Cana

As promised, the next few blogs will be about my trip to Spain. I’ve let memories marinate for some time while in New York, and admit that I am having a hard time adjusting (the whole work thing), but am glad to be home at Pata Negra – I hope you visited while I was away.

My trip can be broken into three parts. Part one was to check out the tapas scene. Part two was a trip to wine country with my friend El Capitan, acting as a sort of translator/travel companion, and part three was to visit some of my old pals.

The only thing that could stave off the heat in Madrid was beer, and lots of it. No thoughts about wine, just cañas, perfectly poured tiny glasses of cold, frothed refreshment. This is the true Spanish way of life. Hit the post office. Reward yourself with a caña. Errands to run? How many cañas can you schedule along the way? This is the tapeo tradition. Stop at a bar, drink, say hi, consume a tapa, and hit the next spot. This is the culture that is so Spanish. And the reward is a plate of something good to nibble on. Some ham or cheese, or pork rinds, or meatballs. It is really up to the bar. Chef Jorge Arola of Gastro told me that the art of pouring a perfect cana is indeed Spanish and a pivotal part of society. I’ll go for one right now!