Tag: spanish village

Self-Absorption, Procrastination Reap Rewards: Spanish Dessert Edition

In an attempt to stave off actual writing, I was investigating the mystery of why my old blogspot URL still gets all the action. Following some links in my stats, I happened across a truly mind-expanding item on now-defunct Saute Wednesday: a recipe for toast topped with melted chocolate, olive oil and sea salt.

I don’t recommend it if you’re still trying to get your head around salt caramels, but for those who’ve made the leap, it’s really just the next logical progression. (It’s like guitar with feedback. Could you listen to, say, Wham! after you heard the Pixies? I couldn’t.) And because it’s salty, it seems like a totally legit afternoon snack.

However, it must be said that this is further evidence that the Spanish are very scary (hence, fascinating) when it comes to food. Thanks to the Spaniards, I have nearly a quarter of a whole farm animal in a closet, held in a magical state between rot and not-rot.

More specific to dessert, AV told us all about the highly medieval candied egg yolks (scroll to “For science”), and it seems like every Spanish sweet I’ve seen comes in a super-Goth-looking all-black wrapper and is either stark white or bright yellow. (One exception: the maraschino-cherry-studded egg marzipan I’m eating now–but of course those cherries are red, like BLOOD.)

I would not be the least bit surprised if some Spanish village specialized in, say, rabbit brains slow-simmered for nine days in sugar with saffron, sold in a black box sporting a not-cute-at-all bunny on the label. They would, of course, be a strange texture, yet delicious in a very rich way. You would savor a little bunny brain for an hour, probably, with bitter coffee.

And even though this chocolate/salt/oil toast is apparently some Ferran Adria modern invention, it is not out of keeping with more traditional Spanish sweets. In fact, come to think of it, even the color scheme fits right in with tradition: black chocolate, white bread, yellow oil. It’s so dour and joyless in appearance that it can’t possibly be dessert. You cannot possibly enjoy it. Clever, perverse Spaniards.