How The Spanish Gin Tonic Won Me Over

Cultural hubris is such a dangerous thing.

Exhibit A: for nearly a year, it prevented me from enjoying what is one of life's greatest pleasures: the Spanish gin and tonic. Aka the gintonic (pronounced yeenTOEneek).

You see, my problem was that I failed to recognize that this cocktail is not synonymous with our gin and tonic. Yes, the ingredients are the same. But it is a cousin at best....how else do you explain the totally different drinking experience? 

Start with THE TIME.  I'll never forget, early in my Spanish sojourn, calling a Basque friend of mine at the 5 o'clock hour. With a gin and tonic in hand. "Qué haces?" he says. "Drinking a gin and tonic," I say. "A estas horas? Estás loca?" He couldn't believe it. Because a gintonic is for after a meal, after dessert, after coffee, to end it all, be it a long, luxurious lunch or a weeknight dinner out.

Then, THE GLASS. Spaniards always use either a big, bulbous glass similar to one of those obnoxious wine glasses, or a cider glass. I used to prefer the latter, just to keep a low profile. Now I feel natural with one of these wacky glasses in hand.

Then, the GIN. This should be obvious, and of all the things that separate a gintonic from a gin and tonic, this is the least different. In the states there is a good selection of gin, just as in Spain. But....I would wager that of bars of the same level, Spanish ones have a wider selection of gins.

Next, the GARNISH. Another sore point for me, as many bars use lemon instead of lime in Spain, which I find apalling. However, the citrus they do use they use it well. Instead of a slice, which practically demands that you squeeze it into the drink, you get a piece of the skin. No pulp, just skin. And, should you be in a bar that is of a slightly higher level, you could potentially get juniper berries as an additional garnish. One more level up, you might be getting different garnishes for different gins: cucumber for Hendrick's, strawberries for Brockman's.

Then, the all important METHOD OF PREPARATION. In the US: ice, gin, tonic from a spout straight in the glass, lime slice on cup. IN SPAIN, when it's done right, the gintonic goes a little something like this: Pour gin in glass. Add garnish, take your sweet time to give said garnish time to mix a bit with the gin. If the garnish is an herb, give it a slap or two to get the oils flowing. Add huge ice cubes to glass. Pour tonic in, slowly, using something such as a long handled spoon to break the bubbles.

Finally THE TONIC. A point that is still iffy on both terrains. In the US, you are likely to get tonic from a spout. That tonic will be Schweppes, if you're lucky, and made with corn syrup. In Spain, you will probably get Schweppes, made with real sugar, from a bottle, since there is a glass trading program that gives them money back every time they recycle a glass. The difference in taste is impressive. Fever Tree is the second most common tonic, which makes me very happy. It's the darling of Imbibers Who Care worldwide, from Boucherie in New Orleans to Vinateria en Donostia. Only slightly sweet, citrusy, never overpowering. Just wonderful. Drink in gallons. Also love Stirrings. See 'How to Mess Up a Gin & Tonic'.

After two years, my professional opinion has evolved to be: gin and tonic: YUCK. gintonic: mmmmm.

Gaua Gauekoentzat

Joxemiel Barandiaran was a Basque ethnographer and priest, born in Ataun, the village where we are spending the summer.  He is credited with re-discovering and preserving many of the traditions of these hills and even has a museum in San Gregorio (the second neighborhood of Ataun).  Last night was a special celebration of him and the legends that he helped bring back to the collective memory.

The celebration consisted of a 3km walk, part at dusk and part at nightfall, beginning in the old home/mill where the museum is housed.  Before beginning, there was chorizo, bread and cider for all.  Our neighbor/friend/godsend Tere took us around back to meet the breadmaker and check out the oven.

Then the walk began, 500 people, young, old, man, women and children walking more or less in single file down a narrow country road. Every so often, we'd stop for a sighting of some mythological creature.  In a clearing, we were held up as an old Basque man staggered down from the woods with a basket heavy from apples. He explained they were for the river witches, or lamiak in Basque, to curry favor with the beautiful web-footed women.

Then, a while down the path, the jentilak, giant mountain dwellers that coexisted (according to legend) with the Basques, came down to join us on the trek. We stopped to talk with Martin Txiki, the sneaky little guy who stole all the mountain giants' secrets (along with their wheat).

Then, the fall of night. Everyone had torches as we walked along the sometimes perilous rocky trail that runs alongside the creek.  Can't tell you how many times the word 'lawsuit' went through my head. America, why don't you let us do cool stuff like this anymore?

Then a stop with a group of witches, dancing around the fire and maltreating a young girl tied to a tree. ❤.

C. said that this was the most special thing...that it by far beat any expensive Baptist Christmas extravaganza he'd ever attended. And he's right...there was something beautiful about the young people mixing with the old. Everyone coming together to appreciate and remember their roots, celebrating legends that still live on, legends that still seem plausible when set against dark, misty mountains.

Adios To the Long Lunch?

Yes. This is still a thing.
As you sit there in your office, scarfing leftovers over your keyboard, there are people in Spain having this debate RIGHT NOW.
This country, which specializes in hovering between the first and third world, has a unique work schedule. It has a unique schedule in general, in fact. Spain's average dinnertime, according to a recent Diario Vasco article, is 9:45pm. Neighboring France, on the other hand, sits down for their diner at 7, only slightly later than Americans. Many workers and students have a one and a half to two hour break in the middle of the day. Then they return to the office from 4 to 6 or 7.  

Some people go home for this break, and even take a NAP! YES THIS IS REAL! Others go out to lunch, frequenting the restaurants with menus del dia, where the standard is a three course meal with a bottle of wine to drink to your desire, for around 10 euros.

Recently, there has been a lot of talk about Americanizing the schedule. Adopting the 'horario anglosajona". Talking to people here, there are many different opinions on the issue. I hear a lot of people saying they prefer the American schedule, but I don't think they know what they're saying. "We have to change to gain a more satisfactory daily life," says the sociologist quoted in the DV article.

Well, sociologist, first goes the long lunch, then the shops are closing earlier, then the streets are emptying and before you know it your societal web is coming undone. Although for many other reasons the Spanish appear to already be on this path. I often think about what the trend of having one baby at the age of 40 will do to the structure of the family here.

It seems inevitable. Sad and inevitable. So I'm just going to thank my lucky stars that I live in the Last Epoque of Spain. Sure, it's not Hemingway's absinthe-filled wild west, but relatively speaking, it kind of is. An 8am beer at your local tavern? Grownups eating ice cream on the street at midnight during the week?  Wine at a business lunch? Mayonnaise perched on bread and breathed on by strangers for a couple of hours? These are modern-day prohibitions equivalent in level of taboo to the prostitution and gunslinging of olden days.

So maybe we, we Americans that know exactly what happens when you have to wake up early, work all day with almost no break, then go home at five or six, should warn them. Sign a petition. Launch a campaign to make these people aware of exactly what they have...before it's too late...

the merendola: a birthday fiesta

Last night, we had some friends over for dinner. I told them we had been to one of Buckley's friend's birthday parties, and they said, "Oh, a merendola?" and proceeded to name every. single. thing we had to eat at the celebration. To the letter. Sandwiches with nocillo and with chorizo (de pamplona, of course).  Fanta, and Coke (and the more creative children mix the two in what I swear must be an early socialization in kalimotxo kreation). A little cake, and chips. The only thing we were missing, apparently, were the traditional olives.

But there were sack races, overlooking the Cantabrian sea. There was soccer and champagne. And there were apples from the family orchard, baked with cinnamon, butter, and custard.

 Delicious. And above all, we were so happy and honored to be invited to hang out with people we love. Buckley, I think, wouldn't mind switching families for a day, a year, forever...having A + S as sister and brother, and S + beloved G as mom and dad...thanks you guys!

Please note the soccer jerseys. Birthday outfit of choice. Barca fans...

San Sebastián Film Festival

 

Today marks the opening of Europe's second most important film festival, Zinemaldia.

It's not Cannes, but the food sure is better.  And to celebrate that, this year's 58th edition will feature a special culinary cinema section. There will be movies about El Bulli, NoMa, cooks who can't taste, and even local sweetheart Mugaritz.

The festival also features sections devoted to new directors, movies already screened at other festivals, movies from the New World, movies from Spain, contemporary Mexican films, a spot for budding directors to showcase their works, and for unfinished business.

Then there's an entire section that promises to hold many unseen jewels, the Digital Shadow section. It's devoted to Chinese film from the last decade, shot in digital. I won't go to any, but I'll regret it.

Then there's a section for homesick Americans, titled "The American Way of Death". Featuring the best of our country's film noir...and when you look at this lineup (Silence of the Lambs, Reservoir Dogs, Se7en, Fargo, The Usual Suspects, L.A. Confidential), you really think, 'dang, Americans make good movies'.

The director featured in this year's retrospective is Jacques Demy, director of some lovely mid-century French films like The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, 1964, and  Les demoiselles de Rochefort, 1967.

I've already got my tickets and will be reporting live as best I can. In year four of attending Zinemaldia (year one, fresh off having a baby and alone, year two with best friend Bekah, and year three as a new resident), I've learned you need to get those tickets ahead of time.  You can shop online here.