Meat is murder. Tasty, tasty murder.

I'm linking here to a blog entry about being a vegetarian in Andalusia. There's no disguising the fact that it's tough. I eat meat, and love it, but even I find the ubiquity of pig flesh round these parts a bit much at times. There's no problem if you're self-catering in a lovely property like ours, with a nice big fridge, excellent cooking facilities and some decent chef's knives (not something you can bet on in the average holiday rental). The availability of wonderful fruit and veg, delicious fresh eggs and an excellent variety of pulses, nuts and dairy make meat-free cooking easier even than in Northern Europe. The problems start when you eat out, and for most visitors, eating out is a major element of a holiday.

The problem is that barring a few classic dishes like pisto (something like ratatouille) and pimientos de padrón (fried baby peppers, above), Spaniards assume that the addition of a little meat or fish is necessarily an improvement to anything, for everyone. So although soups, tortillas and salads may look harmless and veggie-friendly on paper, there's always a high likelihood that some ham or tuna will be strewn over the top, or some meat-and-bone-based stock will have made its way in at an early stage of preparation. It doesn't even always help if you say you don't eat meat: "no como carne" means "I don't eat meat", but to an Andalusian it kind of means "I don't want a rare steak right this moment". They won't think you mean ham, or black pudding, or pork fat.

Then there are tapas, without which a visit to Spain would be unthinkable to many, including those who reject animal flesh. In most provinces of the country, you pay for and specify what you want when you get tapas. Not in these parts. Here in Granada they're free with your drink, and you get what you're given. It might be snails, it could be cod, but the chances are it'll be something that used to be part of a pig.

All is not lost, though, meat-dodgers. Every bar will have some cheese, olives, eggs. And they'll be happy to give you a tapa without meat. I suggest you learn how to say you'd like a cheese or egg tapa - la tapilla ¿puede ser de queso? should do it - and remember that you have to specify it as you order your beer or wine. Otherwise it'll be too late, and it'll be black pudding.

Stein squeezes us in

I'm hardly a fan, but Rick Stein's series on Spanish food has at least taken in some beautiful locations and great dishes. Last night in Extremadura he helped himself to some guy's migas in a shed on an allotment in Trujillo, and was treated to ajo blanco by the Duchess of somewhere or other in a stunning aristocratic dehesa - a hunting estate complete with stags, wild boar and cork-oaks. Then crossing into Andalusia and arriving in Seville, he claimed to have accidentally stumbled upon El Rinconcillo - the oldest and most famous tapas bar in the city, a fixture in every guide book and travel article on Seville ever printed, and in my limited experience (I've only been once), very disappointing. To be fair it's not Stein or his cooking that annoys me, but the tired and desperate efforts to make the whole thing more engaging by having him drive an old camper van (alone but for a crew of maybe thirty people), having him 'help' with the saffron harvest or whatever, mugging to camera at every opportunity and mispronouncing everything. And all with the most appalling background music. For contrast, check out The Good Cook with Simon Hopkinson on BBC1 at the moment.
No novelty form of transport, no pretending to be best friends with the fishmonger, no groups of implausibly attractive friends round for brunch. Just Simon Hopkinson making five great dishes per episode; simple, honest and brilliant.

Anyway, just when you thought it was over, Stein found ten minutes to visit Chris and Anne Stewart of Driving Over Lemons fame, down our way in the Alpujarra Granadina. The Stewarts live on a cortijo in the river valley at (I think) Barranco de la Sangre, not far from Orgiva. They served Stein some not-very-good-looking tabbouleh (which isn't Spanish, let alone Alpujarran) and a kind of wild boar tagine which probably tasted great, but which looked terrible on the telly. Stein drove a LandRover along a dirt track (the camper van wasn't up to it), but other than that, and the Stewart's terrace, you didn't see anything of what's probably the most beautiful region in Southern Spain. He kept going on about how remote and difficult it was to get to - so after making the effort, you'd think they'd have shot a bit more footage.

The only time I've bumped into Chris Stewart, he didn't have a parrot on his head. It was in the Pizzeria in Capileira, a restaurant which despite its name does much more than pizza, including fabulous boar and extraordinary wild asparagus with scrambled egg. I'd recommend it highly - along with the rest of the eating places in that pretty, busy little village.

Chicken in almond sauce

I was asked for a typical Alpujarran recipe for a website the other day. Now the ultimate local dish is probably the plato Alpujarreño, which is great, but it's not unlike a British breakfast and sounds less impressive than it really is. Then there's migas, a kind of grainy semolina porridge which comes out rather like uneven couscous - again it's one of those hearty local dishes that doesn't really travel that well. So I made up a user-friendly recipe for chicken in almond sauce instead - I'm not sure if it's precisely authentic, but with great handfuls of almonds and garlic, lashings of olive oil and wine, plus pimentón and cumin, it should be close enough; and the results were delicious. This almond sauce is also great with meatballs - albóndigas - and of course with pork for carne en salsa.Ingredients to serve at least four people:

1 chicken, jointed, skin on, or a mixture of thighs and drumsticks sufficient to provide two or three pieces per person.
100 grams raw almonds, preferably with the skins still on.
300 mls white wine
Chicken stock or water, as necessary
1 head of garlic, cut in half horizontally
1 onion, peeled but kept whole
2 large tomatoes
2 or 3 slices from a baguette or similar white loaf, preferably slightly stale
Olive oil
Flour
A good pinch of saffron threads
1 tsp ground cummin
1 tsp of hot and 2 tsp mild smoked paprika (or adjust to your taste)
2 bay leaves
Salt and pepper

1. Brown the chicken on all sides in a non-stick pan, in batches, adding more olive oil when necessary. Transfer to a flame-proof casserole dish.

2. Add the wine and bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer, add the 'bottom' half of the un-peeled garlic (it should stay in one piece), the tomatoes, bay leaves, paprika, cummin and saffron. Add stock or water to just cover and simmer for half an hour to 40 minutes, with the lid on.

3. In the same oil you used to fry the chicken, brown the almonds, making sure they don't burn. Peel the 'top' half of the garlic and add the peeled half-cloves to the pan, frying until just golden. Fry the slices of bread until golden. Put the browned almonds, garlic and bread into a pestle and mortar (or a food processor) and pound (or blend) to a thick paste.

4. When the chicken is just cooked, use a slotted spoon to lift the tomatoes and onion from the casserole and add these to the almond mixture. Lift out the half-head of garlic, squeeze the cloves from the skin and add these. Continue to pound or blend until you have a thick sauce.

5. Return the sauce to the chicken and its juices in the casserole dish, stir to blend in, and cook for another 10 minutes or so. Add a little water or stock if the sauce is becoming too thick. Check for seasoning and, if you have it, sprinkle a little chopped parsley over the top.

Serve with fried or roast potatoes. Good with the rough local rosé known as costa, or manzanilla sherry, which has a great affinity with almonds.

All day breakfast

Sam and Dave, the British first couple not the soul duo, had plato alpurrajeño when in the Albaicín the other day. This hearty dish is not unlike a good British breakfast. It consists of at least black pudding (morcilla), fried eggs, and potatoes stewed in oil with green peppers (papas a lo pobre). In addition, there will be chorizo, lomo (fresh pork loin) or ham, or a combination of one, two or all three.

You know when you've had a plato alpurrajeño, and I can't imagine SamCam would be indulging on a regular basis, although Dave might make it a weekly ritual, perhaps shared with the fluent hispanohablante Clegg. César, the owner of a restaurant near us, does one that's baked in the oven, but then César is originally from the Basque country, so what would he know? No, for an authentically alpujarran experience, the constituent elements of the plato must be fried in plenty of extra virgin olive oil, like everything else round here. Sadly though, the idea that alpurrajeños have been sitting down to this traditional dish for hundreds of years is unlikely to be true. It was apparently invented - like the Ploughman's Lunch in the UK - in the seventies, as an easy-to-make money-spinner for bars and restaurants. But if you've been working hard in the fields all morning- or perhaps assembling flat-pack furniture for you holiday house - the plato Alpurrajeño is just about perfect, especially with some rough red wine and a siesta afterwards.

The best of the Alpujarra

El mejor de la Alpujarra is the title of a little trade fair currently taking place in Ugijar, with about 50 local producers showing off their wares. I love how Spanish journalists get their priorities right - of the products listed in this article, the non-edible items like blankets and pottery get the most perfunctory of mentions, then the writer gets on to food and drink and practically salivates the following list onto the page: embutidos, jamones, repostería morisca, mieles, vinos, aceites, quesos, licores, dulces, turrones y mermeladas. Then there's a bit about Servando Vargas (son of Servando Vargas I and father to Servando Vargas III), who makes cakes. But of course, it's not sufficiently enticing merely to be told that he specialises in sweet bakery products. Instead, we're treated to this mouthwatering rundown: rosquillas, soplillos, tortas de chicharrones y de aceite, cuajados, galletas caseras, bollos de miel, pan de bizcocho y de aceite, roscos de huevo, perrunas y otros artículos, como por ejemplo, licores de hiervas y de membrillo.

Chocolate quail, anyone?

The hotly contested title of best new tapa in Spain this year goes to Carlos Valenti of Madrid, who's just won the IV Concurso Pinchos with cordoniz con bizcocho de chocolate. That's quail with chocolate cake. The sponge incorporates the quail's liver for "a magical effect in the mouth". You won't get anything quite that sophisticated round our way, but then the tapas are free in the Alpujarra, and you get what you're given. Some memorable offerings in Juviles include Tino's omelette with ketchup, Susi's spicy snails and the old favourite, a baby morcilla (black pudding), served scalding hot and sitting on a small round of bread. Less successful were the boquerones (anchovies in vinegar) strewn over a plate of crisps that everyone seemed to think was a good idea a couple of years ago. The combination didn't do anything for either ingredient, and seems mercifully to have died out. Best tapa in the village would probably be Tino's chops cooked directly over the wood fire during the winter. I also have fond memories of a big plate of fried liver with chips at Susi's when we'd just unpacked the van in the dark after a five hour drive from Seville. There was nothing to eat in the house bar a packet of marzipan, and all the local restaurants were closed, so you can imagine how pleased we were when the plate of offal arrived in front of us, unbidden.

Welcome to Strathguadalfeo

As if the Andalucian tendency to deep-fry everything wasn't sufficient welcome for visiting Scots, they've started making single malt whisky in Padul. That's just off the motorway between Granada and Motril, a stone's throw from the Alpujarra. I understand the malt, called Embrujo (which means "spell"), is made with carefully selected barley and the delicious spring water of the Sierra Nevada, which is a pretty good start. It's then matured - of course - in sherry casks, like many of our own classic malts, such as The Macallan. Embrujo launched with 40,000 bottles in June this year. I know this only from Pablo Amate's food blog here as I haven't yet had the chance to try it - I'll be looking for it at Christmas. For a less sophisticated Caledonian-Iberian synthesis, can I recommend the Possil equivalent of a tinto de verano? Mix equal quantities of Buckfast and Irn Bru. Drink quickly. Fight.

Yes, you can drink the water.

This is a turn-up for suspicious British tourists throughout the Mediterranean. Granada officially has the best tap water in Europe, and by extension - probably - the world. Story here, but as it's in Spanish, the sort of people who won't drink the water in Spain won't read it.

Edinburgh has nothing on this.

We're back in Juviles from Friday, and joy of joys, our visit coincides with the fifth annual village Semana Cultural, or cultural week. Events include a bookmark-making workshop, a lecture on back pain and a "tasting" of beer with fried eggs and bacon. There's also something called a "frozen bubble competition", and a free breakfast featuring 80 proof anis spirit and "typical" sweets. You know that episode of Father Ted when Fun Land comes to Craggy Island......

Interesting one; there's a verbena (outdoor party) at 11pm on Friday, and the listing says it's "amenizada por el grupo Fuente Nueva". I read this as "amenazada" or "menaced by", but then looked it up in the dictionary: "amenazar" does indeed mean to "to menace", whereas "amenizar" (with an "i") means "to enliven". I'm so glad I clarified that. Having witnessed Fuente Nueva's performances before, I expect I'd have been none the wiser.

Anyway, I'll be taking pictures during this orgy of cultural treasures and will post some of them here in ten days or so. Meanwhile, if you want us between the 1st and 9th August, call my Spanish number: (+34) 697914136.

The wine that doesn't travel....

Today The Guardian ran a story on what to do with the kind of holiday booze that tastes great in its country of origin, but when you bring a bottle home in an attempt to recreate the exotic atmosphere of your trip, it just makes you feel sick and ends up taking up space at the back of a cupboard for years. Personally I've never suffered from this problem, and any bottle of cachaca, Thai whisky or slivovitz that's made it home with us has been consumed with relative enthusiasm and speed. (There was some caraway aqvavit that outstayed its welcome once, but that came from Ikea in Hillington so I'm not sure it qualifies.) Anyway, the story reminded me of this recipe for pigeon cooked with patxaran, so here it is.

Incidentally patxaran (that's the Basque spelling; it's pacharan in Spanish) is a digestif made by macerating sloes in anis - it's not unlike sloe gin. Served over plenty of ice, it tastes like cough medicine and soothes an over-worked tummy a treat. I should have had some to alleviate the food-poisoning I contracted in Chester last weekend, but that's another story.

Ingredients: 4 whole pigeons or 12 pigeon breasts, 2 onions, 4 cloves of garlic, 2 ripe tomatoes, skinned, ½l meat stock or water, ¼l patxarán. Oil, salt & pepper
Preparation: Heat the oil in a casserole and sauté the onion until transparent. Brown the pigeons or breasts slightly with the onion, add the garlic cloves, flambé with the patxarán, crush and add the tomatoes and add the meat stock or water. Cover and simmer gently for around 20 minutes for whole birds (ten for breasts) then check to see if they're done to your liking. Check seasoning and serve with a green salad and some kind of potatoes, maybe mashed.

A lynx's dinner

That rabbit recipe I promised:

1 big rabbit about 1.5-2 kilos, cut into small pieces
4 cloves garlic
2 onions, sliced
A can of tomatoes or half a kilo of chopped fresh tomatoes
Bay leaves and sprigs of thyme, tarragon, rosemary, whatever you fancy and have to hand
A slug of brandy
A glass of wine
Salt and pepper to taste
More herbs to serve (parsley, probably)
Oil
Brown all the pieces of rabbit, season and keep aside. Make a sofrito of onions, garlic and tomatoes in a casserole dish, preferably a clay cazuela. Add the herbs (retaining a small handful for finishing) and put the rabbit back in the pan. Pour in the brandy and set it alight. When it's burned off, add the wine. Bring to a boil and let the sauce reduce and thicken a bit. Then add water to at least cover the meat. Reduce heat to a low simmer, cover and cook for anywhere between an hour for a tender farmed animal to two for a tough old wild one. Check it every twenty minutes or so and top up the liquid if it needs it, making sure it doesn't catch on the bottom of the pan. You could do it in an oven, in which case you could probably forget about it for a good while. When it's done, check seasoning and sprinkle the reserved green herbs. This is one of those dishes that British people think should be served with rice, but the Spanish would serve it with fried potatoes or, in the Alpujarra, papas a lo pobre. I fancy pasta with it, personally. A good green salad and plenty of bread and wine are of course essential.

You say 'patatas', I say 'papas'

If you think the Irish take their spuds seriously, you should see what a fuss they make of them in the Alpujarra. The United Nations' decision to make 2008 the International Year of the Potato has gone down well in Granada (every year being Year of the Potato round here), and they're supporting the global initiative with a local competition. I love the precision in this article - if you don't read Spanish you can take my word for it.

Las bases del concurso: Pondrán participar todas las personas nacidas o residentes en Granada. Se admitirán una sola receta por participante. Los textos podrán entregarse en la Biblioteca Pública del Salón, o enviar al mail:. eplanells@granada.org, con fecha límite del 18 de abril 2008. Las recetas tiene que enviarse con letra legible u ordenador, con el nombre de la misma, ingredientes y cantidades y elaboración. Con su costo y foto del plato, si lo desea. Entre las recetas seleccionadas por un jurado, valorando 1º Bajo costo económico, 2º Utilización de materias primas del país de origen participante y 3º Originalidad. Para la concesión de los premios se establecerá tres categorías: Infantil: hasta 14 años. Juvenil, desde los 14 a 20 años y adultos, a partir de 20 años. La entrega de los premios se celebrará el día 23 de abril de 2008 alas 11 de la mañana, en la biblioteca municipal del Salón.

Anyway, the gentleman I'm quoting here is the estimable Pablo Amante (below), who writes a food blog in Ideal, the local paper for Granada. Now doesn't he look like a chap who enjoys his potatoes? Excellent recipes, wine articles and bits and pieces about Andalucian and other Spanish food at http://blogs.ideal.es/cocina/posts

Migas de pan

I cooked one of Spain's most emblematic dishes last night - migas de pan, or breadcrumbs. There are loads of different versions, but the one I do is something I saw on a cooking programme on Spanish telly. To make it, take stale white bread without the crusts, cut it into very small cubes, put the cubes in a bowl and sprinkle on a little water and plenty of pimenton (dulce or picante, depending on your preference). Leave them to rest for half an hour, then fry a handful of garlic cloves and a finely chopped chorizo in plenty of olive oil. When the garlic starts to brown, throw in the bread. Stir constantly until the crumbs are hot and crisp here and there; you're aiming for a consistency which is half way between cous-cous and croutons. Serve with anything you fancy; last night I did grilled aubergine, peppers and courgette, black pudding and fried eggs. You're supposed to serve some fruit with it, but I forgot. This is one of those peasant dishes that doesn't really sound that enticing until you eat it, and then you just want to eat it again. You do get it in the Alpujarra, but it's not special to the area - for that you have to go for spuds and do papas a lo pobre. I'll post a recipe for that one soon.