Caretaker - Memories In A Bottle

I lived in California for a bit less than twenty years and, since leaving for a "six-month trip" almost six years ago, I've only been back a handful of times. Of course, I have a ton of great memories. During the last trip in March, Diana and I went with Gail and Chuck to visit Gail's long-time friend Trish and her husband, Randy.

Randy's quite the wine connoisseur and was nice enough to lead us through some of his collection. It's not often I've sat down with an expert to talk about and try various wines. One of the things that gave me a charge was how Randy (and Trish) often combine travel with his (their?) love of wine, be it in California, Europe, or some other place. We all talked about some of our favorites and why and I mentioned that one of mine when I lived in San Diego was Caretaker, which comes from Trader Joe's.

Caretaker's a Pinot Noir from California's central coast, which is the area between Los Angeles and San Francisco. From what I understand, it's made for Trader Joe's from multiple growers' grapes. For me, it's a pretty good, easy-to-drink wine.

I found it by "starting at the bottom", which I've used in both Germany and Spain with good results. Since I already know that price is, for the most part, what someone else thinks something's worth (read: "somewhat arbitrary"), I do a little basic research about local wines then start with the lowest-priced bottle for each grape/type I want to try and begin working my way "up" until I find something I really like. From there, I try a bunch of each of that type of grape/wine until I find a favorite. At that point, I have an intersection of price and (one) wine type from which I'll maybe try something like 50% more expensive - just to see if there's a difference worth the premium. I can then repeat this for each type of wine someone recommends and/or I want to try.

Now, granted, I have to work my way through some crappy wines but I learn a lot about what's grown locally and at low cost. (Don't worry, if the wine's really crap, it gets tossed out.) This is the way I found Spatebergunder while in Germany, Granatxa in Spain, and Caretaker Pinot Noir in California. And, as people who are into wine already know, they have commonalities.

During our visit that evening, someone asked me if I had Caretaker recently and if I still liked it as much now that I've tried so many others. I hadn't but, as you can see, the local Trader Joe's had it in stock so I picked up a bottle to take back to Barcelona.

Vladimir was over one afternoon and we decided to open the bottle to see what we all thought. As I transferred it to the decanter, I immediately had memories pour into my head. The smell alone reminded me of so many good times in California. Sort of like hearing an old song, truly amazing. And surprising. I also remembered that Randy said something similar; about how different wines triggered different memories for him.

So, what's the verdict?

Over the past few years, I've found wines I'm not a fan of and others I've enjoyed a bunch. There are certain characteristics I like more than others. Mostly, I've enjoyed the process and experience. The taste? Yeah, I was a bit surprised, it's still one of my favorites. But, in terms of memories-per-bottle, Caretaker wins hands down!

Freixenet Cava Factory Tour

When I was growing up in Philadelphia, my parents would sometimes buy Champagne to celebrate New Year's. Even though it's been way over 20 years, I can remember that they'd buy Freixenet.

Oh, and, by the way, "Champagne" is called Cava in Catalunya (and Sparkling Wine in California). At the time, I didn't know the difference; it was all Champagne...

So, anyway, the Freixenet Cava factory is only about a 45-minute train ride from Barcelona. Time for a visit!

There's a whole wine-and-Cava growing region just outside the city with many different places you can visit. Codorniu, which I went to a few years ago, and Freixenet are located near the village of Sant Sadurni d'Anoia. Both offer similar tours where they teach you about Cava and walk you through some of the storage and production areas. Although the Codorniu buildings are more beautiful, the Freixenet's underground storage areas are also very cool.

I got lucky as my tour was in English. Score! The guide did a good job explaining the different types of grapes and Cavas. I think I know enough now that I have some reference and can actually absorb the information.

This time I learned the difference between the sugar content of the various Cavas and Champagnes. Not that sweeter is better or worse but only Brut Nature has no added sugar, which I often prefer because it's dryer. I never really knew why until now.

It was pretty late in the day when I did the tour and the production and distribution facilities were closed (although I'm really not sure if they're ever included on the tour). We did get to see some old production methods and equipment in one of the underground rooms.

A barrel-storage area on our way to the tram for our ride back up to street level:

Freixenet and Codorniu have similar offerings and prices. Freixenet wins for their tasting/tapas bar and convenience (right next to the train station) but, like I said, Codorniu's Cadafalch-designed building wins for beauty.

There's also a bunch of other wineries and tasting rooms around Sant Sadurni d'Anoia, which I haven't yet visited. When you come to see us, you could easily do both factory tours in the same day. Hint hint!

Jameson Whiskey Dublin Distillery Tour

I first went to Ireland about ten years ago and, while there, I had the chance to visit the working Jameson whiskey factory in Midleton down near Cork. Here's a pre-whereisdarrennow photo from that trip back in 2005:

Even though it was a while ago, I remember it being a fairly interesting and cool tour and, since running back and forth from Barcelona to Dublin, I've been waiting for a chance to visit the Dublin version. Well, the opportunity came up a few weeks ago so I headed over to Dublin's Smithfield neighborhood and the Jameson's visitor center, which is craftily hidden behind the arched entrance of this somewhat modern apartment building:

John Jameson first started making his whiskey in Dublin way back in 1780 but this location hasn't been a working factory since sometime in the 1960s.

The Dublin factory's pretty much just a museum, restaurant, and gift shop now. Not really what I was hoping for but knowing this in advance wouldn't have kept me from going over to check it out. Would you like to meet me for a drink here some time?

I enjoy whiskey quite a bit but I'm a much bigger fan of Paddy's, which is another Jameson whiskey brand also made down in the Cork factory. I first had it during that first visit and have been enjoying it ever since.

The Dublin tour takes about 45 minutes where they explain how whiskey used to be made. It might have been because it was the last tour of the day but my guide just didn't seem that into it. Regardless, it was an interesting visit.

One of the tour highlights is, maybe not surprisingly, the stuffed cat in the lower, left-hand side of the photo below. It was, we were told by the guide, a real cat that used catch mice in the grain house.

Oh, and they include a small Jameson sample at the end of the tour, which was nice. All in all, a nice way to spend 12 euros ($16 U.S.) and an hour before a dinner appointment.

So, how have I aged in the last ten years???

Calçotada 2014

Every country in the world has its own traditions. Some involve keeping things very clean. Some related to fertility and egg worship. Some even involve giant bedding and drums! But my favorites are always those centered around food. How about a pointy-cabbage festival? Or maybe a wine-drinking one? Well, guess what, Barcelona and Catalunya are no slouches when it comes food-related traditions.

Right around the beginning of March every year, people all over Catalunya can be seen carrying bags full of what appear to be giant screen scallions. These onions are called calçots and they're generally cooked and eaten at barbecues called Calçotadas, which I've written about before. As luck would have it, Vladimir decided to invite the "familia Latina" (our group of friends - lots of whom are Latinos) to his apartment to do our very own caçotada!

Me and Marcos, who's not a Latino, washing the soil off the calçots (by the way, that funny letter-c-looking thing is pronounced like an "s"):

Marcos and Vladimir manning...and I mean MANNING...the grills:

At a traditional Calçotada, onions aren't the only thing served up. There's usually some regional sausages and other meat grilled as well. Marcos is our resident meat expert, and apparently grilling pro, so he did lots of the honors while David helped out by keeping the fires burning hot:

I've mentioned it in past stories but I don't like onions. For some reason, calçots are different. Maybe it's the tradition. Maybe it's the fun of being around friends. Or, maybe it's that mysterious, but delicious, Romescu sauce (the red sauce in the yellow bowl below) the calçots are coated with. Either way, calçots are always delicious and the parties are usually even better:

Yummy! Big onions dipped in sauce! What could be better? Leiris and Vladi doing it right:

Thanks to Vladimir for hosting us again and to the familia Latina for making it such a fun time. I'm already looking forward to next year's version!

The Putrid Swedish Food That Explodes

Back when I lived in San Diego, I worked with a girl from Sweden. She ended up in the United States after she had married a marine who she'd met while they were each living in Paris, France (and, yes, I am friends with quite a few international married couples).

Anyway, she used to talk a lot about how great her beloved homeland was/is and, as most expats do, how delicious the food is. I remember her making quite a few runs to Ikea for the raw ingredients to some old, back-home recipe. Mostly, though, she had quite fond memories of two foods in particular from her childhood. One, which is available in the U.S., was salted-and-chewy black-licorice candy. If you've never had this combination, you'll either love it or hate it. I haven't seen anyone react neutrally to it. The second food is what this story is about.

As with most places I've been, I didn't really know what to expect in terms of Swedish food. Unfortunately for Sweden, I was predisposed to think in terms of what they sell at the Ikea restaurant just like people who have never been to the U.S. think that McDonald's or K.F.C. is what it's all about there.

I was very happily surprised during our first night in Sweden when Lena and Toni took us to have dinner at her mom Karen's house and there wasn't a meatball in sight. Like I wrote about in Part 1 of our trip, her food was super yummy and a great intro to home-style Swedish food. A couple of days later, they took us to a restaurant-museum-adventure-park (yes, adventure park) combo place in a nearby town. Called Svansele, you sit at tables outside (I'm guessing not during the winter, though) and eat barbecued reindeer, moose, fish, and veggies served up by some super friendly and entertaining cooks.

Even though the food is excellent, and worth the relatively-high price, the highlight of the restaurant is the attached multi-large-roomed museum/display of stuffed-and-mounted local wildlife. Each room is themed by a season of the year with matching temperature controls (the winter room is like a walk-in-refrigerator). The animals on display range from the largest local residents like bears and moose to the smallest fish, birds, and mice.

The best part of the restaurant for sure, well after the delish food, was the display showing the various traps created by hunters to catch their meals. It included all sorts of creative methods such as tying a string to a shotgun that's triggered by a the animal trying to remove a piece of food. Excellent!

So, what's this got to do with my friend's other favorite Swedish food? Not much really but I did enjoy the restaurant and museum!

On our last night in town, Lena and Toni had prepared something very special for dinner. It was special enough that we cleaned the gazebo so we could eat outside. How nice, right? Lena and Diana started by cutting up some veggies and other prep and then we all moved outside so Toni could open the cans of Surstromming.

Wait! Why did we need to go outside to open our dinner? Well, we were about to enjoy Surstromming, which is a fermented fish that's a super-trad food in Sweden. The problem is that sometimes the contents of the can explode out when it's opened! Woo-hoo! Exploding food! For some reason, I flashed back to that old urban-legend where Mikey died eating Pop Rocks and Coke...

But, wait! The potentially deadly releasing of the can's contents isn't even the best part of prepping and eating this nutritious super food. No, that honor is held by the incredibly putrid smell that emanates from the newly-opened can. I was beginning to understand why I had to vacuum the dead mosquitoes and other local fauna out of the gazebo that day...

Diana's priceless reaction to her first wiff of our soon-to-be dinner:

Turns out that my Swedish friend from San Diego's second-favorite food is a small, fermented herring fish found in the nearby Baltic Sea that comes in a can. This is how kids in Sweden say "Yummy, Mommy!!! Can I have more???":

In a good-ole Hatfield-and-McCoy's way, one legend credits the beginnings of this Swedish delicacy to some sailors giving their "beloved" Finnish neighbors old, stinky fish as part of a trade. Upon their next visit, the Finns, who are the butt of lots of Swedish jokes, are said to have asked for more of that "delicious fish". Diana and I were definitely in luck, I think.

Lena's recipe for Surstromming, which is eaten right out of the can without any cooking/processing, starts with a Swedish flat bread, a bunch of butter and boiled potatoes that are spread liberally on the bread, and pieces of the peeled and boneless fish:

To this, she adds some fresh dill, sliced tomatoes, and sour cream:

For the terror that arises from the potentially deadly package with the it-makes-you-cry smell, I can definitely say that my friend was right all along. Salty black licorice and putrid fish are both surprisingly delicious and must-not-be-missed Swedish foods. Maybe Ikea still has a thing or two to learn. Just look at these happy campers with their dinner:

Again, a big thanks to Toni and Lena for not only giving us a place to sleep, introducing us to their culture, and putting up with my limitless "why and how-come" questions, but to sharing their lives, family, friends, and exploding rotten fish with us. You guys rock and we miss you!

Belgian Yummyness

Belgium's probably not on your list of places to go if you're into food. It wasn't on mine, for sure. But in the days leading up to our trip there, I started thinking about what it'd be like and, true to my nature, what the food'd be like. All I kept thinking about, though, was waffles. I figured that I'd eat some big, ole', fat, Belgian waffles (like the ones we used to make at Nifty Fifties). But, more importantly, guess what I discovered also comes from Belgium!!!

FRENCH FRIES!!! Along with the namesake waffles, fries are everywhere!!! Here's a fry shop (Friterie) right next door to a waffle shop in historical area of Brussels:

In fact, the first thing we did (after Diana's appointment) on our first full day in town was try some fries at a little Friterie stand near the tram stop.

The guy working there was a character and we had fun ordering in a combination of Spanish, English, and German.

Fries in Belgium (and in Amsterdam, I'd later find out) are usually served in a paper cone and topped with mayonnaise or flavored-mayonnaise sauce. We opted for the Andaluse sauce this time, which was a slightly spicy one that we really liked. I know that for Americans the idea of mayo on your fries is a bit strange but I'm digging it. Even in Spain, a common topping for fries (or patatas bravas as they're called) is similar to this sauce.

As has been the case like when I didn't find pretzels at the Pretzelfest, or when I didn't see Perrier while in France, I didn't really know if they eat waffles in Belgium. Well, let me put that to rest...they do!

They're everywhere and seemed that people eat them like people in the United States would eat a doughnut, either as a breakfast food or a snack during the day. I came across this place (with a really strange character-based theme) near Manequin Pis that was selling them for 1 euro (about $1.30 U.S.). The kids were literally lined up to buy them.

One of my favorite things to do while traveling is going to supermarkets to check out what they're selling. I went to three or four different ones on this trip but forgot to take photos until our last day when I ran into a Carrefour to take a picture of their waffle display area. Carrefour, which is a French supermarket chain kinda' like a Target and a supermarket fused into one, is not really the best representation of a Belgian supermarket but it'll have to do. As you can see, there are six different types of ready-made waffles in just this one photo in just this one store. Belgians seem to like their waffles!

I ended up trying a couple of different ready-made ones and these were my favorite. They come in a bag of five individually-wrapped waffles and they have this difficult-to-describe crunchy sugar (they call them sugar pearls) inside that are addictive.

I think I managed to polish off like ten of them (waffles, not bags!) in the few days that we were in Belgium. Breakfast each day looked something along the lines of this:

...and lunch looked a bit like this (fries with a "samurai" sauce in Ghent):

Belgium's also, obviously, known for its chocolate. Godiva is from there and I saw Godiva stores on quite a few corners around Brussels. Diana and I sampled chocolates, truffles, and hot chocolate from a few independent chocolate shops. My review in just two words: outrageously delicious. Unfortunately, I didn't get any photos but you probably already know what chocolate looks like.

The last Belgium-is-known-for food we ate were mussels, which we had at a restaurant in the center of Brussels. Yep, Brussels mussels, with a side of fries, of course:

In case you're wondering, the mussels on the left had a Tuscan sauce on them and the ones on the right had an amazing garlic-butter sauce. Mussels aren't on my favorite-foods list but (Diana and) I enjoyed them and the rest of our Belgian delicacies:

What's Colombian Food Like? (Part 2)

For some reason while thinking about writing this story yesterday, my friend Armando in Germany popped into my head and I could hear his voice saying "Your blog's mostly about food, right?" I'd like to think not but, in his honor, and as a way to thank Diana's mom and dad for all the great food we ate together in Colombia, here's Part 2 of my ode to Colombian food! (And, if you're interested, you can read the first one I wrote a little while ago.)

Note that these food photos aren't in any particular order...

First up is a photo that I used in the story about visiting Tierra Caliente near Bogota a couple of months ago. Diana's friend Angelica's in-laws own a small second home out there and they served us up this Sancocho stew (on the right), which has yucca, plantain (non-sweet banana), and corn all grown in their garden along with (cow) meat, pork, potato, and cilantro. The other plate has rice, avocado (also grown in their garden), and gallo (rooster) leg and thigh meat. The small bowl is filled with home-made aji (Colombian salsa), which was delish! Oh, and this was just my serving of lunch!

For desert that day, they served Jalea de Guayaba (guava sauce) along with a serving of soft, homemade (farmer) cheese. It's a strange (for me) combination even if I've had it before many times but it makes for a great dessert.

Probably my favorite Colombian food, other the Bandeja Paisa, is Ajiaco (ahh-hee-ahh-koh), which is a potato-based soup that has corn, chicken, and avocados in it. Ajiaco is a local-Bogota specialty and this version, which Diana's mom made, also has cream poured in it and is topped with capers. Just looking at this photo makes my mouth water!

While we were out in Chiquinquira with my dad, we stopped at a nearby Piqueteadero restaurant, which we had gone to before with Diana's folks. Piquetear basically means "chopped" and all the food is served chopped into small pieces that are often eaten with a toothpick. It's always some combination of carne asada, sausages including Morcilla (Spanish blood sausage), potatoes, arepas, and sometimes some other ingredients mixed in. It's not the healthiest of meals, I'm told, but who cares! It's definitely one of the best meals in Colombia.

Thank you but aren't you going to order something for yourself???

Diana's mom makes a homemade picada that uses only ingredients from the neighborhood markets. She often fries up chorizo, which is doubly evil. I think she'd cook this every day if I wanted since she knows that I love it but I'm sure that I'd weigh 400 pounds within six months and my blood would look something like poutine...

When we drive out to the farm in Chiquinquira, we sometimes stop for breakfast in a small town called Ubate and eat in the main plaza. They have a bunch of independently-owned stall restaurants each with picnic-style tables and chairs. To a foreigner (like me), they're a bit sketchy looking and they make you wonder if it's okay to eat there. But, just like in most places in the world, the street food's often the best.

One of the stands sells a corn-based Mute stew that's to die for. We took my dad there when he was in town and he was a bit apprehensive due to the setting but I think he enjoyed the flavor. This Mute is made with "cold country" corn (not that I'd know the difference but it's supposedly not as good as "warm country" corn - whatever) and is made with cow's foot (yes, cow's foot - damn good!), peas, carrots, and potatoes. It's definitely one of my favorite Colombian foods. When we go, I usually order TWO bowls!

I have to admit that, when we go out to a restaurant, I usually order a Bandeja Paisa since it's so addictive. But one day Diana pushed me to order something different so I asked the waiter what he recommended and he said the Costilla de Cerdo (pork ribs). This one was awesome! It had pork-rib meat that was super tender and it was covered with Hogado sauce, which is sorta' like a Mexican-style chunky salsa that's served warm, along with rice, peas, corn, yucca, avocado, and platano.

(Diana just looked over my shoulder at the photo below and asked me how I could show her photos of this delicious food around dinner time. Funny!)

That's it for my overview of Colombian food as I left Bogota last week. Again, just like last time, a big thank you to Diana's entire family for taking care of my every need while I was there (even ones I didn't know I had). Diana's mom and dad were awesome and made it super difficult to leave.

Fidu - I'll miss your company, your amazing food, and your eternal patience with my laughable Spanish. Juaco - I'll miss our walks around the neighborhood and our daily coffee klatch. To Diana's 152 brothers and sisters, you guys are awesome even if I haven't learned all your names yet! (That's a joke by the way.) Thanks for looking after me and making sure that I'm happy!

I'll leave this post and my most recent trip to Colombia with this photo of us buying Aromaticas in the street a couple of months ago. Aromaticas are a fruit-based drink that have different spices added. They're sorta' like a sweet version of mulled spice wine but without the wine, if that makes sense. I remember this day being particularly nice and that we had a fun time.

Ciao Fidu, Juaco, y toda la familia! Muchas, muchas gracias y nos vemos pronto! Les voy a extrañar!

What's For Breakfast? Colombian Drinking Chocolate

I've always been a fan of chocolate. Like, in a big way. Growing up, I can remember my mom making me (cold) chocolate milk or hot chocolate depending on the time of the year or what I was in the mood for. When I'm in Philadelphia, I often go over to my sister's house where she serves up a mean pre-bed chocolate milk for the kids.

Later, when I lived and traveled in Mexico, especially in Oaxaca, I always loved getting some hot chocolate along with my breakfast. What I especially enjoy is that they usually have cinnamon and spicy chili peppers mixed in. There's nothing like that old-fashioned-Mexican combination of dark chocolate, cinnamon, chili peppers, and raw sugar!

Even later, I found and fell in love with Churros and Chocolate in Spain and hot chocolate in France. In these cases, the drink has been refined and improved but there's still something to the simplicity of the Latin-American version.

Drawing of a traditional Mexican drinking-chocolate ceremony:

Photo Credit

Colombia also has a tradition of drinking chocolate. As in Mexico, the chocolate is sold as a solid, as opposed to the syrup or powder that's commonly used in the United States. Four servings of Colombian drinking chocolate in bar form:

In lots of cases, like in Mexico, flavors such as cinnamon (or even vanilla) are added - but I haven't found a chili-pepper version yet even though the stores are loaded with different types. While Americans like Hershey's, Quik, or Swiss Miss, for Mexicans it's Ibarra (my favorite) or Abuelita and for Colombians it seems to be Corona. The drinking chocolate aisle at the local supermarket:

In the United States, we tend to like our drinking chocolate made with milk but in Colombia and Mexico it's almost always just hot water and chocolate. One section of chocolate is added for each cup of water and heated until the water just about boils. (For some reason, aluminum cookware, like the pot shown below, is all the rage in Colombia.)

At that point, the chocolate is almost completely melted and a Molinillo (mole-len-knee-oh) is placed between the palms and rapidly spun back and forth to stir and froth the mix. From what I understand, tradition has it that the chocolate is best served a bit foamy and the molinillo's design and the pre-boiling timing is key to achieving the right amount of foam. The molinillo in this photo is fairly simple but I've seen very complicated/ornate ones both here and in Mexico. I've also been led to believe (and may have witnessed) that molinillos make a great weapon...

I've always thought of both hot and cold chocolate as an anytime beverage. When I was in university, I'd buy two pretzels and a pint of chocolate milk for a mid-morning snack (oh, the days of eating unlimited carbs!). In Spain, hot chocolate, often served with churros, is an evening or even late-night, post-night-out-drinking snack. Here in Colombia, once again like in Mexico, it's definitely all about breakfast. Most days I opt for a bucket of coffee and some eggs but, every once in a while, especially when we're in Bogota and there are almojabonas (a slightly-cheesy-flavored corn-flower-based bun usually served for breakfast) or, if we're at the farm, arepas (cheese-filled corn-flower-based baked item - sense a theme here?).

Probably the most unusual thing is that Colombians will place a piece of cheese into their hot chocolate, drink the chocolate, and then eat the warm-and-softened cheese at the end like the gum in the bottom of a Screwball. Even though I'm not a fan, I'd never criticize it since I'm the same guy who'll eat avocado dusted with sugar (Hawaii, anyone?), put salt and chili pepper on a fruit salad (viva Mexico!), or eat wasabi on almost anything...

A simple, but very lovely Colombian breakfast spread:

Writing this story makes me want to have some hot chocolate for tomorrow morning's breakfast. I think I'll go "mention" in front of Diana's dad how much I looooooooove the almojabanas from that local bakery he goes to so that might get some in the morning. Hahahahahahahahahahha! So evil!