Monday madness

Kaisho chicos. This bunch of photogenic Spaniards are my fellow cocinero/as from Arzak. Some of em are actually Latin Americans but I wont name and shame ha ha. But seriously, good people all. The guy standing is Pablo from Asturias, seen here in host mode, treating us all to a typical Asturian comida domingo - 'FAVADA' - white bean stew with a variety of goodies cooked in it. Think morcilla, tocino, chorizo, and jamon. Big chunks of meat cooked 'entero' within the stew then served separately as an accompaniment - you can see it on the table, big chunks of goodness, served with bread and copious amounts of apple cider. Truly authentic, as Pablo had the foresight and dedication to bring all the ingredients with him from Asturias. Champion. 
Lets talk about food.

Here is the Foie from my lunch at Arzak. And to back track a little, in the previous post I didn't tell you anything about the food, cos I was tired. So lets see..... ok the Fractal, it is a plate of 'hidromiel' - a transparent liquid of a glue-ish consistency. The red is a powder dye called 'cochinilla' in a water solution. Cochinilla is a red extract taken from a small bug called a cochineal (i think?) that is found in tropical areas. How it is harvested I am not sure, but one thing is for sure - when a few drops of hot cochinilla hit that hidromiel they spread out in a crazy pattern. Looking at the picture you would think that the colour bleeds, or seeps, into the hidromiel. No, it zaps! Bam!
Not really sure why you would eat it though, it's a spectacle of sorts, but thats how big Juan Mari's cojones are - he can send out plates for viewing pleasure - and believe me, that takes guts.
Speaking of Juan Mari, I have had a few emails asking if JM really did slap me upside the head, like "oh no, he's blown it.......already!"
relax, you shall be placated, but later.
My chief of staff informs me that, according to reader feedback, you want more laughs. ok.
So in a previous post I said that drivers here a pretty bad, and I went  on to say that they just stop in the middle of the road and wig out. Well, I made that up. That is just part of story telling. I can go on to say that I had every inclination at the time that this did occur, and since that post I have been able to confirm that suspicion. I was waiting at the lights where the main road comes in from the east, and this lady was coming off the bridge and she didn't know what lane to be in as the road forks directly after the lights. She ended up coming to a stop at the lights, on a 45 degree angle, covering both lanes, at peak hour. Behind her were about 16 cars, a truck and two buses, all banked up. Someone beeped, she waved it off. Someone else beeped longer, she waved it off. Finally she drove on. Today there was this guy, just stopped half way through a right hand turn. I think he was giving way to pedestrians, but they were not budging. The cars behind started hooting and driving around him, and then the pedestrians waiting at the lights started absolutely hurling abuse at him, it was so funny! I thought he was gonna get pelted!
Okay I dont here any laughing. 
We have a new guy in pastry from Mallaga - that is in the south.
I can't understand a single thing he says in his bloody Mallaganese, but for some reason he has latched on to me, in a professional sense. Ahem. The other day he kept blurting some thing about something to me, he was trying all day to make me comprehend, pointing at stuff, trying his best. For a while I just said "si si si" but then I got tired and was just like "no, yo no se de casi nada" (my new catchphrase - a quote from Forrest Gump)
In the change room after work I finally gave in and understood what he was sayin - he had something in his car. So we went down to his car - quite a nice car it was too - and he opened it up and he had some really choice olive oil, in really nice gift boxes and all - apparently presents for JM and Elena. For some reason he thought me worthy of one of these as well, strange because im not CDP, 2IC or anything even close, me just big aussie. no speaky espanisha. Surely some of you have cottoned on to where this is going? no?
Let me tell ya something about kitchens. Closed environments, usually tight and busy. You have to communicate your every move in relation to other people or else people get burnt, or cut, or maimed. Back home we say "backs backs backs" or "behind sharps (with blade)" or "hot hot hot!" and people know that imminent disaster is only a turn away. Here we say "atras, cuchi" etc, but universally, if your tired of talking you can always communicate via touch. Generally the thing to do is to place a light finger or hand between the shoulder blades, the receiver will know by sense where you are going and how fast you are moving. Easy. Now, our Mallagalese mate above has taken a shining to communicating via touch a few other messages. Yeah now you got it eh? He is a big fan of two hands gently under the floating ribs. Whats that you say? Well, stand behind someone and try it. Quite intimate eh? Especially if they are bending forwards as if working over a bench. So, the first few times I let it slip, just eyed him cooly as he walked away, but then he threw in the hand slide as well - that is when the hands don't fully break contact as they move away, but slide across your back, and I was like "oh no you didn't!"
There is also a waiter who is a fan of the hand slide as well, but generally we let waiters/tresses get away with it - for cooks its different rules. If you give someone the "waist grab to hand slide" your pretty much saying.... well, its like walking into a prison, straight up to the biggest inmate and saying "your gonna be my bitch!" crazy.
So how do we deal with this subtle harassment in the kitchen? Kitchen lore dictates that a sudden outburst of extreme aggravated violence with intent to maim is in order, but things have to get pretty bad before that. From memory there is a good story to relate from Kitchen Confidential, where the chef and narrator is getting ass grabbed by an Italian chef, and he goes on to say something like "only when (insert offending chef's name here) explorations of my ass were verging on actual penetration that I decided something had to be done" well it was something like that, but he goes on to say that he parried the next exploration with a well placed carving fork through the top the offending chef's hand. Good times. Moving on, our Mallagalese friend is in no imminent danger, although I did fly a right cross at him on saturday night - just brushed his eyebrow. Sounds heavy? not really, this kind of carry on is more or less part and parcel, main thing is the food. Food? oh yeah, this blog is about food isn't it. 
Found the time yesterday to visit a venue down in the old town. Heard numerous mentions about this place from a variety of channels, and I had expeketations, big ones. Super cool website, super cool cookbook in the stores, heaps of super cool chit chat.
Looked pretty good from the outset, staff were super aware of their super cool status - to be expected. Food was immaculately presented in a very super cool fashion, and I really enjoyed the strong concepts and delivery, but. salt.
S............A...........L........T...........
Seasoning people, rule number #1
SEASONING SEASONING SEASONING SEASONING!!!!!!!!!!
As my hopes for a memorable dining experience fell from the sky in burning tatters reminiscent of the Hindenburg, my fellow diner and chef in arms alerted me to the fact that the menu was designed by a prominent chef with ties to other notable venues.
Aaaaaaaaaaagh, I knew I had seen the style before. Not a fan. And if you hire a chef to consult on a menu it means whoever is delivering the food is not the creator, and therefore not putting their soul into the food. No salt and no soul. Shame.
Departing the venue my friend suggested that we should head to the restaurant where his wife works for more food and wine. Good call - sat around watching the tanks of live bogovantes, langostinos and crabs while we polished off a few plates of calamar, few G&Ts too. This restaurant was pretty good, menu was 'muy caro' - bogovante was coming in at 120 Euros a kg - ouch! But, my friend insisted, but - this restaurant has one of the most important collections of wine in the world. Sure, wiseass, sure it does.
After dinner the sommelier came and grabbed me. "What does he want" I slurred, "show you the cellar"
First things I noticed: odour of stale air and old paper, and the heavily fortified doors. My friend was definitely not exaggerating - this cellar was incredible. It actually made me sad, because I know there are so many people who know so much more about wine than me, that would have benefited from a walk through this cellar - literally a library of rare wine dating hundreds of years - simply breathtaking. 
The first room was just for middle of the range French varieties - two to three hundred bucks a pop, all kinds of interesting drops like poully fumets (my fave!) Through the next door was a giant room, and in it an elongated oval table that would seat about twenty five - immaculately set, and with beautiful carved wooden chairs - and running the length of the room was forged iron gates over floor to ceiling glass. Behind the glass was a semicircular room lined with floor to ceiling wine racks, and in the central space just beyond the glass was a few tall glass cabinets housing what can only be described as Daniel Mounir's wet dream - complete collections of rare vintages displayed in chronological order - untouched and never to be touched. 
The next room was huge, so many Spanish wines that the Sommelier confessed that he actually didn't know where everything was, but he showed me around, kicked a few crates of wine and lamented that all the wine was so expensive and rare that he had absolutely no chance of selling it. 
How expensive?
"Esta"- poking a box with his foot- "ocho mill"
My friend cut in "8 thousand a bottle"
"I f%$#ing understood" I growled at him  - still pissed at him for getting a menu in English for me earlier in the night.
Well, I suggested, if you can't and never will sell it why don't we just drink it????????? sigh......

This is episode 3 in 'the adventures of cazuela and txakoli'
What? Cazuela is the ceramic cooking dish - my new weapon of choice in the kitchen - and txakoli is that wine in the bottle. In this episode we see some tasty salmonettas get involved with a crowd of treacherous padrons and its up to the amazing duo of morcilla & ajo to save the day.
What?
So, to finish up, let us reflect on the world of the living legend that is Juan Mari Arzak. Down to tacks - yes, he did clip me upside the head. But don't worry, it was benevolent. Ten minutes later I passed him in the toilets and he had absolutely no idea who I was, as normal. You'd be forgiven thinking that JM is a bit of a softy, the way he shuffles about, with his jacket cuffs unrolled so that the sleeves of his un-ironed jacket cover his hands, always looking at the ground in front of him, only ever tilting his head back when he needs to see through his spectacles that are perpetually perched on the tip of his nose. Nope, old boy got teeth, gnawed out a chef de partie for a good half hour - about three ten minute rounds - in the middle of saturday night service - full house. By the third round the recipe cards and photos were flying around and fingers were waving around and it was great viewing for us pasteleros, sure beats checking your mise en place for the fourth time! 
I reckon that when my time is up, and I ask JM to sign my Arzak book, he is gonna ask me the same two questions he asked me when I started: "who are you and where are you from?"
He's not slow or anything, he is old but you have to appreciate his environment to understand. Arzak has a rotating 'Stagier' company of 13, and add to this 2 to 3 guest chefs at any one time. All these people he makes a genuine and sincere effort to welcome, but there is simply no way he can keep up with the names and faces. Add to this the demands of his role with the VIPs - the kitchen table is booked three nights of the week and JM sits down for the night to eat with the guests, then factor in all the satellite professionals associated with the business: media, suppliers, contractors etc. And everyone, everyone wants a slice, everyone wants to walk away saying "sure, Juan Mari knows me"
Yeah, but for five minutes. Sorry.
Juan Mari Arzak, bless his cotton socks, and god help you if your in his cross hairs!
Bye bye
J