Ostensibly, the whole reason we're down here at Tybee is that my aunt Mary and uncle Kent are celebrating their 40th anniversary. They rented the beach house we're staying in, and invited the immediate family to come celebrate with them. Who could pass that up?
We're a family that loves to cook. My mother, of course, is an outstanding cook, and my dad was great with a grill. He also made a killer paté de campagne. Kent was probably the first guy I ever knew that was serious about cooking, and it really left an impression on me. And by cooking, I mean more than just the accepted "manly" cooking on an outdoor grill. Kent making pizzas at home had a lot to do with me wanting to learn how to cook. Kent's son John and his wife Michelle both cook at one of the best restaurants on the East Coast, Elizabeth on 37th. Just about everyone here in this beach house likes to cook something.
So, if you get a group like this together for a celebration involving food, it had better be good.
John and I started kicking around the idea of doing Spanish food one day at the beach. This sort of evolved from just doing some tapas into a full bore, hedonistic, full day of feasting, with a long stream of tapas and ending with a paella cooked al fresco out on the deck.
One thing led to another, and this meal turned out to be the centerpiece meal. On the actual anniversary day. Menus were planned and ingredients ordered and brought. Everything started coming together. We would do this feast on Sunday, August 5th.
The plan basically consisted of this: John and I would do the cooking. We would set out tapas as they were done throughout the day on the table. Every now and then, the family was supposed to check and see what was new on the table. In other words, a very relaxed and unstructured day of feasting. If you wanted to head down to the beach or take a walk, no problem. You just checked back every now and then, poured yourself a glass of something and joined in wherever the feast happened to be at the moment.
The preparation began the night before. We "kids" had a night out consisting of bar hopping and pizza. We got home around midnight, and unloaded some groceries, and I went ahead and put together a sangria.
I took a couple of 1.5 liter bottles of red wine; one Frontera Shiraz and one Frontera Cab/Merlot - both from Chile - and poured them into a large pitcher. I added sliced oranges, lemons, limes and apples to the wine and topped it off with a pint of cognac. Stirred the whole mess together and put it in the fridge overnight. You can't have a Spanish feast without a big pitcher of sangria...
The next day started early, with me making up a batch of sofrito, a wonderful Spanish sauce of caramelized onions, tomatoes, olive oil and pimentón, which is the lovely smoked paprika so prevalent in certain Spanish dishes. I put this in a bowl and set it aside for later.
The first "tapa" was going to be a gazpacho. This would cover lunch in terms of time of day, and would be a nice and refreshing way to start things off. Some of the family was at church and some at the beach and I knew that they'd be feeling a bit peckish when they converged at the house.
Having access to Davis Produce out on Highway 80 means fantastic tomatoes; in this case the Davis Killer Tomato, which is famous around here. We've been eating lots of these tomatoes since we've been here, and I knew they would be great for gazpacho. I cored and seeded around 5 pounds of these tomatoes and roughly chopped them up. To this I added peeled and seeded cucumbers, red onion and red bell pepper. I had taken some day old white bread and soaked it in sherry vinegar. That got tossed into the bowl, as well. I took a hand blender and pretty much liquefied all the ingredients. I added salt, pepper and pimentón to taste, and drizzled in extra virgin olive oil with the blender going. I covered the bowl and set it in the refrigerator to chill and made garnishes based on the main ingredients; tomatoes, onions, peppers, cucumbers and simple, tiny olive oil croutons.
At noon, when the gang converged and got comfortable, I told them where the sangria was and what the plan of the day was going to be. I put out the gazpacho and garnishes, a bowl of mixed olives, a simple salad of artichoke hearts and sundried tomatoes. Sliced, crusty bread was placed in a basket and a plate of chesses was set; Manchego, Idiazabal and Mahon. I also put out a plate of thinly sliced mild and spicy chorizo.
Everyone figured out pretty quick that this was a serve yourself and eat at your own pace sort of day. We were off to a good start.
John had arrived by this time and was starting to prep a tapa he had in mind. I took some piquillo peppers from a jar and heated up some extra virgin olive oil in a pan. I flash sautéed the peppers, placed them on a plate and garnished with Spanish sea salt. Very simple, and I knew it would be one of Mom's favorites. She pretty much spent the day telling stories of when we lived in Spain, which helped give back stories to a lot of the food that was being served.
John put up a neat little tapa of sliced pineapple, Serrano ham and Idiazabal cheese, heated in the oven until the cheese was melted. Very tasty.
There was a bit of a break in there while John and I did various prepping chores.
Eventually, I put out a plate of boquerones. I did this with some trepidation. Boquerones are anchovies, but anchovies unlike anything I've ever had in my life. Most people associate anchovies with the shriveled, brown, smelly fish in tins. Boquerones, on the other hand, are while anchovies; in this case packed in oil and vinegar. They're mellow and very fresh tasting; completely unlike their tinned counterparts, and everyone was very surprised. They really tore into them, and found them, as I do, to be a little addictive.
I had held back four of the boquerones to incorporate into my next offering; a spread of bonito tuna, boquerones and capers served over toasted bread slices brushed with olive oil. Once again, the tuna was a Spanish canned product, and completely unlike its American counterpart. Line caught bonito tuna packed in olive oil. Fresh tasting and not fishy, with a wonderful texture. Because of this, the spread was not what people expected and it went over very well.
The day before, I'd found some pretty Japanese eggplants at Davis Produce. I sliced them in half, lengthwise and salted the flesh and let them sit for a bit. I then brushed them with a sherry vinaigrette and grilled them, along with some asparagus tossed in olive oil, sea salt and pepper. Very simple and to the point.
Around this time, John did a dish of clams and shrimp topped with a roasted tomato "aioli," which was in turn topped with ribbons of deep fried potatoes that had been turned on a Japanese mandoline.
This was followed by plates of thinly sliced Serrano ham and lomo, dried cured pork tenderloin.
The last tapa of the day turned out to be papas bravas, roasted yukon gold potatoes tossed with olive oil, sea salt and pepper, and finished with some of the sofrito I'd made earlier. This was served sizzling in a large cast iron skillet and topped with garlic aioli. Yum.
And there we were. Into the home stretch. Time to make the paella.
John had come up with an outdoor propane cooking ring and I had come up with a 22 inch paella pan at a local cooking store. I had seasoned the pan earlier in the day and it was ready to go.
We already had our mise en place for this beast, so it was just a matter of putting it together and cooking it.
It was getting dark by this point, however. This posed a problem as far as light was concerned. John happened to have a cyclist's headlamp, which we put on The Lady's head. She stood there and pointed the light at the pan.
We were down on a concrete slab below the house and it became clear what the next problem was going to be; sand gnats. These little critters were eating us alive as darkness fell. Chris ran for some bug spray and we sprayed down, but the damage was done.
But no matter. Time to cook. With John handing me ingredients, I did the following:
I fired up the pan, poured some olive oil into it and sautéed a mixture of Vidalia onions and garlic. That cooked for a bit, and then I added a big spoonful of sofrito and stirred it in. The stock was a mixture of chicken and shrimp stocks that to which I'd added a large pinch of toasted saffron. I slowly poured in this deep, golden stock and stirred. Next came the rice; Bomba calispara rice. This is the magnificent Spanish paella rice, with puffy, tender short grains, perfect for absorbing complex flavors.
When the stock came to a simmer, it was time to add the other various ingredients: Chicken parts that had been seasoned and pan fried earlier in olive oil. Clams and mussels. Thickly sliced buttafara sausage, a great Catalan garlic sausage. Julienned piquillo peppers. A couple of bay leaves, salt and pepper. Last to be added was shrimp; Lovely, plump local shrimp.
We nursed the paella along on the burner. When it was done, I carried it upstairs, where everyone was waiting, and set it on the table.
And that's the payoff.
It was so good. Everyone dove in. You would have never known that they had been eating all day. The flavor was incredibly rich, and the rice was moist and golden.
Needless to say, we had also been drinking. Sangria, of course. But also a steady line of Spanish wines, including Carro Tinto '05, Castillo de Monséran NV Cariñena, Burgans Albariño '06 and Muga Rioja Rosada '05.
And dessert was...
Red Velvet Cake! Huh, you ask? That's right. Kent and Mary both love it, and Michelle has a friend that makes the best Red Velvet cake ever. So, with a big "40" candle on the cake, the happy couple passed around slices of Red Velvet cake to the rest of the full and sloshed family. Us cooks collected our "attaboys" and sat around smiling amidst the buzz. We ate dessert, drank some L'Ermitage Brut '99 and got seriously mellow.
Really, there is nothing like cooking for people you love.
