If the idea of spending a morning in a traditional Basque fishing village in the company of a passionate, classically trained chef learning how to cook food ‘con mimo’ (with love), appeals, then look no further than San Sebastian Food, an enterprising company in the heart of Spain’s culinary capital that delights in offering visitors memorable food experiences.
You’ll learn to appreciate the true value of cooking with local, seasonal produce, cook several dishes from whatever food and fish are available on the day, meet the local suppliers who often pop in for a chat and glass of Txakoli, and learn some tricks of the trade including how to chop like a real chef (if you don’t already) or maybe even hack the jaws off a very large hake (optional). To top it all off, you will enjoy the fruits of your labour – and a few delightful extras from the memorable chef, Alex – on the waterfront over a leisurely lunch in the afternoon sun.
Our party of ten met outside San Sebastian Food to do just this on a glorious September morning. We were driven over one of the beautiful green hills that surround San Sebastian to San Pedro, where, in high spirits, we hopped into a small boat for the short crossing to San Juan, where the cookery class is held.
Other than a couple of walkers with sticks and scallop shells on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela, there are no signs of tourism in this village, which has been preserved entirely intact. Around the central square are just a couple of restaurants and traditional wooden houses, each with balconies and two windows framed in the same colours as the bobbing fishing boats, green, blue or red.
Greeting us is our smiling chef Alex Barcenilla, who’s going to share his love of Basque cuisine and teach us how to make the most of the day’s ingredients. Alex and his wife have been running this restaurant, Txulotxo, which overhangs the water’s edge, for the last three years. With 20 years’ experience in Basque restaurant kitchens, including three at the three-Michelen starred Akelarre, Alex is now keen to pass on his knowledge and enthusiasm to others.
It’s obvious from the outset that he is full of heart when it comes to food. The way he looks at it alone is a big giveaway; he can’t take his eyes off the produce that’s laid out before us. And once he starts talking he’s away – there are so many ideas for how to make the best of what we’ve got.
In the kitchen spread out on the worktop is the produce we’re going to be cooking with. No planning has gone into this, what’s here is simply what is available. It’s seasonal, it’s fresh and it’s local. This approach to cooking is the only one in this restaurant and it certainly gets the creative ideas flowing. Rather than deciding what to cook and then going out to find the ingredients, here, it’s about making the best you can out of the ingredients that are available. And it seems the options are endless.
Ready, steady, cook!
Today we have red and green peppers, plus guindilla peppers and two boxes of black and white beans just delivered by local gardener José Maria, who’ll be back later to get the verdict on their quality. We also have pumpkins, potatoes, courgettes, tomatoes, onions and, taking centre stage, four large hake (merluza) and a huge monkfish (ropa), typical Basque fish.
They’d hoped for some line caught squid from retired fisherman Juanito, who supplies the restaurant when he can, but it wasn’t to be. Nonetheless, Alex tells us that frozen squid is perfectly good to cook with as the ice crystals break down the fibres, making the squid softer. A spanking fresh squid is too hard to eat; like crunching cartilage, he says. For squid to change from transparent to white when it’s ready to cook takes about three or so days, so the absence of a fresh catch is not a problem.
Each day brings new ideas for dishes. As the catch of the day and various produce comes in, so Alex’s ideas about what to do with them take shape. He knows exactly which village everything in the kitchen is from, or which fisherman, and has complete respect for his ingredients. He also tells us that his vegetables talk to him. Just as a piece of stone talks to the sculptor, so the pumpkin is offering up suggestions. As he moves around the kitchen, he tells us that ideas are constantly occurring to him, at every stage of cooking a dish.
While we’re gathered round in our black aprons, he’s inspecting the produce and planning the menu aloud in Spanish; ravioli with pistou is an idea for one dish. Perhaps a soup with some of the beans and he thinks we’ll make hake in parsley sauce, a classic Basque dish. (See recipes).
The black beans are poor quality, however. They’re different sizes so some will take longer to cook than others. Alex treats all his food with love (‘con mimo’), and he tells us that these black beans will need more than their fair share. The white ones, however, are pronounced to be the best in the world and his eyes light up as he admires their quality.
Down to business
It’s time for our party to split into groups of three. Over in one corner of the kitchen, work gets started on the hake and instructions given on how to prepare it from scratch. It’s lifted niftily from the counter by its eyes, slapped onto another surface to be de-scaled (this one’s been net caught as its scales have been damaged in the rough and tumble), snipped of its fins, skinned, and then it’s over to any willing volunteers to take a machete to its jaws. It’s not an easy task and its eyes take a fair few blows from two determined women in our group, but the job’s eventually done and a fair few photos taken in the process. Then the group switches so everyone gets a chance to see how the fish are prepared.
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| Nightmare in a Basque kitchen |
At the hob, we’re being taught to cook the black and white beans ‘con mimo’ and to use our senses. The right amount of water is needed, then a rolling boil needs to be maintained with more cold water added if the pressure rises. A chopped, peeled potato goes into each pan. The pieces need to be angular, so rather than slicing through, the knife must break off beforehand so you hear a snap. These angled pieces release more starch into the water and will give a good consistency to the soup.
The kitchen’s warming up and there’s plenty of preparation to be done, vegetables to chop for the pistou and bean soups (following a brief ‘how to’ lesson), fish to fry, beans to monitor, ravioli to prepare and anchovies to wash for canapés.
Soft hands, anyone?
These anchovies are real treasures. They’ve been stored in a large black bucket that hasn’t been moved from its spot on the kitchen floor for the last year or more. Alex lifts its lid to reveal the very last layer of lovingly salted anchovies at the bottom of the bucket. Someone with soft hands is needed to wash the salt gently away to prevent damage to the skin
(sadly, I was on rolling boil watch).
We hear that anchovies from the Cantabrian Sea are considered the best because they’ve had to work hard to survive in the rough, cold waters. A ban has been in place for the last five years due to over-fishing, but last year it was lifted for three months.
The anchovies in the bucket were salted last April and it’s a privilege to sample this final layer. We thread them onto cocktail sticks with pickled guindillas and an olive to make Gilda pintxos, I wanted to wolf the lot.
As the sweet, red pepper aromas of the pistou fill the kitchen, it’s time to pre-cook some hake. Alex demonstrates, then it’s over to us. Into a heavy-bottomed pan on the heat goes some chopped garlic and a couple of dried chillies. Olive oil is added; two generous glugs. On hearing the garlic, a piece of seasoned, floured hake goes in. It’s left for less than a minute, then the pan is shaken before adding a few splashes of white wine. The hake is then turned over, given another good shake and then put aside until it’s time to cook through just before serving.
We learn that when the fish is cooked its flakes will separate and that it’s best to check near to the bone to ensure it’s cooked through.
Checking up and tucking in
We start with a thick slice of deep red, juicy tomato – I can’t take my eyes off it myself now – and salty slices of monkfish cheek. This is followed by two courses of the beans, the first a black bean soup served with tender slivers of much-prized monkfish liver. It’s delicate in flavour and feels full of goodness. Next are the white beans in a warm tomato and red pepper broth with smoky pieces of spicy chorizo. It’s a simple, hearty dish and one you’d happily survive on for weeks at a time.
A glorious looking plate then appears before us, lightening up the table with its sunny colours and beautiful presentation. A gentle, golden pumpkin purée is topped with the deliciously slippery ravioli pistou. Upon this is a softly poached egg, its deep yellow, liquid yolk a delight to release.
We then eat monkfish and hake, which are brought out whole and served at the table. The hake is then left at the end and we’re invited to help ourselves to the most flavoursome, gelatinous chunks to be clawed out of its head. They don’t go to waste.
Then, after dessert and coffee and an hour over time, though no-one is watching the clock, we clamber back into our boat for San Pedro. Recipes for the dishes are handed out once back at the San Sebastian Food offices, then our happy throng disperses into the sun-filled, sandstone streets of San Sebastian.
The Basque cookery course is a whole lot more than learning how to cook this type of cuisine. It’s an opportunity to go behind the scenes of a real Basque restaurant, see how a typical day’s dishes are prepared and meet a chef who will fill you with inspiration to make the most of local, seasonal ingredients, wherever you may be.
It’s an experience you’ll no doubt be longing for when you’re back under gloomy skies.
Tempted? See www.sansebastianfood.com
For examples of Basque dishes, see Recipes.
