Jose Pizarro - Seasonal Spanish Food

It’s not a good time for Spain at the moment. A quarter of the population are unemployed, continued membership of the Euro looks distinctly aspirational, and growth is a distant memory. Anyone who has been to Spain beyond the Islands and Costas will know what a fantastic and alluring country it is, and how dramatic the change for tourists has been, from a beach-only backwater to a country of distinct regions, cities, and cultures. My favourite memory comes from a village called Cazalla de la Sierra, in the scarily dry hills of Andalucia – while walking, we watched dozens of small black pigs fighting over the acorns we threw to them through a fence. It is the acorns that apparently give Jamon Iberico de Bellota, Spain’s finest ham, its beyond-Parma taste.

Despite recent troubles, Spanish food remains high on the foodie-consciousness. Restaurants like Brindisa and Moro established its cuisine in this country as distinct from the other great Mediterranean traditions – saffron, paprika, thyme, oranges, raisins…and lots and lots of lovely pork. Talking of Brindisa, this book is by its founding chef, Jose Pizarro, from the dry central Extramadura region in the heart of Spain. Tierra de Brindisa is one of my very favourite restaurants: if I have to choose somewhere to eat in Soho, I find myself going back there time after time (the fact you can book doesn’t hurt). So I couldn’t resist the recipe for one of my favourite dishes – Spinach with Raisins and Pine Nuts. This is how I did it for two:

Extra Virgin Olive Oil
Half a small onion
A small handful of pine nuts
Ditto of raisins
Two massive giant hands of baby spinach

Fry the finely diced onion in olive oil until golden but not too crispy.
Add in the nuts and raisins and fry til the nuts are also golden and the raisins swell up.
Right at the end throw in the spinach and toss thoroughly to coat, but barely barely wilt (I overdid it as you can see – at Brindisa the spinach is warm but not cooked). Season and eat as a tapa, or a side. It’s properly healthy but tastes indulgent and treaty.

We ate it, somewhat bizarrely, with Jose’s Pea and Mint soup. Both recipes came from the ‘Spring’ section of the book, and we ate them during a particularly dark and wet week in April. The soup had the twin advantages of tasting supremely springy, and including the comforting stodge of fried bread and Serrano Ham. A brilliant cupboard and freezer standby – even if you don’t have mint on your window sill.

Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
400g frozen peas
Chicken stock
Big sprig of mint
2 slices of nice white bread (I used Waitrose’s Rye and Wheat Quarter)
4 slices of Serrano ham – or Iberico de Bellota if you’re feeling ritzy

Fry the onion and garlic in the oil, until they are soft and translucent.
Add the peas, and stir to take the frost off, and soak up some flavour. Throw in some white wine or Noilly Prat if you have it.
Add enough stock to cover and let simmer for a few minutes. Pop the mint sprig in.
Meanwhile, heat some more oil in a frying pan, and when its hot, add the bread. Fry on both sides until golden. Then add the ham and let it frizzle up.
Blend the soup, and serve with the ham-topped bread.

I love this book – it’s a description of, and homage to, the traditional rural life of Jose’s parents, as well as a collection of very achievable dishes. It’s divided into seasons – great, except that the Summer section relies on amazing Mediterranean produce, which would be hard to find British grown in our summer. But still, I may be re-smuggling this one soon.