Torre de la Horadada, Almejos

 

Located just west of Benidorm on the Costa Blanca is the smaall fishing village resort of Torre de la Horadada. Not yet discovered by other European travellers it sill retains it's old fashioned Spanish charm: so much so that Eddie found the perfect spot to locate his rig, on the expansive promenade, close to the harbour. Originally he planned to stay for 3 days but found that he was still enjoying the place after 3 weeks, for several reasons.After the third day the appearance of the Guardia Civil was understandable. Eddie has discovered that it usually prudent to vacate any spot between 2 to 3 days due to local prying eyes as well as the follow up by local plod. But, surprisingly his 'eco' explanation, respecting the environ, causing no harm to anyone actually won the day: so instead of the typical 'move on' sir he was welcomed and often, over following weeks, shared many a cup of coffee wiv the patrolmen. Eddie had found the idyllic 'camp', parked next to the beach where Ollie could safely run free, delightful sunrises, peaceful sunsets. It wasn't long before he noticed a lady who seemed to tread the same path each morning strolling from the village, across the prom to the beach. The morning nod progressed to the odd word, until they found each other kicking along the sandy path in deeper conversation. She was called Lula.

Almejos con riz burra.
Again the generosity of the local fishermen must be admired. Awlways willin' to offer some of their catch to grateful Eddie. Chop one onion plus 3 cloves of garlic an' sweat in a sawsepan. Make a light roux wiv flour then add arf a pint of white wine to create a milky textured sawse. Rip some tarragon leaves to add to the mix; then season gentli: put at one side.
Seal arf a cup of arborial rice wiv vegetable oil, then add one an a arf cups of wawtta an' simma until the the liquid has been absorbed: add a great big, pulsatin' knob of butta to glaze. At the same time pour in one kilo of almejos into the sawse until the shells begin to open. This dish actually serves at least two people. Eddie takes a leaf out of the local 'sampa' mentality and duly offers a portion to Lula as she passes by takin' in her evenin' stroll. The deep purple sunset is awlso shared. 

Barcelona Sausage special

Happy Yule to awl mi followas
Barcelona is a mere 90 kms from Gerona; a simple trundle daan the road foa Eddie an' his ancient rig. He prefers to remain in the hills above the city, anonimous, peacefully blissful amongst the 'garrigues' that surround the city. One day is sufficient to remind himself of the wondrous 'Gaudi' architecture that portrays the signature of the town. Eddie once confessed to me that that the very first time he clocked the 'Sagrada da Familia' he blubbered openly in full view unable to control the emotion of this very sacred place. Not of any religious consequence just purely daan to the majesty of the structure. This reaction did surprise mi: I awlways thought that norvern 'erberts did not possess one jot of sensitivity. I stand corrected. Another reason Edddie ventures into the city apart from re-viisitin' his mate Antonio Gaudi is to collect his box of vegetable goodies from another close friend Pepe who has one of the best stalls in the Boqueria Market just off the Ramblas. Returnin' back to hills Eddie prepares yet annuva simple peasant dish.    

Spanish Powk Sausage an' beanz.

Havin' gathered the generous  box of goodies Eddie's top prize are the spicy powk sausages and the various types of pulses awlso tucked away beneath the usual onions, carrots, celery, peppas, garlic, potatoes. 

Sweat out the chopped onions, garlic, carrots in a liberal dash of olive oil. Add the pre-boiled beanz (use the varieties on offer; haricots, coco, cannelini, bartolli etc....). Pour in one pint of good vege stock. Meanwhile gentli seal the sausage in a smaall fryin' pan. Add to the mix along with two diced potataoes. Place on a lid an' simma foa 45 minits. Serve wiv crusty bread. Look daan on the evenin' lights of the city  as the tears well up thinkin' about the 'Sagrada'. Dependant upon the ambient temperature the stew should last until Eddie reaches the Costa Blanca which he estimates is a few days travel. 

Juia, Paella

 

After exhausting his stay in Southern France Eddie moves over the frontier to the Catalunya region of Spain. The real rugged coastline of the the Costa Brava concludes after the beautiful tiny coastal villages of Reija, Aigua Blava, Sa Tuna, Llafranc and Caella de Parafruguell. these resorts remain undiscovered by the Brits who tended to go further south to the shithole towns of Palamos and Lloret. Thank Gawd for that as these lovely little places have not become tainted wiv fish an' chips, union jack's and Queen Vic pubs. Still, even now, very original, very Spanish.The surroundin' villages from the coast to Gerona have now been slightly overun by the Barcelona glitterati who own weekend village houses, thus keepin' the locals reasonably happy since the price of property reflects this interest: they sell up, more than willing to move to the city exchangin' basic village life foa urban squallor.
In one of these smaaller hamlits cawled 'Juia' lives two of mi best friends Marie Jose and Joachim. I introduced Eddie to them one summer and since then he awlways swings by on his way to the south to visit and enjoy Marie Jose's famous 'Paella'. They live in the old Priest house which they moved to in 1990 having had another large house closer to the centre of the village when they both worked in Barcelona. Recently they have been slowin' daan their work load so that they can spend moa time in 'Juia'. They are tops peeple: I recall once when I had bought a 'banger' in Fraance  which typically blew the head gasket just outside the village. At the drop of a hat they loaded Mi wife  an' I in their big fuck orf Merc van and drove us awl the way back to Tarascon. Anyway I digress; back to the Paella. It's a classic and very Catalan, not the southern puffta Andalucian  variety that usually includes some form of meet.

Marie Jose's Catalan Paella
It is very important to select onli the freshest of fish. Good strong dense white fillets of Dendiche oa Lenguado, large wholesome Langoste, rounded fat Squid. Other ingredients could include clams, mussels and other 'Mariscos'. The choice is yours, and it does depend upon availability that can be sourced at either La Bisbal oa Parafruguell fish market; the best in the region. 
Normally, Marie Jose cooks this dish outside on a make shift 'barbacoa'. When the pan becomes hot she adds 3 large chopped onions, a complete head of garlic to 5 liberal tablespoonz of vegetable oil. When the onions have sweated daan she adds 3 chopped peppas, green, red an' yellow followed by finely sliced choritzo plus dried chilli flakes (quantity depends upon taste but onli a few are required since the sausage contains chilli).
Whilst this has been goin' on Joachim has been producin' the brew that is added later which will cook the rice. In a pan heat 2 pints of fish stock water (preparation of fish stock can be found in mi earlier posts) then add a teaspoon of turmeric and a generous pince of saffron, sawlt an' peppa. Measure and add 2 cups of rice to the onion mix; when thoroughly mixed pour on the fish stock, bring to the boil. It is now very important to get the timing just right: experience is the onli correct answer. As the rice begins to 'turn' take the pan off the heat at the same time addin' the denser fish: as the minuts pass by add the rest of the 'Mariscos' when appropriate. There should still be liquid in the mix. Allow the paella to rest foa 15 minits.
Meanwhile, have annuva few scoops of wine whilst wavin' yoa arms around becawse you ain't got no Spanish an' yoa hosts don't have any queens. Let the food an' the company do the talkin'.

Collioure Sardines

 

Eddie leaves Tom and Greta for the sanctity of the SW coast oa West Med, as we say in the trade. His favrit place is the smaall coastal village of Collioure near Perpignon. There is onli one road in an' one out which makes it a nightmare in the height of season: but Eddie's trick is travel daan to the village at night when awl of the tourists have left the resort  returnin' to their 'Eurocamp' tents oa 'mobile homes' dependin' on how well fixed they are. Originally, the fishing village actually functioned but now there onli a few boats that venture out in search of sardine, shrimp, an' oddli enuff, 'crabs'. Each cottage has been painted a different quite vivid colour; this was to enable the fishermen to recognise their own place whilst being miles out at sea, by way of comfort an' a feelin' of security. Eddie was awlso told that the fisherman used to wear heavy, fick sweaters, not just against cold winter winds but becawse if they were swept ova board they would sink like a stone hastenin' their 'orrible drowin' deff. Gruesome oa wot?
Setting up by the harbour near the uvva smaall fishermen's vans Eddie would be camouflaged from pryin' traffic bobbies who were constantly 'movin' on cheeky tourists. He was awlso able to liberate the odd bag of sardines oa prawns oa anyfink that was offered by the generous local fishermen.

Simple Sardines
Roughly gut the fish an' skewer on thin driftwood sticks: the wood renders that extra bit of natural sea flavour that makes awl the difference. Rummage around the numerous, abandoned barbeque piles that have been left by wasteful tourists securin' sufficient fuel. Supplement the coals wiv some moa driftwood an' dried seaweed. Gentli cook the fish ova the wonderfully fragrant heat. Devour the spoils as the sunsets ova the harbour wiv several gaasses of dry white. It doesn't get much betta than that.

Sete and Cap d'Adge

 

Afta stickin' Ramunia on a flight back to Liverpool Eddie trundles daan the autoroute de Soleil using the free section around Nimes to Monpellier. Tying into the coast road east of Aigue Mortes by lunchtime he is approachin' familiar landscape near Sete. He has old friends, Tom an' Greta, who usually stay on the Canal du Midi for most of the year. They are a right queer couple; a mild functioning English drunkard with his butch brutal wife. Only last year she routinely hospitilized, the poor bugga, by breakin a few ribs an' damagin' his spleen. It takes awl sorts, some blokes seem to serve their penance by bein' beaten up by their loved ones.
Eddie's welcome is awlays warm, although since the latest violent attack he tends not to turn his back on the gracious Greta. Consumin' only enuff wine to stay compass he treads careful, foa the few days that he can tolerate. Laast year he loaned one of his 'special' made up bikes to Greta who seems to have misplaced it. Eddie suspects that she has flogged it off probably foa booze oa drugs. He ain't daaft. There is one savin' grace about his mate Tom in that he used to be a Top chef until he succomed to the demon liquor: in his laast job he set fire to his own barnet scatterin' the kitchen staff from everi exit.
Tom's signature dish: Rouget avec sauce de beurre et Chilli.


Make sure the fish are fresh, check out the brightness of the eyes an' the stiffness of the body; the stiffer the betta, as I am regularly reminded. Usin onli the fillets put at one side an' prepare the sawse. Gentli fry some chopped shallots in a tablespoon of olive oil addin' some dried chilli flakes an' season until goldin' brown. Mix in a tablespoon of flour to form the roux, then add one cup of decent white wine: local Costierres de Nimes is ok, just. Secondly, add some single cream oa creme fraise dependin' on your diet. Finally stir in a good, warm, big, knob of butta to glaze.
Gentli sear the fish fillets in a buttered pan, skin daan foa free minits then turn foa a furvva one minit. Arrange neatly on a servin' plate an' dispense the sawse. Foa gawds sake rememba that Greta may be on the prowl foa sexual gratification, which is awlways best avoided, so stay alert.

Canal Hopping Hotpot

 

Eddie spends a great deal of time followin' the Canal routes of Fraance. Today we find him on the Canal du Midi visitin' a friend who has a berth in the marina at Beaucaire, locatid in the Du Gard region of southern Fraance.His mate left England 10 years ago wiv his wife who died suddenly leavin' him on his own wiv very little money an' no will to live. There is a local 'Brit' population but they are mainly 'arseholes' who have bailed out becawse the wine is cheaper daan here an' they can stay permanently pissed foa pennies. Some of them claim to be artists but couldn't paint a khasi wall, ovvas are writers who can't string too words togevva an' worst of awl, some profess to be builders who couldn't be trustid to build a decent 'shit' in the bog.
Anyway, Eddie enjoys the canals becawse he's got instant access to wawtta to wash an' clean himself an' his rig. it is awlso the basic ingredient of cookin'. Not that he uses canal wawtta: the amount of crap that is just frown ovwerboard you would not believe, as well as deisel an' the local garbage that peeple jeterson on a regular basis.  After a forage at 'Leader Price' Eddie has the ingredients foa his famous 'hotpot' which he usually makes on Monday so that it laasts him froo the week.
'Meet Hotpot'  
Chop an' gently fry free onions in a pan wiv a little olive oil an' bacon bits. Dice 500 grams of 'shin' beef into centimetre cubes an' seal. Add arf a pint of beef stock an' simma foa 60 minits. Cut five carrots into chunks, foa celery sticks into the same an' anuvva onion then add to the mix. Meanwhile, peel an chop a bag of spuds. Pour in anuuva arf pint of wawtta, not canal, wiv the arf the spuds foa firty minits then add the remainin' spuds. Gently simma until the meet an' spuds is fallin. Serve wiv bread; leave the rest of the 'otpot' foa the neaxt foa days; by Friday it will resemble dog vomit but it will still taste bootiful. Make sure Ramunia has had a good dippin in the wawtta befoa tacklin' it foa the night.

Tarascon Magret

This place, Tarascon, is probably the armpit of Provence. Originally famed for it's King Rene Chateau, the Cathedral of St. Martha, the Portal St. Jean, the magnificent 18th century  ornate Theatre and it's fortified walls; it has become a sad reflection of it's important past. Unfortunately the striking town houses have fallen into disrepair occupied by 'renters' living off benefits. Subsequently the town Hall cannot support the infrastructure so streets are dirty, civic buildings shabby, empty and closed. But, both Eddie and I have some good friends that still persevere to dwell therein. Amongst them are Fabrice and Papou who run the 'Theatre Bistro'. Fabrice is a very inventive chef, I can't remember the number of times that I have robbed his recipees.
One other curiosity that the town is famed for is the legend of the Tarasque, a fearsome river monster; a cross between a lion and a crocodile with a huge 'shelled' back. This creature would periodically emerge from the Rhone to devour local maidens (it's bloody well welcome to um if you ask me; the town must have the ugliest women in the whole of Fraance). It was daan to St. Martha to sooth the beast after which a crowd of yoofs stoned it to deff. Things haven't changed much, the local yoof still have violent moronic tendencies. To celebrate the event the town commissioned a local artist to sculpt a stone effigy of the Tarasque which they placed outside the Chateau to attract tourists.
Eddie decided to mark the event his way by super gluing a giant plaster 'dick and balls' on the top of it's head. This he achieved at midnight when the town was asleep. It took the local Gendarmerie 2 days to chisel it off. Result.
Fabrice's Magret du Canard.
Place the Magret skin daan in a frying pan on a very low heat foa 15 minits. Drain off the fat an' turn to flesh side foa 5 minits. Remove from the pan and slice. Very pink. Serve wiv a green salad. Simple but brilliant.