Personal Space Soup
I tell my boyfriend to follow me closely. His disbelief is not only palpable but noticeable on his widened eyes and dubious expression. The main room of the bodega is bursting, the Spaniards at the table by the entrance have to shuffle for the door to open. I grab my partner’s hand and lead him to the bar, where the service flap is. “Permiso”, “Disculpa”, “Lo Siento” are what I say to the bodies I squeeze past, as we duck under the flap and behind the bar, to the back room.
This room is also very full. But there is a narrow bar that runs along the wall and people stand in front of it, some lucky ones with stools. We see a small corner and claim it for our own. It is next to the station where magnificent jamones are hanging in different levels of their consumption, where an expert goes to slice the legs when orders come in. We perhaps have the best view in the house.
More than a year before this trip I was here with a friend who had just moved to Spain, and when we met up in Madrid she showed me this bodega, where a few of her friends were meeting us. They introduced me to the wonderful nightlife of Madrid I had not really experienced before. We drank vermuts or claras (light beer with lemon fanta) and ate a soft tortilla Española, crispy croquetas and bowls of cold salmorejo. And then proceeded to do the same at other bodegas throughout the night. I was so happy to be back, with my love.
Our preconceived concept of personal space is something that I think should be challenged more often when we enjoy traveling. I live in a city where there is a very polite bubble around each human and it’s easy to go through a whole day without anyone even coming close to bursting it. In Spanish bars the number of tables in a space does not dictate the number of parties that dine in it. It is normal for people to order food and drinks from a full bar and then just hope a small section of a bar, shelf, or even someone else’s table is available to set down plates. I was concerned a few times by how possessive I am of my space, as if having another human’s presence close by would be detrimental to my experience in some way. Perhaps Covid trauma… Perhaps not.
Once my boyfriend and I settled into the small corner of the bar and ordered a few items, we also realized we had to eat the items, fast. Not a difficult feat, since we are just starting our trip and are hungry for it all. I think we ate blistered peppers and manchego cheese with every meal, and we tried jamon in all its forms. We ate squids of all sizes and doused everything in olive oil.
The salmorejo came out last, with a small bowl of picos (short breadsticks) on the side to dip into. Although we were there on a very cold November day, when tomatoes are not in season, the salmorejo still comes out silky and tasty. The simplicity in its creation is genius. Just four ingredients blended until smooth: tomatoes, garlic, bread and olive oil. Add some acidity (lemon or vinegar) to taste and obviously a generous sprinkle of salt and pepper goes a long way.
Dear readers, I do not have a recipe for you today. I have made salmorejo more than a few times this summer but I do not have the bandwidth to write down my formula yet. Not while I am doubting if the itch on my arm is a stray hair or a spider hitching a ride from harvesting tomatoes off plants that are planted way too close to each other and have created a jungle.
But don’t worry, there are many Salmorejo recipes out there. Here is a good one. And honestly you just have to blend ripe tomatoes, a few cloves of garlic, a bit of bread and slowly pour in olive oil till silky. I add a splash of my infused vinegar, salt and pepper to taste. Strain, chill and garnish. With what?
Croutons
Potato Chips
Chopped Boiled Egg
Fresh Herbs (Basil, Dill, Cilantro, Parsley, Celery Leaves, etc)
Bits of Cheese
Chopped up Charcuterie
Good Olive Oil
A slight discomfort from putting ourselves in different spaces to create memories to savor for later
What was on the plate?
From the Garden: Our first corn from our first successful Three Sisters Garden. We love looking at the beans firm grasp on the silky corn and how well insulated that patch is because of the squash. I miss my sisters.
From the Farm: Fresh herbs like basil, shiso, parsley, cilantro and dill, topping everything we eat or drying up for winter times.
From the Screen: The 1940s movie named Gaslight with Ingrid Bergman, where a naive wive is carefully manipulated by her newlywed to believe she is going crazy… sound familiar?
