Warming foods

The cold of Madrid had made walking the streets of the city an easy task.  Many of our recent trips to Europe had been during summer, and for all the joy that brings, it also meant having to deal with the at times oppressive heat.  This time, the unexpected cold meant that every walk could be done fairly comfortably so long as we were all properly dressed.  Veronica and baby didn't have any problems, but I was probably slightly underdressed with only a cardigan and a light jacket.  I was convinced that this was all enough, but I probably should have bought a warmer hat sooner.

Another far more important benefit of the cold was the food.  Part of our excitement for the trip included being able to experience a variety of Spanish cuisine.  I had enjoyed the food during my last trip, but it was a different type of trip then.  I was still in a backpacking stage in my travels, often spending large amounts of time by myself, and so the focus on food tended towards simpler and quicker options.  The idea of sitting by myself in a restaurant lingering over a meal has never appealed to me.  It wasn't any shyness about being by myself, but it was more the boredom of it all.  This time, I didn't want to miss out on any of that, with Veronica I knew I would be trying a broader range of food options.  The cold weather made all of this all the more appealing.  It gave us a far bigger appetite than we would have otherwise had, but it also seemed to compliment the heavier type of food we would be eating in Madrid. 

One of our first visits was to the chocolate shop El Riojano.  It was overly simplistic to call this a chocolate shop.  It was a bakery and a tea room.  An old and historic shop, we found ourselves visiting several times during our stay.  Its signature molten hot chocolate was served in small coffee cups into which you dipped delicate and crumbly lady fingers.  It was a perfect cold weather food and served as an ideal breakfast.

Another unexpected surprise was being able to try the "torrijas".  During the Easter period, these French toast style desserts are traditionally eaten by the locals.  Served cold, they bore a passing resemblance to French toast, but strangely tasted more like the Hong Kong style variant.  As a part of our breakfast, the sweet and spiced pieces of toast were a good accompaniment to the rich hot chocolate and the strong black coffees.

Even with our desire to try some nicer restaurants, it didn't mean we were going to be skipping the simpler fare in Madrid.  I always found it strange that an inland city had such a strong seafood culture.  Near Plaza Mayor, we went into one of the multitude of little bars serving the bocadillo de calamares.  It was simple and freshly made.  Veronica seemed apprehensive, but served with an ice cold beer it was incredibly satisfying.

Another walk down memory lane for me was bringing Veronica to Casa Labra.  This ideally placed bar near Puerta del Sol was a mainstay for my dining during my previous visit.  I remember coming back to it repeatedly both with Phil and then later by myself.  I hoped that it would be as good as I remembered.  All too often, our memories of places like these seem to improve with age.  Was it really that good to begin with?  Was it merely a nostalgia for those older times that made the place "good"?  I ordered beers along with the famed croquetas and deep fried bacalao.  Normally, I would wait for a "fresh" batch, but the brisque business meant there was no need to wait as every tray brought out was immediately purchased and served.  Taking the plates to Veronica, we bit in to the piping hot morsels.  Veronica's face lit up.  It was as good as I had remembered.  Standing outside definitely added to the experience, with the cold weather contrasting sharply to this lovely hot fried food.  With its location, this spot became a regular stop for us.  We would find ourselves wandering past on the way somewhere and just randomly pop in for a quick beer and snack.  One time, Veronica decided to stop in at the shops looking at some clothes.  I felt bored wandering the aisles when I suddenly realised how close Casa Labra was.  Along with baby, I made my way over for a quick beer and croqueta whilst Veronica continued with her browsing. 

This trip wasn't all about nostalgia though.  We wanted to try some of the famous dishes and restaurants that Madrid had to offer.  High on the list of where we wanted to visit was "Botin", with its (often disputed) reputation as the oldest restaurant in the world.  Booking was a hassle, but we managed to secure a table with some friends on the upper floor.  It was a touch difficult to carry the baby in his pram up the stairs, but the staff were generally obliging whenever we needed any assistance.  It was a trend we noticed throughout our trip.  Inside the old dining room, we ordered the roast suckling pig.  This was the dish to get in this restaurant.  Cooked in wood ovens that are apparently kept burning permanently.    

It was good.  The skin was crispy and the meat was tender.  Was it a truly memorable meal that I will cherish forever?  No, it definitely wasn't.  The price was also heavily inflated, almost certainly because of the fame of the restaurant.  I still enjoyed myself.  It was a lovely place to have dinner, full of history.  But I would put it more on the "bucket list" type of places to visit.

There were plenty of other restaurants in Madrid that seemed to offer more.  Local restaurants serving traditional cuisine that didn't have the same touristic slant or focus.  We searched and found as many of these restaurants, each time enjoying the rich and hearty meals they would serve us.  Flavourful stews, fried meats and potatoes, pickled vegetables.  It was all incredibly tasty and seemed quite close to many of the more traditional cantonese dishes you would find in Hong Kong.

Of all the dishes we encountered, I particularly enjoyed the Callos Madrilenos, or Madrid style beef tripe.  It was a slow cooked trip, incredibly rich in flavour and soft in texture.  Paired with some bread and a nice red wine, it was a lovely dish for the cold "winter" nights we were experiencing.  What we also found incredible was the kindness and warmth of the people.  Even with the baby, it never seemed to be a problem.  The staff would always happily accomodate us, and in many cases they went out of their way to assist or help us.  There were no stares or unhappiness about us entering a restaurant with a baby.  None at all.  It was all just part of life and they were always happy for that to include a baby.

One night, we went searching for a place to try one of the local specialities, "cocido".  A stew made with chickpeas and a variety of different meats and vegetables, this was a winter favourite of the locals.  We made little to no headway in our search.  We walked from restaurant to restaurant, with terrible timing.  Each place we arrived at seemed to have just closed or just stopped taking orders as we arrived.  We had walked what felt like a circle around central Madrid when we walked past one last restaurant named "L'Hardy".  This it turned out was another one of the old famous restaurants of Madrid.  We had no idea of the fame of this restaurant or even the type of restaurant it was.  We were standing outside on the ground floor when we saw the sign.  The doorman at the front saw us and asked if we wanted a table.  We said yes, and he immediately brought us in and told us to wait.  We were a bit confused, but also cold and hungry.  We walked in and waited.  Something seemed strange though.  We weren't being led to the dining room or to any place that seemed like a restaurant.  Instead it felt more like a hallway of a grand old home.  We contemplated leaving when the restaurant's maitre'd appeared.  He welcomed us into the restaurant and took us to the bottom of a large, grand windig staircase.  I apologised for the stroller (with baby sleeping comfortably inside) and said we probably wouldn't be able to visit his restaurant.  Not a problem at all it seemed.  He quickly arranged for waiters to run down the stairs and to help us carry the stroller up the stairs.  Once we were upstairs, I became a bit worried.  This was clearly a very fancy restaurant.  The dining rooms were opulent and everyone inside was immaculately dressed.  I felt out of place with the baby, but the waiters insisted that it was fine.  We were brought into one of the smaller dining rooms.  The table was laid out with crisp white table clothes, fine china and silver cutlery.  The baby continued to sleep, but I could see the look of slight concern from the other guests.  I don't think it was any disdain towards us for being there, but likely more of a mild concern about the prospect of a crying baby.

We looked at the menu and immediately ordered two servings of the cocido.  The waiter advised us to not order much else, so we limited ourselves to a bottle of wine and some of the fresh peas which we were informed were in season.  The baby continued to sleep and so we began to relax.  Around us, the other guests also seemed to realise that the baby was fast asleep and so their own anxieties seemed to also disappear.  The chatter and laughter in the room resumed, though with some guests occasionally chiding with good humour their friends for laughing or talking too loudly around a baby!  It was a friendly and happy atmosphere that I never expected.  When the peas arrived, we were famished and we made very short work of them.  They tasted fresh and incredibly sweet, the intense flavour coming through the saltiness of the pork that they were cooked with.

After that, the main course arrived, or rather the main courses.  The famous cocido isn't really a single dish, but rather a series of dishes.  It is a stew, but it isn't served in one go but is instead split into two.  The first dish is the soup from the long stewing process, which is then subsequently followed by the serving of the chickpeas, meats and vegetables that were stewed.  The soup was served by our waiter from a large pot into each of soup plates.  It was a lovely soup.  Full of the flavours of all the various ingredients.  Knowing that this would be followed by the ingredients, I couldn't help but think of the similarities of this dish to the Cantonese "old fire" soups which I had grown up with.  It was a familiar taste and flavour, though with a very Western tilt.

The soup was the highlight of the meal for me.  I love the depth of the flavours.  But next was everything else.  The waiter brought out new plates for us and then began to prepare each with all the various vegetables that had formed part of the cocido stew.  The chickpeas were of course there, as were potatoes, carrots and cabbage.  Then around the dish, he brought out smaller plates, filled with all the different meats which had been slowly cooked over hours in the stew.

It was a monumental amount of food in front of us.  We began to eat slowly, trying each of the vegetables and the various meats.  Everything was delicious, soft from the long cooking and yet still retaining flavour.  This was a bit of a difference to the Cantonese soups I was more accustomed to, where by the end of the cooking process, the ingredients are often devoid of much of the flavour having given it all to the soup itself.  We continued to eat, but the amount of food in front of us barely seemed to change.  I think I at best at half of what was in front of me and Veronica barely made a dent at all.  I fell back into my chair defeated, and I asked the waiter if anyone ever actually finished all of this food.  He looked at me and laughed as he said a simple "No".  This wasn't a meal to be eaten in haste he explained.  It was more often eaten during the day, over a long period as people lingered over the meal with friends and family.  It had been a unique experience that still wasn't over.  Part of ordering the cocido meant that we also had dessert.  I was hoping for something small, but instead they brought out a Bombe Alaska for us to share.  I was more than full, but I couldn't say no to this.  At the end of it all, baby continued to sleep.  The other guests around us smiled and chatted with us about our journey and how amazing it was for them to see such a small baby.  As they left, one of the older ladies gently touched his hand as it rested on the stroller.  She had earlier declared that being here at such a young age, he was definitely a "Madrileno".

For all of the fanciness we had been fortunate enough to experience, we found ourselves being drawn back to the simpler foods in Madrid.  The little taps bars, the smaller restaurants.  They all seemed to make the types of food which Spain seems to excel at.  On one of the colder and wetter nights, at the recommendation of our hotel, we went to one of the more down to earth bars nearby.  Inside, the floors were grimy with oil and beer.  Combined with all the water from the rain, it was almost dangerously slippery.  We had been assured that this was the sign of a place with good food in Madrid.  We weren't to be disappointed as we drank our beers with the potatoes bravas, croquetas and fried chicken.

As a nightcap, in addition to the bars all through the city, Madrid was also blessed with chocolaterias and churrerias everywhere.  For us, our late night drinking and partying wasn't going to be happening with the baby.  So instead we enjoyed our evening walks with the stops inside these establishments.  They were a warm break from the cold night, with the lovely hot chocolates and freshly made churros a perfect snack and boost.

We had enjoyed our food journey in Madrid.  It had delivered for us far more than we expected.  In a city with so much tradition, we had been fortunate to experience a variety of different food experiences.