille with cheese and balsamic and the fried poblano chillies-- crispy, sweet, and salty, with every tenth chille shocking your mouth with fire and spice.
Our last stop, edging up on midnight, finally brought us to a sit-down dinner of delicious seafood, including a traditional boiled octopus with paprika.
Having fallen in love with the crunch of grilled octopus in Greece, the boiled version is a bit mushy for me, but paprika definitely kicks it up a notch. Salud, Madrid!
For the tapas tour, we were taken in a small group on the Spanish equivalent of a pub crawl: traipsing between bars, stopping to order drinks and get free food, continuing to order more drinks and then pay for food, and finally rolling out the door to begin again at the next place.
The first bar brought us some very pungent and fuerte blue cheese and empanadas (with layered dough rather than the wrapped up packages we see over here), alongside a traditional, unsweetened cider. We dined gathered around small barrels of sherry, and all trash (toothpicks, napkins, etc.) were tossed upon the floor, as a layer of waste becomes a badge of honor for the bar at the end of a successful night.
The cider-drinking itself is something of a sport; always served by the bottle, the cider must be poured into glasses from as high as possible in order to incite the carbonation, and then the drink must be downed in a single go. The best pourers reputedly do so while gazing upon the loveliest girl or guy in the bar, but my mother had not reached that level of proficiency yet.
The second bar brought us platters of meat and cheese to eat with fingers, and the third bar treated us to ramekins of tripe with chickpeas and chicken with pineapple.
Other classics were the ratatouille with cheese and balsamic and the fried poblano chillies-- crispy, sweet, and salty, with every tenth chille shocking your mouth with fire and spice.
Our last stop, edging up on midnight, finally brought us to a sit-down dinner of delicious seafood, including a traditional boiled octopus with paprika.
Having fallen in love with the crunch of grilled octopus in Greece, the boiled version is a bit mushy for me, but paprika definitely kicks it up a notch. Salud, Madrid!
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