Spain and Portugal cold dishes

[Bux]

Now that you've opened the topic to a broader range, I've thought of less traditional cold foods and particularly of ice cream. I don't really know how important ice cream has been in Spain. With modern refrigeration and distribution it's all over the place, but I'm thinking of the more unusual flavors and uses at chef driven restaurants. Well before Elena became a force in Arzak's kitchen, Juan Mari Arzak served a tarragon ice cream with a pear dessert that was striking. This was also before herbs became popular ice cream flavors, although they had been popping up elsewhere in desserts by the time I had tasted Arzak's food. Maybe the best dessert ice cream I've had was at Mugaritz, where Andoni Luis Aduriz served an intense calcabaza ice cream with caramelized pumpkin seeds. I think I was also positively influenced by the wonderful color of the ice cream that was almost, but not quite, cantaloupe, mango or peach. Perhaps even more interesting are the savory ice creams which are being seen all over in haute cuisine, but this is an area in which the Spanish chefs have pioneered to a great extent.

[lambretta76]

Slightly off-topic - but your comment of tarragon ice cream is nearly a new favorite of mine - ice cream floats made using Russian tarragon soda and vanilla ice cream. Not Iberian whatsoever, and I apologize.

[vserna]

Historically, cream was an oddity in Spain, once a poor country where cow's milk was familiar only in the more verdant northern third of the country, and cream was a luxury for the very few well-to-do people. For a long time, in 'dry' Spain, including Madrid and the whole Mediterranean coast, the typical native ice was not ice cream - but iced milk. 'Leche merengada' ('Meringued milk') was what as a kid, in the 1950s, I discovered when I went for the first time to the beach in eastern Spain (that was at Altea, near Alicante).

Basically, for one quart of milk you use one large lemon's peel, a stick of cinnamon and 5 ounces of sugar, which you mix and bring to a boil. Filter through a sieve, let it cool, then put in a freezer. On the side, you prepare the meringue: three well-beaten egg whites, to which another 5 ounces, this time of confectioners' sugar, is added progressively while beating the mix. When the milk is just beginning to freeze, add the meringue, whipping it all very slowly together, then leaving it to freeze while stirring frequently to prevent it from becoming solid. (Or use a 'sorbetière'-type machine, of course). Serve in tall tulip glasses with plenty of powdered cinnamon on top. This is delicious stuff. Modern ice cream, full of Belgian chocolate or mango morsels or what have you, doesn´t improve on this modest treat!

[Cellar Tours]

I love Salmorejo from Spain and Sopa Fria de Melão (Cold Melon Soup) from Portugal, particularly nice with smoked bacon (bacon fumado). Salmorejo is similar enough to Gazpacho, the other famous cold Andalusian cold soup. However, the Salmorejo (which hails from the beautiful Moorish town of Cordoba) does not contain cucumber or peppers, and it has the additional ham and egg, which Gazpacho does not.

The cold melon soup, though, has got to be my number one!

[vserna]

The best Iberian cold soup in my book is ajoblanco, the sensational 'white gazpacho' (originally from Málaga or from Granada, depending on whom you believe) made with mashed peeled almonds and garlic cloves, bread crumbs, water, olive oil and vinegar. It blends famously with fruit in a classic sweet/salty/pungent combination: peeled grapes or sultana raisins or diced reinette apples are usually added to the soup.

There are also many modern uses of it. Alberto Chicote of Madrid's No-Do, an Andalusian-Asian fusion place (yes, we have those too now) does a delightful dish of bluefin tuna tataki, just briefly seared on the outside, with a dense ajoblanco as the sauce. Terrific with a top-notch, chilled dry oloroso.

Edited July 11, 2004 by vserna (log)

[JesusBarquin]

the Salmorejo (which hails from the beautiful Moorish town of Cordoba) does not contain cucumber or peppers, and it has the additional ham and egg

Sorry, but I wouldn't say that these phrases are exact: the town of Córdoba (not only moorish, btw: for instance, its most impressive quarter is jewish) is too narrow a provenance for a dish like this, widely spread in its origin at the central part of Andalusia (south half of Córdoba's province, north of Malaga's, east of Seville's). Besides, it does contain green peppers, at least in the way most people I know prepare it. And ham and egg are optional; although quite common, that's true.

Víctor, though sometimes I prepare the ajoblanco in the way you suggest, it is usually made at home with dry beans' flour (harina de habas) instead of almonds and bread: Jaén/Granada tradition... And diced melon and raisins are our favourite fruits to add.

[vserna]

To me, the almonds are quintessential to a great ajoblanco. But 'de gustibus non est disputandum'...

[JesusBarquin]

Well, I like them both, with a preference for the one with almonds. I think anyway they are dishes different enough to deserve a different name. Although, certainly, they have in common garlic (ajo) and white (blanco) colour.

Different origins? The one made with almonds as an evolution due to moorish influence of the original hispano-roman recipe? The one made with beans' flour as a cheap ajoblanco for poor people/regions? I have no idea.

[Bux]

The best Iberian cold soup in my book is ajoblanco, the sensational 'white gazpacho' (originally from Málaga or from Granada, depending on whom you believe) made with mashed peeled almonds and garlic cloves, bread crumbs, water, olive oil and vinegar. It blends famously with fruit in a classic sweet/salty/pungent combination: peeled grapes or sultana raisins or diced reinette apples are usually added to the soup.

There are also many modern uses of it. Alberto Chicote of Madrid's No-Do, an Andalusian-Asian fusion place (yes, we have those too now) does a delightful dish of bluefin tuna tataki, just briefly seared on the outside, with a dense ajoblanco as the sauce. Terrific with a top-notch, chilled dry oloroso.

For me, this dish is--or should I say these dishes are--fascinating. They are quite removed from British-French-Italian cuisine that mostly influences American cooking on the east coast and also, as far as I know, absent from the "Spanish" food in America--or at least I have not seen it in Puerto Rican or Mexican food. I've had variations mostly from the hands of creative chefs and although I've loved each and every version, I've regretted not being able to make a connection to the traditional versions. So I never know if I'm impressed by the brilliance of the chef's creativity or his interpretation.

Thank you to Victor and Jesus. I do so little cooking these days--a complaint of Mrs. B's, by the way--but I think I may research some recipes for ajoblanco and try them.

[pedro]

If you're going to cook some ajoblanco, there's a little trick to be used: add some bitter almonds. It enhaces the overall taste of the dish.

Be careful of not adding too many, or it would quickly turn too bitter. I'd suggest to add one or two at the beginning, taste it and reassess if more bitter almonds are needed or not.

[pedro]

... and if you substitute the almonds for pistachios you'll have Abraham García's ajoverde.

According to his first book, he also adds an egg white to the ajoblanco. He writes about another version, whose recipe comes from a Málaga housewife. It's a cheaper one because instead of using almonds it uses grass pea flour. Since using only the grass pea flour the slightly bitter touch from the almonds will be missed, the recipe includes the use of apricot or peach pits.