Cheeseheads Unite!

Tetilla. Arzúa-Ulloa. Cebreiro. These three Galician cheeses literally and figuratively pale in comparison to the smoked San Simón da Costa cheese. For me, golden San Simón is the best Galician cheese. And dare I say my favorite Spanish cheese. Can't beat that smoky taste! And this year I finally got around to surrounding myself with the delicious cheese (and free samples) at its annual festival held in Vilalba, capital of the Terra Chá in the province of Lugo.

San Simón is a golden, tear-shaped cheese made from cow milk and smoked on birch wood. The cheese is preserved by the EU's  Protected Designation of Origin. Meaning if it's not made within the town limits of Vilalba with cows from the Terra Chá (as well as a series of other requirements), well then it just isn't San Simón da Costa. In Galician and Spanish the abbreviation of Protected Designation of Origin is DOP, initials you can find stamped on wines and cheeses. Galicia alone has the four aforementioned DOP cheeses and five DOP wines.

The Big Cheese

This year I was once again on the fence about attending the Cheese Festival because of the weather. April showers bring May flowers, and the first weekend of April this year was gloomy. But then I recalled what some local friends had told me my first year here: If you put off plans because of the rain, in Galicia you'll never have plans. So off we went, and I'm glad we did. Plus the weather held up! 

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!

Calçotada (A Catalan Import)

Calçots ready for grilling

Thin, green and white cousins of the onion. They're not leeks, they're calçots! Calçots are not typical Galician or even Spanish. Rather, they are from the region of Catalonia, where they have their EU Protected Geographical Location. There is also even a name for the celebration that revolves around eating these mild green onions: a calçotada.

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

The sauce is what got me hooked on calçots, to be honest, because without it they are quite bland. We usually dip in homemade Romesco, a sauce made with tomatoes, garlic, and almonds (or other nuts). Apparently though, there is a specific sauce for the calçots which isn't exactly Romesco. Similarly to a chili at home, every family has their own variation for their special sauce. After years of having it, I had gotten a little sick of the calçot sauce. But I'm happy to report that this year our Catalan friend brought his own batch of sauce and once again I was a fan. 

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

Cachena: It's What's for Dinner

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!

I had a close encounter with Cachenas three years ago when I worked at an international agricultural conference held here in Galicia. During it, one of the outings that I worked on as an interpreter was to a Cachena farm in O Incio. Unfortunately for me, I didn't take notes and have a terrible memory. But I remember being surprised that a man barely in his 30s was the farmer, given the fact that the average age of bovine farmers here is 57 years old. After an open Q&A with the guy, we hiked out to the meadow where the cows were grazing under drizzly skies. For me, it was worth braving the rain, because Cachena cows are just so photogenic!

100% Certified Autochthonous!

Fast forward to this year. We ordered a half of a Cachena. Well, a quarter, as we split it with friends. Slaughter the fattened cow! Just Galician things? Just Spanish things? Just European things? I don't know, but nobody I know back home has bought a whole or half of a slaughtered cow. You'd be surprised how much meat half a quarter of a heifer makes. Thank goodness we have an extra freezer! We won't need to buy any type of beef for months. And our purchase came neatly organized in tons of vacuum-sealed packages, each labeled with the name of the cut. Handy! As someone who barely knows the names of cuts of meat in her own language, I'm equally clueless in Spanish/Galician. I'm going to need a cheat sheet, because I wouldn't want to use something optimum for grilling in a stew!

Feeling inspired while researching these previously endangered native species, I got a cookbook specifically meant for cooking with autochthonous breeds from the library. And after reading Presentation, Prologue, and Introduction, well, I have half a mind to buy a plot of land and raise some Galician cows! That's not very realistic, though, so for now I'll stick to buying 100% raza autóctona meat products.

Sources:

Governmental Cow Counts 

Cookbook

Carnival is Coming

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!

 

Winter Getaway to Ourense

The province of Ourense is mostly a mystery to me (except for a bunch of its rural carnival celebrations, plus visits to Ourense city, Allariz, and Ribadavia). It's the one Galician province I've never lived in, although I think I would like Ourense city. So then why did I go back to Ourense city rather than exploring one of its nearly 100 towns? Because it was worth it! 

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

When in Ourense, do as the Romans would do: hit the hot springs. Free and pay-to-enter hot springs line the Miño River on the outskirts of the city. As I had been before, I knew that we'd have to wait in order to get into the Japanese-themed private hot springs. What I didn't know was that apparently I was out of my mind to try to go on a Saturday evening in winter. Two and a half hour wait! We could have taken the AVE to Madrid in that time! The place has a large outdoor cafeteria to pass the time. Needless to say, it was packed. We decided to take our chances on the public hot springs we had passed after crossing the river. And actually, that was all for the better! While the private hot springs have more amenities and offer two choices of circuits (each including small pools of varying temperatures for contrast), there was no wait at the public pool and the water was just as hot. We got there right in the nick of time, an hour before closing. Amazing to be outside in bathing suits in the middle of January, but the water was hot enough to keep you warm and relaxed. It was actually steaming, it was so hot!

 

Going to the public baths instead was also a plus because that way we didn't end up completely worn out afterwards. Since there were only two pools, we got back to the hotel by 8. So here we come, Ourense nightlife! That was something I hadn't gotten to do on other visits. The atmosphere in the old town was great! Tons of people out and about, filling the myriad of bars. We also really lucked out in terms of the bars we chose. One was dedicated to all things pig: pork loin, snout, ears, you name it! They also had dozens of pitchers and bowls hanging for wine, something very enxebre (authentic). At another place, the waiter came around with creative tapas constantly. We had noticed and that's why we went in. Turns out, they do it Donostia-style: you save the toothpick from what you eat, and pay for it at the end. There is no such thing as a free tapa in this city. 

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.

¨Catholic¨ Spain or Galicia

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

I wanted to take my parents to a local mass in one of the over 3,000 small churches that dot the Galician countryside. But I knew that mass is not said in every parish every week. You do the math: there are around 3,700 parishes throughout Galicia and how many priests? A few hundred, if that? Fortunately for us, my parents' visit coincided with our parish's turn to host mass. So off we went, to be the talk of the town. Foreigners in our tiny village church, which isn't even on the Camiño de Santiago. Imagine!

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

Another example of this blasé attitude which I'm sure shocked my parents was Communion. Where I'm from in the USA, just about everybody (kids who have made their first communion and older) goes to Communion during the mass. That's the whole point of going to church. When about 30 people attended mass in the village alongside us, a total of five people went to Communion. Including my two parents! My folks were taken aback. (Me, not so much, as I had discovered this phenomenon previously). When we went to mass at the Cathedral the following week, logically more people went up to Communion, but still not the same percentage of participation we are used to seeing back home.

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. 

Spanish NYE Snippets

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

In Spain, NYE means dinner with family (almost always starring seafood, despite the price hikes during December that could make your eyes pop out of your head like a cartoon), and grapes at midnight. No ball drops here, but folks do gather in town squares to ring in the New Year. Like Americans tuning in to the action in New York City, most Spaniards tune in to broadcasts from Madrid. The Galician TV channel TVG offers an alternative: their program broadcasts from the Praza do Obradoiro, in front of the Cathedral of Santiago. While there are several options for NYE countdown shows in Spain, one channel in particular tries to capture audiences by enticing them with the outlandish dress of presenter Cristina Pedroche. Every year, she wears an enormous cape until 11:59 when she reveals a very revealing dress indeed. Not something I am interested in, but some people in our family insisted we watch that channel to get a glimpse of this year's dress. Yawn.

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.