There is, as far as I can make out, no particularly good reason why a village in the Tramuntana has insisted on turning itself into the centre of sheer unbridled confectionery fantasy. All they need are some toys as well, and this would be kiddie heaven. As it is, it gets close enough to the divine by converting itself on one day a year - today - into a giant sweet shop and a magician's bakery. Sugar, cream, chocolate, custards, this is a wonderland conjured up by some candy wizard. This is Esporles on the first Sunday in October: Mallorca's tribute to all our yesterdays of the pick 'n' mix and the corner shop with its penny-costing flying saucers and pink shrimps.
They've been holding the sweets fair since 2005. Maybe it was all the doing of he who is now president of the Council of Mallorca, Miquel Ensenyat. 2005 was when he became mayor. Invent a fair and make it one with a theme that nowhere else has. What could be simpler than sweets?
It has of course branched out since the early days. There is now all manner of gluttony to indulge in - savouries, sobrassada sausage, pa amb olis - on a day when elsewhere in Mallorca, Sant Joan, they're going mad over the butifarró (aka botifarron), the sort of black pudding except when it isn't black. At least in Sant Joan one can detect a history, that of the enthusiasts of the local motoring club who came up with the idea for a boti-barbecue in 1966. In Esporles, the reason for the sweet treats can probably be put down to no more than they could, and so have. Otherwise, it would be a fair similar to many others: Esporles is about farming and livestock, a textile industry that pretty much died out decades ago, La Granja and so some tourism of a heritage and ethnological nature.
The fair, despite having only been going since 2005, has of course acquired the adjective "traditional". In itself it isn't traditional, but much of what is on offer is, and last year they made a concerted effort to sell more sweets by putting on a special promotion for the rosaries of sweeties that are given out for All Saints (which is less than a month away). As this tradition has apparently been experiencing some decline, then what better than reminding grandparents, godparents and others of times past and of the need to buy some choccy rosaries in the present?
The prevailing smell of the day of sweets that hangs over Esporles is, though, that of the "bunyol", the doughnut (or fritter with a hole), being fried, and it comes very much into its own at Allhallowtide as well. It can also lay claim to being part of a long local tradition. But the sweet, or pastry, or cake that beats them all in the traditional stakes is our old friend the ensaimada, which will find pride of place next to the dolly mixtures and what have you.
The history of the ensaimada is shrouded in some mystery. Legend has it that its shape comes from an Arabic turban, and that it was the Muslim invaders of the early tenth century who were responsible for its introduction. The word itself does derive from the Arabic "saim", but as this means lard it is most unlikely - for religious dietary reasons - that the Muslims were making their pastry with it. The saim element was to come later but, so it is believed, grafted onto a different pastry, a snail-shaped thing called the bulema that the Arabs produced but which used butter from sheep's milk instead of lard. There is a further claim that, following the conquest, King Jaume I was presented with an ensaimada by a Jewish baker, but again this wouldn't have had lard. Quite when this was first used as an ingredient isn't known, but the bulema explanation - from both Arabic and Jewish cuisine of the times - would appear to hold the key to the later development using lard and so what is now one of Mallorca's most obvious symbols.
So the Esporles fair, only in its eleventh edition, may not have its own tradition, but it will be exhibiting it. The giant sweet shop will be open at ten o'clock, so plenty of time to chomp your way through all the goodies before getting over to Sant Joan and the one o'clock kick-off of the boti-barby. Whoever said Mediterranean diet?
Showing posts with label Ensaimada. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ensaimada. Show all posts
Sunday, October 04, 2015
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
The Ensaimada Is Turning Japanese
When Starbucks started selling what it called the "Mallorcan Sweet Bread" in its US coffee houses in 2010, there was an outcry among ensaimada traditionalists. The bun was coiled in the wrong direction. It should be clockwise. Starbucks had turned the clock back.
If only the ensaimada could also turn the clock back. Symbolic it is for Mallorcan gastronomy, albeit in a pork lard style that runs counter to generally accepted principles of the Mediterranean diet, but its recent history has not been a notable one. Economic crisis, inevitably, took its toll, but just as serious has been the loss of production of ingredients on the island which threaten its PGI (protected geographical identification) status, while there has also been a loss of sales to tourists, the result of all-inclusives, airline reluctance to allow the boxed ensaimada on board and cruise ship prohibition of food stuffs being taken onto ships. The traditional ensaimada has, therefore, been in decline for several years. There are now only twenty producers left; there had once been six times this number.
These problems have led to the dissolution of the regulatory council for ensaimada PGI and to the island's Association of Bakers and Confectioners assuming responsibility. This council didn't ask for much, but when it went in search of some official support, as it did in 2010, it was knocked back. Its president asked the government's director-general for agriculture for the grand sum of 18,000 euros to cover costs pertaining to the laying-off of two staff. This was apparently agreed to, but the promise was not met.
So, in addition to all its other troubles, the ensaimada was being treated with a degree of official indifference, and this despite the fact that it is of course revered as part of a Mallorcan gastronomy which supposedly offers an alternative tourist product.
Against this background, the ensaimada has, however, been emerging elsewhere. It isn't the Mallorcan ensaimada, but it is essentially the same, even if its coil is backwards. But might this be of benefit to the Mallorcan producers? Starbucks, when it launched its pastry, did explain on its website that the sweet bread was "called ensaimada in Spanish" (and the word is the same in Spanish, albeit that it doesn't have the umlaut over the "i" that the Catalan word has). The fact that Starbucks was describing it as "Mallorcan" might have been thought to be advantageous, but it would be stretching the imagination to believe that a direct benefit might accrue.
Now, the ensaimada is heading to Japan, but this journey has nothing to do with Mallorcan producers. A bakery concern in Madrid, which has traded as Pastelerias Mallorca since 1931 and which has fifteen outlets in the capital, is moving into the Japanese market and taking its version of the ensaimada with it, and it is perfectly entitled to do so as long as it doesn't call it Mallorcan (which would be a breach of the PGI rules). The Japanese, say the company, are big on artisan-style food products and their traditions as well as pastries, so the ensaimada fits the bill, even if it isn't the real thing.
Reaction to this in Mallorca has been to suggest that this will create confusion, but if the Japanese are unaware of the origins of the ensaimada, it is hard to see how they will be confused. There is also a recognition that it is a pity that no Mallorcan business has had the foresight to have done something similar. But without assistance for the ensaimada, it would be impossible. Or so it is said.
While the Japanese connection may not bring about any benefit for the Mallorcan ensaimada, it could, if someone took the initiative, have a benefit for Mallorca as a whole. If the pastry were to become popular, then it could act as a stimulus for Japanese tourism, of which there is very little at present. With this in mind, the PGI, it might be said, acts in a negative fashion. If Pastelerias Mallorca could actually brand it with the Mallorcan title, then who knows, maybe loads of Japanese, their curiosity piqued, would suddenly want to come to the island of the pastry's origin.
But it would be unlikely that this would happen, even though the PGI is in any event threatened because of access to locally produced ingredients. The "Mallorca" tag is jealously guarded as there are other ensaimadas across the globe, not least in the town of San Pedro in Argentina where an historical link with Mallorca and the ensaimada goes back to the nineteenth century. So strong is this link that the ensaimada is the town's symbol, and the town organises the annual national day of the Argentinian ensaimada, an occasion replete with ball de bot folk dance and other Mallorcan food. How very odd that no one has thought to do the same here.
If only the ensaimada could also turn the clock back. Symbolic it is for Mallorcan gastronomy, albeit in a pork lard style that runs counter to generally accepted principles of the Mediterranean diet, but its recent history has not been a notable one. Economic crisis, inevitably, took its toll, but just as serious has been the loss of production of ingredients on the island which threaten its PGI (protected geographical identification) status, while there has also been a loss of sales to tourists, the result of all-inclusives, airline reluctance to allow the boxed ensaimada on board and cruise ship prohibition of food stuffs being taken onto ships. The traditional ensaimada has, therefore, been in decline for several years. There are now only twenty producers left; there had once been six times this number.
These problems have led to the dissolution of the regulatory council for ensaimada PGI and to the island's Association of Bakers and Confectioners assuming responsibility. This council didn't ask for much, but when it went in search of some official support, as it did in 2010, it was knocked back. Its president asked the government's director-general for agriculture for the grand sum of 18,000 euros to cover costs pertaining to the laying-off of two staff. This was apparently agreed to, but the promise was not met.
So, in addition to all its other troubles, the ensaimada was being treated with a degree of official indifference, and this despite the fact that it is of course revered as part of a Mallorcan gastronomy which supposedly offers an alternative tourist product.
Against this background, the ensaimada has, however, been emerging elsewhere. It isn't the Mallorcan ensaimada, but it is essentially the same, even if its coil is backwards. But might this be of benefit to the Mallorcan producers? Starbucks, when it launched its pastry, did explain on its website that the sweet bread was "called ensaimada in Spanish" (and the word is the same in Spanish, albeit that it doesn't have the umlaut over the "i" that the Catalan word has). The fact that Starbucks was describing it as "Mallorcan" might have been thought to be advantageous, but it would be stretching the imagination to believe that a direct benefit might accrue.
Now, the ensaimada is heading to Japan, but this journey has nothing to do with Mallorcan producers. A bakery concern in Madrid, which has traded as Pastelerias Mallorca since 1931 and which has fifteen outlets in the capital, is moving into the Japanese market and taking its version of the ensaimada with it, and it is perfectly entitled to do so as long as it doesn't call it Mallorcan (which would be a breach of the PGI rules). The Japanese, say the company, are big on artisan-style food products and their traditions as well as pastries, so the ensaimada fits the bill, even if it isn't the real thing.
Reaction to this in Mallorca has been to suggest that this will create confusion, but if the Japanese are unaware of the origins of the ensaimada, it is hard to see how they will be confused. There is also a recognition that it is a pity that no Mallorcan business has had the foresight to have done something similar. But without assistance for the ensaimada, it would be impossible. Or so it is said.
While the Japanese connection may not bring about any benefit for the Mallorcan ensaimada, it could, if someone took the initiative, have a benefit for Mallorca as a whole. If the pastry were to become popular, then it could act as a stimulus for Japanese tourism, of which there is very little at present. With this in mind, the PGI, it might be said, acts in a negative fashion. If Pastelerias Mallorca could actually brand it with the Mallorcan title, then who knows, maybe loads of Japanese, their curiosity piqued, would suddenly want to come to the island of the pastry's origin.
But it would be unlikely that this would happen, even though the PGI is in any event threatened because of access to locally produced ingredients. The "Mallorca" tag is jealously guarded as there are other ensaimadas across the globe, not least in the town of San Pedro in Argentina where an historical link with Mallorca and the ensaimada goes back to the nineteenth century. So strong is this link that the ensaimada is the town's symbol, and the town organises the annual national day of the Argentinian ensaimada, an occasion replete with ball de bot folk dance and other Mallorcan food. How very odd that no one has thought to do the same here.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Death Of A Baker
I haven't always been complimentary about the ensaimada. In its basic form - lard and sugar - it sounds and is less than inspiring, but there again the simple combination for pa amb oli, bread and oil, is similarly uninspiring. There is often (usually) more to the pa amb oli than its basic ingredients, and though it might be no more meritorious than a ploughman's lunch, the local variants of olives, pickles, tomatoes, hams or cheeses, afford it a culinary kudos that the ploughman doesn't really have. So, the pa amb oli, as representative of base-camp cooking in a Mallorcan style, is something I can devour with relish and with its accompanying relishes (optional), whereas the ensaimada, even with fillings - creams, marmalades - is not of personal epicurean essence. It's all a matter of taste of course, and the taste of sweetness, for the ensaimada is primarily a breakfast-time pastry, is unsuitable for this personal palate. This said, the ensaimada can be and is eaten at any time. The Germans, as an example and with their obsession for mid-afternoon cake, embellish their 4pm coffee routine with the ensaimada, though at that time of day, a local, Mallorcan cremadillo might be said to be more enticing.
The cult of the ensaimada is more of a cultural one than a purely culinary one. It is symbolic. It has been designated with an origin award, while its imitation, for example by a certain multinational coffee-shop chain, has been analysed and criticised. Just one reason for the criticism lay with the fact that it was being made the wrong way round. Rather like the Union Jack can be and often is flown upside down (not that anyone typically notices), so the ensaimada can be rolled in the wrong direction. It requires a trained eye and a trained ensaimada maker to see it.
One such trained maker passed away last week. Miquel Pujol shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the great coil of ensaimada in the sky. The reports of his death might have seemed surprising because of their volume and extent. He was, after all, just a local baker. But of course he wasn't. He was celebrated for the quality and excellence of both his ensaimadas and his cremadillos. He ran Can Miquel, a bakery in Palma that had been in existence since 1565. He retired in 2012, and the bakery closed its doors, and last week Miquel d'es forn, as he was commonly referred to (forn meaning oven), died. Tributes flooded in. The Montesión church was packed to the gunwales with hundreds of friends and members of his family.
There was of course very much more on offer at Can Miquel than pastries. There were savouries, pies, the local "cocas", you name it. It was a traditional bakery; indeed, given its history, it was about as traditional a bakery as you could get. Miquel's death was, in a way and sadly, symbolic of something else. In the same week as he died, the Balearics Association of Bakers was drawing attention to the loss of traditional baker's shops. Thirty have closed in the past five years. They have fallen victim to the multinational supermarket and to the market stall, one at which hygiene, so the association maintains, can be less than adequate. Miquel, one might conclude, was a type who might not be seen again. Or of whom less and less will be seen and gradually, just possibly, the ensaimada will fall victim to corporatisation and to non-tradition. But, so long as it's made the right way round, it should be fine.
* Photo and Spanish report: http://ultimahora.es/mallorca/noticia/noticias/local/fallece-miquel-pujol-del-forn-pelleteria.html
The cult of the ensaimada is more of a cultural one than a purely culinary one. It is symbolic. It has been designated with an origin award, while its imitation, for example by a certain multinational coffee-shop chain, has been analysed and criticised. Just one reason for the criticism lay with the fact that it was being made the wrong way round. Rather like the Union Jack can be and often is flown upside down (not that anyone typically notices), so the ensaimada can be rolled in the wrong direction. It requires a trained eye and a trained ensaimada maker to see it.
One such trained maker passed away last week. Miquel Pujol shuffled off this mortal coil and joined the great coil of ensaimada in the sky. The reports of his death might have seemed surprising because of their volume and extent. He was, after all, just a local baker. But of course he wasn't. He was celebrated for the quality and excellence of both his ensaimadas and his cremadillos. He ran Can Miquel, a bakery in Palma that had been in existence since 1565. He retired in 2012, and the bakery closed its doors, and last week Miquel d'es forn, as he was commonly referred to (forn meaning oven), died. Tributes flooded in. The Montesión church was packed to the gunwales with hundreds of friends and members of his family.
There was of course very much more on offer at Can Miquel than pastries. There were savouries, pies, the local "cocas", you name it. It was a traditional bakery; indeed, given its history, it was about as traditional a bakery as you could get. Miquel's death was, in a way and sadly, symbolic of something else. In the same week as he died, the Balearics Association of Bakers was drawing attention to the loss of traditional baker's shops. Thirty have closed in the past five years. They have fallen victim to the multinational supermarket and to the market stall, one at which hygiene, so the association maintains, can be less than adequate. Miquel, one might conclude, was a type who might not be seen again. Or of whom less and less will be seen and gradually, just possibly, the ensaimada will fall victim to corporatisation and to non-tradition. But, so long as it's made the right way round, it should be fine.
* Photo and Spanish report: http://ultimahora.es/mallorca/noticia/noticias/local/fallece-miquel-pujol-del-forn-pelleteria.html
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sabotage
Fires seem to be the theme of the moment. If it's not the Bellevue hotel, it must be the Sa Pobla train. There was, you may recall, an incident last month (16 May: Wheel's On Fire). There was another three days ago. A breakdown of the train between Muro and Sa Pobla stations led to a small fire, albeit one that caused no great alarm. This might have passed off without any great comment, were it not for the fact that the regional government's minister for transport "insinuated" that there had been an act of "sabotage" (as reported in "The Diario", 23 June). Yesterday the paper reported that the minister had posted a note on his website which said that the train breakdowns "cannot be attributed to acts of sabotage". The operator, SFM, has said that the incidents are down to "deficient maintenance" and that train workers are not "delinquents". Whatever. There is apparently a threat of a strike on 1 July which the minister had originally, it seemed, linked to the alleged sabotage, which we now know it wasn't.
The ensaimada doesn't taste so sweet
One of the less obvious victims of recession is the Mallorcan ensaimada, that lump of lard and sugar that passes as a local delicacy. Production and sales are down, the latter by a quarter in a year. The decline can partly be attributed to competition from other produce, such as cheese and oil, which is bought as a "souvenir" in airports and elsewhere (and it is common to see passengers at Palma airport traipsing around with boxes of ensaimadas). Perhaps there is a further reason, and that is that people have finally come to the conclusion that, amidst all the excellence and healthiness of the beneficial local diet, there is really no place for something that has no benefit. I refrain from saying that these people do not find the ensaimada excellent (well I suppose I have actually said it), as there is enough fuss made about it to conclude that some do consider it be so. Why they do is a mystery.
Restaurants resigned to their fate
Wandering around the restaurants of Puerto Pollensa and Puerto Alcúdia, there seems to be a sense of resignation about this season's problems. In Puerto Pollensa one hears a regular refrain: things are bad or very bad, but there is an apparent acceptance that everyone is in the same boat, which makes things rather less difficult to bear. In Puerto Alcúdia, one frontline restaurant had but only one table occupied the other evening. This does rather echo a view elsewhere that, though the same restaurant is doing ok at lunchtimes, the tendency seems to be for tourists to go out for only one meal a day as opposed to two or even three. There is a hope that the San Pedro fiesta will boost flagging revenues. Away from the bars and restaurants, there is one sector that does seem to be doing reasonably well, and that is car-rentals. Despite the problems in this sector, those of a lack of credit to buy in new and large fleets, resulting in a reduced number of cars available for hire, the effect has been generally positive where local companies are concerned as they are picking up customers whose demand cannot be satisfied by the larger operators. Not that this prevented one local car-rental company owner complaining that "there is no money". No, of course there isn't. Discretion prevents me from naming his car of choice.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - The Prodigy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmin5WkOuPw. And congratulations to Lynne who, in getting the right answer, wins a copy of the special limited edition book "Great Barmen of Alcúdia". Today's title - two Mikes, an MC and an Ad, and they still are (some acts never grow up).
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
The ensaimada doesn't taste so sweet
One of the less obvious victims of recession is the Mallorcan ensaimada, that lump of lard and sugar that passes as a local delicacy. Production and sales are down, the latter by a quarter in a year. The decline can partly be attributed to competition from other produce, such as cheese and oil, which is bought as a "souvenir" in airports and elsewhere (and it is common to see passengers at Palma airport traipsing around with boxes of ensaimadas). Perhaps there is a further reason, and that is that people have finally come to the conclusion that, amidst all the excellence and healthiness of the beneficial local diet, there is really no place for something that has no benefit. I refrain from saying that these people do not find the ensaimada excellent (well I suppose I have actually said it), as there is enough fuss made about it to conclude that some do consider it be so. Why they do is a mystery.
Restaurants resigned to their fate
Wandering around the restaurants of Puerto Pollensa and Puerto Alcúdia, there seems to be a sense of resignation about this season's problems. In Puerto Pollensa one hears a regular refrain: things are bad or very bad, but there is an apparent acceptance that everyone is in the same boat, which makes things rather less difficult to bear. In Puerto Alcúdia, one frontline restaurant had but only one table occupied the other evening. This does rather echo a view elsewhere that, though the same restaurant is doing ok at lunchtimes, the tendency seems to be for tourists to go out for only one meal a day as opposed to two or even three. There is a hope that the San Pedro fiesta will boost flagging revenues. Away from the bars and restaurants, there is one sector that does seem to be doing reasonably well, and that is car-rentals. Despite the problems in this sector, those of a lack of credit to buy in new and large fleets, resulting in a reduced number of cars available for hire, the effect has been generally positive where local companies are concerned as they are picking up customers whose demand cannot be satisfied by the larger operators. Not that this prevented one local car-rental company owner complaining that "there is no money". No, of course there isn't. Discretion prevents me from naming his car of choice.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - The Prodigy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmin5WkOuPw. And congratulations to Lynne who, in getting the right answer, wins a copy of the special limited edition book "Great Barmen of Alcúdia". Today's title - two Mikes, an MC and an Ad, and they still are (some acts never grow up).
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
Monday, February 16, 2009
Get On Your Boots
"Busy, isn't it."
I said so, and so did many others. "Busy, isn't it". "Yep, it is." "Isn't it busy?" "Yea, you're right it is." So, busy it was, and it was the weekly gathering of the tribes of Albion and the Britannic islands at the Jolly Roger's jolly car-boot sale that has no car boots. Here, this Saturday just past, were those emerging from winter hibernation, the beginning of the return, the starting all over again. While the Brit bars may all serve a certain social intercourse, may all have elements of Queen Vic and Rovers, the in-winter piratical flea market is a fulcrum, a compendium of perfidious Albion of the past few weeks, a treachery of gossipry. Crawling out from behind the duvet of a Mallorcan deep winter, blinking into the sun of coming season and hungry for news of who has done what, what's happened to so-and-so and where has such-and-such got to. Yet here also is commerce of a low-level - clothes and cushions all seemingly the colour purple, a yellow toaster, kids' shoes still with an overlooked 24,99 sticker but being sold for three euros. Only a handful of Saturdays remain to convert a pitch into 50 or so euros of sales of old books, mirrors and ageing kitchen equipment and to transform a 1,50-euro coffee into a body of tittle-tattle. For once everyone is back at work, this all stops. No-one sees anyone. They work, eat and sleep. Until next winter.
I imagine you have barely been able to contain your interest and excitement in the seven wonders of the world of the island which I promised to reveal today. These, remember, come from a combined survey of readers of "The Diario" and "Mallorca Zeitung", and at number one - the greatest wonder of the world of the island of Mallorca is ... Palma cathedral. A not unsurprising result, I would say. If you have not been to Palma cathedral, then you really should go; it is pretty damn impressive, it must be said. As to the rest of these wonders, these are - the Tramuntana mountains, the caves at Drac, Bellver castle, the beach at Es Trenc and the Cabrera nature park. Which makes six. Six that may attract some dissent and discussion but could all be said to be deserving of their place. Which is more than can be said for the seventh. As I mentioned yesterday, it is something you eat, and it is - the ensaimada.
How can this lump of lard and sugar be considered a wonder of anything? It is a non-wonder of the culinary world so can hardly qualify as a wonder of Mallorca. If we investigate closely, I suspect that there was probably some internet campaign by the ensaimada bakers of Mallorca or by some radical, fundamental ensaimadaists to ensure that this singularly unremarkable pile of sweet fat was elevated to a top-seven position. At least it wasn't, as "Mallorca Zeitung" pointed out, voted number one, and rightly so.
And on food, do you know who Marc Fosh is? He is in fact a top-rated chef, and also rightly so. Furthermore, he does a thing for "The Bulletin". Recipes and the like, local dishes, pretty useful stuff, but possibly a bit repetitious; in fact definitely so. Yesterday's edition had a centre spread devoted mainly to three recipes - for "fabada asturiana", "cocido madrileño" and "potaje of salt cod, chick peas and spinach". Really, all of it is very good, very appetising and pretty healthy, especially the potaje. But I had one of those senses of déjà vu again. What could it be, I thought? Then it clicked. In the boot of the car is a copy of "The Bulletin" dating from 21 December 2008. It is there for the sole purpose of being something upon which the butane bloke can put a bottle of gas, if it so happens that I need to collect one from the butane collection point, which sometimes I do. If it's raining and the bottle is wet, it can leave a sort of rust mark. So, it is a good idea to have something like an old newspaper in your boot to prevent this from happening. The point is that the copy from December has been staring up at me for the last almost two months every time I have opened the boot and it has for these last almost two months revealed a centre spread by Marc Fosh devoted mainly to three recipes - for "fabada asturiana", "cocido madrileño" and "potaje of salt cod, chick peas and spinach". Really, all of it is very good, very appetising and pretty healthy, especially the potaje. Déjà vu: same recipes, same explanations and more or less the same introduction. Anyway, obviously these are dishes you should be trying, and I would say that you should all head off to where Mr. Fosh may well be cooking up these dishes, which is somewhere called Foshfood in Palma - http://www.foshfood.com.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Dylan wrote it, The Band did a great version - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0WMBYQL14U. Today's title - bang up to date for once; who?
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
I said so, and so did many others. "Busy, isn't it". "Yep, it is." "Isn't it busy?" "Yea, you're right it is." So, busy it was, and it was the weekly gathering of the tribes of Albion and the Britannic islands at the Jolly Roger's jolly car-boot sale that has no car boots. Here, this Saturday just past, were those emerging from winter hibernation, the beginning of the return, the starting all over again. While the Brit bars may all serve a certain social intercourse, may all have elements of Queen Vic and Rovers, the in-winter piratical flea market is a fulcrum, a compendium of perfidious Albion of the past few weeks, a treachery of gossipry. Crawling out from behind the duvet of a Mallorcan deep winter, blinking into the sun of coming season and hungry for news of who has done what, what's happened to so-and-so and where has such-and-such got to. Yet here also is commerce of a low-level - clothes and cushions all seemingly the colour purple, a yellow toaster, kids' shoes still with an overlooked 24,99 sticker but being sold for three euros. Only a handful of Saturdays remain to convert a pitch into 50 or so euros of sales of old books, mirrors and ageing kitchen equipment and to transform a 1,50-euro coffee into a body of tittle-tattle. For once everyone is back at work, this all stops. No-one sees anyone. They work, eat and sleep. Until next winter.
I imagine you have barely been able to contain your interest and excitement in the seven wonders of the world of the island which I promised to reveal today. These, remember, come from a combined survey of readers of "The Diario" and "Mallorca Zeitung", and at number one - the greatest wonder of the world of the island of Mallorca is ... Palma cathedral. A not unsurprising result, I would say. If you have not been to Palma cathedral, then you really should go; it is pretty damn impressive, it must be said. As to the rest of these wonders, these are - the Tramuntana mountains, the caves at Drac, Bellver castle, the beach at Es Trenc and the Cabrera nature park. Which makes six. Six that may attract some dissent and discussion but could all be said to be deserving of their place. Which is more than can be said for the seventh. As I mentioned yesterday, it is something you eat, and it is - the ensaimada.
How can this lump of lard and sugar be considered a wonder of anything? It is a non-wonder of the culinary world so can hardly qualify as a wonder of Mallorca. If we investigate closely, I suspect that there was probably some internet campaign by the ensaimada bakers of Mallorca or by some radical, fundamental ensaimadaists to ensure that this singularly unremarkable pile of sweet fat was elevated to a top-seven position. At least it wasn't, as "Mallorca Zeitung" pointed out, voted number one, and rightly so.
And on food, do you know who Marc Fosh is? He is in fact a top-rated chef, and also rightly so. Furthermore, he does a thing for "The Bulletin". Recipes and the like, local dishes, pretty useful stuff, but possibly a bit repetitious; in fact definitely so. Yesterday's edition had a centre spread devoted mainly to three recipes - for "fabada asturiana", "cocido madrileño" and "potaje of salt cod, chick peas and spinach". Really, all of it is very good, very appetising and pretty healthy, especially the potaje. But I had one of those senses of déjà vu again. What could it be, I thought? Then it clicked. In the boot of the car is a copy of "The Bulletin" dating from 21 December 2008. It is there for the sole purpose of being something upon which the butane bloke can put a bottle of gas, if it so happens that I need to collect one from the butane collection point, which sometimes I do. If it's raining and the bottle is wet, it can leave a sort of rust mark. So, it is a good idea to have something like an old newspaper in your boot to prevent this from happening. The point is that the copy from December has been staring up at me for the last almost two months every time I have opened the boot and it has for these last almost two months revealed a centre spread by Marc Fosh devoted mainly to three recipes - for "fabada asturiana", "cocido madrileño" and "potaje of salt cod, chick peas and spinach". Really, all of it is very good, very appetising and pretty healthy, especially the potaje. Déjà vu: same recipes, same explanations and more or less the same introduction. Anyway, obviously these are dishes you should be trying, and I would say that you should all head off to where Mr. Fosh may well be cooking up these dishes, which is somewhere called Foshfood in Palma - http://www.foshfood.com.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Dylan wrote it, The Band did a great version - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0WMBYQL14U. Today's title - bang up to date for once; who?
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I've Been Waiting So Long
The fiestas and fairs of Mallorca are often the signal for the appearance of "giants", the peculiar models that often have an air of American Amish or puritan about their appearance. There is another type of giantism. It was on display at the fair in Muro at the weekend and will be at the prestigious "Dijous Bo" fair in Inca tomorrow (Thursday). In Muro there were giant pumpkins; indeed the fair itself was dedicated to the pumpkin (they do some strange things here, that's for sure). The winner of the competition to find the largest pumpkin had one that weighed in at 93.5 kilos. That's a whole lot of pumpkin, but with so much of it knocking around, the local restaurants were able to prepare dishes of a pumpkin nature. So if you don't like pumpkin, best to give the annual Muro fair a miss. This was the second year that the pumpkin had taken pride of place, and doubtless there will be the hat-trick next year.
If, on the other hand, you prefer something comprising sugar and fat then the Dijous Bo gig will be just the event for you. There will be one huge great ensaimada to feast your eyes on and presumably also to feast on. It will be some 15 metres in diameter. 15 metres in diameter of something that will do you no good. It is a curiosity that for all that healthy Mediterranean diet that one is supposed to enjoy here, there is a local delicacy as junk as the ensaimada. And they make such a big deal of something as dull and unhealthy as it is. If you have not sampled an ensaimada, my advice is don't bother. Just look at it - all 15 metres in diameter of it.
It is how long, a year, since the Alcúdia hospital closed? It may not have been perfect, but there were procedures that it was very good at. Take the simple one of having a blood test. Since Alcúdia closed, those of us who fork out for the not especially expensive private medical insurance that is available here, go to the hospital in Playa de Muro. Just up the road, for me at any rate. Shouldn't be a problem, but then there is this business with the blood test.
At Alcúdia, it was the case that you pitched up before ten in the morning and handed in the form at the main reception. The nurse, who was in a room more or less opposite the reception, would come and collect the forms of the patients as they had been presented, i.e. in order of arrival. Not that there were ever that many patients. You might wait ten minutes and ... you might feel a bit of a prick, sir (not that they say that here of course), apply a plaster and now get out. Very simple and very orderly.
Contrast this with the Muro hospital. Go to reception, and you are instructed to head off downstairs. There, there are numerous people milling around, some standing, some sitting. You head to the laboratory reception and a kindly Mallorcan woman who speaks perfect English stops you and says that the chap will come out and collect your papers and that there are these other people before you. (You realise that many of those milling around, including the Mallorcan lady, have already had a visitation from the chap and that they are, therefore, all before you.) You thank her and go and stand around for some twenty minutes, trying to ignore a child who is staring at you, during which time more people turn up and are told what is happening by this Mallorcan lady patient. You see, it's not just stupid Brits who have no clue, no one has a clue. Then the chap appears and of course everyone who is in the second wave of chap-visitation rushes towards him. You calculate that you should be third in the queue, and so you push yourself into that position - with success; that Mallorcan lady has told all those after you the same thing, so they do at least have an inkling as to where they should be in the non-existent order of things. Then you sit down, and sit down next to a gentleman from Puerto Pollensa who you have overheard talking to that same helpful Mallorcan lady and who you heard mention the fact that he was from Woking. And so you talk to him as Woking used to once be part of your manor. He says that really it would be just as easy going to the national health hospital in Inca, this is all chaotic. You agree, there is no system. You sit, and sit, and among the patients before you are one and then a second family with a young child. The first child screams the place down from inside the laboratory. It goes on for an intolerably long time. What on earth are they doing to him? He finally emerges red-faced and red-eyed, and everyone looks at the poor little mite who was the same one that had been staring at you. And then the second family, and the boy screams his head off for an intolerably long time. A third family, who are to come after you, sit there, and their little girl stares towards where the screams are coming from. And eventually it is your turn, and it takes all of a minute and it is done. But you have waited an hour and a half and reckon that maybe it might indeed be better to just go to the national health hospital in future instead and also to reckon that Clinica Juaneda, the operators of both Alcúdia and Muro hospitals, have cut their service levels since closing the Alcúdia branch. That wait though. Enough to make you scream.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Fifth Dimension, "Wedding Bell Blues" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkMhWQgkZ8c). Today's title - a line from a mega blues trio; lick your lips, kitty - it's warm.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
If, on the other hand, you prefer something comprising sugar and fat then the Dijous Bo gig will be just the event for you. There will be one huge great ensaimada to feast your eyes on and presumably also to feast on. It will be some 15 metres in diameter. 15 metres in diameter of something that will do you no good. It is a curiosity that for all that healthy Mediterranean diet that one is supposed to enjoy here, there is a local delicacy as junk as the ensaimada. And they make such a big deal of something as dull and unhealthy as it is. If you have not sampled an ensaimada, my advice is don't bother. Just look at it - all 15 metres in diameter of it.
It is how long, a year, since the Alcúdia hospital closed? It may not have been perfect, but there were procedures that it was very good at. Take the simple one of having a blood test. Since Alcúdia closed, those of us who fork out for the not especially expensive private medical insurance that is available here, go to the hospital in Playa de Muro. Just up the road, for me at any rate. Shouldn't be a problem, but then there is this business with the blood test.
At Alcúdia, it was the case that you pitched up before ten in the morning and handed in the form at the main reception. The nurse, who was in a room more or less opposite the reception, would come and collect the forms of the patients as they had been presented, i.e. in order of arrival. Not that there were ever that many patients. You might wait ten minutes and ... you might feel a bit of a prick, sir (not that they say that here of course), apply a plaster and now get out. Very simple and very orderly.
Contrast this with the Muro hospital. Go to reception, and you are instructed to head off downstairs. There, there are numerous people milling around, some standing, some sitting. You head to the laboratory reception and a kindly Mallorcan woman who speaks perfect English stops you and says that the chap will come out and collect your papers and that there are these other people before you. (You realise that many of those milling around, including the Mallorcan lady, have already had a visitation from the chap and that they are, therefore, all before you.) You thank her and go and stand around for some twenty minutes, trying to ignore a child who is staring at you, during which time more people turn up and are told what is happening by this Mallorcan lady patient. You see, it's not just stupid Brits who have no clue, no one has a clue. Then the chap appears and of course everyone who is in the second wave of chap-visitation rushes towards him. You calculate that you should be third in the queue, and so you push yourself into that position - with success; that Mallorcan lady has told all those after you the same thing, so they do at least have an inkling as to where they should be in the non-existent order of things. Then you sit down, and sit down next to a gentleman from Puerto Pollensa who you have overheard talking to that same helpful Mallorcan lady and who you heard mention the fact that he was from Woking. And so you talk to him as Woking used to once be part of your manor. He says that really it would be just as easy going to the national health hospital in Inca, this is all chaotic. You agree, there is no system. You sit, and sit, and among the patients before you are one and then a second family with a young child. The first child screams the place down from inside the laboratory. It goes on for an intolerably long time. What on earth are they doing to him? He finally emerges red-faced and red-eyed, and everyone looks at the poor little mite who was the same one that had been staring at you. And then the second family, and the boy screams his head off for an intolerably long time. A third family, who are to come after you, sit there, and their little girl stares towards where the screams are coming from. And eventually it is your turn, and it takes all of a minute and it is done. But you have waited an hour and a half and reckon that maybe it might indeed be better to just go to the national health hospital in future instead and also to reckon that Clinica Juaneda, the operators of both Alcúdia and Muro hospitals, have cut their service levels since closing the Alcúdia branch. That wait though. Enough to make you scream.
QUIZ
Yesterday's title - Fifth Dimension, "Wedding Bell Blues" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IkMhWQgkZ8c). Today's title - a line from a mega blues trio; lick your lips, kitty - it's warm.
(PLEASE REPLY TO andrew@thealcudiaguide.com AND NOT VIA THE COMMENTS THINGY HERE.)
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