Reigning In Spain
Sydney Morning Herald
Saturday February 18, 1995
Garrucha, a fishing village in Andalusia, Spain, is a wonderful place to view the Mediterranean. Its palm-lined promenade is like a down-home version of the Promenade des Anglais on the French Riviera. Boats unload their catch here each morning and the results are cooked at one of the many restaurants nearby.
Our sortie, at 7 pm, was just as the town was waking after the siesta. By the time we had taken a stroll, ordered a copita of fino sherry each and enjoyed our first tapas - whitefish fillets in olive oil, garlic and lemon and a plate of small, sweet prawns - it was 8 pm and the restaurants were arranging their fish displays to attract diners in another hour or so.
We also had fat caper berries and almonds. Almond trees grow wild, as do pomegranates and capers. We are more familiar with the flower buds of the caper bush (capparis spinosa) than the berries that are the fruit of the shrub. They are served pickled with their stems attached.
The surrounding landscape is uncompromising and looks very worn. The 19th-century writer, Washington Irving, commented that Spain is wild and stern the moment it escapes from cultivation. This seems true in Andalusia at least.
We then visited historic Mojarca, with its twisted streets and panoramic views over the Mediterranean - was that Africa we could see? Bougainvillea tumbled over the local farmacia, set back in the cobbled square, its counters made of wood and decorated with old tiles.
The policeman directing traffic on the square is also the local hairdresser - periodically he disappears into a hole in the wall, dons an apron, lays down his pistol and picks up the clippers.
Away from the tourist shops, we smelled sweet peppers cooking and wandered down narrow lanes lined with private houses boasting polished brass doorknobs and heavily curtained windows.
Mojarca has a long and important history. Perched high on its hill, it was naturally isolated. It was in Mojarca that the Christians, Moors and Jews agreed to live in harmony. The Spanish conquistadors entered Mojarca in 1488 peacefully and the village remained a model of co-operation for hundreds of years.
The evidence of Moorish civilisation is still apparent. The whole of Andalusia reflects its Moorish past, but particularly so in Mojarca. The faces of the people, the narrow streets, the decoration of the ceramics, the tiles, and above all, the cube-shaped houses seemingly hanging from the hillsides. Until 30 years ago, Mojarcan women still wore the veil.
A disastrous drought in the mid-19th century started Mojarca's decline and the town fell into semi-ruin during the Spanish Civil War. Departing residents ripped houses apart to salvage timber to pay for their travelling expenses. In the '60s, the local mayor set about publicising Mojarca as a charming village for artists, musicians and archaeologists. The village today is an important tourist attraction because of its history as well as its beauty.
A few days later, a fish lunch seemed an attractive idea, so we returned to Garrucha, "our" seaside town.
La plancha means "on the grill". It is, of course, the best way to cook fresh fish - and eminently portable. All along the waterfront are restaurants and simple bars with a heavy iron hotplate, bottled gas and a refrigerated display of pescados y mariscos (fish and shellfish). The cook needs a bucket of water to wash the fish and his hands, a chopping board, a knife, a jug of oil and a basin of salt. Mussels are tossed on la plancha and a basin upturned over them so they steam and grill at the same time.
We started off with pipirrana jaenera, reminiscent of salade nicoise, here made with generous helpings of tuna, olives, pickled vegetables as well as lots of fresh tomatoes and sweet salad onions.
We then chose razor shell clams, sardines and calamari, all a la plancha. These dishes were all accompanied by slices of hot toast spread with alioli, a powerful garlic mayonnaise, juicy lemons and a saucer of piccante peppers - narrow chillies that were exactly that, piquant without being fiery.
The sardines were twice the size of those we see at home, grilled with heads, scales and guts intact, but sweet and fine while the scales added extra crunch. The razor shell clams were sweet like scallops and with something of the texture of young calamari. The salt that had been sprinkled on the clam shells mingled with the olive oil deliciously and we licked the sharp shells very carefully.
With an espresso and half a litre of wine, lunch came to $20 each.
CALAMARES A LA PLANCHA 1 small squid, about 10-12 cm in body length, per person 1 clove garlic per person 1 tbsp olive oil per person black pepper chopped parsley Holding the tentacles of the squid in your right hand and its body in your left, carefully ease out the gut and the transparent, flexible backbone.
Using kitchen scissors, cut through the ink sac and squeeze to ensure that you have removed the small bony bit. Drop the tentacles into a bowl of lightly salted water. Discard the gut, ink sac and transparent backbone.
Rinse out the body pouch and soak it in the salted water for a few minutes.
Peel garlic and cut into fine slices.
Remove squid bodies and tentacles and pat dry. Place in a container with the sliced garlic and the olive oil. Turn to coat. Leave a few hours or overnight.
Heat la plancha to very hot. Drop squid bodies on to the surface. Allow to sizzle and sputter for two or three minutes. Turn to cook the other side and add the tentacles. They will curl up and turn golden almost immediately.
Remove the cooked squid to the marinating bowl and allow to rest for a minute. Cut into slices, scatter with chopped parsley and pour over any collected juices. Drizzle with lemon juice.
(Small, tender squid cooked in this manner do not need to be skinned. The skin grills to a gorgeous bronze colour.) FIELDING A DRY The make-up of Australian brewing is a close parallel to politics. There are two major brewers and a few vocal minor outfits.
The exercise breaks down when it comes to determining the governing brewer. If you are in Melbourne, you'll say Carlton & United. In Sydney, Tooheys is in the speaker's chair. It almost becomes a case of State politics.
The analogy strengthens when it comes to the platforms (products). Both have a light beer, a cold or ice style in clear glass and both have draft. But Tooheys has a dry style and neither has yet to field a wet. Tooheys Dry is a cold-filtered beer in a long-neck bottle with a strength of 5 per cent A/V.
Tooheys Dry is certainly that - it is positively arid. There is an absence of flavour and body, but this means you can slam dunk on a hot day. There is a place for such a brew in the lexicon of Australian beers and no doubt the public will vote with their wallets.
There is also a politically correct, multicultural aspect to the beer. It is great with a red Thai curry.
Purists will cringe when it is suggested it could also be served with crushed ice as a frappe. That notion will probably attract the green vote - pure water and less alcohol.
If the political analogy doesn't appeal, you can always vote informal and drink Two Dogs lemonade. - MARK SHIELD THE GRAPE DEBATE The big buzz in the public bars of the Penola pubs these days is the Coonawarra boundary. Long-time Coonawarrans want to draw a line around a small part of the planted area, the so-called cigar-shaped strip of terra rossa soil that runs along the main road. Others want to give the nod to a much larger area, including many new plantings. The debate often gets animated: there's money, fame and reputation at stake.
Every Australian wine region must be defined as part of the trade agreement Australia has struck with the European Union. The Adelaide Hills has to be separated from Eden Valley and Eden Valley from Barossa Valley. It sounds simple, but there are a lot of egos involved. Ian Hollick was president of the Coonawarra winemakers during much of the yike, but he's retired hurt and left the squabbling to someone else. Hollick, like Petaluma, labels his main red - a blend of cabernet sauvignon, merlot and cabernet franc - simply Coonawarra. It does seem like a good idea: after all, Burgundy is just Burgundy and Bordeaux is just Bordeaux. They don't bother to advertise the grape varieties. It's the region that matters.
The 1992 Hollick Coonawarra ($18) is a most attractive full-bodied red: the bouquet is full of perfumes of coffee, spices and toasty oak, and the flavour has excellent concentration and balance. It's custom-built to accompany roast leg of lamb with mint sauce and trimmings. And it's hard to imagine the wine could come from any other region: those blackcurrant flavours scream Coonawarra.
Hopefully, when the dust has settled, all the wines produced inside the Coonawarra boundary will taste equally true to the district. After all, it's hard to get excited about faceless, same-ish wines that lack regional fidelity.
Let's have more of the likes of Hollick's Coonawarra. - HUON HOOKE
© 1995 Sydney Morning Herald