(Part 139)
CECILIA and I had more memorable experiences during our visit to Spain in October 2004. On Sunday, October 23, there was a reunion of all her brothers and sisters at their summer retreat, La Torre, in Movera, a short drive from Zaragoza.
From Barcelona had come Maria Pilar and her husband Dr. Jose Carnicer; from Castellon, Francisco Rodriguez and his wife Maria Jose; from Madrid, Fernando Rodriguez and his wife Maite: from Zaragoza, Conchita and Maria Jose “Chiqui” Rodriguez; and from Calamocha, Ismael and his wife Maria.
We had lunch in the garden. Thinly sliced lamb chops were grilled to a crisp, along with chorizo, longaniza, butifarra, and Morcilla (blood sausage). Of course there were tortillas, olives, and almonds. Dessert was a huge ensaimada stuffed with whipped cream.
It was our last day in Zaragoza as next day we left for Madrid. We stayed at the Hotel Moderno near Puerta
del Sol. Next day we informed the concierge that we were leaving for Jaen but we’d not give up the room where we left our heavy luggage.
The purpose of our visit to Jaen was to spend a day or two with our dear friend Rosario Muñoz, in charge of the Teresianas’ Colegio Mayor there.
At the train station we were pleasantly surprised that Rosario would also be on the same train. It was a very merry trip all the way, what with all our updates.
It was Cecilia’s first time in Jaen, and so Rasario showed us the sites and introduced us to the typical food. Jaen is famous for its excellent olive oil; the entire province seems to be covered with olive trees. At Cafe Colon we spent time with Maria Luisa Sagaz, sister of the then Spanish Ambassador to the Philippines Ignacio Sagaz.
We also enjoyed our visit to the Castle of Santa Catalina, a formidable fortress on a mountain overlooking Jaen. Its access was a gentle slope so designed to make it easy to the horses. The castle is also a “parador” where guests can stay in well-furnished rooms. There are also facilities for meetings and congresses.
We returned to Madrid and quickly made reservations to dine at Cafe de la Opera. I had been there twice but not Cecilia. She enjoyed the dinner and the show very much with those singing waiters and waitresses performing a wonderful repertory.
On October 26 we decided to wake up late, take the breakfast buffet at the last hour, then go for a walk, perchance skip lunch, and browse through the book shop of El Corte Ingles.
We had just finished our leisurely breakfast when Alvaro de Salas called up. Until very recently had been the second in command at the Spanish Embassy in Manila.
He asked us to lunch at the VIPs restaurant near the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.
On October 28 we visited the Anthropological Museum to seek out Maria Dolores Adellec whom I had met in Cebu a year ago, with painter Isabel Rocha. She showed us a whole floor dedicated to the Philippines with a wealth of artifacts gathered during the Spanish time. “We have more in storage,” said Maria Dolores.
“We just need more space for display. In the evening, Cecilia’s brother Fernando and his wife Maite came from Majadahonda to dine with us at Cafe Arenal, close to our hotel, and a favorite with us. After dinner we walked to the Plaza de Oriente fronting the Royal Palace. Cafe de Oriente was full but its Botelleria was available for coffee and a night cap.
Our last day in Madrid was October 29. After breakfast we walked around the hotel area and down Carrera de San Jeronimo. A show window of a deli attracted Cecilia’s attention for its appetizing display of a boar’s head in aspic.
“Let’s go in, buy 100 grams of the boar’s head, and then some bread, and we have the perfect lunch,” she suggested. “We can bring it to the hotel, and eat it slowly as we watch the news or a movie on television,” she said and done, as we pushed the door open we noticed the name “Lhardy.”
Opened in 1839 and since then considered one of the best restaurants in Spain, I had always thought of looking it up. Here was our chance, as we jostled among the daily crowd which at a certain hour gathers at Lhardy to degustate its famous consomme.
We went straight to the cashier and asked if the famed restaurant was within the premises. “Yes,” she said, “Upstairs; there’s a separate entrance. Would you like to have lunch?”
“No,” we said, thinking about the package with the boar’s head and crusty bread. “Buy we’d like to have dinner here tonight.” We reserved for a rather early dinner but then, we could not stay up late since we had a plane to catch early in the morning.
We dressed up for the occasion. Lhardy was all we had imagine—understated, elegance, tables not close to one another, and an urbane waiter to take our orders and make some suggestions.
Discretion was the keynote at Lhardy. It has been the scene of much political plotting, where coups have been planned and hatched, and where some stories fraught with romance have inspired poets and novelists
Given the wine list we happily noticed they had Enate, a white wine from Valle de Somontano in Huesca, Aragon. “Muy Eric,” we told the waiter who nodded that it always is.
I can remember the menu we ordered to the last detail. Cecilia asked, “De primero, Espinacas a la Catalana, como son?” The waiter said the spinach was sauteed in oil and garlic with pine nuts and raisins.
Cecilia then told him that the recipe was exactly how spinachs were typically prepared in Aragon’s three provinces—Zaragoza, Huesca and Teruel. Maybe the Catalans adopted it, having been once a small part of the vast kingdom of Aragon, referred to in Spanish history as La Corona de Aragon.
Cecilia’s “de segundo,” was Tenderloin Cordon Bleu. As for me, I ordered scrambled eggs with truffles and stuffed on a fine pastry, and then “Merluza a la Vasca.”
That’s hake, in English. The slabs of white fish were simmered in a cream sauce turned green with crushed parsley, and garnished with minute asparagus tips, baby shrimps and diminutive mussels.
The waiter asked what we would have for dessert, and we told him we were open to any suggestions. He beamed,“Sorpresa” and we said to go on, surprise us! It was a souffle of fluffy meringue.
As it was not far, and the autumn air was nippy, we walked back to the hotel where we asked to be awakened at 5 a.m. The taxi we had contacted to bring us to the airport was coming at 7 a.m.
The Singapore Airlines plane was full. It was their last trip from Madrid to Singapore, as shortly after they’d open a new route to Spain, Barcelona.