La Comida

Food is a necessary staple of any culture, and Spain is certainly no exception. While I’ve always been excited to try new and interesting cuisine, I’ll admit that the somewhat rocky relationship I have with food attributed to my initial apprehension as I embarked on la vida de Valla.

I won’t say I’m a picky eater—truly I’m not. But I normally consume very little, and considering that my supper every night in college consisted of a single bowl of LIFE cereal (basically the best food invented), it’s fair to say my diet was none too varied either.

Becca and I had eaten nothing for close to 15 hours when Felipe rescued us and took us back to the apartment for lunch. But when he sat us down at the humble kitchen table, I’m sure he wasn’t expecting my pitiful pick-and-prod display. With his thick, hairy brow resolutely furrowed, my dad declared in a voice of distaste, “Comes como un pájaro!” And if telling me that I ate like a bird wasn’t enough, he proceeded to express his opinions on my apparently too-small frame.

With almost every meal that followed, I would only eat a small portion of what was put on my plate. I just wasn’t able to finish. Trying so many unfamiliar, strange, and even exotic foods and dishes was—and honestly, to some degree, still is—causing me particular anxiety.

The meal situation only got worse when Felipe actually called me out on my unnecessary waste. He made me watch as he poured my still half-full plate in the trash bin, his stern eyes glued to mine as he disappointedly shook his head.

But as I’ve mentioned, our relationship has already progressed immensely—and for the better too. At one meal, both Felipe and Christina assured me—in the Spanish manner of great bravado—that I shouldn’t ever worry in the least and to only eat what I wanted or was able to. In fact, the two of them have been especially accommodating, even joking around (in a friendly way, of course) about my bird-like appetite.

Now that things of that nature have been cleared up, I can easily say that exploring and tasting new Spanish fare each day is something I actually enjoy.

On the night of our arrival, Becca and I joined the rest of the study abroaders at a local restaurant for a welcome banquet. All of us students were treated with the utmost regality in this clearly fancy and sophisticated establishment. This was most definitely not your kids-eat-free-Tuesday family restaurant.

Dish after dish of traditional Spanish samplings were brought out on silver platters. Again, I did a lot of nibble-picking, and some things may only have received a lick, but it was definitely enough to say I was able to experience a comprehensive taste of the country’s cuisine.

Of everything I tried, however, it was the spongy, potato-egg Spanish tortilla that was most memorable…¡tan rico! Although I do suppose the glass of dry red wine—my first legal drink—was also pretty fantastic…and the way I gracefully gripped the delicate stem between my fingers?

You’d think I was a pro.

Meals here in general are a far cry from the typical fare in America—and not just the types of food, but the time and importance of each meal as well. Breakfast is never a big to-do, and it normally consists of a slice of toast and café con leche (the ultimate standard of coffee in Spain and another topic altogether). Prepared between 2:30 and 3 in the afternoon, lunch is the biggest meal of the day. Often a two-course meal, a siesta promptly follows in order to allow sufficiently-filled bellies to settle. Since lunch occurs so late in the day, supper isn’t served until around 9:30 at night. While the portions for this meal are smaller than lunch, the kinds of foods remain the same.

In my family, nearly every meal includes a salad (lettuce, spinach, and tomatoes with a light olive oil dressing) and el pan—a long baguette served plain and broken up for each to have a small slice. But regardless of the type of food served, I’ve found all can be easily described with one word: fresh. Unlike a lot of places in the United States, where people rely on large amounts of salt, sauces, and dressings to add unhealthy flavor to their dishes, every savory and succulent taste here is the result of the fresh, quality ingredients.

On the first Sunday following church, Christina had prepared paella for us all. The shallow pan of saffron-infused rice topped with shellfish (among other things) is a staple in every Spaniard’s diet. I think I would’ve enjoyed this delicacy regardless, but between the eyes I had to pry from the shrimp and the mollusk’s meat still nestled in its shell, I could be sure and for certain that whatever I was consuming had been freshly fixed.

As a whole, the meals my new family prepares include plenty of veggies, (especially salads and purees), lentils, and fish and other lean meat, so at least it’s a comfort for me to know I’ll be eating both balanced and healthy during my residence in Spain.

And it’s delicious.

In fact, I would say some of the food here is almost as good as LIFE.

Almost.