Tortilla Español

Ah, the glory of a tapas bar

Tortilla Español

 Here's a recipe that'll amaze your friends and confuse your enemies.  A Spanish tortilla.  Oh, yeah.  Delicious.  Impressive, but easy.  Of course, as you know I don't do difficult recipes.

One of the unexpected pleasures of dropping into a Tosca (tapas bar) in Spain is having the barkeep plunk down a tasty nibble along with your wine or beer.  You don’t have to ask.  You only have to eat, drink, and chat until it’s time to get a refill.  Often the tidbit accompanying your drink is a small square of tortilla Español.

No my friends, it’s not a tortilla of corn or flour you get at your fav Mexican eatery, it’s a potato filled omelet, usually served at room temp.  I can hear those wheels grinding.  Omelet with beer or wine in the early evening?  The simple answer is: YES!  Served warm or cold, it’s delicious and filling, but not so filling you have to stop drinking, which we all know was your real reason for stopping in and gripping the bar with both hands.

Look at it this way, you can buy a lady a drink and feed her at the same time, which was the other reason you stopped in, with the top two buttons on your linen shirt undone and a look as hopeful as your dog when he meets you at the front door.

Now is the time for me to impart some expert advice on how to properly and quickly pick up women.  But, first I need to find an expert...

Guess you’ll just have to be satisfied with my superb recipe that improves on the original.  The original tortilla has just potatoes inside.  I add a few tasties. All you have to do after you make it is buy a bottle of wine and invite some women.  Hungry women, if you know what I mean.

Tortilla Español

9 Eggs

¼ Cup milk

3 medium sized potatoes, peeled and thin sliced

4 inch piece of Spanish chorizo, casing removed, cut into thin slices and quartered

1 onion, peeled, cut in quarters and thin sliced

Salt and pepper to taste

Olive oil

Begin by putting a slosh of olive oil in a high-sided skillet, and frying the potato and onion slices until they are cooked through, but not browned. Add the chorizo slices and toss, just enough to warm the chorizo up.

Set the mixture aside while you put the eggs and milk in a bowl and scramble until you have a uniform color.

Add another slosh of olive oil to the frying pan, pour in the eggs mix and let it cook for a minute or two on low heat. Add the potato/onion/chorizo mix to the omelet and spread the potatoes out evenly.  Make sure you’re using low heat or the bottom will burn.  Cook until the omelet is set, about 30 minutes.  I cover the pan to speed the process.

Here’s another way I differ from the original.  Spanish cooks flip the omelet into another skillet to brown the other side.  This is fine for Spanish cooks and the world’s greatest magicians.  For common folk with the hand eye coordination of blinded mules, I suggest instead foregoing the slight of hand required to flip a semi-cooked omelet from one hot skillet to another without screaming in pain. Simply and quietly slide the skillet about 8 inches under your oven broiler and let the other side turn brown.  No flip or flopping or messing about.

Here’s another hint:  The thickness of the omelet is solely determined by the size of the skillet you’re using.  Thick omelet = smaller pan.  I used a mid-sized pan, as you can tell by the thickness of the tortilla Español in my photo.

Still another hint?  Oh, you bet.  Make your tortilla several hours, or even a day ahead.  That way, when the ladies arrive, you can pour wine and chat, while the ladies bat their eyes and do all those other things ladies do to get you to make a fool of yourself.  Yes, men, we are fools, but fools can make a damn fine Tortilla Español!

Dazzle Me with An Evening of Tapas in Madrid

A tinto in one of my favorites, Casa Paco

As my loyal readers (both of you) probably realize, I haven’t written in a while.  I know you’ve scratched your heads and tossed through sleepless nights, but there’s no need to worry.  I’ve been traveling and one of the places I traveled was to a small village of a few million people, nestled in the beating heart of Spain.  Everybody’s  heard about Madrid, the capitol of Spain.  Bullfights, flamenco dancing, Hola! and buenas dias.  Yes, but how about cuisine and quaint customs?

Spanish cuisine is not close to Mexican, or Peruvian, or Argentinian.  Nor is it close to German, or French, or Italian.  But rather than dwell on the broad spectrum, let’s concentrate on one little word you’ve probably heard before: tapas.  Yeah, I know, so-called tapas are so au current they’re served in mall-restaurants all over the U.S.  But, let me tell you, those are not the same tapas you’ll eat in Spain.

 Tapas are to Spain what hors d’oeuvres are to France, an endless variety of little tasty tidbits to accompany an afternoon slosh of beer or wine.  While you swap lies with friends, at a tiny table in an outdoor café, tapas help you keep your strength up.   You order a beverage and the cheery waiter brings you a small dish without you even asking.  Slices of chorizo, or cheese, some olives, or potato chips, a small slice of Spanish tortilla, or even some boiled shrimp.  Then there are more elaborate creations of fish and meat and vegetables, some made into pastes and others more recognizable.

Did I say "waiter" instead of "serving-person-who-could-be-either-sex"?  Yes, I did.  In Spanish drinking establishments, the servers are more than 90% men. I arrived at that statistic after hours and hours of careful research.

Time to stop for a moment and reflect on cuisine and culture.  In Spain, prime dinnertime is 10:30 at night.  Spaniards start off the day with a coffee and perhaps a pastry between 9 and 10 in the morning, often in the same bar they drank in the night before.  Then there’s a break for wine about 11.  Siesta arrives about 1 p.m. and lasts until 3.  Small shops close, and the back streets of Madrid, which are lined with small shops, look almost deserted.  Siesta is more than lunch and a nap.  It’s family time.  Important time.

All of this means when you eat lunch about 2 p.m. and wait until 10:30 p.m. for your next meal, something’s gotta give, which brings us back to tapas.

Tapa time is around 6 p.m. until 8.  You gather …. Wait a sec, where do you gather?  Ok, time for another digression:  Bars are not generally called bars in Spain, they’re called tascas.  Not hard to remember.  You eat tapas in a tasca.  Often you drink and nosh, then move on for another drink.  We call that tasca-hopping.  And in the morning, as I mentioned, they serve coffee and pastries.  So when a youngster tells his teacher, “My momma drops me off at the bus stop and goes to the bar,” he’s not spilling family secrets. it’s a grand idea, as a matter of fact, I…anyway…

Quick Spanish lesson.  Want a draft beer?  Ask for una caña.  How ‘bout a red wine?  Tinto.  White?  Blanco.  All come in a small size.

Tortilla Español

 A couple of paragraphs ago, I mentioned Spanish Tortilla.  So, what’s the diff?  A Mexican tortilla is thin and flat, made from corn, or wheat flour, while a Spanish tortilla is a thick, round omelet, with a filling of sliced potatoes, and large enough to share with a group of your favorite inebriates. Spanish tortillas are often served at room temp.

Now that you’ve got the rules and the lingo down, I’m looking at my watch and think it’s time to don those dark glasses, open the top button on the shirt, roll up the sleeves and hit the streets.  You need a little money, but not too much.  Uno tinto, or una caña will cost you about 1 to 3 Euros, and remember those little plates of tapa are usually free.  Oh, yeah, put that dazzling smile on your face! An evening of tapas in Madrid awaits! 

Don't forget to SUBSCRIBE.  Use the button at the top left of this page!