¡Agua!

Well it’s virtually the end of January and bang on cue the winter rain arrived yesterday. The day dawned grey and heavy with clouds; the rain started about eleven o’clock and carried on until late evening. The weather forecast on my iPod suggests we’ll have about four days of rain, on and off, although today’s hasn’t shown up yet. Then we should get a dry day or two, followed by several more days of rain, disappearing off the far end of the forecast. It remains to be seen what happens. The autumn rains finally turned out to be just two days of solid rain separated by several days, even though much more had been forecast.
Before we left Ramsbottom to live over here a neighbour asked me whether I wouldn’t get tired of all the sun. Heather, if you’re reading this, despite near unbroken sun since May of last year I have to tell you that I was still disappointed to see the rain streaming down the window yesterday.
On the other hand, if I lived at this altitude in the UK, I would have been shovelling snow this morning!

El Día De Pablo

Friday was the feast of San Sebastián, one of the patron saints of the village, and hence a public holiday. A marquee was erected on the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, complete with stage, sound system and lighting - and, of course, a bar. Several attractions for the kids also went up, bouncy castle, trampoline, etc and for a change the sun shone on the day and the wind stayed away. From midday onwards one group of dancers (folk or flamenco, it varied) took to the stage to show off their skill, “littlies” first, then gradually moving up through the ages throughout the afternoon with adult groups taking their turn later in the day. Irrespective of the standard reached, each group was vigorously applauded for their efforts; if some weren’t that good we know that they will be better next year. In the early evening there was a mass in the church, followed by a procession through the village behind the statue of San Sebastián, accompanied by the town band. Then, a spectacular firework display, after which everyone returned to the plaza to carry on dancing. A typical San Sebastián.
Except it wasn’t - typical, that is. Because this year, we were doing it for Pablo. Pablo is a 15 year old boy living in the village who has been severely handicapped since birth by cerebral palsy. Recently his mother, Yolanda, saw an item on television about a mother from Cádiz whose son had received a new treatment for brain-damaged children which had greatly helped her own son who was also born with cerebral palsy. So off went Yolanda to Cádiz to learn more. She was sufficiently encouraged by what she learned to want the same for Pablo. Unfortunately, the therapy is only available in England. Determined to get help for Pablo, she approached the ayuntamiento and asked if she might be ranted the concession to run the bar at San Sebastián to raise funds to take him to England. Her request was granted. As word spread, other people came forward in support. Cakes, pastries, biscuits and bread were baked and sold. Blue ribbons were made and sold. Donations started to come in. A physiotherapy clinic offered to give whatever support they could upon Pablo’s return. San Sebastián might be the official reason, but this year January 20th was Pablo’s Day. In this village of 4,000 people, no fewer than 5,000 people were on around the plaza during the course of the day. The money poured in and Pablo is off to England on the 28th February, accompanied by his family and by Kevin of the Foreigners’ Department who will act as translator for them during their visit.
There will need to be further visits to England. No problem; there will be other events to make sure the money is there. It’s not just the climate that makes this village such a great place to live. Friday was the feast of San Sebastián, one of the patron saints of the village, and hence a public holiday. A marquee was erected on the Plaza de las Tres Culturas, complete with stage, sound system and lighting - and, of course, a bar. Several attractions for the kids also went up, bouncy castle, trampoline, etc and for a change the sun shone on the day and the wind stayed away. From midday onwards one group of dancers (folk or flamenco, it varied) took to the stage to show off their skill, “littlies” first, then gradually moving up through the ages throughout the afternoon with adult groups taking their turn later in the day. Irrespective of the standard reached, each group was vigorously applauded for their efforts; if some weren’t that good we know that they will be better next year. In the early evening there was a mass in the church, followed by a procession through the village behind the statue of San Sebastián, accompanied by the town band. Then, a spectacular firework display, after which everyone returned to the plaza to carry on dancing. A typical San Sebastián.
Except it wasn’t - typical, that is. Because this year, we were doing it for Pablo. Pablo is a 15 year old boy living in the village who has been severely handicapped since birth by cerebral palsy. Recently his mother, Yolanda, saw an item on television about a mother from Cádiz whose son had received a new treatment for brain-damaged children which had greatly helped her own son who was also born with cerebral palsy. So off went Yolanda to Cádiz to learn more. She was sufficiently encouraged by what she learned to want the same for Pablo. Unfortunately, the therapy is only available in England. Determined to get help for Pablo, she approached the ayuntamiento and asked if she might be ranted the concession to run the bar at San Sebastián to raise funds to take him to England. Her request was granted. As word spread, other people came forward in support. Cakes, pastries, biscuits and bread were baked and sold. Blue ribbons were made and sold. Donations started to come in. A physiotherapy clinic offered to give whatever support they could upon Pablo’s return. San Sebastián might be the official reason, but this year January 20th was Pablo’s Day. In this village of 4,000 people, no fewer than 5,000 people were on around the plaza during the course of the day. The money poured in and Pablo is off to England on the 28th February, accompanied by his family and by Kevin of the Foreigners’ Department who will act as translator for them during their visit.
There will need to be further visits to England. No problem; there will be other events to make sure the money is there. It’s not just the climate that makes this village such a great place to live.

A Gastronomic Conversion

Three types of fish predominate in Spanish cookery (apart from an abundance of mariscos), merluza (hake), bacalao (cod) and sardinas (sardines), merluza and sardinas, I love, but I have always steered clear of bacalao. The reason is simple. Cod is a North Atlantic fish, and I am familiar with it, fresh and white on the fish stalls of Bury market from when I lived in the UK. It was a superb fish, and we ate a lot of it. But in order to get cod to the markets of Spain, especially those of central and southern Spain, something had to be done yo the fish, so that it would survive the long, hot journey. That something was to salt it as it was caught, so that it was landed as yellow, stiff slabs of something not quite identifiable. In this form it would keep for months without refrigeration, possibly even for years. To eat salt cod you must first wash the salt out. I was far from convinced that this was possible, hence my reluctance to engage with bacalao.
However, for my birthday, back in November, I was given a copy of Simon Hopkinson's book, "The Good Cook". In it is a recipe for salt cod with garlic, olive oil and potatoes. I decided to risk it, bought my bacalao and put it to soak. I have to admit that as I saw how much salt fell off the fish before it was even in the water, I began to have fresh doubts. Putting my trust in Simon, I diligently changed the soaking water every couple of hours throughout Friday, and again a couple of times yesterday morning, and reached the point where the soaking water stayed completely clear. Then, yesterday evening I set to and prepared the dish. It was superb. Not a trace of saltiness (though added salt was not necessary for the recipe), just firm tasty flesh in a creamy, garlicky sauce, comforting and warming for a cold January evening.
All I can say is buy the book, buy the bacalao and get stuck in!

Just A Thought To Take Us Through What Promises To Be A Difficult Year

Acknowledgements to Karen Salmonsohn (notsalmon.com) the originator of this photo, which appeared recently on Facebook.

Happy New Year!

Yesterday we arrived back in Frigiliana around six o’clock in the evening after spending a wonderful Christmas in the UK with family. We stayed with our younger daughter in Cookham, where we were joined on Christmas Day by our elder daughter, her husband and two children, our absolutely, totally fantastic granddaughters. The seven of us then sat down to a epic Christmas lunch at a local gastropub. Boxing Day, we went across to Clandon - just my wife and I sadly, as our daughter is a police officer and had to work - where we met up with the ex-wife of my youngest brother, and her partner.
The weather was grey and quite cold (to us, at least), but mainly dry. Even so the sun that greeted us when we arrived in Málaga was very welcome. Home, as I say, around six, then off out to our favourite village restaurant for a meal in convivial company before heading up to the plaza in front of the church to eat our twelve grapes as the clocked struck midnight, then open the bottle of cava and enjoy a couple of hours of music, dancing and many cries of “Feliz Año Nuevo!” and much kissing on both cheeks.
And now it’s January 1st and another year to look forward to. I went up onto the roof and leaned on the railings in the sun gazing out across the village, the valley in front of me, the ridges beyond the valley, running down to the sea, just visible in the distance, and then turning to enjoy the view of the mountains to the north and the east, everything bathed in sun. And I thought, “Yes, that was a wonderful Christmas, and we enjoyed every minute of it, but oh it’s good to be home.”