Restaurante MyKasa

At this time of year when the purse strings are as tight as the waist band it’s time to head away from the centre of town and towards those neighbourhood bars that might not bring you fine dining but will feed you well without straining the wallet.

‘MyKasa’ feels more a communal dining room than a restaurant, packed to the rafters with the vecinos of the surrounding barrio and an integral part of this part of the city, catering for a local school going back decades.

Not everything at MyKasa is worth the journey down there, the patatas bravas and pan con tomate were serviceable (although the oil on the bread was in a league above what it was drizzled on).

The pig’s cheek however, was worth jumping on the metro for. Unctuous and falling off the bone, hugely improved by slow roasting in that broth than on the grill as I’ve had it previously elsewhere. Oh, I should mention it was only 3.30€ on the menu too.  The ridiculously low priced entrecot steak with its mountain of fries and the budget, savoury, spiced pork pinchos morunos were also worthy of a using a T-10 journey.

The albondigas exceeded many I’ve eaten before, I love to cut one in half and swirl it in that tomatoey sauce before it finds its way to my mouth. Sometimes calamaris and chiprones (baby squids) leave me feeling ill with their soggy, cool and often over thick batter. I didn’t need to worry about that here. With the splash of lemon I devoured the best part of the plate of chiprones without help.

Now an Irish coffee is not how I’d usually finish a leisurely tapas lunch, and certainly not with one as monstrously, magnificently wrong-but-oh-so-right as this. Warning, give it a good stir before going in for the sip.

The first payday of 2013 might still feel a long way off, but MyKasa can certainly make sure that December pay cheque stretches just that little bit further.

MyKasa, C/Espronceda, 367, Navas

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Somorrostro

I’m a sucker for photographs charting a city’s history and I hardly need to mention that the face of Barcelona has changed, in some places almost unrecognisably, during the last 20+ years. One area that leaves no trace of its former life is the Somorrostro beach and before I share my experience at the restaurant which now bears its name, I’m going to disgress a little and share some of this barrio‘s past.

A plaque is now all that indicates what once stood here and today the beach is a man made golden playground for tourists and residents that looks out to the ocean. However, in the not too distant past this was an area of shanty housing for up to 18,000 residents of the city and their precarious lives and threat of flooding from the sea was a world away from the holiday destination it is today.

Somorrostro beach in 1950, photo courtesy of naucher.blogspot.com.es

Somorrostro beach in 1940, photo courtesy of 324.cat

Cleared in 1966 for a visit by Franco, housing like this was dotted around the city and those in Guinardó neighbourhood lasted until the late 1980s when they were finally laid to rest ready for the spruce up for the coming 1992 Olympics games.

Somorrostro beach, date unknown, photo courtesy of marujatorres.com

Somorrostro beach in 1935, photo courtesy of fotosdebarcelona.com

Now in Barceloneta the restaurant Somorrostro reminds us how much the city has changed. We were here to take advantage of the Sunday lunch menu and I was immediately pleased to see an open kitchen, I just love being able to watch chefs at work and see the proof that not all kitchens need to be the domain of shouty, sweary behaviour.  I was also impressed by the short fourteen dish menu, six starters and then four each of mains and desserts. Why don’t more places do this instead of overwhelming us (and no doubt the kitchen) with vast choice? I went for the Barceloneta cigalas or sea crayfish in their English translation. These came with a surcharge of 5€ on top of the 28€ menu but we’ll talk more about pricing later. These were naked as the day they were spawned except for a splash of pungent olive oil and a sprinkling of sea salt. These fiddly critters were delicious yet it was a shame there was an air of marine car crash in their presentation and one or two bodyless heads had made it onto the plate.  Disappointing especially when you’re paying a supplement. For main I chose the cannellone stuffed with oxtail and foie gras served with an assortment of sauteed mushrooms and vegetable crisps. Although these varieties of mushrooms are in season there was a hint of autumn to this dish but it was savoury and satisfying and probably wise for there to be only one roll of stuffed pasta.

Oxtail and foie gras cannellone with mushrooms

I had to gobble the frozen praline parfait quickly as it was already descending into liquid when it arrived on the table. I was surprised by this dish, initially doubting whether praline, oranges and tart berries would work together, but they were a very compatible bunch. The biscuit crunch added the missing textural element.

Praline frozen parfait with caramelized nuts

Having the wine selection on show with pricing is a helpful and informative touch. It’s a shame the same can’t be said for the menu value. On their website the Sunday lunch menu is advertised at a reasonable 19.50€ a head, which was in fact 28€ euros when we arrived. Given the rave reviews I’d heard for this place I didn’t really give it a second thought. The flavours and service generally didn’t disappoint. Yet the 28€ just kept rising and although this was a decent meal it was a little underwhelming and in my opinion not deserving of our final bill. With the two cigala surcharges and drinks not included (two soft drinks and three glasses of wine between three) we paid nearly 40€ a head. Now, it may be the Yorkshire genes in me, but when I pay this for a meal I expect attention to detail and a hopefully memorable meal, bodyless crayfish, unwiped plates and melting desserts do not feature in that expectation. Somorrostro, I’ll come back to your history time and time again and maybe your restaurant, price permitting.
Somorrostro, C/ de Sant Carles, 11, Barceloneta

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Ca L’Estevet

I used to think happiness was a steaming bowl of soup, a luscious, rich ice cream or chicken slowly barbecued with lots of spices. I was wrong. Happiness is having a fully functioning, just like new laptop. So after weeks of clumsy messaging and browsing on my phone my fingers can grace the keyboard and scratch that blogging itch.

With the technological breakdown it’s time to play catch up, and several weeks have now passed since I treated my good friend Sarah to a birthday menu del día lunch at Ca L’Estevet.

Photo courtesy of Ca L’Estevet website

This hidden treasure of the Raval has been around for more than 120 years and was a popular hang out for the Barcelona left wing intellectuals and artists, not to mention other celebrities that have graced its tables during its lifetime. At 18€ a head the menu del día is at the pricier end of the city’s lunchtime offerings but the quality of the ingredients shone through and for me justified the charge. What follows is some of the most uncomplicated yet satisfying food I’ve eaten in Barcelona.

Chunks of tunneled sourdough dipped in Borges oil satiated our hunger until our steaming plates of mejillones arrived, naked and unadorned except for a wedge of lemon. It never occurs to me to eat this marine favourite of mine without a bath of wine, parsley, garlic or tomatoes, but these were simply heavenly, fresh, juicy and a wonderful hint of seawater.

Steamed mussels mejillones al vapor

The simplicity rolled on with grilled hake steaks, again naked except for a drizzle of olive oil and that wedge of lemon. I would’ve preferred some spears of seasonal asparagus or other more complimentary partner as an accompaniment rather than the uncomfortable marriage of half a tomato, but nonetheless the fish was beautiful and just flaked from the bone. Hake is such a pleasure to eat, no fiddly bones holding you back from just tucking in. The beans to botifarra ratio was probably slight skewed on Sarah’s plate and a slightly heavier handed addition of parsley probably wouldn’t have gone a miss either. However, this was a no nonsense honest plate of good ingredients again.

Tocino de cielo was something new for me. Informed by the waiter that this was not flan, we both reacted with a ”but it is” when it arrived at the table. But, appearances can be deceptive. Like non-identical twins there is a slight but noticeable difference. Tocino de cielo is made with just egg yolks, whites and sugar and not with the addtion of cream as in flan. This gave it a distinctive taste, much like the filling of our native egg custard tart and with the light caramel syrup the slurps, mmms and ahhs kept flowing.

Tocino de cielo Egg custard tart

It’s common when having a menu del día for the bottle of wine to be left on the table and you pour your own included glass. This is dangerous turf. We polished off the lot. Yet we still only got charged for the menu price. Birthday bonus.

C’al Estevet, Valdonzella 46, Raval

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Bar Celta Pulpería

Tourists and locals/residents can be, at times, a heady cocktail in Barcelona. Many foreigners living here now complain about them but were once tourists themselves and these camera-wielding, path-blocking visitors undeniably contribute vast sums of money to the local economy, as well as of course having every right to come and experience and devour this beautiful city. This is somewhat offset, however, by some of the problems they also bring such as drunkenness, noise, crowded streets and the thieving that follows them, particularly in the barri Gotic. The city council continues, with varying degrees of success, to try and find ways to disperse visitors to other areas of the city.

There are some places though where the cocktail is perfectly shaken or stirred and everyone rubs along just fine and dandy. One of these places is Bar Celta Pulpería.This is a rustic, Galician tapas bar which is always packed out with those who live here and those who are visiting and it’s one place that has improved immeasurably since the smoking ban. A long L-shaped bar area is lined with tapas to be selected and ordered from the waiters, who after sweat and hard work deserve every cent of their salary as they are constantly rushed off their feet. Inside, walls are lined with panelling, bowls are attached to the wall to hang your jacket and the place is littered with nic-nacs and bottles.

If, like me, you sometimes find sitting on a bar stool with your feet dangling a little uncomfortable then there is a small, cramped dining area at the rear of the bar.Name a classic tapas dish and they probably serve it here. The glass cabinets that line the bar make decisions difficult, rows of dishes of patatas bravas, razor clams, mussels, pa amb tomaquet, pimientos de padrón, whitebait, pinchos, sardines and of course this being a pulpería, octopus.With the exception of commenting that they were a little heavy-handed with the salt shaker before serving, especially with the pimientos de padrón, there are no complaints about this food. It is simple and honest fayre and at a reasonable price. Follow our lead and order a few things and then fill up more if needed, much more pleasurable than placing one bulk order and having too many plates in front of you. Here’s a few things we ate that survived for a photo opportunity:

Sweet, tender pulpo a la gallega (Galician octopus)

Crispy, salted pescaditos fritos (whitebait)

Pa amb tomaquet (Bread with tomato)

Oversalted pimientos de padron that washed the wine down quicker than expected

Other dishes that didn’t make the photo call due to our absent mindedness and hunger were pieces of warm, paprika-oozing chorizo and buñuelos de bacalao deep-fried salt cod dough balls.

On an evening in the city take a stroll along the seafront, do some fantasy yacht shopping at the harbour and then skip to C/de la Merce just behind Passeig de Colom and sample some of this for yourself. Soak up the buzz of the bar and admire the harmonious relationship between the insiders and outsiders.

Bar Celta Pulpería, C/de la Merce 16, Gotic

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Can Maño

As you wander the streets of Barceloneta, especially at the weekend, it’s difficult to ignore the constant indicators that people are enjoying eating. Through open café or restaurant doors and windows and from street front terraces you hear the animated chattering of voices, clattering of plates and cutlery being cleared, glasses being ‘clinked’ together as people say salut and inhale wafts of garlicky seafood that intermittently hit your nose. Every time I have this experience I say to myself that I must eat around here sometime, I just can’t believe it’s taken me so long.

With a visitor from home keen for a marine fix this seemed the perfect opportunity to have a taste of this barri. We thought we’d try out Can Maño on C/Baluard, just a short walk further along from Baluard bakery on the same street. As we arrived half an hour before closing at 11pm the place was thronged with customers and there were ourselves and others trying to get in. Noone, including us, seemed to be in the slightest bit put off by the aged decor, dusty, mishapen fans and menu boards which looked like they hadn’t been updated in 20 years.

Thankfully the framed reviews and a recent mention in the city’s Time Out magazine were more of the moment and indicated, as was evident from the throbbing atmosphere, that this place is still going strong. We hastily placed our order as the kitchen was closing and large plates of pa amb tomaquet, fried aubergines and chunky, hot chips arrived.

A 10€ bottle of Rioja was far less ropey than we anticipated. I also love drinking wine out of little beakers instead of the usual wine glasses and I also find I knock them over and break them much more infrequently.

Grilled sardines with garlic and parsley and a plate of straight out of the fryer calamar arrived and we got stuck in, although despite arriving so late we were left to enjoy our meal and not rushed to be out of the door again.

The sardines were perfectly cooked, the calamar soft not rubbery, being British the chips we couldn’t resist dowsing in vinegar. The aubergine for me was a little bland and on reflection we should have ordered a salad to balance all the fried components, however I have had terrible salad experiences here so always err on the side of caution. When we saw other diners receive theirs though they looked fresh and bright, not wilting and insipid as is often the case.

We finished with two coffees and I introduced my companion to hierbas, a Spanish liquor often drunk at the end of a meal and I enjoyed watching the middle aged waiter who was obviously tired from his shift, pause a minute, towel over his shoulder as he took a short descanso to watch a bit of television that was on low behind us.

I took this as our cue to leave and he scribbled the bill on a slip of paper, a real bargain for the amount we’d eaten including a bottle of wine.

If a swanky, modern setting is what you’re after then this is probably not your place, but if some large plates of fresh seafood and a glimpse of this fishing neighbourhood’s past is what you’re looking for then Can Maño will be a hit with you.

Can Maño, C/Baluard 12, Barceloneta

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Mackerel with wet garlic and balsamic vinegar

Not unlike most people I have chewed, tasted and tippled my way through the festive season and new year and come through the other side a few pounds heavier than when I started. These days I’m not one for taking on weight loss diets of any kind, I firmly believe that they are counter-productive, so no ‘must lose a stone in a month’ new year resolution rubbish for me.

However, I have been pondering eating some delicious, healthy and lighter meals to offset the indulgence of the last few weeks. What also offset the wrench of leaving everyone back in the UK again was the pleasure of leaving the food desert of my old Manchester stomping ground in Stretford and landing back in this city’s lush jungle of ingredient options. What a contrast and joy to wander round the Barcelona markets again after watching hoards of people chomping on pasties or lugging Tesco carrier bags in the shopping mall round the corner from my old home.

It was on one of these wanders that I was tempted by spring onion like stems of garlic. I’d never seen garlic in this form before but have come across recipes mentioning the ‘wet’ or ‘new’ variety, so feeling certain I’d have a recipe for using it somewhere, I snapped up a bunch.

Sadly, my varied collection of cookery books did not give up any secrets on what to conjure up with this allium, so it fell to my imagination to do it some justice. A glistening, fresh whole mackerel sat in the fridge so it seemed only right to marry them up.

With the garlic I removed the green, leafy tops, hairy roots and outer layer and then thinly sliced the remainder. I then wilted these on a very low heat with a little butter, a dash of white wine, the leaves from a couple of sprigs of thyme and a tiny pinch of salt until they were soft but not coloured. When they were finished I added several droplets of balsamic vinegar, my instinct being that the wine and vinegar would contrast the sweetness of the garlic and the oilyness of the fish. As the garlic was cooking, I dusted the filleted fish in seasoned flour and simply fried it in a little oil.I was really pleased with the end result. The garlic was soft but not mushy as it still had a slight ‘bite’ and had a delicious, subtle taste, much less pungent than the regular garlic we are all accustomed to. I’m sure there are more adventurous ways with this vegetable but I enjoyed being able to fully appreciate it for the first time without it being too adulterated. With a chunk of crusty bread on the side it was a delicious light meal and a great antithesis to the festive excesses.

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Fishonline

Following on from my post about Panga fish earlier this week, I want to make a quick mention to this interesting and information packed site from the Marine Conservation Society that I found through a Sunday morning browse through the newpapers. Fishonline allows you to search individual fish types, gives information about their stock levels and helps consumers choose sustainable varieties. With stocks of so many breeds of fish being dangerously low due to too many of them being plucked from our oceans, it lists fish to avoid and fish which are more readily available, gives information about commercial fishing and fish and shellfish farming methods. Although it comes from a UK angle, as so much of the fish listed is being caught and moved globally, this is a useful resource for anyone buying and eating fish throughout Europe. Interestingly they rate Panga as a moderate choice and make no mention of suspected toxicity issues.

 

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To eat or not to eat Panga?

Markets in foreign countries can be dazzling, awe inspiring, wonderous and equally bewildering, especially when you’re not familiar or fluent with the language. Since I’ve lived here I’ve familiarised myself with the Spanish and Catalan names for fish, learnt to identify species by sight and laboriously gone through my cookbooks annotating them with translations.

Rewind about a year and my knowledge was not what it is now. After a busy day and mistakenly on a Monday (don’t buy fresh fish on a Monday, no-one goes fishing on a Sunday so it’ll either be frozen or older than you’d like), I called at the market and picked up a fillet of panga. I cooked the fillet of white fish, was unimpressed, disliked the bland taste but thought I’d ‘Google’ for a translation. Recent house guests of mine who were also lured by the shiny, boneless fillets and ease of purchase (in that you don’t have to explain in broken Spanish how you want it prepared as it’s always sold already filleted) did their ‘Google’ before cooking. What appears is shocking. Horror stories of it originating from a highly polluted Mekong river, containing high level poisons, being frozen in contaminated river water and injected with hormones derived from urine.  So there it was, a ranting, ‘don’t even go there’ article in the making, a nauseus feeling from the thought of what I’d eaten, and most recently, uneaten fillets in the garbage.

However, things may not be quite what they seem. Of the many, many pages of stomach turning warnings, it would appear that they are from three original sources: a documentary from French television and a couple of blogs, which have then whizzed their way round various other websites, forums and the like. Rather than jump in feet first and berate this new arrival to the fishmongers I felt it wise to take a more balanced and less reactionary view.

What’s undeniable is that Panga is everywhere. All the supermarkets proudly display their offers for it and at the markets it nestles innocuously amongst the hake, monkfish, tuna, salmon steaks and dorade. During a wander around the Boquería I counted a third of the stalls in the central, astonishing fish section stocking it. It is also bargain basement cheap, prices ranged from around 6€ a kilo to as little as 2.99€ a kilo on one stall. You might also find it in called ‘Basa’, ‘Pangas’, ‘River Cobbler’ or any of these names with ‘Catfish’ added on the end. Some UK fish and chip shops have been replacing depleted cod with it,  a number having faced the wrath from trading standards when they have masqueraded it as cod with it’s related price tag. Here in Spain it is replacing other fish in menu del dias and regularly appears in school dinners. It is also quite likely to comprise the ‘white fish’ listed in ready made fishcakes or fish pies in many countries.

Panga is a native fish from the Mekong Basin in Vietnam and is now heavily farmed there and in other parts of the Far East for export to countries in the West. There are conflicting reports about the cleanliness of the water in this polluted and industrialised area and also how well regulated the farms are, sources from EU Parliament sites assert that they are regularly inspected to meet their standards. Even if we are to take an optimistic view of the farming methods, this is fish that is being flown half way round the globe for our plates, although it must be said that there are plenty other varieties sitting on the market stalls which have been flown from the North Atlantic, South America and other far flung destinations, not all the traders clearly labelling this.

The UK food standards agency classifies it as safe to eat and stresses that it meets EU import standards, these same standards would obviously apply to Spain. However, only this week Spanish CNN ran a story about it being withdrawn from school food in the Basque Country after experts have continually found high levels of certain toxic chemicals in this seafood. They didn’t quote their sources so I’ve been unable to find anything further about this but again the web is full of conflicting information about chemical levels and testing.

Whatever the truth about this fish being bred and farmed in murky, polluted waters it’s reputation and facts about it are far from crystal clear. For me, primarily it doesn’t taste good and it’s being flown thousands of miles to us, neither of those things being point scoring qualities, its shady background further confirms that I won’t be eating it again. I’ll leave you to make up your own mind.

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Gastronomy classroom ‘Mercat del mercats’

As if the food, the cava, the displays, the tapas, and chatting to a cute Italian chef weren’t enough last weekend, the highlight for me was by far the aula gastronòmica, the lecture hall showing demonstrations from the exhibitors. I cherry picked the ones I prefered as work commitments on the Friday and good company and sunshine on the Saturday meant I couldn’t see everything I might have liked.

The demonstrations were varied and covered talks on healthy eating for diabetics and children, information about specific ingredients such as olive oils and the controversial foie gras, representatives from Mercabarna, the city’s wholesale food market who were demonstrating meat and fish presentation and chefs from the tapas tasting making us envious of some of their skills.

Despite my best efforts I couldn’t keep up with the long streams of Catalan during the ‘how to correctly cut meat’ and ‘preparation, cutting and serving Iberian ham’, without constant demonstration to reinforce the language I ended up completely lost. I did best with the ham presentation where I at least managed to grasp that there are three types of pigs which produce the pernil, that the meat is actually a source of ‘good’ cholesterol and high in minerals, particularly iron. I will chew guilt free on that melt in the mouth fat from now on.

Iberian ham demonstration

Three different types of knives are used to cut into the legs, a mid-length one for the removal of the external fat, a long blade for cutting long, wafer thin slices and a shorter type for slicing the meat in the more difficult parts near the bone. Long strokes coming towards the body produce thin slices of ham which it’s suggested is best served at a room temperature of 25°c, simple enough here, slightly more difficult in some foreign climes.

Slicing Iberian ham

Now I’d love to ham a ham at home but have seen the results of not storing it properly. A friend’s housemate once had tiny mites scurrying over the surface under the cloth placed over it. Euw. Here he demonstrated placing the cut outer layers of fat back on the exposed parts and then covering with a cloth.

Covering cut Iberian ham

On Sunday from Genova was Stefano Bruzzoni from ‘Il Pesto de Pra’‘, growers of basil for the best part of 200 years and manufacturers of that moreish pesto we’d sampled the day before. This presentation was an assault of latin languages, the host speaking Catalan, Snr Bruzzoni speaking his native Italian and a Spanish translator. I was shocked to learn that there are 60 varities of basil, the Genoese variety apparently the most prestigious and the small leaves from the plant are used for the pesto. The name pesto comes from the Italian verb ‘pestar’ which means ‘to grind’ and also gives the name to the common kitchen item ‘pestle and mortar’ and of course the ‘pesto’. Cooking and lingustics.

Pesto demonstration

He was keen to stress that “the quality of the ingredients is vital” and that “there are pine nuts and there are pine nuts”, the best of which can cost up to 30€ a kilo, far removed from the cashews they are replaced with in cheap supermarket brands. This was pesto made with Ligurian love, no bashing the ingredients but gently twisting the pestle with one hand and hugging and turning the mortar with the other. The recipe for the pesto is at the end of this post.

However, it was a quick wristed woman, a mean wielder of a very large and sharp knife that enlightened me the most in these demonstrations when she answered the question ‘How do you correctly fillet fish?’ A very experienced hand from Mercabarna she is obviously used to doing this at lightening speed every day out at the vast 90 hectare wholesale market in Zona Franca which has gradually absorbed the cities wholesale markets over the years. She made light work of gutting and portioning a whole hake, two sole, some sardines, anchovies and a cuttlefish in just half an hour.

Fish demonstration

She began by explaining what we should look for in fresh fish; red gills, bright eyes, silvery and shimmery scales, and of course that whiff of the sea not fishy odours. She started on a large hake, snipping off the fins and sending scales flying everywhere as she brushed them away. As she gutted it she kept the liver, I didn’t understand what she said as to why she didn’t throw this away but I’ve never heard of a hake liver dish and she then deftly cut the peix into pieces and removed the cheeks.

That is one mean looking knife

From the two soles she filleted one into four pieces and the second she kept whole but just removed the skin. Her knife skills were astounding as she used the knife to not only fillet the fish but to hold it and the skin as she manipulated them and intermittently wiped it clean in a fearless manner. I would love one of those knifes but I worry I would probably do myself some serious damage.

With the sardines she destroyed any future misgivings I might have about buying and cooking them. No longer will the pleasure of eating delicious sardines be diminished by trying to pick my way amongst the bones. By bending the head back, putting a finger under the gills and pulling your finger downwards through the body the guts are removed in one fell swoop, the main bone and feathery bones can then be pulled out in one go, all still connected to each other. The process was the same with the fresh anchovies, although in this case you remove the head at the same time. By flattening out the anchovy you can then pull out the bones as before.

The final demo with the cuttlefish was slightly rushed as they were pushing her to take questions from the audience and my view was obscured by the camerman but it seemed she removed the large head and then cleaned it as for squid and cut the tenticles to go along with the firm white flesh. Cuttlefish ink is an important element of many local dishes such as arros negre (black rice) and fideu (a short cut, thin noodle dish) and she insisted on removing it carefully so it can be used and not colour the fronts of your kitchen units.

So, to end, here is the recipe for that mouthwatering pesto, enjoy!

Fresh Pesto for 4

3 handfuls of fresh basil

3tbsp of pine nuts

1tsp of coarse sea salt

Half a clove of garlic

3 tbsp of grated Gran Padano cheese

1tbsp of grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese

1tsp of ewe’s milk

4tbsp of extra virgin olive oil

Start to grind the salt and garlic in the mortar and then add the basil leaves, oil and cheese. Turn the pestle and mortar lovingly, do not bash the ingredients together. The pesto is ready when all the ingredients are well combined.

 

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