San Sebastian, Seattle-Style

One rather unfortunate fact about urban restaurants is that they can often be "trendy". This is not to say that the trends themselves are bad - after all the recent emergence of Capitol Hill as a homemade ice cream hot spot (can you reasonably call anything related to ice cream a "hot spot"?) is nothing to complain about. The unfortunate thing is that trends come and go, they can be exclusive and uppity, and they can put a false focus on food as a hip lifestyle accessory, as opposed to, well, simply good food.

Take small plates: it's only logical that this trend should lend itself well to tapas bars, and even, in the case of Txori, a real San Sebastian style pintxos bar in Seattle's Belltown. Along with fellow foodie John, we visited Txori for the first time tonight, and had a wonderful meal of pintxos, those little bites I have been craving since I left Spain in May. Owned by a Basque, the food at Txori (meaning "bird" in Euskera, the Basque language) really captured the spirit of Donostia (aka San Sebastian). The atmosphere, on the other hand, was typical Seattle: spare walls, people casually sitting at postage stamp-sized tables with cocktails and ordering off a chicly minimalist menu.

Of course, I knew this would be the case. It's impossible to transport an entire culture of evening pub crawls, with hundreds wandering the narrow pedestrian avenues, filling the streets with chatter and stopping in at their favorite haunts to reach through the crowds and pluck their pintxos of choice from the platters laid out in all their glory across a hundred year old bar. That this is not what Txori is is hardly Txori's fault, and no reason to avoid the place. I'm just saying that if you ever have the chance, go to San Sebastian, because nowhere else in the world can recreate that scene.

But, as noted above, Txori does an excellent job recreating the food, and our smiling waitress, although not herself Basque, made me fondly recall the gracious Maria and Anna, desk clerks at the Hotel Parma in San Sebastian, who always greeted me with a smile and pleasant conversation. The mushrooms were outstanding, the squid in its own ink was unbelievably tender (How do they do that?! Is the ink the secret?), and they even had txakoli, a barely bubbly Basque wine, although it wasn't quite as tasty as what I remembered from my travels.

Definitely, I want to go back. But I couldn't help but feel a little wistful for the pintxo bars of San Sebastian, where some bars are high end and some bars are divey, and while they are always competing for what's new and novel, the concept of pintxos themselves will never go out of style and are enjoyed by all. How many people are going to enjoy Txori, and how many would look at the fact that it serves blood sausage and octopus and $10 cocktails and never set foot inside? If Txori is still here ten years from now, will it be out of fashion, the hipsters and foodies having moved on to the latest craze, or will it grow comfortably into someplace that everyone knows, where everyone goes to get an evening bite with friends both young and old, foodie or not?

I hope it stays. I hope it continues to delight people with unexpected tastes, while keeping old favorites, and proves that so-called small plates are more than just a trend here. Because ultimately, it should be about good food and good company, and taking a little time out of the day to slow down and savor the good things in life.

So Txori, stick around. And hey, homemade ice cream, you can stay, too. Good food is good food, no matter what.

Pintxo Paradise

This morning, the streets of San Sebastian are almost empty. Being Sunday, few places are open, and the alleys that were bustling with life last night are now a wall of closed doors. Still, one good breakfast option attracts a small crowd, and I head there with my tour guide, Robert, for a breakfast of brioche and cafe con leche. The brioche tears into tender, buttery layers beneath its dark, carmelized exterior. It is a perfect breakfast treat.

And the food last night didn't disappoint, either. This, in fact, was my first true pintxo crawl, as we stopped by various bars, elbowing in to choose from among the artistically arranged platters of pintxos: fresh, white fleshed anchovies that tasted only of lemon and the sea, a sliver of Spanish ham topped with juicy mushroom and shrimp, whole mushrooms cooked to complete tenderness and infused with garlic, their juice bathing the bread on the toothpick as if it had been dipped in au jus, and a Spanish tortilla unlike any I have had so far, one that tasted purely of well seasoned potato morsels, the egg that bound it barely detectable. Where but in San Sebastian could we have such a meal? Robert, who should know, claimed the pinxtos here really are the best in Spain, and even though I lack the necessary experience to make a judgement, I believe it.

Since it was Saturday night, the bars were especially popular, the narrow streets filled with people out for an evening with friends, their chatter providing the soundtrack for the night. And despite its reputation within the food world, San Sebastian is still a place where locals - not tourists - dominate the scene. Perhaps that's one reason why the food is so good?

Tonight our tour group will meet for the first time, and gather for dinner at one of the traditional Basque gastronomical societies, a very special event as one can only dine at such an exclusive club, where the male members cook all the food, through an invitation. I can hardly wait.

San Sebastian So Far

This morning, I narrowly avoided missing the 7:40am train for San Sebastian. Now that I've made it, I feel a mixture of relief and excitement. Upon arrival, I was greeted by the familiar salt smell of the ocean - here was my first glimpse of the Atlantic! Much like the Oregon coast of my home, the wind picked up force as I drew close to the shore, bringing with it a definite chill despite the sunshine. Deep turquoise waves, blue skies, and green trees showing off their new springtime leaves; who could ask for more?

Well, you could ask for good food, and you'd definitely get it. Here in San Sebastian, the pintxos rule. And from my limited time here so far, they don't appear to be catering to the tourists, but rather the locals. Heading out from the hotel around 2pm, the beginning of peak lunch hour in Spain, the pintxo bars lining the streets were bustling with life. While my original intent had been to get a sandwich, I couldn't resist the pintxos. A block from the hotel, I chose a basic place with pub atmosphere, choosing one pintxo topped with a seafood salad, another with egg salad, and a spike of olives, peppers, and anchovies on a toothpick. Due to my lack of Spanish skills, I also managed to end up with a Heinekin instead of white wine, but the beer was actually a pretty good accompaniment to the salty olives and anchovies.

Ah yes - my Spanish deficiencies. I seem to know just enough to get me in trouble. Actually, I can often understand what people are saying to me fairly well, but find that I'm unable to respond in kind. Simple one word responses work best: si, no, bueno, etc. But even there I make mistakes. "Certo?" I replied in Italian yesterday when a woman seated next to me at La Boqueria told me that Juan was "lo mas mejor (the most important)" one in the market. And last night, when I called the shrimp at the tapas bar "camarones", I'm fairly certain the man behind the bar thought I had no clue what I was talking about - not that his assumption would be wrong. While I remember learning to call shrimp camarones in Spanish class, it seems here they are referred to as "gambas", closer to the Italian word for the same.

I also realized that my high school Spanish classes of fifteen years ago did not prepare me for travel in Spain. Sure, I came to Spain on a class trip when I was 16, but those circumstances were entirely different. For one thing, I wasn't ordering wine. It's from my botched attempt to order "uva blanca (or did I say vino bianca?)" that I wound up with today's Heinekin. My garbled words and confused expression must have led the waitress to figure that what the tongue-tied foreigner really wanted was a beer.

But I will keep trying, and hopefully some improvement will come. In the meantime, it's a good thing I'm not a picky eater - I never seem to know what I'll end up with!

Walking the Gourmet Way

As a special treat, I decided to book myself a place on the "Gourmet Walk" offered by Barcelona Walks through the city's TI. A group of around 30 people met at 10:30 and were given turquoise earphones and a little white transmitter that mimicked an Ipod in shape and color. Once our guide, Bernard, had determined that everyone could hear him, we were on our way.

This was my first walking tour in Europe on my own, as I'm usually keeping a discreet eye on all the group members for one of the Rick Steves´ tours whenever I'm in this kind of situation, making sure no one loses the group. This time, I only had to listen to Bernard desribe the many mouthwatering foods we came across on our walk, along with a few tidbits about the local architecture and history, and a simple recipe for that classic of Barcelona dishes, pan con tomate. I can't wait to try it at home.

But more than anything, we saw chocolate - lots and lots of chocolate. Unfortunately we didn't get to taste any, but we were given delicious fresh fruit salads from La Boqueria market and a ticket for two tapas and a drink at our final destination, the Saint Catherine's market. I also made a quick stop during a free time at La Boqueria to take the obligatory photo of Juan, owner of the Pinxto Bar, smiling while giving the thumbs-up signal, just like in Rick Steves' show. I also bought an absolutely amazing pastry from him, crisp and flakey beyond any French pastry I've had, and filled with just the right amount of cream.

All of this coincided perfectly with the fact that I was starting to feel a little better, bringing back my interest in food. At the bar in the market, I sipped on red wine and enjoyed two Basque-style pintxos, one topped with sausage and carmelized onions, the other with eggplant, peppers, and a creamy goat cheese. Pintxos (pronounced peenchos) consist of any variety of toppings served atop a slice of baguette, usually with a toothpick stuck in the middle, enabling you to pay when finished by counting the number of toothpicks you have acquired. Needless to say, I'm looking forward to enjoying a great many pintxos next week while in San Sebastian, the gastronomic capital of the Basque region.

Along the tour we also were able to see a working 150-year-old oven used for roasting nuts, the only one of its kind in Europe. I bought some samples to bring home, so we´ll see how this technique works. Tonight I headed back to one of the shops Bernard had pointed out on the tour, this one specializing in hot chocolate with churros. Ah, heaven! The chocolate was like a silky, molten pudding, and the fresh churros only lightly sweetened with a sprinkle of sugar were the perfect accompaniment. But I really could have used a partner to share the chocolate; not that I wasted any of it, mind you, but such a rich dessert is, in my opinion, best appreciated in a few small bites to savor.

Following dessert with some tapas, I chose patatas bravas and pulpos (octopus) at a bar in La Ribera. Only here again I was confounded by enourmous servings that filled me up and were clearly ideal for sharing. If only Michael were here (although there is no way he would touch the pulpos - I'd still have those little creatures all to myself)!

Still, I feel as if I am finally getting into the foodie world of Spain, and it just whets my appetite for more. After a good night's sleep and an early train trip to San Sebastian, let's hope I'll feel even better and ready for the gastronomic delights ahead. And if you enjoy food and are ever in Bareclona, take the gourmet tour; it's two hours very well spent.