Including recipes in this blog seemed strange to me at first. Although food is a large part of culture, I can’t pretend to be an expert in Spanish cuisine. Or even an expert at making toast. But I have given most of the typical dishes a go. Our family cuisine is a mostly vegetarian combination of multi-cultural Canadian and traditional Spanish. In other words, whatever happens to be in the fridge plus garlic and olive oil.
My version of Spanish food can’t be all bad. Rogelio eats it instead of poaching off his mother daily like his brother and sister do.
When I first arrived in Algeciras I didn’t speak a word of Spanish. OK, I knew cerveza, vino and hola, but outside of the bar that wasn’t much help. My in-laws were curious about me, but get-to-know-you chit-chat was impossible.
So after the awkward introductions I sat on a chair and they all sat on the sofa staring at me. Like I was a strange animal at the zoo.
While staring, they peppered Rogelio with questions, such as:
- “Where is she from?”
- “What does she eat?”
- “Does she has any interesting characteristics?”
All the basic information that a fourth-grader would bring back from the zoo field trip.
“Mommy, today we went to the zoo and I saw a Canadian! It was a female. It looked so weird, with reddish hair and freckles. And do you know what Canadians eat? Oriental stir-fries, Ukrainian perogies, Italian pasta and donuts!”
Food is universally important. We all eat it, in some form or another. So I can only assume that you, dear reader, wherever you are, might also be wondering, “What the heck does she eat?”
Stay tuned for tomorrow’s recipe: Filloas.