Homegrown

The most striking feature of the Galician landscape, more than its natural beauty or sober architecture, is that almost every property, even on the outskirts of cities, has its own substantial crops, and some degree of self-sufficiency.  

Tall and abundant as they are, vines and maize are the most visible plantings, but there are also beets, pumpkins, potatoes, beans, tomatoes, as well as decent apple orchards.

Self-sufficiency

It derives from the medieval practice of strip farming where arable areas were divided up among families of the village to enable them to feed themselves. It ceased hundreds of years ago in other parts of Europe, for example in England, where its departure further tilted power away from the peasantry towards the elite.

People here own their own title these days (unlike strip farming where lands were divided up each year). You’ll often see the women of the family out in the fields in their pinafores tending their maize.

The property we were staying in had beautiful apple orchards, and we often spent half an hour of late afternoon wandering around sampling different varieties, or attempting to have a five-minute doze in the hammock strung between two apple trees while keeping one eye on a toddler pursing worm-encrusted fruit.

Orchards at Soutamaior cottage

The family who owned the property was keen to have a go at making organic apple juice, and one Saturday rounded up a bunch of friends and neighbours to collect the windfall fruit and press it into juice. They wanted to bottle and and store it to enjoy next summer.

Windfall apples

The number of wine bottles they had collected was perhaps optimistic – there were over 200 laid out around the idyllic spot by the river where they were to start the juicing.

Because they were using a grape press, and grapes are a much softer fruit, the apples needed to be mashed first, using these cool handmade tools below. Hard but satisfying work.

Mashed apples were then placed in the press and the press turned and tightened to release the juices.

 Pressed apples are pictured below.

Juices were then tipped into a vat and transferred to sterilised bottles. The fresh juice was brown and cloudy and exceptionally sweet and flavoursome. Cheers for next summer.

Juice team

Functionalist

I am trying to understand my prejudice against Galician domestic architecture.

Against the natural beauty of deep calm fiords (rias), wild ocean-facing coastline and verdant hills and valleys, the plain-faced severe stone housing leaves me a little cold.

I’m pretty sure it’s not just me: I never saw one postcard featuring a Galician cottage or a mention of Galician architecture on tourism websites.

It’s not awful, just plain. Typical housing construction consists of a very large flat grey brick. There are none of the crooked edges on building materials that give character to stone homes, and it makes it hard to discern the age of the building.

Lovely landscapes, ordinary architecture

Comparisons with Ireland, Galicia’s Celtic sister, are inevitable. In Ireland traditional villages are made up of clusters of deep grey stone buildings assembled with slightly irregular stones, which look cosy and inviting on the frequent wet days that keep Ireland green.

The weighty brick does mean Galician buildings have staying-power. And while you may drive around Ireland being charmed, you also see plenty of tumbling-down ruins – which are rarely spotted in Galicia with their sturdy uniform brick.

And there are some flourishes which, if not prettifying, do add to the visual culture.

One is the horreio, a traditional storehouse on stilts. They sit at the end of the garden for the surplus yielded from Galician households’ crops.

Stone storehouse

Most decorative features on homes (when they have them) are Christian-inspired, and have a sombre charm: engraved crosses, apostles or scallop shells (the traditional symbol of pilgrims to Santiago de Compostela.

There is a traditional monument with Jesus on the cross often placed in the centre of a small square or crossroads.

The cottage we stayed in near Soutamaior was rather attractive with apostles cut in to the stone, wooden shutters and grape vines forming a canopy across the middle of the house.

Our cottage

But maybe that’s just a matter of aesthetic prejudice again.

Now I have that off my chest I shall return to a celebration of this lesser-known province.

Best food moment: everyone loves churros right? Hot sticks of deep-fried dough, preferably served with a cup of molten chocolate. We sampled this (so-called) breakfast speciality of the region on a rainy day in Pontevedra. Bliss.

Santiago de Compostela

We had just passed Burgos, in the north-east of Spain when we spotted our first pilgrims – we thought we still had a long way to go to reach Galicia in the west; these guys would be walking for weeks.

The Camino di Santiago, one of Christianity’s most important pilgrimages, can take up to 45 days (starting in France) in its most formal iteration, and is now considered a physical as much as a spiritual feat.

Pilgrims are heading for the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela (pictured above) where the body of Saint James is said to lie in tomb. Allegedly he crossed over from the Middle East in a stone boat in the 9th Century. This event provided a rallying point for Christians in the early days of Muslim rule and led to the emergence of the pilgrimage, which became instantly popular, and is again today.

Many more walkers join the pilgrimage at closer points to Santiago, walking for hours or days, rather than weeks.

On August 15, the day we arrived in Santiago de Compostela, the elegant moss-covered cathedral was at capacity with worshipers, and a guitarist led singing from the altar.

The congregation was overwhelmingly young, many were in big groups, draped in matching t-shirts or flags; they were exhausted but bright-eyed. Where there were no seats they clustered in the aisles, and some were accompanying the music on their own guitars. Many came from as far as Brazil.

Not sure if this is a typical scene, for the next day the international World Youth Day (actually a five-day, three-yearly event) for Catholic youth was to begin in Madrid, hosted by the Pope, so it is possible people were in the country for this and it skewed the demographic of worshipers. 

Suspended from the nave of the church is the long 'botafumeiro', a giant pendulum that burns incense and swings across the nave, designed to out-fragrance the stench of pilgrims in the days before deodorant.

In the cathedral square outside walkers lean against the pillars, rest their blistered feet and gaze back at the final destination.

In contrast to the higher reverence, surrounding shops in the narrow streets of the old town (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) are stacked high with a breast-shaped cheese known as tetilla (titty cheese). The story is that a statue designed for the cathedral of a beloved Queen Esther had been sculpted with large breasts. Town leaders ordered that these be reduced in size, and in protest, cheesemakers responded by shaping a local soft cow’s milk cheese as a breast in her honour.

As elsewhere in Galicia, there are suberb seafood-oriented tapas bars and tavernas throughout the old town.

The other food to try is the traditional almond tart of Santiago which is decorated with a stenciled icing sugar cross. 

Paella time

Portugal is separated from Spain on its northern border by the River Minho. Pleasant villas line the high banks of both sides of the river, all sharing the view of another country.

Valenca, Portugal

We visited one of the border towns, Valenca, an enclosed town built inside high castle rampants, very picturesque and now given over primarily to visits from Spanish neighbours seeking good-value textiles. Meanwhile the borderland Portugese come in the other direction to buy petrol, which is 30 cents cheaper a litre in Spain.

The meal to have was arroz de marisco, a Portugese rice and fish dish, like a saucy paella. It was very tasty, with a strong crab bisque flavour through the stock and plenty of seafood.  Three of us shared the serving for two and we couldn’t finish it, but we had been devouring percebes back over the border as a first lunch a couple of hours earlier…

Arroz de Marisco

Back in Galicia we found a large paella pan lurking in the cupboard of the house we’re staying in.

Paella is from Valencia but is much-loved all over Spain.  Chefs have outdone each other to produce record-breaking communal servings – the largest served 110,000 people in Valencia in 2001.   

Rice such a generous platform for the base of a dish – picking up all the seasoning and spice notes while still holding its nubbly, moreish textures. Risottos, biryanis, jambalayas… whenever I have them I think I should eat these more often…

I’d read about Claudia Roden’s new book a Taste of Spain in this interview on epicurious.com. she comes across as a very serious personality but I enjoy the way she tells a story of culture and history through her food writing.

We used her seafood paella recipe and added red peppers and monkfish. The highlight was the squid, beautifully softened from the half-hour cooking with the stock, seasonings and wine.

Our seafood paella

Great for a party, ours made a bit much for two us. Paella leftovers for a couple of days…

First tastes of Galicia

When Dave asked his friend Inma from Madrid where we should stay in Spain for two weeks, she didn’t hesitate to recommend her home province of Galicia. “The seafood and the beaches are the best in Spain. I’m only telling you this because I like you; otherwise I would say ‘go to the south, it’s much hotter.’”

There are very few non-Spanish tourists away from the pilgrimage centre Santiago di Compostela, but in August at least, towns are kept busy with other Spanish. If you are experiencing high 30s/early 40s every day at home, you seek fresher temperatures in the north on holiday.

Combarro

Galicia has been described as Spain’s Ireland. It is full of verdant valleys, gurgling rivers and a jagged coastline with a sky whose mood seems to change several times a day. But that’s not where the connection ends: the Celts are believed to have been some of the earliest inhabitants of Galicia, and Celtic heritage is taken quite seriously in some parts. 

Galician band taking a break

We are staying in the southwest near Portugal in an area known as the Rias Baixas. Geologically this area is fairly unique consisting of estuaries/fjords that cut deep into the land, and each dotted with pure white sand beaches.

Galicia has always had an independent spirit. In Roman times it was the Kingdom of Gallicea; it was never part of Muslim Spain; and it has a separate language and cultural traditions (such as haunting music and bagpipes – another link to the Celts) as well a small independence movement.

But Galicia is probably best defined for its relationship with the sea. Just north of the Rias Baixas is the Coste da Morte, the Coast of Death, so-named because of the infamous shipwrecks that repeatedly occurred off the jagged coast. The region has also been privy to monumental events in naval history.

The best seafood in Spain accolade is due to its location on the Atlantic Coast, where it benefits from Gulf Stream undercurrents, and its rias, which provide perfect sheltered conditions and nutrients for an abundance of sea life.

Oyster shucking in Vigo

Fishing towns with significant fleets abound on the 1500km of Galician coastline and rias are dotted with barnacle farms.

Vigo's fishing fleet on a rainy day

All these coastal towns have lively eating and drinking scenes; in summer, even on an overcast day, bars and restaurants see plenty of people enjoying a plate of local seafood and a glass of wine.

We met Inma and her husband Esteban in Baiona (where the news was first received of Christopher Columbus’s discovery of the West Indies). On seeing ‘percebes’ on a restaurant chalkboard they insisted 11.30 was not too early for a plate of these local delicacies.


Percebes grow in clusters of crooked fingers with a black gooseneck skin and shiny white pointy ‘nails’. You release the meat inside with a twist and pull action. The meat is sweet and delicate, and not at all fibrous or chewy. 

Percebes

But as unusual as these are to look at, the story of how they are collected is more so. They grow only on very steep cliffs where there is heavy surf; the diver, with a rope tied to his ankle, must make a jump into the surf to chisel the barnacles from the rock with a knife, before he is hammered against the cliff by the next incoming wave. No wonder some still had the rock attached!

Tapas-style dining – where you can stop in and have a snack or small meal at any point of the day – works well for sampling the seafood of Galician towns. As restaurants are generally open from midday to midnight you can drop in and share a plate of seafood and a drink, and a few hours later, maybe in a different town, have something else – without being encumbered by a huge meal, or massive bill. 

Other seafood to try includes Pulpo de Gallega. Served all over Galicia, this is a dish of extremely tender octopus slices with paprika and olive oil.

Pulpo de Gallega

In the city of Vigo a plate of oysters and the excellent Albarino wine is known as ‘a traditional Vigo hangover cure’. Sunday lunchtime it was heaving (although mainly with tourists). Where we are staying in Arcade is also reknowned for its oysters.

Razor clams in Combarro were succulent and meaty.

Razor clams

Calamari was made from a combination of tentacle rings and baby octopus; it was so delicately crumbed that the batter slid off when fried - looks messy, but absolutely superb.

Calamari

Drink pink

I like to think if you were to look at a satellite image of Europe, you would make out a gentle pink blush in the corner that is the Cotes de Provence.  Not the raucous red of too much rouge, just the delicate pink of an early spring blossom. This is rosé country where half of French rosé, and almost a 10^th of the total world production originates.

The romance may be lost on google maps, but the shelves of local wine sellers and supermarkets are dominated by rows of pale pink wine, putting the reds and whites in the shade.

Vines were first introduced to Provence by the Phoenicians 2600 years ago (indeed Provence was the first place in France where vines were planted) and when the Romans came around the 2^nd Century BC they developed viticulture significantly. 

Rosé is made by lightly pressing red grape skin, pips and pulp and allowing these to mascerate for up to eight hours leaving the tint of pink and hint of tannin in the liquid.

The wine has grown hugely in popularity as a summer drink in recent years.

We were staying at a friend’s house in Pierrefeu-du-Var about one hour north of Nice.

We spent the afternoon wandering through the vines on one side of the village, where workers were tinkering at the vines in the baking heat in anticipation of busier harvest weeks ahead.

And we spent the evening looking down from the terrace at more vines on the other side of the village sampling a refreshing flowery wine from Chateau La Gordonne, which you pass on the way in to the village from Nice. Made by the sun, made for the sun.

Best food moment: because we ran out of time to swing by Nice our tribute was a Salade Nicoise (more-or-less) with lettuce, beans, boiled eggs, tuna and Provencal herb olives. Fresh and tasty, and while I was putting it together, I used a bunch of the same ingredients to make a pan bagnat (scooped out country loaf stuffed with tuna, olives, boiled eggs, yellow peppers, onions) for an on-the-road picnic the next day. 

Made in Genoa

There’s only one dish that our two year-old and her parents eat with gusto together: that’s spaghetti. And of all the ways we can eat spaghetti, there’s only one that requires no readjustment of flavours between the generations: that’s pesto.

So I was pretty excited about getting to Genoa, having all three of us sit down at a restaurant, get Milly to turn her nose up at chips, and tuck in to a big bowl of pesto alla genovese.

Genoa is a port in Liguria, a sailor’s city, and the gateway from which many millions of impoverished emigrants left for America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.
 

Genoa waterfront

This city’s famous green sauce should be made from a pretty exclusive little club of local ingredients – at least according to the Genovese.

As with other foods that can so easily be bastardised, Ligurian food producers have sought to protect the authenticity of their food culture through EU protected designation of origin (DOP in Italy).

There is even a confraternity of pesto that has an edict of how pesto should be made: strictly Ligurian basil (does not have the mint/fennel notes of other basils), Ligurian olive oil, European pine nuts, a combination of parmigiano reggiano and pecorino cheeses, garlic and salt.

Such precise provenance requirements from so many ingredients seems over the top, and yet by setting out rules like this, and especially by seeking DOP status for components of pesto (the basil, olive oil and cheeses) producers maintain a marketing edge over corporations who compete with cheaper ingredients, eg cashews instead of pine nuts or basil from Asia.

Why not do everything you can to protect something this good?

We chose an ordinary cheerful, busy café near the wharf for this highly revered, increasingly political sauce.

I would like to say we then proceeded to eat pesto together, but perhaps more inspired by the scent of ocean than my vision of shared pasta, Dave took a swerve towards a swordfish steak at the last minute. Milly and I lapped up every last piece of the tingly, creamy pasta, and could’ve had another bowl. I'm sure when I return to the time scarcity of working motherhood I will inevitably fall back to supermarket own-brand stuff in a jar, but from lofty heights we will fall...

Who needs cutlery when you have pesto in Genoa?