I remember the days when I hated changing diapers. I couldn’t wait for my daughter to be potty trained so I would only have one baby in diapers. Now I look back on it and realize that diapers weren’t that bad after all, because now we have to brave the public toilets whenever we go out around the city.

I need to clarify that I’m not necessarily a germaphobe, but I find that a lot of public toilets in Madrid are quite dirty and not very child friendly. That’s why I thought this might be a useful post for all those mommies trying to brave the public toilet conundrum.

Here are 10 tips for braving the public restrooms in Madrid with a little one:

1. Look for the handicap stall and use it if they have one. They usually have more space. If not, use the regular stall, but make sure you have enough room to maneuver with your child. This might be a luxury in Madrid, but I find that chains like VIPs and Fosters tend to have roomier stalls.
2. Always keep some Post-it notes in your diaper bag. Much more common in the US and Britain, automatic flushing can also be spotted in several places around town. Most kids can get pretty scared by the automatic flushing and almost everyone doesn’t like getting their bottom drenched. Use the Post-its to cover the eye of the flusher and remove it once all is said and done.
3. Antibacterial wipes and gel are your best friends. Believe me when I say this; they are critical. Not only can you use them to wipe the seats down if you need to, but they will be very useful specially when the wash basins have no soap (which I’ve found to be all too common in Madrid). You will need to clean your little one’s hands after using the public restroom and without soap, antibacterial anything is second best.
4. Bring along a foldable toilet seat or a travel potty if you can. As gross as that seems, since you need to bring it back with you, a foldable seat is the best barrier between your child and the yucky seats. They’re also great because they keep them from falling in. I love our foldable seat, which I bought at Corte Ingles. I keep in a ziploc bag in my diaper bag and exchange the ziploc bag once we’re home and wash the seat. Travel potties are great for visits to the park, where getting to a public toilet might be a bit of hike at Retiro.
5. Bring a pack of disposable potty toppers. They are great for using on the go and some even cover the front of the toilet, so you don’t have to worry about their underwear or clothes touching the rest of the seat. You can look for recargas de orinal para viaje in baby megastores like Prenatal, get potty toppers online or have your relatives send them to you. My daughter loves flushing the toilet after going potty, but before I even go into the public restrooms I tell her that she shouldn’t touch anything and that she needs to let mommy flush when she’s done.  I also tell her we can have all the fun she wants to have at home, but outside she needs to listen to mommy.
6. Always keep some wipes in your purse. Even though your kiddy might be out of diapers, you will need wipes for many things, especially in a public restroom.
7. Make sure you spot the WC prior to your child asking to go to the potty. Knowing where it is and how to get there is fast is key for avoiding accidents.
8. Always keep an extra pair of underpants in your diaper bag. You never know if you will need to replace them after using the WC.
9. Always have your child use the potty at home before heading out.

Wish us luck as we continue to our adventure around Madrid and I keep my fingers crossed that next time you enter a public restroom with your child that it will a decent one. Good luck!

Main photo by Paul Mayne

Váter Battles appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

I’m one of the few Australians living here in Madrid and know first-hand that finding a home away from home is a stabilising necessity for expats. Museo Sorolla, the former home of Spanish painter, Joaquín Sorolla, is like a second home. It’s a place of solitude but also of consolation (I know all too well the distinction between being alone and feeling lonely).

Sitting on a mosaic-tiled bench beneath a canopy of palm fronds and foliage dappled with light, I feel more at home in Sorolla’s garden than anywhere else in Madrid. As an artist, I can also identify with Sorolla’s world, a place far removed from its business-like, urban surrounds.

The experience of home

Museo Sorolla is for me and I assume for many others, the most elaborate and intimate display not only of an artist’s body of work but also of his unconcealed personal life and surroundings; in the full sense of the word, his home.

The intimacy of Sorolla’s gallery rests on the fact that most of his paintings are of his family. Yet, although subjective, we can still relate to his works precisely because they are so sentimental and human. We can look upon Sorolla’s family as if they are our own. I instantly thought of my own sister when gazing at a painting of Sorolla’s two infant daughters. With naked backs turned to us, the two small girls look out to sea, standing knee-deep in glittering water, and holding hands in a causal, natural manner typical of siblings who are close in age.

‘Madre’/Carlos Octavio Uranga

I was also drawn to ‘Madre’, a large, predominantly white picture plane from which emerge the resting heads of Sorolla’s wife and child. Close up, two serene faces are seen to blend seamlessly into foreground and background through the artist’s soft, flowing brushstrokes which unify rather than demarcate the figures and their surrounds. They float within an ambiguous sea of shimmering, pearlescent white.

Stepping back however, the figure’s initially ambiguous context subtly arises. As if one’s eyes are adjusting to an interior cloaked in darkness, nuanced detail visually evolves and develops. Delicate, incremental tonal gradations and colour notes shift and consolidate to reveal a cushioned bed in the corner of a day-lit bedroom. The white is in fact not white at all, but rather an accumulation of scintillating colour – blues, greens, neon orange, yellow, off-white, silvery greys; what could be described as fluorescent white. This shift in detail is a testament to Sorolla’s deft handling of hue and half-tones, which, from afar, vitalise the expanse of white with an almost photographic realism.

‘Siesta’/colealomartes

By contrast, a painting hung opposite, entitled ‘Siesta’, also a portrayal of rest, is far bolder and cruder in its execution. Four female figures lie on an undulating bed of electric-green grass. Like in many of his paintings, Sorolla excludes the horizon and develops the whole scene at ground level, vertically tipping it as it were up towards our eyes. This forced perspective creates an intimate vantage point that draws us into the same space of his figures. More concerned with the effects of light itself, the work is dissected by slices of bright light and fragmented, abstract shapes suggesting rather than specifying flesh, shadow and movement. Frenzied, spontaneous brush strokes evoke an intense sensation reminiscent of the artist’s anxiousness to capture a fleeting moment of sun-drenched slumber.

Casa museo

The richness of Sorolla’s inspiration and subject matter dramatically unfolds once you reach the estate’s central room. Illuminated by a sky-lit ceiling almost nine metres high, the oversized bohemian interior is filled with an abundance of paintings – this time of a more diverse subject matter than is shown in the previous two rooms, along with an eclectic display of the artist’s personal possessions: a collection of giant leather books, oriental ceramics, textiles, unfinished sketches, paintbrushes and crinkled paint tubes, a well-used palette, Rococo mirror, engraved wooden tables, velvet-cushioned chairs, stone busts, decorative pill boxes and fans, photographs, and a 19th century day-bed to top it off. Just being in the space is overwhelming intimate.

But there is also an eeriness and nostalgia to the space, which reminds us not only of the artist’s presence, but also of his permanent absence. If you look carefully enough, you’ll find dead leaves scattered about the room, encircling his palette and peeping out of porcelain, that Sorolla himself had gathered from the garden outside. We feel at the same time in touch with and estranged by Sorolla, whose private space we are both invited into and inevitably excluded from. After all, what was once an inhabited, lived-in space is now a thoroughfare for viewers, a museum. As if echoing the paintings lining its walls, the room is a joyous, vivid, and deeply personal distillation of a time that may be remembered but not relived.

A wide, wooden staircase connects the central room to the upper level of the house where the family’s sleeping quarters used to be. Architecturally alone, the house is interesting: from the staircase landing you can peer through panoramic windows to the house’s interior, a previously invisible row of paintings, and beyond to the garden outside. All physical features of Sorolla’s environment feed back to each other, with his paintings serving like painterly mirrors to their integrated surrounds. The simultaneously eclectic and unified nature of the exhibition is what also makes it such a worthwhile and stimulating experience.

The same bronzed figures and spiralling rosebuds that the viewer sees on their way into the house feature in the form of canvases layered with buttery pastel hues. In ‘El Rosal’, a tangle of yellow roses dangle like jewelled regalia across pale, sun-bleached colonnades. The illusion of reality created by Sorolla’s expert impressionistic style, which deals in visual impressions of colour and light rather than pedantic accuracy of form, is here most obviously demonstrated. Only one of the countless roses shown is painted in full detail. The surrounding flowers and foliage disintegrate into disparate shapes and indeed colour that is progressively abstract. Green vines flow out peripherally into violet tendrils, just as individual petals disperse outwards in short, sporadic daubs of paint.

This abstraction and flurry of brush stokes causes Sorolla’s paintings to pulsate with a vital pace and energy. Sorolla himself said, “I could not paint at all if I had to paint slowly. Every effect is so transient, it must be rapidly painted.” And yet what makes his posthumous home so alluring is the juxtaposition of the ephemerality of moments in time, indeed of life, and the preservation, that is, the freezing in time, of Sorolla’s world. If you haven’t yet visited the gallery, it’s about time you did.

Hours: Tuesday-Saturday 9:30- 20:00, Sunday and public holidays 10:00-15:00
Cost: Free Saturday after 2pm and all day Sunday! Otherwise €3, or €1.50 reduced price.

The Intimate Museo Sorolla appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

“Vas a coger frío.”
“Pero, ¿no quieres más? ¡Come más!”
“Hija, no puedes salir así, ¡que no llevas calcetines ni nada!”

Ah, los suegros, Spanish in-laws. In-laws in general get a bad rap with the mother-in-law often seen as the villain, and in Spain it’s no different. The joke’s on her; she’s the one you should be scared of, according to movies, television, and the Internet.

I first met my in-laws after dating my husband for only a month. This, in Spanish terms, is quite soon. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but Mario tried his best to assuage heighten my fears by informing me that his mother believed that no woman could be good enough for her son. Uh, thanks for the confidence booster, darling! I was more terrified than ever. Luckily, my mother-in-law showed no signs of finding me wanting after our first meal together, appropriately a cocido, to warm us up on the late-autumn day in November.

Since that day, I’ve learned a few things about dealing with Spanish in-laws, particularly my Spanish in-laws who are different than any others, but they seem to share a few common traits with other Spanish parents of their age.

1. Always dress appropriately. You mustn’t cause your mother-in-law to worry about you when you go out in fifty-degree weather without a scarf, no matter if you’re from Indiana and fifty-degree weather is practically spring. Don’t forget to always wear socks from November—April. Flats without socks is not fine. Do not even try.
2. Ask for seconds. There is nothing — I repeat, nothing — that will win your mother-in-law’s heart faster than asking for seconds (or thirds!) of a dish.
3. Be honest, but not too honest. Don’t tell them everything. You don’t want them to worry unnecessarily. So if you’re walking alone in Madrid, don’t say that. Don’t let them know you had a fight with your friend or that your work situation is really bumming you out. With my parents, I feel free to tell them most everything, but with Mario’s I refrain.
4. Talk about why you like Spain. They don’t want you taking their baby away from them! You have to like Spain, so let them know what it is about Spain that attracted you!
5. Ask questions. My father-in-law, a former high-school teacher, is quite the knowledgeable fellow. If it has to do with flora or fauna, he’s your man. He loves to teach, and since he exhausted his teaching rights on Mario and his brother long ago, I am the new student. I’m happy to learn! But it never hurts to ask. With Mario’s mother, I ask about her areas of expertise: cooking (lentils, tortilla), how to fix things around the house, and what sorts of stores I need to go to in order to buy that one little thing I just can’t find here.
6. Spend time with them. After all, how will you get to know one another if you don’t chat from time to time? I’m sure this is obvious, but living with Mario’s family as we prepared for our wedding brought us much closer together.

In all seriousness, Spanish-in-laws shouldn’t be feared anymore than any others. In fact, if you’re looking to eat some of Spain’s best food, they’ll likely be your greatest allies. I’ve never eaten better than in their home. If you treat them with love, respect, and just a tadbit of healthy fear, you should fare just fine.

Oh, and never forget to call them on their Saint Day!

Main photo by gafas

Help! I’ve Got Spanish In-Laws appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

I’ve got news for you.  Hold on to your seats.  Ready?  Madrid’s annual patron saint fiestas, San Isidro, are once again upon us and that means it’s time to hit the streets and paint the town red!  What do you say?  Sounds ¡genial!

Of course, if you want, you can also just sit home and watch reruns of The Big Bang Theory in Spanish and never know the difference.

What? Might you ask. Madrid? Madrid, the real city that never sleeps? Revelry Capital Madrid? Teflon Madrid, with its bars and cafés packed to the hilt even with 25% unemployment and a massive bailout looming? Ignore its fiestas? You would have to be nuts.

Sad, but true. But let’s see what I’m getting at.

You see, while iconic Spanish fiestas like Pamplona’s San Fermin, Seville’s Feria de Abril or Valencia’s Las Fallas attract legions of visitors from home and abroad every year and bring their respective towns to a virtual standstill, you would think that Madrid, with its reputation for being just a notch below paradise for partyers, could crank out the Mother of All Bashes, but surprisingly, San Isidro is relatively low key in comparison. Sure you have your bullfighting tournament, if that’s your thing and you manage to get your hands on a ticket, and there are things to do, but if you didn’t know any better, you might forget the city was celebrating anything at all.

A street vendor selling rosquillas/Rosapolis

Dressed for San Isidro/Alex Bikfalv

I must admit that this has always puzzled me somewhat, but my guess is that it has something to do with Madrid’s size, which dwarfs most other Spanish cities, even the larger ones. To come up with something to the same scale as, say, San Fermin, would involve organizing a party of unfathomable dimensions. Then you have the fact that Madrid is one of those bustling European capitals which can multi-task with relative ease.

There was a time when the city had enough money and energy to throw macro-fests. Back in the 80s you could see the likes of Van Morrison or Joe Cocker in the old rockodromo for a mere 500 pesetas (3 euros) a ticket. Since then, the extravagance has been scaled back, especially since the recession.

Boys running dressed in chulapo/_Lev_

Here’s the City’s link to the San Isidro program, and it’s in English. The teacher within me will ask you to go ahead and do the exploring yourself, but here’s a quick rundown on some of the typical things to do:

• Las Vistillas. A small park around the south end of the Viaducto, on the Calle Bailén, and the classic center of San Isidro celebrations. Lots of nightly fun. Rock concerts and verbenas (fairs). Avoid the food stands, if possible, as they are heavy on both the prices and the grease. The bars and restaurants in the side streets nearby, though, get in on the act, making for a festive time all over the neighborhood. Some of my most memorable nights out in Madrid have taken place there.
• La Plaza Mayor.  Another major focal point. It’s the venue for a wide range of events, from symphonic concerts to outdoor movies to rock shows.  Neighboring streets join in the fun too.
• La Pradera de San Isidro. On the other side of Manzanares. Access it from Metro Marqués de Vadillo. The big thing is to head down there on the 15^th and have a picnic as you enjoy a view of Madrid’s old town.  Gets crowded, very, but what I find cool is that you are taking part in a tradition that goes back at least to the days of Goya. See the artist’s famous painting on the theme for proof.  If you go early enough you can enjoy some cocido, watch some chotis dancing and venerate San Isidro at the hermitage nearby.
• Retiro Park. A more recent addition, there is a pyrotechnic show over the lake on May 15th at 10:30 p.m., put on to the tune of classical music. Spectacular fireworks. Not to be missed! It’s only about 15 minutes long, but well worth it and a nice way to enjoy the park at night.
• Food. Madrid’s doughnuts, las rosquillas. They generally come in two basic styles: the listas, covered in a sugary lemon frosting, and the tontas, which are plain. The listas are good but the others are, at their best, arid and lacking all flavor that a human might find appealing. I don’t know why they are made, I don’t even know why they are even sold, but I have grown to accept them over the years.
• The bullfighting in Las Ventas. Once again, your pick, but it must be noted that this is by far the most important and prestigious event of the bullfighting season. The make-it-or-break moment. It’s also a great chance to experience all the color of this Spanish custom in its most genuine form.  And, with any luck, you might get to see a good bullfight!

The height of the action takes place on the night of the May 14^th and all of May 15^th, the Feast of San Isidro, but the festivities run throughout the week.

So, there you have it. About a dozen reasons for you to stop watching Charlie Sheen speak as if he were from Burgos and join the fiestas in downtown Madrid. There are no bulls running through the streets or polyurethane sculptures going up in flames at every corner, but there is plenty of what Madrid does best: have fun.

Main photo by Sappy_

Yes, Madrid, There is a San Isidro appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

Madrileños love them some brownies. Scan the dessert menu in any but the most castizo of restaurants in Madrid and you’re likely to find the humble brownie front and center. Just like the British gin and tonic (“gin-tonic” in local shorthand) is the new go-to cocktail, the American brownie is the new go-to dessert.

But Jennifer Bardier, a Massachusetts native who’s lived in Madrid for over 4 years, says that the brownies she’s had in restaurants and cafés here don’t quite get it right. So armed with little more than a really sweet tooth and a strong family tradition of homemade sweets, Jennifer and her half-Spanish half-Greek husband, Constantino, set out to show Madrileños what a brownie really is – “not the brownie you get at Foster’s Hollywood” – and opened up Wicked Sweet cake shop in Moncloa.

Gambling on a sweet dream

Jennifer first set foot in Madrid about 7 years ago to do the study abroad program for just one year, but soon fell in love with the city and got a job working as an auxiliar de conversación so she could stay longer.

After 3 years of working in Nuestra Señora de Pilar in barrio Salamanca helping them into the bilingual school program, she moved back to the States with her then-boyfriend now-husband Constantino and taught Spanish in a private school while he studied for a Masters in English. A few years later, Jennifer decided she’d had it with being a teacher and made plans with Constantino to move back to Europe.

They started off by going to Greece where Constantino had family and a prospect of a job. But when the job fell through, the two were faced with a dilemma: move back to the States or move back to Madrid and “try something.”

“We said, ‘We’ll try something. It’s close,’” Jennifer laughs. “We came back to Madrid in September with no place to live, no job prospects, and just a little bit of savings that we had when I was working in the States as a teacher, which at a private school, was nothing. Our friends took us under their wings and into their homes. My husband was about ready to sign on for unemployment and I was considering clases particulares as a full-time job when we had a serious conversation,” recalls Jennifer.

Chocolate orange creme cake, brownies and cinnamon rolls

“We had had the idea for many, many years, since we started going out, that we wanted to bake sweets and share them. It’s something we both enjoy. My husband and I both have a killer sweet tooth. We love sweets and we always found that, you know, in the United States you can find pretty much whatever you want any time of the day, any time of the night. In Greece, they’ve got a great tradition of really sweet sweets. But here, we couldn’t find much.”

So Jennifer and Constantino decided to start looking at locales for rent and found what is now Wicked Sweet before they even found a place to live.

DIY top to bottom

The cake shop is a tiny store that sits on a quiet street between the Argüelles metro stop and the Parque del Oeste. “We didn’t have a lot of money to start out with to be able to put 5,000 euros down for first and last month’s rent plus invest in a little bit of touch-up paint jobs and things like that. When we came across the shop online, the pictures were terrible. The place looked terrible. But the rent was really cheap comparatively. We came to check out the neighborhood and said there’s no problem with this neighborhood. We’ve got tons of university students, we’ve got an older population and a very young population, we’ve got a bunch of academies in the neighborhood. We’re right up the street from two bilingual schools. It looked perfect.”

Wicked Sweet’s shop window

“It wasn’t that difficult,” Constantino shrugs. “I went straight to the ayuntamiento and indicated that this was the local, this is what we want to do. But difficult? No. You have to be the one to go to the Hacienda, you have to be the one to go the Seguridad Social, you have to be the one to pay for these things. There are agencies that can do this for you but of course, you have to pay a lot more. I went to an agency and they said we’d be able to get the license in 10 days but they asked for 3,000 euros. The license itself is only 600 euros.”

At the time, neither of them were employed. “We had the energy back then to do it. But if we were to open say another tomorrow, at least we know the process, but we might look for some help,” Jennifer adds.

Getting a piece of the pie

After a few months of setup and preparation, Wicked Sweet opened its doors for a trial run at the end of January and were met with curious looks by people in the neighborhood, but no takers. “We ended up eating a lot of cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner ourselves. We felt like we were in a fishbowl. We had a lot of people walking by, staring in. They’d look up at the sign and make a funny face and walk on. And then we started bringing the bread in. You know, the smell of the bread just naturally attracts folks.”

That along with the price – pan at just 50 cents says the cardboard sign on the door – made regulars out of the initially curious passersby and once inside the tiny shop, it’s pretty hard for a Madrileño to pass up on a brownie or slice of New York style cheesecake.

It’s also pretty hard for a Madrileño to pass up on a short conversation with Jennifer – in English or in Spanish – who professes that one of the things she loves about Madrid is the personal interaction that Wicked Sweet affords her. “We’ve got little old ladies that stop by just to tell us about their day. I love it. They teach so much. And you learn so much,” she says before quickly bellowing “Bye, sweetheart!” to one of the young kids waving at her from the door.

Not quite rolling in the dough

Just 3 months later, Jennifer and Constantino are no longer eating cookies for dinner. The people who used to just walk on by now regularly stop in for some bread, some sweets and some conversation, all of which are fresh and authentic.

“I think we’re both taken aback by how well we’re doing. We really expected the worst,” Jennifer admits. Already, Wicked Sweet has attracted interest from a few local restaurants and cafés in the neighborhood who have come in to talk about supplying sweets for their establishments.

Jennifer and Constantino

More than surviving, Wicked Sweet is thriving. But somewhere down the line, the husband and wife team would like to be able to have another shop with a full functional industrial kitchen and hope to even employ someone else. “To do our part to help somebody else pay their bills too,” says Jennifer.

Advice for the would-be expat entrepreneur

“Don’t let folks express their fears and you make them yours,” says Jennifer. “‘If everybody’s a negative Nellie, maybe they know something I don’t know,’ I thought. And it eats away at you at night. It keeps you up and you’re like, oh my gosh, what if nobody stops by tomorrow, what if we don’t sell anything, what if the refrigerator breaks. There are things that happen and you deal with them. Don’t be afraid.”

Brownie Points appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

¡Vaya, vaya, aquí no hay playa! So goes the chorus of the anthemic song by the Spanish ska band Los Refrescos, expressing the beach-less plight of the Madrid resident. In the grainy music video from the 80s archive, the bandmates are bedecked in nautical ensembles, life vests and shades, riding a raft on a concrete rooftop crooning, “podéis tener mil cines, mil teatros, mil museos, pero al llegar agosto, ¡vaya, vaya!”

And as for every other month of the year in Madrid, the closest you could get to sittin’ on the dock of the bay would be watchin’ the rowboats go by – over Retiro’s artificial lake. Pacific Ocean? Try Pacifico metro stop.

But does the lack of shoreline mean that Madrid is bereft of any kind of beach culture? Not at all. In fact, it may come as a surprise that Madrid actually has a thriving network of surfers, as well as a surf school authorized by the Comunidad de Madrid. Yes Virginia, if Jamaica can have a bobsled team, then Madrid can certainly have its own group of dedicated wave riders!

Board meetings

La Madrileña de Surf is the first surf school accredited by the Comunidad de Madrid, offering surfing and longboard classes for all ages, weekend surf trips, as well as surf camps in the summer.

On weekends in the city, you can find them in Retiro Park giving longboard classes – an enjoyable sport in itself and a good way to practice board balance on dry land before hitting the water. The classes are open to all ages too, and so the classes are a merry mix of kids and twenty-to-fortysomethings all sharing the adrenaline rush.

Their weekend excursions, called “Escapadas,” head to many of Spain’s surfing meccas from Cantabria to Cádiz, and even beyond the border to Portugal. They even have Escapadas in the winter – packing the thicker wetsuits of course.

Joaquin Cotta is a longtime surfer, nature lover and the the founder of La Madrileña de Surf. His passion for the sport is infectious – heck, he could probably convince a Dothraki horde to take up surfing. It all stems from a lifelong love of the waves, ever since his father first bought him a small board when was nine years old on a beach in Almería. And yet he’s not your stereotypical surfer dude either, dude. In fact, he has a background in advertising and public relations, and his Clark Kent persona spends his workdays creating online marketing apps.

But MadSurf is his real baby, where he’s dedicated the past year building and spreading his personal philosophy. The school is founded on three pillars, issues that he shares are close to his heart – sport, environmental awareness, and language. It’s the perfect summer learning environment for kids who want learn a new, fun sport while learning English from native speaker surf instructors.

Dry surfers?

And yet in spite of his tireless efforts and 20 plus years of surfing, Joaquin would be tagged by some in the Spanish surfing circle as a “secano”  - literally “dry land”. It’s an obvious jab at the geographical quandary, of being involved in a sport that requires a lot of H₂0 to be able to perfect. Yet he refuses to get wiped out by that rather discriminatory label.

Longboard classes at Retiro Park

“People see Madrid surfers and don’t take us seriously,” he shares. “But surfing is a feeling. It’s life. If you don’t live by the coast and need to drive 4 hours away to get to the water, you take advantage of whatever you have. So who has more passion?” He goes on to explain that whereas those who are blessed with a coastal birthright can afford to forego a day of surf if they see that the waves are small, the long distance traveler-surfer in contrast would make the most of every wave he gets.

Joaquin’s dream is for the next Spanish surf champion to be from Madrid, and of course from La Madrileña Surf. A winning “secano”? He believes it is possible. “If you start them young, you can develop the next champion.”

So what’s his pitch for picking up a board this summer?

“Surfing gives you another perspective. It gives you a distinct point of view, an alternate way of life that’s more calm and relaxed, and more in the present. Through surfing, you gain a real appreciation of nature. And most of all, you learn a way of life that’s… no stress!”

Main photo by Heart Industry.

Surf and the City appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

Slurping down snails is something you just have to try if you live in Europe, isn’t it? The French do it, and everybody knows how classy the French are. They also do it in Barcelona, and people are always talking about how Barcelona is the “most European” city in Spain–whatever that means.

Even the Notorious BIG rapped about escargot as one of the things he could finally afford once he hit the big time. No more sardines for dinner, no more public housing — Biggie chose to eat gastropod mollusks.

So why does everybody think eating snails is disgusting? Well, because it is! After trying it in a couple of places, I can say without hesitation: give me a tin of sardines any day!

Snail lore and legend

Snails tend to live in humid climates, and come out after it rains. In Cantabria I’ve seen older people going out and filling up whole shopping bags with snails after a rainstorm.

If you buy snails, you’re likely to get farm-raised, meaning they grow in a controlled environment and eat healthier food. With wild snails, people usually purge them to eliminate whatever else they might have in their digestive tracts–you’re eating the whole snail, after all, so you’re getting whatever it happened to eat over the past few days also! Ick!

The Spanish also use baba de caracol –snail slime — in cosmetics. Yes, rubbing snail slime on your face is something that some people will apparently pay good money to do! Apparently, even Katie Holmes does it, according to the Daily Mail.

Reading up on snails for this article, the most interesting thing I found was the bit about how they reproduce. Apparently, part of the courtship ritual for some snails involves stabbing your beloved with a “love dart” which introduces reproductive hormones into his/her body, getting those love juices flowing. Most snails are hermaphrodites, so as they lock each other in their slimy embrace, each one is trying to stab the other with equal vigor: the “winner” gets to be the man and the “loser” gets to carry the babies. Some wacky scientists hypothesize that the legend of Cupid shooting arrows into the breasts of young lovers comes from this strange courtship ritual.

If that doesn’t sound romantic to you, just try eating some!

Eating Snails

Apparently, eating snails — like everything else — goes back to Roman times. In many places, snails are considered famine food: they’re not eaten except in cases of necessity. These days, they’re served in the shell, and you are given some toothpicks with which to pull them out and eat them.

I had eaten some very small sea snails years ago in Italy, which were made with garlic and parsley and really weren’t bad — just a lot of effort for very little food.

Caracoles and Mahou at Mercado San Miguel/Angela Rutherford

In any case, the flavor is a bit like eating liver. I can’t say I enjoyed it very much, but it wasn’t really that bad either. Being Vaya Madrid’s weird food expert is desensitizing me to the strangeness of a lot of things.

If you want to try snails, the most famous place to do here in Madrid so is called (appropriately) Los Caracoles, and it’s at Calle Toledo, 106, near Puerta de Toledo. It’ll cost you about 7 euros.

If you like them a lot, you can also make them at home, a lot of traditional Spanish cookbooks have recipes.

Have you tried snails? Let us know what you thought!

Snail Away appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

Few people would hesitate to include Spain among Europe’s top cheese producing nations.  The country is blessed with extreme geographical diversity – many don’t know that it’s Europe’s second highest country after Switzerland – which in turn makes for an incredible panorama of cheeses.

For both their quality and distinction, many of Spain’s roughly 120 types of cheese have been awarded numerous honors at competitions around the world, including the 2012 gold medal for the world’s greatest cheese, beating out 2,700 other cheeses at the prestigious World Cheese Awards.

Yet Spaniards are some of the lowest annual consumers of cheese in Europe at just 8 kilos per person, half the European average and three times less than the French.

Many feel this is due to lack of information and advice received by consumers.  A quick glance at several cheese shops in my neighborhood reveals labels such as oveja curado (cured sheep’s cheese), cabra semi-curado (semi-cured goat’s cheese), without any reference to origin, pasteurization, or other traits that help explain why one cheese is different from another.

What if I challenged you to name just five Spanish artisan cheeses?  If we took away Manchego, could you name even three?  For you cheese lovers who came up with an answer, could you then say whether the milk came from cows, sheep or goats, whether it’s raw or pasteurized, or how long the cheese has been ripened?

Most people I put these questions to struggled for an answer, and that’s what Poncelet cheese shop set out to change.

The opening of Poncelet in 2004

Poncelet – named after the Parisian street where the revered cheese shop Alléosse is found – opened their store in Alonso Martínez in December of 2004 with the goal of providing an exclusive outlet for the traditional and local producers of Spain and Europe’s marvelous artisan cheeses.

At any one time, Poncelet carries between 300 and 350 European references in its store, out of which over 90 come from Spain alone, many of them unheard of outside their native home.

Cheeses are well-displayed throughout the immaculate store, overseen by employees who quietly move about wearing blue surgeon’s gloves; quite a contrast with the cheese shops “de toda la vida” found in rowdy covered markets.

The shop’s polished image, along with its higher prices (roughly 20-30€/kg), have led some to dismiss it as one more place for pijos to spend their money.  What people fail to understand however, is that the atmosphere and prices reflect the tremendous amount of work and tender loving care that go into the final product, both of which were recognized by the Wall Street Journal when it named Poncelet one of ten best cheese shops in Europe.

What makes Poncelet unique

As you enter the shop, one of the first things you’ll notice is the abundance of information.  Each cheese has a corresponding label showing the most important details: name, country, region, maturity, animal, raw or pasteurized etc.  In summary, what makes one cheese unique from the next.

The second thing you may notice is the absence of brands, something that in a brand-saturated society almost seems worrying, as if the product couldn’t be “real”.

Poncelet however works only with artisan cheese makers who are scattered across Spain and Europe.  These non-branded cheeses are produced by small, dedicated, often family-run operations, whose livelihood depends almost exclusively on the cheeses they make.

Once a cheese has been discovered, representatives from Poncelet visit the producer – every single one, regardless of their location – in order to meet the faces behind the product, have a look at the facilities and discuss transport options.  During the selection process, a preference is placed on quesos de pastor or quesos de granja, i.e. farmhouse cheeses, made by the farmer, using only the milk from the farmer’s own herd or flock.

In 2009 Poncelet set the benchmark even higher by opening Spain’s first Centro de Afinado (a ripening center), located in Alcobendas, in the outskirts of Madrid.

In France, the practice of affinage is a well-known and long-respected profession.  It requires an expertise independent of cheesemaking, where the affineur manages all aspects of the cheese’s ripening process, playing a major role in the final taste, texture and body.

Jesús Pombo, Poncelet’s owner, wanted to bring that practice to Spain, embodied in the Centro de Afinado.  The majority of Poncelet’s cheeses arrive here at a very young age.  They’re then placed in one of the Centro’s multiple temperature and humidity-controlled chambers, where Poncelet applies the most appropriate ripening techniques so that each cheese reaches its optimal point.  This can include brushing, flipping over, washing or rubbing the rinds with the right spices or liquids, followed by probing the cheeses (just like a leg of jamón ibérico) to check their progress.

Another area where Poncelet stands above the competition, is its ability to offer and advise on quesos de temporada, or seasonal cheeses.  We’ve become so accustomed to consuming year round, especially foods such as produce, that we often forget the seasonal nature of food.  We prefer instead to complain about the insipid taste of a tomato eaten in January.

While many cheeses are also available year round, they too have their peak seasons, depending on ripening time and when the milk was obtained.  In Spain for example, cheeses made from spring milk usually offer the best flavor.  Something to ask your cheese monger about the next time you buy.

Further education and recommendations

With the goal of continuing to educate customers, Poncelet organizes events such as presentations, tastings, and weekly classes.  There’s even a monthly visit to a local goat’s cheese farm in the outskirts of Madrid, followed by a stop at Poncelet’s Centro de Afinado, which explores the cheese making process from start to finish.

Or you can simply start on your own by taking home a few wedges and using the fantastic resources on Poncelet’s website to learn more about the cheese you bought.

Here are five of my favorites to start with, just in case you failed the opening quiz.

1. Mahón Menorca – A farmhouse, semi-cured, raw milk, cow’s cheese from the Balearic Island of Menorca.
2. Idiazabal de Pastor Ahumado – A farmhouse, cured, raw milk, lightly smoked sheep’s cheese from the province of Guipúzcoa in the Basque Country.
3. Majorero de Fuerteventura – A cured, raw milk, goat’s cheese from the Canary Island of Fuerteventura.
4. Puig Pedrós – A farmhouse, semi-cured, raw milk, cow’s cheese from the Catalan Pyrenees.
5. Rulo de Madrid (de San Martin de la Vega) – A young farmhouse, raw milk, goat’s cheese from southern Madrid. This is a rare find in Spain.  Raw milk cheeses must typically age for at least 60 days to ward off any concerns at the microbiological level.  However, the law stipulates that if the raw milk is of exceptional cleanliness and quality, no minimum ageing applies, which is the case with this cheese, matured for a little over a week.

Enjoy!!

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“I don’t like olives.” It’s a phrase I hear spoken often, whether it be by friends coming for a quick visit or patrons on one of my food tours through the markets of Madrid.

I want to roll my eyes, but feign patience — as I once too spoke those words.

The thing is, there are so many varieties of olives that it is a shame to swear them off before actually trying the full range (there are over 60 types in Spain alone!). When I arrived for a semester abroad in Granada, back in University, I didn’t think I liked olives either. I’d grown up with them at the table, as my father is Italian-American and adores olives of all shapes and sizes. But he always bought the strong bitter ones that aren’t exactly a good introductory olive.

In Granada, I started by eating the mild olives served with a caña– and suddenly, I was in love. Over the years have come to be a true fan of just about any and every olive I’ve tried.

Amazingly enough, I’d say that two out of every three people who come for a visit claiming not to like olives find at least one that they enjoy. The delicious Madrid style olive, called Campo Real, is surprisingly popular among supposed olive haters. Proof that some just need to keep trying.

Where to shop for olives in Madrid

My favourite olive booths in Madrid are in my two favourite markets. In Mercado Antón Martín you’ll find Aceitunas Juanjo, and in Mercado de la Paz you can find Aceitunas Miguel Angél. Both offer a fantastic variety and let you taste before you buy.

Olives in Madrid

Different options

• Campo Real: Typical of Madrid, these dark green olives are marinated with oregano, marjoram, fennel and garlic.
• Utrerañas: These light green olives are marinated with thyme and bay leaf, and are typical in Utrera.
• Malagueñas: A more bitter choice, these Malaga style olives are purposely smashed and marinated with a saline bath, garlic, thyme, fennel, and lemon.
• Manzanilla: Typical of the south, these subtle olives can be marinated with vinegar, lemon peel and paprika.
• Jaén: Another bitter olive, smashed to marinate better, they are usually marinated with thyme, garlic, fennel, bay leaf, and sometimes orange peel.
• Aragon: These small black olives are prepared with garlic, thyme, laurel and vinegar.

This is only a general guideline for what you might find at your favorite market. Each olive vendor has their own marinades, and often have a de la casa variety or a de la abuela, which Juanjo tells me are always the best.

My advice is definitely try, try again– don’t be shy, go to your local market and taste until you find what you like best. Then relax and enjoy Spain’s national snack!

Main photo by miamism.

You Do Like Olives appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!

During my first week as an expat in Madrid, one of the experiences I remember the best was visiting the market. I had just arrived in the city and was eager to prove to myself that I had made the right choice to come here and spend at least of couple of years, so I did what every gato has done at least once in his or her life: I went grocery shopping at El Mercado de Maravillas.

Located near Cuatro Caminos, a typical Hispanic migration area, Mercado de Maravillas is one of those de toda la vida phenomenons in Madrid that only few foreigners frequent. Its dirty rustic feel is far from the oyster and champagne bars in the Mercado de San Miguel or the art exhibitions that you often find at the Mercado de San Antón. So what does Maravillas have to offer that you can’t find anywhere else in town? Authenticity. Service. Low prices and high quality. Maravillas is the real deal.

Mercado de Maravillas

First time I went, my Spanish was almost non-existent and so was my knowledge on how to navigate among the hundreds of abuelas that had chosen to go grocery shopping at the same time as me. The first items on my list were fruit and vegetables and after having observed how Spanish grannies flocked around one certain fruit stand where they were giving out samples (score!) I decided to try my luck. I elbowed my way up to the “counter” of the stand and stuttered to the kind señor on the other side of the counter that  “Tenemos que hablar muy despacio. Hablo solo un poco español.” He agreed and asked me to point to the items I would like to buy. “Half a kilo of those” I said and pointed towards the carrots. “Éstas se llaman zanahorias,” he responded and continued “¿Para comer o para cocinar?” At first I wasn’t sure what he wanted to know and then it dawned upon me: He offered a variety of carrots and would choose out the ones that went better with the purpose I needed them for. What a hoot! This kinda service you don’t get at Carrefour. Next item on my list were avocados. “¿Para hoy o para mañana?” he wanted to know so he could pick out the ones with the exact ripeness I needed. I was flabbergasted. After having gone through all the items on my list while tasting endless samples of delicious fruits and receiving a mini lesson in fruit and vegetable names in Spanish, he topped off my shopping spree with adding free perejil, parsley, to my purchase, just because that’s what they do around here.

I continued my grocery shopping in Maravillas only to find that the service level I had just experienced was not exceptional and limited to the fruit stand. That’s just how it’s done at Maravillas, and even at very competitive prices.

So what’s the deal with the market that really seems to be a “maravillo”? Well, this is where locals, including grumpy old grannies, go buy their produce. They started coming here before Carrefour, Día and Caprabo fought their way into the Spanish way of shopping for food, and they will not settle for a lesser service level than what I experienced at my first visit there. If the fruit stand fails to offer only the best produce, they lose customers. If the fish stand refuses to cut out the fish for you in the exact way you want it, they know that you will go somewhere else. If the cheese stand can’t recommend new cheeses based on your previous preferences, he knows you won’t be coming back. And that’s why the people at Maravillas do their very best to keep you happy.

Feel like giving it a go? Here’s a few tips I’ve learned the hard way.

• Go where the abuelas are. You might have to wait in line for ages, but I promise you it’s worth it. Don’t be tempted by short lines or extremely low prices. Good quality attracts people.
• Introduce yourself and get to know your suppliers. No need to share the story of your life, just exchange a few details. When you know people a little the service level is automatically raised.
• If you have a teeny tiny bit of claustrophobia avoid the busy hours (just before closing time at 14.00 and 20.00). Also, don’t go on Saturdays. You will be trampled if you don’t know how to navigate.
• If your Spanish isn’t fluent, look up names of what you need before going. Fruits and vegetables are easy, but if you are looking for a specific kind of meat that you can’t point out it’s easier to have the Spanish name prepared.
• Don’t be afraid to demand good service. These guys will do pretty much anything for you: they’ll cut up fish into ceviche-friendly sized, mince your meat and take out intestines of the rabbit your are planning to use for a paella. They’ll even give you advice on how to prepare your meals the best possible way.
• Don’t go if you’re in a hurry. Service takes time, pero vale la pena.

Oh, and if you go, tell them that I, the weird Danish girl, sent you. You will be sure to be treated like royalty.

Main photo by Multimaniaco

The Marvellous Mercado de Maravillas appeared first on ¡Vaya Madrid!