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Pintxos: Small Plates in the Basque Tradition [A Cookbook] - Hardcover

Hirigoyen, Gerald; Weiss, Lisa

 
9781580089227: Pintxos: Small Plates in the Basque Tradition [A Cookbook]

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An authentic small plates cookbook from the top Basque chef in America.

Acclaimed chef Gerald Hirigoyen's sophisticated and delectable small plates, served at his restaurants, Bocadillos and Piperade, set the standard for tapas in San Francisco. This book features 75 distinctive California-inflected versions of Spanish tapas and French Basque dishes (including Salt Cod with Piperade, Roasted Beets with Moroccan Spices, and Oxtail Empanadas with Spicy Mango Dip) specially written for the home cook. Conveniently organized by type of dish--grilled, soups, braises, skewers and toasts, sandwiches, bean dishes, and fried foods--and illustrated with the exemplary photography of James Beard award-winning photographer Maren Caruso, Pintxos is all you need to host an authentic and stylish tapas party at home. 

 

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

GERALD HIRIGOYEN is the chef-owner of two acclaimed San Francisco restaurants, Piperade and Bocadillos. He has twice been named Best Chef in the Bay Area by San Francisco Magazine, voted one of Food & Wine's Top New Chefs in America, and nominated in 2006 for the James Beard Foundation Best Chef: California award. This is his third book. He lives in Mill Valley, California.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Introduction

Even as a kid I enjoyed ir de tapeo, or the tradition of going from one tapas bar to the next, in San Sebastián with my parents and their friends. In my earliest memories of those days, I first see a wall of legs on a floor littered with sawdust, toothpicks, cigarette butts, and shrimp shells, and then my father sweeps me up so I can sample from the awesome display of food on the bar. When I was older and seated at a table in a restaurant, I chafed at having to mind my manners and to wait for each course to arrive, but at the tapas bars I was free. I could take anything I wanted from the platters of child-sized portions-maybe a piece of chorizo, a square of tortilla española, or a hard-boiled egg, along with a Fanta soda-and run off down the street to play with my sister and the other children, before catching up with my parents at the next tasca (tavern).

I still like the freedom from formal dining that tapas bars offer, though now as an adult I also appreciate them for their conviviality-as places where people from all walks of life can get together for lively conversation, a glass of wine, and premeal, postmeal, or even full-meal bites.

In Spain, tapas specialties vary from region to region and are commonly eaten with knife and fork while seated at a counter. In the Basque region, where I grew up, tapas are known as pintxos, the Basque spelling (pronounced PEEN-chos), or pinchos in Spanish (from the word pinchar, which means "to skewer") and are typically finger foods eaten in one or two bites while standing up. Indeed, the tapas tradition is so strong in the Basque Country that a hard-fought competition, complete with strict rules defining the size of the pintxos, is held annually.

Some pintxos are quite basic, maybe just some cubes of chorizo or cheese on toothpicks. Others are more elaborate, such as small sandwiches (bocadillos), plates of fried seafood (fritos), or little earthenware dishes (cazuelitas) of various braises (estofados). And always in San Sebastián you will find creative bite-size combinations of meat, cheese, vegetables, and/or fruit, either threaded onto skewers (pintxos) or placed on top of small slices of bread (montaditos). But whether you call them by their Spanish name tapas or Basque name pintxos, it is the casual way they are served that makes these small plates synonymous with a relaxed, fun-filled atmosphere.

Even though informality and spontaneity are the hallmarks of a good tapas bar, the food they serve is taken seriously, and every bar has its specialty or specialties. I can't count the number of times I have been involved in an intense discussion of politics or soccer while sipping Txacolí (a mildly effervescent Basque wine), only to have to stop and say "My God, that pintxo is good!" Of course, many cultures have their little dishes, such as Greek meze, Cantonese dim sum, and Italian antipasti, but the Spanish have turned the concept of small plates into both a social event and a culinary art form.

Spaniards still like to debate the origin of the tapa, but most agree that the first tapas were created in Andalusia to serve a practical purpose: to keep flies out of glasses of sherry. Tapa means "lid" and is derived from the word tapar, "to cover," so the commonsense theory is that tavern owners would drape a slice of ham or cheese or place a small plate of olives or almonds on top of a glass to create a barrier against bugs. Eventually, the bars with the better "covers" began attracting more customers, and a competition soon developed among owners to see who could create the tastiest tidbits. Not surprisingly, patrons began to move from one bar to the next to sample their offerings. Tapas also served two other seemingly contradictory functions: a few salty nibbles not only increased patrons' thirst for more wine, but also helped to keep them from getting drunk, a serious transgression in polite Spanish society.

It is ironic that from such humble beginnings an entire culture-a kind of traveling street party-has been created around the bars that serve tapas, and food that was once so simple has become, in many cases, not only baroque but also frequently global. This is particularly true in San Sebastián, a popular resort city, where some of the most delicious, and in recent years, innovative tapas have been created. Although San Sebastián still harbors old-school tapas made from unique Spanish ingredients, such as marinated boquerones (anchovies) or slices of serrano ham cured by the tapas bar owner's wife, I now often find myself shaking my head in wonder at the elaborately stacked, decorated, and skewered pintxos fashioned from foie gras from France, balsamic vinegar from Modena, or smoked salmon from Norway. Some of these tapas are miniature culinary works of art, influenced by the nueva cucina revolution in Spain, and although the chef in me admires the cutting-edge creativity now happening in my homeland, I must confess that the small dishes I crave are the simple ones, the ones that I loved as a child: a piece of bacalao (salt cod) on a toasted baguette slice, or some calamari quickly seared a la plancha.

After I returned to California from a trip to San Sebastián in 2003, I couldn't stop thinking about all the wonderful food I had enjoyed there, particularly the seafood, which is arguably the best in the world, and the pintxos, both traditional and contemporary. That trip convinced me that it was the right time for me to open a true tapas bar in San Francisco.

When I opened Bocadillos in 2004, I had a clear and simple vision in mind: For selfish reasons, I wanted to create the kind of place where I could go with friends to enjoy a glass or two of wine and a few delicious nibbles. I also wanted a space that allowed me to indulge my passion for the foods and style of eating I loved. That meant it had to be a Spanish-styled tapas bar, as authentic as possible, using mainly fresh local ingredients and incorporating some global culinary influences. After all, I have lived in California for most of my adult life and have broadened the scope of my cooking. Today, Bocadillos has evolved into my kind of place. It's informal and comfortable, and serves food that is true to my Basque culinary heritage, yet incorporates the ingredients and culinary influences of California. Our wine list, made up mostly of Spanish, Basque, and California bottles, complements the food.

About three years after opening Bocadillos, I came home from an afternoon of bike riding to find that my wife, Cameron, had invited a few friends over for an impromptu Sunday dinner. What to do? Quickly I searched the pantry and discovered the makings of a tapas party. I had a couple of cans of ventresca tuna and some piquillo peppers. In the refrigerator, next to a leftover beet salad from the night before, was a piece of serrano ham and some greens from the farmers' market, along with a chunk of Idiazábal cheese and a jar of Spanish olives. I drove to the store and picked up fresh bread and lamb chops. Within an hour, our guests were gathering around the kitchen island and I was serving them wine and the sliced ham, olives, and cheese. As everyone was getting happy from the wine and finger food, I stuffed the peppers with the tuna, grilled the lamb, and tossed the beets with the greens. Finally and barely breaking a sweat, I put out the finished dishes, along with some small plates and flatware, and then I let my guests help themselves.

That evening's menu was the genesis of this book. Maybe because I own two restaurants in San Francisco, friends assume that I must be eating "gourmet" meals every night. But the truth is that I feel lucky on the rare occasion when I can even join my family for dinner during the week, and our weekends are so jam-packed with soccer games and my restaurant events that...

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