martes, 2 de diciembre de 2008

La Aventura de La Gallina en Leche

In Spain, attaining a gastronomic vocabularly is a particularly challenging task. Though in other countries culinary aficionados may have to contend with regional differences, in Spain this education is complicated by the microscopic subtleties of pueblian differences, in other words, the cuisine of two adjoining pueblos can seem as different as Greek is to Japanese. It’s common to have one dish with two names or one name that refers to two dishes that are nothing alike. For a novice foodie, these contradictions can be overwhelming when standing on the threshold of Spanish cuisine. Fortunately, Francisco Lillo, a natie Córdoban, passionate gourmand and owner of La Oliva in Granada, is a willing guide through this confusing mass of knowledge.

One Sunday in late November, I had the opportunity to do a little gastronomic fieldwork, having been invited to accompany Francisco, his sister Encarnita, visiting from Madrid and George, a Belgian exchange student, on some “business” (which is sometimes hard to distinguish from play in this line of work!). Francisco has a passion for one particular dulce de Navidad (a category of a vast range of sweets associated in Spain with the holiday season) curiously called gallina en leche (literally translated as “chicken in milk”). However, the only chicken in this sweet is egg, which is beaten and mixed with white flour, sugar, cinnamon sticks, milk and the star ingredient, almonds, best if marconas, twice-peeled and coarsely chopped. According to Francisco, it is the most delicious almond sweet in Spain, and still widely unknown. Francisco, in an effort to change this, was on a pilgrimage to Porcuna, a pueblo in the Córdoban province which contains in its small city radius a restaurant called El Triunfo, that makes a gallina en leche the best that Francisco has ever tried and so good that he wants to sell it in his shop.

Porcuna lies in the heart of the most prolific olive oil producing region in the world, and the drive from Granada offers vista after vista of silvery-green trees dotted with their valuable dark little gems. Upon arriving, Francisco and his sister began reminiscing as they had spent several summers in Porcuna with a single aunt when they were kids. They enjoyed perusing the old black-and-whites that are hung in the entryway/bar in El Triunfo. This space gives way through an unmarked wooden door to a rather simple dining room characterized by a high-low mix of cloth tablecloths and a TV in the corner, turned on, but universally ignored by the diners. Francisco and his sister explained that these seeming contradictions that baffle visitors are so natural to the Spanish that they aren’t bothered in the least. As we tucked into our appetizers and the zingy green olives accompanying the basket of bread, I better understood how the food could steal the attention from the tennis match being aired. Our first plate of warm artichoke hearts (widely known as alcachofas in Spain but as alcauciles in Porcuna and several other Córdoban pueblos) tossed in pine nuts, raisins, chopped ham, fava beans and olive oil was pure comfort food, and also gave Francisco the opportunity to give us a tutelage in the Spanish practice of rebanando, which is the socially-acceptable practice of wiping the plate clean of its flavored olive oil remainders with a slice of crusty bread. The second plate of violetes, tiny empanada-like pouches filled with hot minced meat, also were simply pleasing. Our mains were generally satisfying, with a richly loaded and beautifully presented revuelto de la casa, scrambled eggs with mushrooms, asparagus, peppers and baby shrimp, a fresh bacalao con pisto, white fish with a vegetable-packed tomato sauce, a somewhat dry but still flavorful pierna de chibo (or choto or cabrito- all to say leg of kid) and a hearty pollo relleno con queso, chicken filled with cheese, and in this case, ham. With full bellies but a strong curiosity to try this dessert we had journeyed so many miles for, Francisco ordered one gallina en leche for the table.

“No, no, don’t pour it!” Francisco’s protestation broke our sleepy after-lunch reverie as we turned to see the waiter in the moment of dosing our gallina en leche assembled on a plate with Pedro Ximenez, a sweet wine. Though Francisco admits that this doesn’t destroy the flavor, he insists that it does tamper it, and as the other student and I were first-timers, he wanted us to try the gallina en leche in its purest form, which is how he and his sister ate it as kids. Fortunately, Francisco’s shout halted the waiters hand and our dish was preserved. The first bite revealed the fine distinction between this dulce de Navidad and so many others which pulverize the almonds into dusty meal. In this recipe, the almond pieces are cooked in milk for a prolonged period of time so that they aquire some subtle sweetness while retaining their characteristic crunch and distinct almond flavor. Gallina en leche is baked into bars, and the top resembles the crumbles that Americans are so fond of. It is extremely delicious and worth searching out, though it is a sweet that requires some appetite. Encarnita suggested that having some with a sweet Moscatel would be a nice variation from chocolate y churros for an afternoon snack.

With the gallina en leche safely boxed up in the back of the car, we continued the rolling road through the olive groves to our other “surprise” destination Francisco had planned for us, which turned out to be the Hacienda Minerva. The Hacienda Minerva is a beautiful and still- evolving story of an abandoned olive oil factory in the process of being converted into a lovely hotel, under construction since 2004. The hotel is just outside the white-washed pueblo of Zuheros, tucked up from the hills blanketed by olive trees and towered over by dramatic rock formations. I was particularly enchanted by the small sitting room warmed by a monolithic fireplace with lots of plush couches and chairs grouped together which allow visitors to take advantage of these views through expansive windows while sipping Cola Cao (Spain’s version of powdered hot chocolate pumped up with added fiber and vitamins) and munching on simultaneously kid and adult pleasing sugary roscos fritos, which are similar to donuts but with a pronounced hint of olive oil. On a tour of the grounds organized by Francisco and given attentively by Luis Rejón, the owner’s, Luis Carlos Rejón’s, son, we were filled in on the before-and-after history of the place. The owners have strived to maintain the integrity of the design of the factory, only adding on where necessary, and also have kept much of the antique olive-pressing equipment as living monuments to the industry which remains today Spain’s most significant symbolic and economic cultivation. If curious, ask to see pictures of the practically ruined factory pre-restoration- it is a fascinating glimpse into a slice of gastronomic history. Luis told us the plan is to have adjoining Arabic baths, a tea house, bike rentals, and a pool finished by spring. However, the charmingly rustic-décor restaurant is now open if you want a sneak peek of the developments. I’m already planning a return visit. Hacienda Minerva would make a great base to compare those pueblo to pueblo culinary differences which at first seemed like a frustrating obstacle to learning about Spanish cuisine but now appear as an inviting line of delicious investigation.

*Due to its current marginal status in the world of dulces de Navidad, gallina en leche is not widely available. Look for it on dessert menus in Andalucía, or drop by Francisco’s shop, La Oliva, C/ Rosario, 9 in Granada to pick up a prettily packaged portion to take home to try.

-Jenna Hartsell

2 comentarios:

Aula de Gastronomia dijo...

A little post-script: I talked to Francisco post-publishing and he made me aware of a couple of necessary corrections. First, in place of white flour, gallina en leche is made with "migas de pan," which is finely-ground bread, without the crust. Second, Porcuna is located in the Jaen province, not the Córdoban province, though it is close. And lastly, the verb "rebanar," without the tilde, is to chop finely. In the case of the blog entry, I want to use the verb with the tilde that means to wipe the plate clean with bread. Thanks Francisco for these corrections!

Harry Velez dijo...

The memory of "gallina en leche" is quite fresh in my mind. Francisco shared this delightful sweet with my partner and I last spring (2008) and were hooked. Not a friend of sweets, myself, I appreciated the subtle nature of "gallina en leche". It satisfies without overwhelming. Moreover its meaty texture is nothing short of divine. Francisco's story about "gallina en leche" and the last Arab king of Granada was wonderful too.
Here's to "gallina en leche", the "Aula de Gastronomía", and the many pearls of knowledge that Francisco Lillo Roldán so generously gives to those who seek them. ¡Viva La Oliva!