![]() |
Wisteria. I told ya it was spring! |
And this has been your weather report for Galicia.
![]() |
Wisteria. I told ya it was spring! |
And this has been your weather report for Galicia.
¨Here we go again,¨ I thought as I rolled my eyes last Monday a little after noon. The power had gone out once again. It has been going out on a monthly basis at our house since the New Year. Apparently this is almost normal in the countryside, as there are more trees that can fall and cut the powerlines.
It wasn't until my cousin from back home wrote to check in and see if we had been affected by power outages. How did she know that? Then I checked out the local newspaper's website. What I assumed was yet another power outage affecting a few houses in our little hamlet turned out to be a massive blackout throughout Spain, Portugal, and on to other European countries. Wha-huh?!
Luckily for us, I had just finished boiling some eggs for egg salad sandwiches, so lunch was saved. And while I feared this could be a days-long episode, power was restored to our corner of Galicia a mere six hours later. As we don't live in the city, I didn't get to witness the chaos or boredom first hand. But the next day there were pictures and interviews in the newspaper online. It was a nice day, so natural light illuminated homes and the shops that stayed open (to accept cash only, obviously). Apparently one ice cream shop started giving away their stock when they saw that it was melting. Good on them! The blackout also meant no traffic lights, so the traffic department advised against driving unnecessarily. So I cancelled my classes and stayed home until the power came back. Which even after it did, there was no cell service or Whatsapp to communicate until nighttime. Really old school! But the message came through that school was cancelled the following day.
The experience reminded me of a blackout in my youth, which seemed to last for days, but maybe that wasn't the case. After this incident (and keeping in mind that our power goes off frequently), we may just put buying a generator higher on our list of priorities.
We arrived shortly after lunchtime as the stands were just starting to reopen. It turns out there are less than 10 authorized San Simón cheesemakers, so other cheeses were also present. In fact, there were cheeses from around Spain and even other countries such as France, Portugal, and Switzerland. While cheese was obviously the star of the show, there were also stands
with honey, deli meats, plants, and miscellaneous products. There was also a representative from the European Cheese Route, an organization which tries to connect local DOP cheeses and tourism. At that stand we did a little quiz trying out seven cheeses from around Spain.
![]() |
Carlos Blanco |
The opening speech further enticed us to brave the rain clouds. This year's pregoeiro (town crier?) was Carlos Blanco, a well-known Galician comedic actor. He got his break on a TVG (Galician TV) show and now does stand up. We spotted him browsing the stalls before the speech, and asked for a picture. One of the highlights of his speech was that as a child he always wondered why it was called San Simón da Costa, being from Vilalba. ¨Where's the coast?¨ (Apparently, it's because that tiny hamlet of San Simón is where the Terra Chá [literally flat earth] starts to go upwards and get hilly. Costa in Galician means both slope and coast) He also read some opening speeches that AI had prepared for them and honestly it was creepy how poetic they were and also how much AI knows about San Simón cheese.
After a few hours circling the stands, hearing the opening comments, and having a drink, we left for home, with our own San Simón cheese in hand. I chose Catadoiro because I'd never seen it in grocery stores and also because the owners/cheesemakers just seemed sweet. I must have good taste, because the brand came in second in a Spanish taste test in the category of smoked cheese. Catadoiro Calidade!
![]() |
Calçots ready for grilling |
Calçots are prepared by the dozen on the grill, roasting them until blackened on the outside. Then you wrap them in newspaper for a few minutes and they're ready to serve. This is not a dainty dish. With your fingers, you must first gently slide off the outer, charred layer of calçot. Then dunk in a special orange sauce. And then down the hatch! Since calçots are long, they take a few bites, leaving time to drip sauce all down your shirt. That's why people usually wear bibs.
![]() |
Store-bought sauce |
Needless to say, we have borrowed the Catalan tradition at our house. We've been hosting calçotadas since right before the pandemic. For us it's a time to kick off the spring with a cookout. Although unfortunately-- but perhaps not surprisingly for Galicia-- the last two years we've had to eat indoors. This year was a first though: we even cooked the calçots inside in the fireplace. They were just as charred though, so no problem there. We can only hope that next year's calçotada will be sunny enough to enjoy outside.
![]() |
A novel way to grill calçots |
Galicia prides itself on its native species. These livestock species include the Mos hen (galiña de Mos), Galician sheep (ovella galega) and goat (cabra galega), as well as five breeds of cows: Vianesa, Cachena, Caldelá, Frieiresa, and Limiá. They may also include the Celtic pig (porco celta) and Purebred Galician Horse (cabalo de pura raza galega), depending on who you ask. The aforementioned species were all on the brink of disappearing at the end of the 20th century. The industrialization of farming and the meat industry had led to this decline in autochthonous cattle breeds. Instead of using cattle to plow the fields, they were using mechanized tractors. And the consumer trend went towards cheap and mass-produced meat rather than local, quality products. That's where BOAGA comes in. BOAGA was established to conserve, recover, and promote these eight livestock species. So now after their efforts trying to revive the populations, four of those five cattle breeds can boast around or over 2000 specimens. (Poor Frieiresa is left out and barely has 900 cows) Perhaps the most well-known of the bunch is the longhorn Cachena.
![]() |
Smile for the camera, Cacheniñas! |
![]() |
100% Certified Autochthonous! |
Sources:
The ¨dollar stores¨ fill up with costumes and grocery stores suddenly have a surplus of salted meats. Pork faces abound! It's time for Carnival, in Galicia called Entroido (or sometimes even Antroido). While originally I had hoped to be blogging all about the gay old time we were to have at a Carnival celebration in Northern Portugal, due to unforeseen circumstances we had to cancel. This year I will likely go to a nearby Entroido I've already seen. Of course, it's better than nothing.
So until the next new Entroido experience, I shall leave you with a picture from the local produce store. Back home people would find it quite revolting, but here nobody bats an eye. On other occasions I've even seen the pig face perched on a scarecrow-like body! Needless to say, this is a lot less creepy. Bo Entroido!
Ourense was also our choice to be able to enjoy a train ride, something we hadn't done in ages. The city's bustling train station boasts great connections to most of Galicia's other cities as well as an AVE (high speed railway) to Madrid. This fact led me to constantly wonder if the gaggles of passersby were on a weekend getaway from Spain's capital.
![]() |
Pretty Praza Maior, on a slant |
Speaking of food, the other highlight of this whirlwind tour was our first ever Michelin-star experience. At modern Nova, we were seated in the ¨hallway¨ to the entrance, so it was more secluded than the full dining room. I had to wonder if they had noticed an uptick in plebeian customers like myself thanks to the show The Bear. We opted for the 8-course tasting menu which included 2 appetizers, 2 first courses, 1 fish, 1 meat, and 2 desserts. Normally with these kind of fancy restaurant tasting menus, you leave hungry. But that was not the case here. I think my favorites were the very flavorful miso soup or the slow-cooked egg with cream of pumpkin. All in all, it was a different experience apt for a special occasion.
Despite taking advantage of our 24 hours in Ourense, we still didn't get to everything (Cathedral, Japanese-style hot springs). Guess that means that I'll be back again.
Coming from a Catholic family, when I announced I'd be moving to Spain, they were pleased since Spain is such a Catholic country. But as my parents can attest to on their recent Christmastime visit, in practice Spain isn't as Catholic as it's cracked up to be.
![]() |
A small church somewhere between greenery and sea |
At the end of mass, the priest mentioned seeing everyone in two weeks time, since the rotation goes every two weeks. After being dismissed, I asked the one neighbor who I am relatively friendly with about mass for Christmas day. ¨There is no Christmas mass in the village. Do you want to go? I guess you'd have to go to the city.¨ So let me get this straight. One of the holiest days of the Catholic calendar, and you just check out because there isn't mass in the parish?! Huh? Similarly, every other weekend when the priest goes to another parish, it would appear nobody makes an effort to seek out mass in another church. The neighbors in attendance couldn't even tell me which parish the priest alternates with. So that was interesting if not astounding. It would appear that mass is a social activity for 90% of people. When there's mass in the village, they go to it as a social outing to chat after mass in the churchyard. And if there's no mass, well, it's no skin off their nose.
![]() |
The world-famous Cathedral of Santiago |
I'm sure after these experiences, my parents went home rethinking their
concept of a Catholic Spain. Lots of relics and churches hundreds of
years old? Absolutely. Lots of faithful gathered on a weekly basis? Not
so much.
Note: I should add that while this attitude is common in Galicia, I can't confirm it in the rest of Spain. I remember the Basque Country being similar. Northerners tend to think alike in some regards. But people in the southern half of Spain (especially Andalucía, ahem) have a reputation of being very religious. So maybe they are keeping Catholic Spain alive.
People of a certain age (re: not in their teens or twenties) are likely to spend New Year's Eve in, with family. So after dropping off my parents following their Christmas visit, that is exactly what I did.
![]() |
Grapes ready for the 12 chimes |
Some time after the 12 grapes at midnight the youth and party animals go out. Not my case anymore. For a quiet New Year's at home, another Spanish classic is watching ¨Cachitos¨ or snippets on public television. For hours after midnight, they play clips of music videos from years gone by. They are almost always accompanied by snarky comments on the ticker tape below. This New Year's Eve we had multiple generations singing along, and the youngest rocking out. A fine start to the new year.