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Kikiriki, Cock-a-Doodle DooWhat did I just eat?By Will Snyder
But the food and wine list proved the highlight of the meal, as it should be. What changed this meal from excellent to unforgettable was the simple fact that we had not brought our Spanish dictionary. I mean, we are not total idiots, and can carry on a polite conversation, platitudes, ask questions, say thank-you, but a menu of nouvelle cuisine, when the house does not have an “English menu” or a conversant waitress, proved to be a bit of a stretch. There were many choices, and this is what I ordered: first course: Lasana de Torta del Cesar (D.O.)
con jamon iberico de Bellota y this turned out to be wild mushrooms with fantastic country ham and cheese in a lasagna pasta, all baked to al dente perfection. very rich, a meal in itself, extraordinary. main course: Carre de cordero lechal, cretas de gallo confitadas y verduritas. I knew I was ordering lamb chops, local style. I assumed there would be some green vegetables with the meat.
We asked the waitress. Who didn’t speak English (or French), only Spanish. She didn’t hesitate an instant. She crouched over, put one hand over her mouth making a beak, and the other hand behind her head showing plumes or a headdress, and shouted “kikiriki-kikiriki!” Then pulled the headdress hand to the table and made a cutting motion above my plate. So that was it, the pride and joy of a rooster, pickled and deposited as a delicacy with the lamb chops. A cockscomb, in plain English, showing the sheep that he’s the king of the barnyard. The appendage of this male fowl, the ridge-shaped flesh attached to the skull of the rooster. Except it was no longer attached to the rooster’s head, or rather heads, because there were two of these cockscombs well-preserved, cooked and laid to rest on my plate, and half of one had already been “tasted” without the slightest notion of what it was. Let me assure you that the remaining crests were left untouched. I eat oysters, rabbit, foie gras and all kinds of cheeses. But I don’t eat horsemeat, for example. Or cockscomb, however well prepared. We had a good laugh and moved on to other things, not letting a rooster’s headdress spoil a very excellent meal. In fact, a couple more sips of the wonderful red wine, an Arzuaga Crianza (D.O. Ribera del Duero), worked perfectly as a total throat wash for the no-longer mystery taste. What to visit, where to stay- the official site:
www.salamanca.es Will Snyder is a free lance writer living in southwest France. email: willsnyder24@yahoo.com |
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Funny
how a detail of an exquisite dining experience can become the most striking
souvenir of a week in Spain. We were visiting Salamanca, one of the most
picturesque cities in Europe, its added distinction as a major university town
giving it a liveliness that makes visiting a true pleasure. Everywhere is to be
seen late Renaissance rebuilding, in baroque and the finer rococo styles, with
plenty of Romanesque churches and cloisters to keep the purist happy.
Walking
around town in the large medieval quarter is a little deceiving- the narrow
cobbled streets are nearly all reserved for pedestrians, plus- and this is an
important plus- deliveries and local traffic. This means an occasional vehicle
will come hauling down on the curving old alleyways at a pace that is basically
as fast as possible without hitting someone. Just watch the students, they have
the technique. Don’t actually look at the driver, just keep moving at the same
speed, making your way for the nearest wall -and don’t get unnerved by a car
nearly taking off your heels. They won’t actually hit you.
I
found myself behind the wheel of our rental car on these very streets, and
certainly didn’t want to hit anyone, as we tried to make sense of the poorly
marked signs (of course not, we weren’t a delivery and certainly not local)
looking for our centrally located hotel. This is a good reason to book hotels in
the old section of town if you aren’t driving- only taxis know how to find these
hotels! I nearly made it myself, but in a scene right out of French Connection,
the road was blocked by tables full of tourists eating and drinking at sidewalk
cafes. We ended up parking elsewhere and walking 15 minutes to the Don Juan.
There are so many religious and scholastic (the
universities are medieval museums in their own right) sites to see in this town,
it’s best to count 2 full days for a visit. One outstanding attraction not to be
missed is the hike up the cathedral towers. Reminiscent of the more famous Duomo
tower in Florence (the cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore), this visit is every
bit as fascinating. At each level, there are exhibits and informed guides to
explain the role of the people and stones in such events as the Inquisition –all
the while taking in an increasingly wonderful view of the city below. The path
up and down stone steps takes the visitor high in the nave of the old cathedral,
then down a walkway over the old city wall, before climbing the new (well, only
350 years old) cathedral tower.
There
are a number of excellent old palaces in Salamanca that have been turned into
hotels. Some are facing internal courtyards with no windows out on the world
going by. We stayed in a 1780’s building only a block from the Plaza Mayor
called Hotel Don Juan. In room 301, we were directly facing the church bell
tower of San Martin, that contained two huge stork nests. From our small
balcony, we watched the storks’ feeding routines, and tried to count the number
of baby stork beaks screeching out for the returning victuals. Storks frequently
inhabit the top towers of church buildings in this part of Spain, opting for
nesting spots that look quite perilous in the event of a heavy wind.
Watching the storks eat made us realize we were getting
hungry, but this being Spain, only tourists eat before 10pm- and the best
restaurants do not open earlier. We chose a restaurant from a colorful guidebook
picked up at the tourist office, and went out for a pre-dinner drink at one of
many sidewalk cafes. The restaurant was called El Pecado (the Sin), and was
billed as modern decor with a creative kitchen. It was an inspired choice, and
we could feel the uniqueness in the narrow brick and plaster entranceway with
medieval posters on the wall showing the seven mortal sins. A bookcase in the
wall up the stairs turned out to be a piece of art -hundreds of books stacked in
random order and enclosed with a glass window. Post-modern decor, with pleasing
lollipop lighting, zebra-skin chairs and banquettes, and alternating brick and
red textured walls.
The plates were laid in front of us, and looked stupendous.
The lamb was tender, full of flavor, crispy on the outside. There were fresh
peas and fried potatoes. And a mystery accompaniment. I thought it might be
mushrooms, cut in a fancy zig-zag form. I tasted it and found its gelatinous
texture to be confounding. Was it a local variety of eggplant? The Artiste
tasted it and couldn’t identify the source. Of course we didn’t know what it was
by taste buds, because we had never tasted it before.