Madrid: Lunch Menu at La Vegana

We had a hectic day of preparation, painting Ricky's room and disassembling furniture and neither of us particularly felt like cooking lunch, so we went out.  We also didn't feel like going very far, so we picked a spot in our neighborhood that we'd been to a couple of times.  It was only a few minutes walk, just up the hill from the Lycee Francais, and it serves traditional Spanish food.

It is called La Vegana, but it is not a vegan, or even a vegetarian, restaurant.  They have three lunch menu options.  A word now, a brief digression, if you will, about the lunch menus of Spain.  Most restaurants in Spain offer a lunch menu.  The traditional Spanish lunch time in the middle of the day is long, and allows time to eat a full meal.  The idea of an hour for lunch is shocking to the Spanish sensibility, and the thought of only a half-hour is, quite simply, beyond the pale.  Most restaurants, therefore, cater to the lunch crowd not by offering some sort of "express meal," where they guarantee that your food is thrown in front of you within five minutes, but by offering a full, fixed price meal of several courses.  These typically include an appetizer, like legumes, a salad or a soup, followed by a main course, followed by dessert or coffee, plus bread and wine (or beer or a soft drink).  These vary in price from the low end of about 8 euros to fancier meals costing twice that.  There are places, of course, where you can spend as much as you want. 

The room is decorated in Restaurant Clutter style, in which every flat surface has been covered with some unusual item, and the walls are hung with interesting, if not obviously related, photos.  There are old typewriters on ledges, sitting next to cigar humidors, with empty beer bottles from years past behind them.  The photos on the wall show scenes of Madrid from 100 years ago, next to old advertisements.  The tables and the chairs are wooden and sturdy.  The staff are attentive and friendly.

I ordered the lentils and chorizo to start with, while Ana got the mixed vegetables.  For the main course, I got the fried breaded cod, while Ana chose the steaks.  A bottle of wine was brought to take table, along with a pitcher of water and a large basket of bread.  The wine which is served with many cheap menus in Madrid is not very good.  The traditional way of drinking such wine is to mix it with casera, a sweet, colorless soda.  I'm not fond of this beverage.  At La Vegana, the wine is fine to drink without such adulteration, which generally improves the spirit of the meal.

A broad, shallow bowl was set before me, and a tureen was brought out.  The waitress spooned lentils in a brown broth into the bowl, and asked if I wanted more chorizo in it.  When the bowl was full, she asked if that was good, and I said it was.  Ana was brought a plate of mixed vegetables had been steamed or boiled.  The lentils and the chorizo were great.  They were like a hot stew, and it was perfect for the cold January weather.  It was filled with the strong flavor of the chorizo, and had a rich smokey taste.  Ana shared it with me, and she liked it, too.  The mixed vegetables were a bit overcooked.

Then the main courses were served.  I had a big piece of cod, fried with a light breading, accompanied by a pile of fried onions and peppers.  Ana had two big, thin slices of steak with french fried potatoes.  The fish was very good.  It was not greasy at all, and it was not overcooked either.  It was fresh and made for a good lunch.  Ana's steaks were still pink inside, despite their thinness which was kind of an impressive achievement.  They had a gravy on them, and they were very good.

A peculiarity of the menu in general (to me) is that it offers dessert or coffee, not both.  I generally would like both, but one must make choices in this life.  Ana and I both chose coffee, because the dessert option was canned pineapple, which did not sound very interesting.  The coffee was very good, though.  It was a great break from the work, and a good meal, and I'm glad we've been to this fine place.

The lunch for two was 19 euros.

La Vegana, c/ Moscatelar, 1-5, Madrid, http://www.laveganademadrid.es/

What I Will Miss About Living in Madrid

I’m going to miss living near my family. It’s been great being seeing my parents weekly instead of twice a year. Ricky loves to go to their house so much too. He has toys there, a routine, adventures. For example, he went down by the river in Guadalajara with them today, to ride his bike. I will miss my sister too, who lives only a few minutes away.

I'm going to miss the friends we have made in Spain.  It's so hard to meet good people in a new place. It's even harder to leave them once you've found them.

I’m going to miss the museums. At least once a week, we go to see an exhibit here or there. In the last two months, we’ve seen Renoir at the Prado, Impressionist Gardens at the Thyssen, an exhibit about Alexander the Great at the Fundacion Canal, Made in USA: American Art from the Phillips Collection at Mapfre Recoletos and On&On, a show about ephemeral art at Casa Encendida, among other things. I love all the cultural offerings of Madrid.

I’m going to miss the fish stands here. You can buy amazing, fresh fish here, everywhere. We’ve gotten spoiled with the fish variety and quality.

I’m going to miss the public transportation. Madrid has the third largest metro system in the world and it goes everywhere within the city, including the airport. The Madrid metro is cheap, it’s clean and the trains come all the time. Buses are pretty good too. After more than a decade in Los Angeles, where we drove all the time, for all needs, this is a nice change. We don’t have a car and you don’t need it to get around town.

Old Year, New Year, Part II

There are a couple of Spanish New Year traditions I forgot to mention in my previous entry.  One of them, a pleasant, harmless tradition, is that people wear red for luck on New Year's Eve.  It does not have to be showing, but it is supposed to be there.  The supermarkets have big bins with special lucky red underwear, usually kept near the grapes.  People don't have to wear red underwear - some wear red pants, or sweaters, or dresses, but there is a lot of red going around on the night of December 31.  As for the origins of this tradition:  beats me.  I imagine that one year there was a huge harvest of red, and they had a surplus, and pushed it off on the people in this manner.  Some think this is ridiculous, and tell me red is not harvested.

Anyway, as to the second Spanish New Year's tradition, it is fireworks.  I'm not referring to the large, safe, municipal displays one sees around the world while watching the New Year's Eve spectacular shows.  I mean the nasty, loud, surprising, unsafe, DIY variety.  We had our New Year's Eve dinner with friends, watched the clock chime on TV, and then headed out to the car, carrying Ricky on my shoulder, at about 12:30 a.m.  Around us, a battle raged.  Children no larger than Ricky stood on balconies, launching rockets with cigarettes.  In the field behind the apartment buildings, larger displays were being lit, launched at the sides of the buildings, apparently in retaliation for the rockets from the balconies.  Surprising explosions roared from between cars, and brilliant flashes pierced the thick smoke.  Ricky, sound sleeper that he is, was only slightly disturbed.

When we got home, there were teenagers in the park in front of our house, wearing shiny wigs and lighting firecrackers.  Apparently, the Fourth of July safety films and proverbial lost fingers have not made it to Spain.  The explosions went on through the night, some sounding like they might be coming from our balcony.  It would have been disturbing, but we were already maximally disturbed.  Our neighbors, a couple who are in their mid-40s, spent the entire night reveling in the new year.  It was loud enough that conversation in my living room was difficult.  They listened to a live Foreigner album, they listened to early 80s hair rock, like Whitesnake.  They listened to it again.  They sang.  They would let the music stop, so that it seemed like the torment was over, and then start it up again, turning up the volume with excitement at hearing the next tune.  At 5:30 a.m., I decided that I had heard enough.  I got up, went to their door, and tossed in a grenade. 

Well, I did bang on the wall with great power.  It was successful.  The music stopped, the neighbors quieted, and we were finally able to sleep for a few hours.  Ricky had been able to sleep through all the noise and chaos, so he was able to start his day only a little later than he usually does, sleeping until 9 a.m., when I heard the cry:  "Daddy!"

Today, we will be taking it slow.

Old Year, New Year

Tonight we will celebrate the changing of the year in Madrid.  We will follow the tradition, and, with a little luck, pass into 2011.

The central place to gather in Madrid for the new year is Puerta del Sol.  The large square becomes packed with people, much like Times Square in New York City.  Unlike New York, there is no ball, or apple, or sponsored knick knack that falls from the sky.  Instead, the people stand and watch the large clock in the square, waiting for it to begin chiming.  The clock is televised, and formally dressed television personalities make small talk and compliment each other while waiting for the moment to arrive.  Finally, when it is almost time, the clock begins to chime.  The announcers will warn the audience to wait, because the first chimes are not the chiming of the hour, but the chiming of the quarters, which do not count.

Do not count for what?  For the eating of the grapes, of course.  With each of the first 12 chimes of the new year, Madrileños eat a grape.  Eating 12 grapes in such a short period of time can be a challenge, especially if the grapes have not been thoughtfully chosen.  The typical grapes which are available in Spain tend to be thick-skinned and have seeds inside.  I have found myself on the ingesting end of these grapes during New Years Past.  It all begins so simply, with the careful attention and the first chime of the hour.  The first grape goes into the mouth.  I chew, I come into contact with the seeds, I notice that the skin is somewhat thick.  The next chime happens, and I put a second grape in.  Then the third.  Now I am trying to remove seeds from my mouth, chew on the increasing accumulation of skins, and at the same time eat the next grape.  By the eighth grape or so, my mouth is full, and the skins and seeds are starting to slip down my throat.  I'm coughing, eating another grape, and gagging.  I wonder how many Spaniards do not survive the New Year ritual, collapsing with a throat stuffed with grapes.  There are lavish television reports on the car accidents of New Year's Eve, but I have never seen reports of what must be the dozens of choking fatalities. I can visualize them in my mind, the festive table, the knocked over glasses of cava, the face-down victim.

More recently, we have bought the grapes in tiny cans which are specially packaged for the New Year celebration.  Each can contains exactly 12 tiny, seedless grapes, swimming in water, waiting to be painlessly downed to generate luck at the appropriate time. 

The strangest thing about the New Year's celebration in Spain is the way that the people party.  Almost everyone stays at home with their families until midnight, and then they go out, and stay out most of the night.  The bars and restaurants are not open, the town is, for the most part, dead, until after the start of the new year.  Then the real work of partying begins.

Madrid: The Bulls at Las Ventas

Hemingway loved bullfighting. He loved bullfghters. He loved people who loved bullfighting. His Death In The Afternoon is the classic English language tract on bullfighting. Bullfighting plays a central role in his great novel The Sun Also Rises, both as a backdrop for the events and as a proving ground in which the noble characters display their best qualities by enjoying the fights, while the others show their own lack of merit. In that novel, he wrote "Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bull-fighters."

The more modern view of bullfighting condemns it as cruel and primitive. There is an active movement in Spain to ban bullfighting, and recently a ban was put into place which will cover the autonomous region of Catalonia. The feelings over bullfighting are further complicated by the fact that Francisco Franco, the dictator who ruled Spain with an iron fist for more than 35 years, saw bullfighting as integral to the Spain he wanted to preserve and restore, and he promoted the ritual throughout the country.

With this historical baggage, and the encouragement of no one, I set about to see a bullfight. I spoke about my desire to see one for some time, and found that absolutely no one I knew had ever been to a bullfight, except for two women who were friends of Ana's parents. These two women, one in her late 50s and the other in her early 70s, had friends who often took them to the corridas and enjoyed them. When Ana told them that I wanted to go, they said they would take me with them one day. The promise of spending the afternoon with these two ladies (neither of them speaking English and my Spanish being, at best, defective) and the bulls was unusual, but if this was the only way I was going to see the famed spectacle, so be it.

As it turned out, they were able to get two tickets, so that I went with Ana. Ana was not enthusiastic about going to the bullfight, but she was just curious enough to overcome her distaste for the matter and accompany me.

The bull ring in Madrid is called Las Ventas. It is a lovely stadium, and surprisingly cosy. It seats 25,000, and was opened in 1929. I had been here once before, to see an R.E.M. concert. This was a very different experience.

We had box seats. This literally meant that the section in which we were seated had its own door, which had to be unlocked by one of the ushers. There was a level of seating below us, and below that, the sand of the arena.

The events began with the blowing of horns, and the playing of music, and the festively costumed participants came out into the arena, parading before the crowd. Men on horseback in plumed hats, and the matadors themselves, in their traje de luces, the lavishly decorated costumes in which they undertake their task.

The ritual of the bull ring is such that the ring is cleared, except for the matador, and the bull is released into the ring. We watched as the bull circled the ring, startled by its new environment. It ran past the matador, and he executed a few passes with the cape. It was interesting to watch, and very graceful.

The the matador departed and the picador entered on horseback. The horse wore a thick coat of padding and was blindfolded, and the picador carried a lance. The bull was enticed to charge the horse, and he ran hard toward it, crashing into the side of the animal while the picador drove his lance into the huge mass of muscle the bull boasted behind his neck. The bull stopped after making impact with the horse, and there was a strange stillness, as the picador leaned his lance into the bull's neck, the bull pressed against the horse, and the horse did nothing at all. It was an odd scene, in part because there was no sound as it occurred. The bull ran, there was not even a thud as it hit the horse, and then all was still. Then the picador pushed until the bull was off the horse, others came into the ring to distract the bull, and the horseman rode off.

The picador departed, replaced by the banderilleros. These three men entered the ring carrying small hooked sticks. Each of the men attempts to plant two hooked sticks behind the bull's neck, near where the lance has already wounded and weakened the bull. This lacked all grace. The banderilleros tried to have as little contact with the bull as possible as they planted their sticks. The bull succeeded in shaking many of the banderillas off.

The matador returned and did a few passes with the bull, which by now had blood covering its back. Then he was brought his sword. He stood before the bull, urging it to charge. The bull hesitated. The matator came closer, stamping his foot, trying to encourage the bull. The bull ran toward the matador, and the matador moved in swiftly with the sword, which bent and flew out into the air. The matador retrieved his sword and tried again. Again there was the hesitation of the bull, and insistence of the matador. Again the bull charged, and again, the matador struck. The result was the same, and the sword was once again retrieved. The thing had been bungled, it seemed, but there was nothing else but to go on. The set up happened again, the charge went on again, and this time, the sword went in, and the bull staggered. The matador walked away, his arms open to the crowd, which gave a polite applause. The bull sat down near the wall of the arena, and then fell over. Horses were brought out, and the bull was dragged away.

We stayed for the second of the six bulls, and found it to be more of the same. Ana had seen enough, and was eager to leave. I was happy she had come with me, and did not argue the point.

We had gone and seen the thing. I had not been thrilled, certainly by the corrida. I had not been horrified, either. It was a ritualized slaughter, nothing more or less. The crowd, mostly old, did not watch it so much as appraise it, intent to see that the thing was correctly done. There were cries of disgust when the sword missed its mark, and sighs of relief when it went in. It was not a passionate display. Perhaps other matadors bring more to it than the two we saw that day. It is a peculiar ritual. It is certainly not a sport, in the sense that there is no measurement of the achievement and the outcome is predetermined. It's a brutal ritual, and I saw no more art to it than one would see by observing at an abattoir. In past days, the bull would have been used for meat after the fight, but the European Union regulations do not permit that anymore. The crowd did not seem connected to the events on the sand, the ritual catharsis of the killing was not evident. An old ceremony, it seemed, where the congregation no longer has the faith but goes out of the habit. I suspect it will not last much longer, since the crowd was predominantly old, and it does not seem popular at all among the young. I'm glad I got to see it, but I won't be sorry when it is gone.  Were the bullfighters "living their lives all the way up"?  It did not seem so to me.  More like they are the few remaining priests at a temple which has lost its believers, going through the motions as they have been done in the past.

Madrid: Breakfast, a Meal On Your Feet

Madrid has a lot to offer in the way of food, but sometimes it can be hard to tell. Early in the morning is not a good time for gourmet eating. Basically, breakfast here amounts to getting enough in your system to get the day going, and no more than that.

One thing to remember about Spain is that the eating hours are unlike other countries, and strict. From the early morning until about 11 a.m., you can get breakfast. Spain is not England or the United States, and breakfast is not an important meal here. Most people eat breakfast in a bar, standing at the counter. The most important part of breakfast in Spain is coffee. Every bar you stop into will have a first class espresso machine. The coffee itself may vary in quality, but they will have a great machine. Usually, the coffee is a good experience. People drink cafe con leche for breakfast. You can order cafe solo, which is a simple espresso in a tiny cup, and it will not raise eyebrows at breakfast.

As a side note, you cannot order coffee with lunch or dinner. You can get it after the meal, but not with the food. It simply is not done. Also, you do not order cafe con leche after a meal. You can order cafe solo or cafe cortado, which is a cafe solo with a splash of warm milk. This practice actually goes against my own personal coffee drinking habits, which include coffee during meals (always black) and coffee after dinner with milk. I've tried to get coffee during a meal, but I've never been able to. The waiters have agreed to my order, and then added that they will bring the coffee after the meal. It's an uphill battle.

Most bars will offer some sort of inexpensive breakfast menu, which consists of coffee and a croissant for 2 euros, or coffee with toast and jam. There is also the barrita con tomate, which is a toasted roll with some grated tomato and olive oil. Eggs are not eaten for breakfast, at all. The only way to get eggs for breakfast is to order tortilla, which is more potato than egg.

Madrid: Ricky Learns to Swim at Club Natacion Jimenez

One of the things I thought Ricky should learn to do at about this point in his life was swimming. It seemed like a healthy sort of activity, useful for his own safety and likely a source of fun in the future. There were classes offered by Ricky's school, but we also had, right across the street from our apartment, a large private swimming club.

We asked Ricky if he wanted to take lessons, and he said said he did. We promoted the idea, talking about the fun and the benefits, and we bought him the equipment and made presents of it. The only thing left was to take the lessons.

The swimming club near us, Club Natacion Jimenez, has a specific method they use in teaching children to swim, and they take children on as young as 18 months. The initial dozen lessons are conducted with the child and one an instructor, one on one. And they must be conducted on consecutive days. 12 lessons, 12 straight weekdays.

This past June we gathered Ricky's swimming equipment: his trunks, his cap, and his goggles, and brought him to the pool. We turned him over to David, the young instructor, and sat down at a table outside the pool, where we could watch through the glass wall. David led Ricky to the edge of the pool, and then got in. Ricky began to talk about how he was not quite ready to get into the pool yet. David picked up Ricky and brought him into the pool. Ricky tried to hold on to David's neck. The two of them went back and forth in the pool a couple times, and then David took Ricky's hands off his neck and held him on his back. And they started going back and forth. At this point, Ricky began to cry. Then we noticed that all the children were going through their lessons in tears. Someone sitting next to us said that the children all cried during their first week of lessons.

Ricky kept going on with the lessons, and kind of took to them. He liked David, and David always addressed Ricky as "campeon," sort of the equivalent of "Hiya, Champ!" By the end of the 12 lessons, only two weeks later, I watched in shock as David picked up Ricky and threw him into the pool. Ricky went into the water, went down, and came right back up, without any problems at all. It was impressive.

Ricky was impressed himself, and very pleased when he was given a little medal and a t-shirt. Then the swimming club closed for the summer, and we told Ricky that in the fall, he could go back, and keep learning to swim, and this time he would take group lessons, and there would be lots of other kids to learn with.

Ricky spent the whole summer declaring that he did not need more lessons, that he knew how to swim, and, most of all, that he did not want to take group lessons. I have no idea where this forceful aversion to group lessons came from, but we never did go back for more lessons. Hopefully, he'll pick up some kind of swimming skill beyond not sinking, but I don't know when that will be.

Club Natacion Jimenez, Avenida Madroños, 23, 28043 Madrid. 91 300 0258, www.cnjimenez.com/

Madrid: Taqueria Del Alamillo

Ricky went off to his grandparents last night, and dinner was up to us. Ana and I were kind of tired, because the whole getting rid of everything scene we are in is kind of stressful - there is a feeling that we are moving too slow, that it will never actually get done, that we are not going to be able to be ready when the time comes to leave. And there is the actual work, which is no fun at all.

The weather turned cold, and going out did not seem appealing. Staying in was not doing it for me, though, and I have been wanting Mexican food for weeks, but for one reason or another, we have not been able to get there. Last time, we drove out to the restaurant, found no parking in the area, and wound up going elsewhere. This time would be different.

We drove off and went to the pharmacy, where we picked up some of the medicines we had ordered. Yesterday was very productive in this regard. We were able to pretty much finalize our traveling medicine cabinet, and now we can start taking some anti-cholera vaccine. In Spain, if the pharmacy does not have something in stock, they tell you to come back later in the day to pick it up. So we did that. Then, having learned from our abortive attempt to drive to the restaurant last week, we found parking near a metro stop that was on the same line as the restaurant.

Now, Ana had been very reluctant to go out last night. She actually had not wanted to at all. But she went, because I wanted to. I appreciate that, greatly.

We got to the restaurant a little before 8:30. It was open, but only one table was occupied. We did not have a reservation. Ana had called, but they could only put us on the wait list. It's all but impossible to get a reservation here, especially at this time of year. All of December has been booked for more than a month, and last week they would not even put on the the wait list. We were greeted in a friendly and familiar manner, and then the hostess, Rita, told us that she did not have anything. Then she examined her book again, and said she had one table, and we could have it but it was reserved for 10 p.m. That was fine with us.

The restaurant is decorated in a traditional Mexican style, and there are paintings on the walls and many small items all around, giving the place a festive look. The staff is extraordinary. They are very welcoming, they greet you like an old friend. Many Spanish restaurants are either an extremely informal place where you stand at the bar or a very stiff, formal environment with either old, professional waiters, or youthful, supercool staff, neither of whch are particularly warm.

There are chips and salsa on the tables when we sit down. Ana asked for some additional spicy salsas, and they were quickly brought, along with margaritas. I ordered the ternera arrieta tacos con queso, while Ana opted for the pozole. We also got guacamole.

We drank our drinks and ate our salsa and chips and guacamole and we were able to relax and enjoy ourselves. The guacamole was terrific, so were the salsas. The margaritas were strong and tasty. When the food came, I was very happy. My three tacos had spicy, tasty bits of beef, well-marinated and with cheese. There was a large jalapeno served with it, which I cut up and put into the tacos. It was so good. I was so happy. I ate it without stopping to chew, I think. Ana's pozole, which is a Mexican stew, was good for the cold night. It was, though, not as good as the pozole which our friend Concepcion makes in Los Angeles.

This restaurant is so good, and so reasonably priced, it is amazing. It is really hard to go here during the winter, because the outdoor seating, which is probably 40 percent of the restaurant's space, is not available, so it is smaller and very hard to get space in. But it is so worth it. Our bill, for the guacamole, tacos, pozole, two margaritas, and a beer, totaled 41 euros. And when the check came, it was brought along with shots of tequila.

It was a good meal. I have scratched the itch. We may not make it back here again before we leave, but we will certainly come back here when we return to Spain.

Taqueria Del Alamillo, Plaza Del Alamillo, 8. Located near the La Latina metro stop. 91 364 2088. Closed Mondays.

Madrid: Antonio the Dentist and Cosmen & Keiless

As part of the general trip preparation, we visited Antonio the Dentist yesterday morning. Ana had been having some tooth sensitivity to heat and cold, and we took the opportunity to get things checked out before we get on our way.

By the time I was Ricky's age, I had developed a healthy aversion to dentists. I used to go to an old man in Maywood, New Jersey. He diagnosed me with an overbite and made a plaster mold of my teeth and gave me some kind of corrective appliance when I was about 4. He was gruff and not particularly friendly, but he gave out small toys when everything was over. Once I got a magnet. Ricky, though, has no such aversion.

Ricky went in with Ana. He sat down in the chair, and looked at the tray of instruments that was kept nearby. He spotted the various drilling implements right away, and he screamed. "Not these! Not these!" he said in Spanish. His whole experience with doctors lately has been with getting shots, and he thought this was a new and diabolical twist on the whole vaccination thing. Fortunately, not only was he mistaken about what he was looking at, he did not need any work done. Ana was also looked at, and x-rayed, and given a clean bill of health. I, on the other hand, was given a thorough cleaning and polishing as well as a lecture on flossing. Ana's parents have known Antonio the Dentist for about 20 years, now. He does fine work when it is required, but he is not shy about saying that everything is fine, nothing needs to be done, and not charging at all. He is also very friendly.

With my newly cleaned and shiny teeth, as well as the freshly approved teeth of Ana and Ricky, we left the dental office. It was starting to rain, and we stepped into a small bakery. We had seen it while walking from the metro to the office, and it had been stuffed full. Now, it was empty. The bakery is called Cosmen & Keiless. It is one of those little places that seems like it has been there for 100 years, but it is actually new and part of a chain. There are nine of these bakeries scattered around Madrid. We had not gone into any of them before, although we'd passed by several.

Cosmen & Keiless is set up to make efficient use of small space. There are some bakery chains in Madrid, like Mallorca, which operate vast establishments, with many tables to sit at, large areas to gather in front of the cases, and lots of prepackaged goods. Cosmen & Keiless takes another route. The stores are narrow, and the area in which customers can walk is not deep. There was a tiny counter at the shop we visited, with a single stool. Spaniards have a prediliction for eating snacks and drinking coffee while standing, anyway.

The first suprising thing I noticed was that they had bagels. Bagels are not a Spanish food. Bagels are, in fact, all but unheard of in Spain. Someone opened a bagel shop in Madrid several years ago, but it failed. These bagels were small and would not have generated any notice at all even compared to the tame and non-traditional product sold at Panera, but the fact that they were there was interesting. And they had a good flavor. The coffee was excellent, the staff was friendly. Ricky had a palmerita, a small elephant ear cookie, which he had good words for. We bought a seeded whole wheat loaf, and it was excellent. There were cakes, and cookies, and many things which, to use a Spanish expression, tienen buena pinta. We grabbed a couple of meat empanadillas, which were very good. They were different, as they were stuffed with pork instead of beef.

I'll be returning to Cosmen & Keiless if I get the chance, to try some of the other sweets they offer. It was only a first impression, but it was a good one.

Clinica Dental, Dr. Antonio Cabanillas
Guzman el Bueno, 123, 1 izq
28003 Madrid
91 553 3192

Cosmen & Keiless
Cea Bermudez, 62
28003 Madrid
91 441 3895
Various locations. http://www.cosmenykeiless.com/

On Vaccines, Breakfast and Pharmaceuticals

In preparation for our trip, we’ve been vaccinated against the following: typhoid fever, hepatitis A, hepatitis B (two doses, a third next year), a meningitis vaccine cocktail (A+C+Y+W135 - no idea what this means), rabies (three doses) and a polio booster. Bryan also had a tetanus booster. Ricky had the typhoid fever and the rabies shots; the others he had had already.

We had so many shots, and went to the International Vaccination Center so many times, that we became regulars at a nearby wine bar called La Vinateria de Don Ramon that serves breakfast in the morning (no wine with your breakfast). The Ukranian waitress actually knows us (maybe because we tipped too much). For 2.50 euros you get one of the breakfast specials: café con leche and a montadito (tiny sandwich with different fillings: jamon Serrano, egg and bacon, tortilla and fried pepper, or tuna). For 2 euros you can have the cheaper breakfast: coffee and a pastry. The place was packed every morning we came after our shots. If you’ve spent any time in Spain you know that breakfast is not a big meal in Spain. Most people have a coffee and something sweet, or toast. One of the heartiest choices is a slice of tortilla de patatas with a piece of bread. Tortilla is often described in English as a potato omelet, but it has more body than an omelet, it is sliced into several portions, and it can be eaten warm or cold. Another popular breakfast choice here is a small baguette, toasted, with olive oil and grated tomato.

Since we are done with the vaccination center, this week we’ll be taking a trip to the pharmacy. We have prescriptions for Dukoral, an oral cholera vaccine (two doses for us and three for Ricky). The cholera vaccine may not work to protect you against cholera, but it seems to reduce travelers’ diarrhea, so the doctor recommended it.

Also, the three of us will be taking Malarone, a medicine that protects you against malaria. Malarone has to be taken two days before and a week after you are in a malaria-risk area. In our case, the first such place will be Kruger National Park in South Africa. Then we will take it before we go to Angkor Wat (sources disagree about whether there is malaria in Cambodia around the temple touristy areas). We don’t intend to go to any other places where malaria is around. So we will buy six boxes of regular Malarone and three boxes of pediatric Malarone, just to be safe.

We are also bringing Cipro and the pediatric equivalent in case of serious intestinal trouble. We also have two mosquito nets, and DEET mosquito repellent, both for skin and clothing. To top it off, we’ll carry your usual first aid kit: Band-Aids, antibiotic ointment, disinfectant, hydrocortisone cream, decongestant, Tylenol, Pepto, my asthma inhaler.

If you need travel immunizations and breakfast in Madrid, these two places are excellent. They are located near the Lista metro stop (line 4):

International Vaccination Center
Centro Monografico de Salud Internacional - Vacunas

C/ Montesa, 22 28006 Madrid La Vinateria de Don Ramon C/ Don Ramón de la Cruz, 87 28006 Madrid

Madrid: Casa Santoña and Anchovies

Spain is a country that loves its fish. The average supermarket has not one, but two fresh fish areas, staffed by several people, preparing the fish as requested by the patrons. One area will handle the whole fish, while another takes care of the shellfish and the fish which has already been cleaned and cut up.

Fish range in price from very cheap to very expensive. Sitting on the ice, you can see fish which are being sold for 1 euro each and fish costing 60 euro a kilo or more. The women behind the counter (and they are almost always women) will clean the fish, ask if you want to keep the heads, filet them, or simply gather them up and throw them into a bag. It is not permitted to sell previously frozen fish in Spain. If the fish is not frozen when it is sold, it is fresh. In the United States, unfortunately, much of the fish sold in the supermarket will be marked, in small letters "previously frozen."

There are also freezer cases filled with fish in Spain, taking up a large portion of the frozen food aisle. There is also an aisle of the supermarket dedicated to canned and jarred fish. The variety is somewhat breathtaking, and overwhelming at first, especially coming from the United States. In the United States, where sardines are seen as peculiar, and supermarkets typically carry only canned tuna and perhaps a brand of canned salmon, it is inconceivable to have seven different brands of sardines, plus sardines of different sizes being sold with different names.  A quick walk down the aisle of the local supermarket revealed the following different canned fish:  atun, salmon, ventresca, bonito del norte, caballa del sur, sardinillas, boquerones, sardinas, mejillones, almejas, concha, navajas, zamburinas, bacalao, higado de rape, higado de bacalao, huevos de bacalao, berberechos, calamares, chipirones, sepias, and pulpo.

This, at last, brings me to the subject I have been longing to get to: anchovies. There is delight in the anchovy. There is a strong flavor they carry which is known as "umami." It is actually a fifth flavor which people are able to sense, in addition to the traditional salty, sweet, sour, and bitter. Romans prized these little fishes for the making of garum, the fish sauce which was as ubiquitous on the Roman table as ketchup is in the United States. Anchovies have been in constant use through the centuries throughout the world.
This little fish, which is a remarkably healthy food, rich in minerals, vitamins, and omega oils, consistently gets short shrift in the United States. Most people have experience with it limited to the cheapest quality stuff, sold on pizzas, and tasting of nothing but salt. To think of the anchovy in these terms is to think of olives in terms of the black circles sold in the same circumstances (more on olives another time).

In Spain, anchovies are a world of their own, and a delicious one. In the supermarket, all the anchovies, whether they are in jars or in cans, are sold refrigerated, so that the flavor is better preserved. The type sold in the United States are the bottom of the line for the anchovies in Spain. It is easy to spend $30 on a jar of anchovies, if they are of high quality, carefully prepared, and well-presented. In some supermarkets, the high-end anchovies are locked inside large plastic boxes, which must be removed by the cashier, to prevent theft.

I like to buy the anchovies that are preserved in salt. They are without heads, but otherwise whole. Before using them, they must be rinsed off, split open, and the spine must be removed. The tiny bones remaining can be plucked out or left. These anchovies have a rich, oily flavor, and can be enjoyed on pizza, on bread, or on a plate.

At Casa Santoña, anchovies are the specialty. They offer many kinds of seafood, and even food from the land, but the anchovies are the point. They come straight from Cantabria, in the north of Spain, where anchovies have been caught for thousands of years. They are meaty and tasty and have the kind of texture that makes butter jealous. At Casa Santoña, the stray bones are removed from the anchovies with tweezers, leaving nothing to interfere with the enjoyment of the meal. They are served with high quality olive oil, and a portion of bread. And they are completely enjoyable. The restaurant itself is simple, with a dining room downstairs and a few tables with high stools around barrels upstairs. I've never actually made it downstairs for a full meal. To sit on a stool, drink a caña, snack on olives, and eat these anchovies is complete contentment. The anchovies come in different sizes, with the larger ones generally seen as the better ones. All of them, though, that are found in this establishment are of the highest quality.

Casa Santoña is located not far from Retiro:
Avenida Nazaret, 10
28009 Madrid
914 096 325
metro stop. The address is Avenida Nazaret, 10, the phone number is 91 409 63 25. You can also order their products online, at http://www.casasantona.com/.

Madrid: Chocolat & San Gines

Madrid is richly decorated for the holidays each year. The main streets of the city are covered with lights which hang down from above the roadways and also line the streets in trees. There are many holiday fairs that spring up, with numerous booths covered by tents form temporary shopping plazas selling the gifts and crafts and foods that mark this time of year in Spain.

Also appearing on streetcorners are the vendors of food and drink. Roasted chestnuts are a holiday staple, as are the booths selling chocolate con churros. This treat is not only consumed during the cold weather, but it certainly becomes more popular when the temperature drops. It consists of a cup of hot chocolate, and fried sticks of dough. The hot chocolate is extremely thick, not resembling the beverage consumed in the United States. The churros, which are best eaten while still hot, are dipped into the chocolate, until they are all consumed. Then the chocolate can be drunk, usually with a spoon. It is popular with people of all ages, from tiny children to the most ancient among us.

The traditional outpost for chocolate con churros is San Gines. San Gines, located near Puerta del Sol in downtown Madrid, has been in operation since the 19th century, and it has preserved its ancient character. There are mirrored walls and velvet-covered benches. The floors are stone and there is lots of ironwork. It has extremely long hours, and is frequently visited by madrilenos both before and after a night of drinking. There is some kind of theory that it is good to line the stomach with food before drinking, and it is one of the few places open when people are ready to stop drinking.

The process at San Gines is very straightforward. One proceeds to the counter and places an order for chocolate and churros. You pay up front, and are given a receipt. Then you find a place to sit. There are seats upstairs, but the doors are open and there is a cold wind, so you want to head down the stairs. If you can't make it all the way down the stairs because of a line of people that are standing there, get on the end of the line. If you get all the way down unimpeded, choose a table and squeeze your party in. Waiters will pass by. Get their attention, show them your receipt, and they will bring you your order. There is nothing else on the menu here. You can ask the waiter for a glass of water, but that's the extent of the options. Once the chocolate and churros arrive, dip and enjoy. It's very good, and very traditional, and I would guess that there are very, very few who live in the city that have not been at one time or another.

The downside of San Gines is that the actual chocolate, while good, is not great - to my taste. It is not particularly rich in chocolate flavor. It is hot and sweet and thick. The chocolate is not the point, the whole experience is. Once you've been to San Gines, though, it is worth coming to another part of town, to a place where the chocolate is the point of the visit. It is, appropriately, called Chocolat. Located near the Anton Martin metro stop, it is a little bar on the corner of Calle de Santa Maria and Calle de San Jose. There a handful of tables, grab one if you can, and have a seat. Otherwise, find a spot at the bar. They have a variety of types of chocolate, and there is also coffee and beer and other typical foods. The point of the visit, though, is the chocolate. This is chocolate, this is tasty, this is rich pleasure. This is the way to get rid of the cold.

San Gines is located at San Gines, 5. It is in a little corner, down an alley. There is an ancient church nearby, as well as a bookstore which may or may not sell magical books. San Gines is almost always open.

Chocolat is at Calle Santa Maria, 30. It is between the Anton Martin metro stop and the Prado Museum.

On Moving On and Shipping Out

We've lived in Madrid, Spain for almost sixteen months. We moved here from Los Angeles with seven suitcases, three laptops and one enormous Britax Marathon carseat. (We were allowed six suitcases on Continental, and we paid extra for the seventh). Before this move, we spent months researching whether it made sense for us to ship items to Europe by boat. We sent e-mails to shipping companies, most of which were not returned. We made some calls. At the end, we decided it would only made sense if we got a full container of cargo, which would cost about $5,000, which seemed like a lot to pay to move our old couch from IKEA and table from a thrift shop. Plus, taxes and other fees were not clear ahead of time. We would have to pay duties upon arrival, and then more to transport our things from the port to our destination. The port of arrival was going to be in Germany, and it was not clear how our things would then come to Spain. It was also not clear when the items would arrive. Given the uncertainties about cost and some horror stories we read on the internet about long delays and shocking tariffs, we decided shipping by boat did not make sense for us.

People suggested we send some boxes by surface mail to Spain. The idea was that even if it took a few weeks to arrive, it would be fine to wait for a few books and toys. We learned the US Mail no longer offers international surface mail. The only option is to ship boxes via Air Mail or International Priority Mail, both very expensive propositions. For example, to ship a 20-pound box from the United States to Spain costs $80. And, it turns out, this is the cheapest way to ship it, because UPS and DHL and other private carriers charge even more. So we decided to get rid of all our stuff and bring to Spain only those things that would fit into a few pieces of luggage.

We did not bring any furniture from Los Angeles, and only left two suitcases over there. We went to visit Los Angeles last March and brought back these two suitcases that Tracy and Mark were storing for us (thank you, guys!). A few weeks before our move to Madrid, we had visited family in Maryland and left six suitcases over there, filled with cookbooks, CD boxes, old baseball cards, papers, lots of photos, and other items we couldn't bear to discard, but had no need to bring with us.

Which brings us to now. After over a year in our rented apartment in Madrid, we've accumulated some more stuff: a table and chairs, a sofa bed, Ricky's bunk bed, our bed, some shelves, some books and Ricky's toys (biggest of all is Ricky's little kitchen from IKEA, which we got him for his birthday this year). All the furniture we own was bought at IKEA for less than 2,000 euros. We spent some more on the toys, bedding and kitchen things.

We are leaving our apartment in early January. We intend to get rid of most things we've acquired, although we will still have to rent a small storage unit. I wish we did not have to, because storage rarely makes sense. However, we are traveling the world only with carry-on luggage (three medium backpacks), so the rest of our clothing, books and other items need to be kept somewhere. My parents live in a house with very little storage, and the most we could leave there are a couple of suitcases. We will have six or seven suitcases, large ones. Last week, I went to see a storage area about thirty minutes out of the city. The unit is a little under three square meters and it costs 30 euros a month to rent. We can easily store our bags here, and a few boxes of things (kitchen things, for example), which would be useful to have if we end up moving back to Spain next year.

It is strange to think about the odd things one becomes attached to. A frying pan, a wok, a microplaner.

Can't wait to be on the plane to Marrakesh in less than a month!

Madrid: La Taqueria del Alamillo and Wakathai

One of the motivations for our travel is the thrill of the next meal. We enjoy eating. A great meal is the highest peak of public pleasure. It is to be relished and enjoyed, not just as it is happening, but for days and weeks and months afterward. When we can, we go out for a meal here in Madrid. When we have Ricky with us, this can be quite challenging. Ricky actually is just fine in restaurants now - when he was a tiny thing we used to have to take turns sitting at the table, one of us eating while the other walked around with him. Now, though, the difficulty arises because the dining hours are so late here. Most restaurants don't open for dinner until 9 p.m., and when you get there at 9, the restaurant is slowly waking from its slumber, and not operating crisply. Meals in Spain are leisurely affairs (which I like very much) but when you've got a boy who usually goes to bed around 8 p.m., and you're trying to keep him up and out and cheerful after 10 p.m., it often does not work out well.

Fortunately, Ricky spends most weekends here in Spain with his grandparents, leaving Ana and I free to have one or two nights out. Last night, it was very, very cold here in Madrid. A friend is out of town and has left us her car, so we decided to drive. One of our favorite restaurants is a little Mexican place in the La Latina district. It is called La Taqueria del Alamillo. The food is great, the service is friendly, and they give you tequila when they bring you the check. They are always booked up way in advance. Ana called them in November, and found that the weekend nights were booked for the rest of the year. Usually, though, we show up early in the evening, near 9 p.m., and they find us a table. She called them, and asked about being put on a waitlist for the evening. They were so busy last night, they refused even to do this, saying there were already too many people on the waitlist. So we decided to just go over there and see what happened. The traffic in the city is particularly bad right now, as the holiday shopping season has exploded around us. Not having a car usually, we had not taken this into account. We drove out there, eventually got there, and then found it was absolutely impossible to park. The large signs on the highway warning that all downtown parking lots were full seemed to be accurate. So, not having a parking space or a spot in the restaurant, we opted for an alternative venue.

We headed to Wakathai. It was our third visit to this restaurant, a Peruvian - Asian combination, offering food which is, for Spain, spicy. As a general rule, Spanish food is not spicy at all, and Spaniards are averse to hot flavors. Maybe that is why there was room for us at this restaurant last night.

It is a great place. It's located a bit outside of the main downtown area of the city, so we were able to find some parking. The staff is efficient and courteous, and you never have to wait long for your food. The location is comfortable and rather minimalist. There is enough space between tables so that you don't feel crowded. We ordered the tasting menu. I like ordering tasting menus, especially when I don't know a restaurant well. I feel like it gives the place a chance to show you what they are proud of, and they should know their own food better than anyone else.

It was a great meal. We had ceviche, we had nems (little rolls of rice paper stuffed with shrimp and pork), we had Vietnamese salad, we had a nice hot and spicy soup with wontons stuffed with corvina, we had a curry with duck, and then we had dessert. We ate well. Then we braved the cold again for the walk back to the car, and drove home.

Oh, a little more about the food. The ceviche they have is absolutely the best I've ever eaten. It has a great texture (important for me) and is very flavorful with many interesting elements and unexpected points of taste. It can be quite spicy in one spot, but it is always as part of the flavor. The worst part about it is that when you finish, there is no more of it to eat. They always have a curry of the day. It varies in its content. This time it was duck with lychees in a green curry, which was excellent. I actually preferred the curries we had previously, though, which were carrillada de iberico with greeen curry. The carrillada is a cut of pork from the side of the head, which is very tender. According to the Spanish labeling laws, pork can be called iberico if it is at least 75 percent black Iberian pig. Much of the great Spanish cured ham is iberico. Good eating.

Desserts were exceptional. We had one small coconut flan topped with dulce de leche and also a panna cotta. The panna cotta was so creamy and rich and topped with some orange marmalade and all I can say about it is that if it had been served in a bucket, I would have eaten it all. The flan was delicious as well.

Now it's time for coffee and a new day.

La Taqueria del Alamillo is located at Calle Alamillo, 8, Madrid. Reservations are a must. Phone: 91 3642088.

Wakathai, http://www.wakathai.com/, Calle Conde Duque, 13, Madrid. Phone: 91 5417876.

The Markets and Supermarkets in Madrid

When we leave Madrid next month, I'm going to miss the great traditional mercados and supermarkets, where you can get such good fruits and vegetables, cheaply, in the right season. Many neighborhoods in Madrid (and all over Spain) have large halls with stalls that sell produce, meats, fish, cheese, nuts, olives, beans and a variety of other products. So you go from stall to stall (kind of like at the farmers' markets in the United States, although the mercados are indoors and the stalls are permanent) buying your food, deciding which vendors have better products and prices. Parsley is always free if you make a purchase (you ask for a little parsley and they grab a bunch and put it into your bag). Mercados, being in Spain, tend to have a little bar/cafe (just a counter, really) where you can get a cup of coffee, a slice of tortilla, olives or a beer and some jamon, and take a break while you shop.

We got to know some markets very well. We love the Mercado de Chamartin, which houses one of the most impressive fish stands I've ever seen. There you can get delicious sushi-grade tuna belly (if you get there early, because it is so good that they run out). The only downside of the Mercado de Chamartin is how expensive everything is. The best mercado, in my opinion, is Mercado Maravillas. It is large, you can find anything there, quality is high and the prices are right. There are hundreds of stalls. One of them sells great cheese from La Mancha. Another sells empanada gallega, many types (including one empanada made of tiny Galician scallops named zamburinas).

Fish is especially fresh and wonderful at these mercados. We often eat mackerel, which we buy fresh and grill at home. Mackerel (caballa in Spanish) is one of my favorite fish. The seabass is also amazing (we bake it with garlic and olive oil).

We also love Mercadona (a large chain of supermarkets, with a lot of good store-brand products), Carrefour (a French chain, where we do a lot of our everyday shopping), and Hipercor, a supermarket that is part of the Spanish department store chain El Corte Ingles. Hipercor has fancier products and the prices are a bit higher. We get our quinoa and our tahini there.

We also shop on occasion at the Aldi and Lidl stores, which are discount German supermarkets with a lot of interesting merchandise, such as foreign candy and chocolates, pickled herring and wines from all over the world. The Aldi chain owns Trader Joe's since the 1970s, and you can see a little bit of the Trader Joe's ethos in their European cousins (Trader Joe's is more gourmet, has a more comprehensive line of products and is more fun, by the way, than these stores).

Another store that we really like is called Makro. Everything comes in large sizes and they don't give you bags, a bit like Costco in the United States. Makro is not cheap, but you can get some things that are hard to get elsewhere. At Makro, we buy: frozen wild salmon from Alaska, a whole ribeye from Argentina (fresh and not previously frozen), Italian mozzarella, dulce de leche, a very good Malbec and De Cecco pasta. And today at Makro we bought the box of apples you can see on top.

Madrid, Spain: Talk About The Weather

Madrid has been a great city to live in. We've been here since the beginning of September, 2009. We live in a quiet neighborhood between the airport and the center of the city, close to the metro, and near Ricky's school. Madrid, contrary to what many think, has a fairly extreme climate. This morning, when I took Ricky to school, it was cold. It wasn't sort of cold, or a little brisk, or even chilly. It was simply cold. It wasn't damn cold, either - this is not Wisconsin or Minnesota cold. It was cold enough for me, though. It was in the low 20s, cold enough to make the cheeks burn when I returned.

In the summer, Madrid swelters. Temperatures are routinely above 100 degrees, and the city shuts down. Air conditioning, while far more commonplace than it once was, is not the rule in most homes. The time-honored practice is to leave the city in August, heading either to the beach or the mountains. Many businesses simply close up shop for much of the month, leaving a small, handwritten note on the door stating when they intend to reopen. During lulls in the heat, August is one of the best months to be in Madrid. The traffic which plagues the city completely vanishes, and distances seem to shrink almost to nothing. A drive that ususally would take 45 minutes is through in 15. The stores that are open, mostly the large department stores or the supermarkets, are a pleasure to shop in, with short lines and frequent sales. Also, there are traditional ways of fighting the heat, such as drinking horchata de chufa, a sweet, nutty-tasting beverage, or the agua de cebada, a sort of barley tea, served ice cold. These things were once sold in hundreds of corner stands throughout the city, but they have mostly vanished in favor of the ubiquitous vendors of ice cream and Coca Cola.

The winters here are long and unpleasant, with frequent strong winds cutting through the layers. The temperature patterns during the day are different than elsewhere, with the coldest times running from 5 a.m. on until about 10 a.m., and the warmest times lasting from 3 p.m. until about 7 p.m. For Ricky, it means that whatever he wears when we walk to school in the morning will leave him significantly over-dressed for the weather when he comes home. This morning, while we walked to school, he told me "I want to leave the winter." Soon enough.

We continue to prepare for our travels. Every day, we sort our things, deciding what will be discarded, what will be saved for later retrieval, what will be given away. Oddly, we are pretty much finished with packing what we will actually be taking with us when we leave. It's more just a matter of figuring out what to do with what we are leaving behind.