A Picnic in Heaven

Heaven, I'm in heaven

And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak

And I seem to find the happiness I seek

...

And then, of course, there's the "cheek to cheek" business of the Irving Berlin classic, but I never get to that part when I'm singing the song in my head these days. "I'm in heaven" is on a permanent loop.

Indeed, heaven is the luscious slice of bliss that is currently Barcelona: cotton candy cumuli bobbing on periwinkle skies, whispering oak canopies shading the grand boulevards, terrace gardens erupting in flower, choirs of birds singing the city awake, a heat that hasn't lost its kindness, and a slight breeze ruffling the scarves that cling stubbornly to Barcelona necks despite forecasts of a balmy 25C. It's the kind of ephemeral perfection that leaves one wandering the city in a bemused trance hoping that the reverie never ends.

Actually, the best part is that it's only just beginning. Tourist invasion aside, spring and summer in Barcelona are an absolute wonder and, whether you're a hardened Barcelona resident or a wide eyed visitor, I recommend celebrating their glory with a picnic.

Your picnic need not be elaborate. You can make do with a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of wine or maybe even a cava if you're hoping to get lucky. Throw in a brownie or a punnet of strawberries or perhaps both and you have a veritable feast. All you need to worry about is the blanket as I'm about to take care of the rest.

In terms of ready-made picnic supplies, Barcelona abounds with bakeries and food shops to cater to your every need. In a pinch, try the sandwiches and cakes at the Eixample's Mauri Pastelería (www.pasteleriasmauri.com, tarts and croquettes of all kinds are a particular treat)) or at Garriga (c/ Consell de Cent 308, tel. 932 157 215, the plum cake (in Spanish, "ploom cake") is particularly delicious); more elaborate take away plates and generous American style desserts at Born Cooking (www.borncooking.com, excellent if you're missing carrot cake or chocolate chip cookies); a variety of ready made dishes, including traditional favourites, at Pim Pam Plats and its sister restaurant Pim Pam Burger in the Born (pimpamplats.com); delectable baked goods at the recently opened Atlanta bakery (c/Princesa, just off of Via Laietana, beware of the baffling lack of reasonable take away containers, particularly as there's nowhere to eat inside) [NOTE 17-08-2009: Atlanta closed as rapidly as it opened; in its place, and under the same name, you can now find a women's clothing store]; wine and just about any canned product at the Eixample's Colmado Quilez (Rambla Catalunya 63, tel. 932 158 78; in a nod to old timey redundancy, get the cashier to total your purchase, take the receipt to the woman at the door to pay and return with the stamped receipt to pick up your purchase from the cashier); and, if you're feeling a little more hands on and up for adventure, anything and everything at the spectacular Boquería Market (www.boqueria.info).

Ferreting out the perfect location is also a breeze these days. Some of the best picnic spots in Barcelona can be found on the steamy beaches with their buzzing boardwalks and chiringuitos (venture past Barceloneta and Puerto Olympico for fewer American teenagers); on the shady slopes of Montjuic--best experienced while watching an outdoor movie with your picnic dinner (check out www.salamontjuic.com for this summer's movie schedule, screenings start June 29 and continue to the end of July); amid Ciutadella Park's tree-lined hive of activity, whether during a concert (the Musica Classica als Parcs concert series is scheduled for Thursdays and Fridays at 10pm in Ciutadella and Turo Parks between July 2 and 24, 2009) or an impromptu juggling rehearsal; within the idyl of Gaudi's Parque Guell (brave the crowds at the entrance and on the fabulous tiled terrace and make your way to the rustic aqueducts lined with alcove benches); and, if you're in the mood for a subway ride (Mundet or Valldaura metro stops on the Green Line (L3)), lost in the childish pleasure of the the living labyrinth in the Parque del Laberinto de Horta. For more information about Barcelona parks, gardens and beaches check out the Parks and Gardens portion of the City's website at www.bcn.es/parcsijardins.

Oh, and one more thing, if you're lovers, or maybe even if you're not, take along a book of the now deceased Mario Benedetti's poems, as Felipe and I did this week, and select a few to read out loud over a glass of wine on the grass.

Lent Lunch

So, I decided to try it out. You know, Cuaresma. Why not? I can abstain with the best of them (for short periods and when large quantities of food are available).

I bought a book: La Cocina de Cuaresma (The Cuisine of Lent), Raquel F. Moran. It's from the same series as The Cuisine of the Nuns, if you must know: a little murky on the details, but altogether a fine source of ideas.

This Friday, I invited Yukiko, an accomplished cook in her own right, to try my Lenten creations. The imagined menu was a salad of some sort to start (I had an eggplant in my fridge so it was going to feature); Arroz de Cuaresma (Lenten Rice); a seafood item; Judias Verdes con Pimientos (Green Beans with Peppers); and, for dessert, Bollos de Semana Santa (Easter Rolls), a traditional Lenten sweet containing no less than half a litre of olive oil.

Predictably, and despite my best intentions, the last two items were dropped due to time contraints. Let's face it, the beans would have been excessive. And we were really much better off going for a coffee and buñuelos at Forn de Sant Jaume (Rambla Catalunya, just south of Arago), one of my favourite places for fresh buñuelos (bunyols, in Catalan) and outdoor people watching. Buñuelos, by the way, are delicious balls of fried and sugar coated dough and are also typical of Lent.

The on-the-fly eggplant salad went a little something like this: on a bed of mizuna, a.k.a. Japanese mustard greens (could have been arugula), I arranged three slices of eggplant (brushed with olive oil and roasted the night before in a 220 C oven for half an hour, flipped once), a piece of fresh goat cheese (could have have been ricotta, queso fresco or another mild, soft cheese), and the honeyed walnuts I had purchased at the Santa Maria del Pi market a few weeks ago. I drizzled the whole thing with balsamic cream, which is easily found here, but which could substituted by a good balsamic reduction where it's not available. And presto: simple, beautiful, scrumptious.

In contrast, the arroz (think of it as a vegetarian paella) was complicated. But I decided to follow the recipe to the letter this time--more or less. Here's the tweaked version.

Ingredients:

For the stock:
1/2 kilo sardines
2 onions
2 bay leaves
6 cups of water
salt

For the rice:
1 large red pepper
1 medium onion
3 tomatoes
1 green pepper
3/4 cup fresh or frozen peas
2 cups short grain rice
6 tbsp of oil
pinch of saffron
1 finely chopped garlic clove
handful of chopped parsley
salt and pepper

First, prepare the fish stock (caldo)--The recipe doesn't give instruc- tions, but I used sardines (any cheap and flavourful fish will do--Spanish markets have inexpensive "pescado de sopa" or "pescado de roca" which will remind you a bit of the fish you used to have in your aquarium, but which are perfect for stock), quartered onions, bay leaves and salt (as above) covered with about 6 cups of water. Bring to a boil then simmer slowly for 30-40 minutes. Strain out the solids and keep warm. (Actually, I give you permission to use a pre-packaged stock--fish, chicken or vegetable--if you want to save yourself the hassle and your home the smell of boiled sardines.)

While the fish stock is simmering, roast a large, red pepper (I halved it and left it skin side up in a 220 C oven for 30 minutes). Remove from the oven, peel and slice into thin strips. (If you don't want to fuss with the roasting, just slice the red pepper and add it at the same time as the green pepper.)

Also by way of preparation, finely chop the onion; peel and chop the tomatoes (score them on top and immerse in boiling water for 30 seconds to peel); cook the peas; and slice the green pepper into strips.

Once everything is ready, heat two table spoons of oil in a large paella pan or wide bottomed, high sided frying pan. Add the onion and sautee until soft (about five minutes). Add the chopped tomatoes and cook until they start to take on a sauce like consistency. At this point, remove from the heat and, according to the recipe, puree the whole thing and set aside. (I pureed half because I have a crappy manual press and it was proving too frustrating a process. I believe the rice would be just as good if you didn't puree at all.)

Add another 3-4 tbsp. of olive oil to the pan and sautee the green pepper until soft. Add the rice and tomato puree. Shuffle the whole thing around in the pan for a bit then pat down evenly and add the stock along with a bit of salt and pinch of saffron. You'll need about twice as much stock as rice (you can play with the rice and stock quantities and add more stock through the cooking process if it's evaporating too quickly). Allow to simmer for about 20-25 minutes until the stock is fully absorbed by the rice. Do not cover. And be careful with the heat: it needs to be high enough to keep the pan simmering, but not so high that it burns the bottom of the rice (my perennial mistake).

Do not stir. This is not risotto.

About 10 minutes in, add the roasted red pepper, peas, and the parsley and garlic moistened with 2 tbsp. of warm stock. Now you can stir. When everything is incorporated, distribute the rice evenly around the pan again and pat down. If you need to add more stock, this is a good time to do so. It's also a good time to check the seasoning and add more salt if necessary.

Cook on low heat until all the stock is absorbed. When done, set aside to rest for a few minutes and take the opportunity to make the chipirones (baby squid).

I picked up the chipirones the day before at the Boqueria and cleaned them ahead of time by rinsing under cold water and pulling out the crystalline spines.

I had no particular recipe so I sauteed a finely chopped garlic clove in 2 tbsp of hot olive oil for a minute or so, tossed in the chipirones (about 1/2 to 3/4 pound) for 2-3 minutes (until just firm) and sprinkled with half a handful of fresh, chopped tarragon and some salt about a minute before I turned off the heat. The tarragon gives them a delicate sweetness and they are great alongside the rice. They're also a quick and easy tapa.

You can serve all of this with cava (Catalan sparkling wine, comparable to champagne), as I did, or maybe sauvignon blanc (I like the ones from New Zealand).

And, if you're not as much abstaining as indulging, no one will be the wiser.

Cookies for Saints and Dead People

I'm missing Halloween this year: the one day a year that you can give free rein to your fantasy life in public. However, I was heartened to see, on visiting a Barcelona costume shop, that the Spanish fantasy life appears to incorporate rubber-clad nurses, French maids and sexy devils to the same degree as does the Canadian fantasy life--that is to say, mucho. Unfortunately, except in certain English speaking enclaves of Barcelona and some nursery schools (where presumably the fantasy life tends more in the direction of pirates and My Little Ponies), Halloween isn't really celebrated here. October 31, or All Hallows' Eve, hasn't taken on the proportions of the North American Halloween. It's November 1, All Saints' Day, that's celebrated as a holiday. And, since celebrating All Saints' Day really means spending the day at a graveside, it doesn't have the same kind of resonance in the imagination.

On the upside, there are treats. These are known as panellets: tiny cookies of varying shapes and flavours, traditionally accompanied by sweet wine and eaten on November 1, and really, throughout the fall. The basic recipe for panellets requires the preparation of a paste of ground almonds, sugar and mashed potato. The paste is subsequently flavoured with more almond, coconut, chocolate, coffee, pinenuts, orange or whatever else leaps to mind or hand and baked into tiny (usually circular) shapes.

The provenance of panellets is somewhat obscure--that is to say, the internet doesn't have anything definitive to say on the subject. Some say that the cookies have origins in Spain's Moorish past because of the use of almonds. Others relate them to ancient funereal or religious rites celebrated during this time of year. Luckily, no one's going to test you on the subject before allowing you to eat them.

If you are buying panellets, be prepared to drop a lot of cash on some very tiny cookies. Bakeries in Barcelona (the panellets pictured are from La Boulangerie at Bailen and Corsega) typically charge by weight and a kilo of panellets can cost between 30 and 40 euros. Don't worry. It's money well spent, particularly since you won't have to spring for a costume.

Breakfast at Barclays

The main Barcelona branch of Barclays Bank sits on the most famous block of the most prestigious street in Barcelona--the Manzana de la Discordia of Paseo de Gracia, where flamboyant modernista mansions vie with each other for a visitor's attention. Barclays itself is unprepossessing on the outside, imposing and somewhat splendid on the inside, as well befits a venerable financial institution. For better or worse, Barclays is now my bank.

When I first arrived in Barcelona, I visited Barclays almost every morning, sometimes for hours at a stretch. Not for some perverse diversion, mind you, but to arrange financing for an apartment. In Barcelona, particularly as a foreigner, a girl has to all but give up her first born to secure an apartment.

When I found my place, I was still naive enough to believe that I could be living in it the very next day. It was empty, after all. I had hauled an air mattress all the way from Canada for this very purpose. What else could be needed?

Apparently, what was needed in addition to the first month's rent and the agent's commission were four additional months of rent: two to be held by the landlord as a damage deposit and two to be held by my (Spanish) bank as a guarantee in the event of non-payment, a so called "aval bancario". Batting my eyes was apparently not an acceptable substitute. This I had not prepared for and arrangements had to be made.

The agent, sensitive to my total ignorance of all matters financial and Spanish, put me in the hands of a friend of his at Barclays, Aurelio*. Aurelio immediately passed me off to his co-worker, Utz*. Aurelio and Utz quickly became, for me, the Tweedledum and Tweedledee of the banking world.

Aurelio, possessed of all the information supplied by the agent, perpetually had the look of someone who had just jumped onto a fast moving train, having first chased it for several blocks. He was forever late, never returned my calls (hence the need for personal visits), and only occasionally delivered what he promised. However, he always apologized with passion and presented me with alternatives as to where to lay the blame for whatever had not come to pass (por supuesto, the blame never lay with Aurelio himself).

Despite his short-comings, Aurelio was really quite likable, as was Utz. Aurelio's opposite in every respect and undoubtedly of German parentage, Utz was neat, pink and unfailingly correct in all matters professional and social. Utz was the structure to Aurelio's storm and was charged by Aurelio with shepherding me along.

Between the two of them, what in Canada would have taken a day, Aurelio and Utz accomplished in just two short weeks and only hours short of my total nervous collapse.

To fortify myself for, or sometimes to decompress from, a morning at Barclays, I usually headed to one of the terraces on the nearby Rambla Catalunya (pictured above). The Rambla Catalunya (not to be confused with the chintzy chaos that is Las Ramblas, further to the south) is a leafy escape from the suffocating crowds of Paseo de Gracia, a street thoroughly inconducive to eating or relaxation of any sort despite the countless cafes lining its sidewalks. Admittedly, the Rambla Catalunya is full of over-priced touristy restaurants with mediocre food, but the relative peace and excellent people watching are usually worth the price. In any case, a glass of wine is never more than 2 or 3 euros away.

For a cheap breakfast or lunch (all my wallet could stand at the time), the best place was El Fornet d'en Rossend (Rambla Catalunya, 80), a Barcelona chain of French-style bakeries. Don't sit on the terrace and wait for someone to serve you, as I did for a good half hour. The service in Barcelona is of the "unexpected" variety and I have over-adapted to the point of no longer being able to discern when there isn't any. Eventually, the girl cleaning the tables put me out of my misery by indicating that you order at the back of the shop and bring a tray out to the terrace.

With a little more time and cash, you can have a much-better-than-average lunch at Taller de Tapas (Rambla Catalunya, 49-51, www.tallerdetapas.com), an often recommended Barcelona restaurant. Don't be alarmed if the waiters don't smile at you. Despite my efforts, they didn't smile at me either. This did not affect my enjoyment of the food.

(*The names Aurelio and Utz are a fiction, but I like to think that they retain all the flavour of the actual names of my friends at Barclays.)