Life: Idiotropic

On Friday, the phone rang.

It was someone from the Caxton primary and the conversation began like it always does when they call.

     "Hello?"
     "Hello, Mrs. Stahlbaum?  This is [insert name here] from Caxton's Primary Office.  Don't worry.  Nothing has happened."

I never really know how to reply to this.

     "Thank you.  Yes?"

A marketing agency is looking for a girl's voice with an American accent.  The "school has nothing to do with it," but they passed along the name and number and soon I was on the phone with Africa Pons at Tabalet Estudis.

We made an appointment for today.

The studio is in a small white building attached to a larger "amarillo amarillo" building in Alboraya pretty much in the middle of horchata fields and farton factories.  

I saw Africa standing at the doorway waving to us as we pulled in.  The short nicely dressed woman led us in, seated us to wait, and before we'd sat, Eva was ready and leading us into her tiny recording studio complete with the huge sound boards with knobs and buttons.

Arianna went first then they proceeded in age order.  They each went into the recording room, padded like the the movies.  They had their headsets and sat on tall stools in front of the big microphone.

Eva explained that the translations weren't correct, but that it was just to play and practice and get an idea of the girls voices.  She read a line to Arianna.  Arianna answered back.  "Look!  It's Nancy and her pony Fantasy!"  Another line.  Repeat.  She was repeating the lines exactly as they were told to her - accent and all.

"Arianna," I'd interrupt, "say the words like an American, please.   Don't copy her accent."

All three of the girls listened to Eva say the sentences in her heavily accented English.  It was crazy.  My American kids were saying "bee-u-tee-ful" slow and precise.  They were saying simple words like "well" in perfect Spanish English -  "whale."

Eva didn't care.  She said they were there to play.  She played with the buttons and suddenly Arianna sounded like a chipmunk.  Aria laughed hysterically.  Luci's turn, more laughter.  Elise's turn, sulking.  Elise was taking this more seriously and just wanted to read the lines, not play.

We all had a good time.  They said they'll call us back.  They want to use one of the girls voices.  "Next time, I'll read the lines for the girls," I suggested.   We got a good laugh.  Eva and Africa are in full agreement.

In honor of today, the first day this season that I have ventured out on to the hot sandy beaches in my bathing suit,  I bring you this comic which sums up my sentiments of summer attire. 

Our last afternoon in Portugal, we walked leisurely along the banks of Vila Nova de Gaia, across the steely blue bridge spanning the Duoro, and down along the waterfront of Porto.  The sun warmed our shoulders and cast a magical glow on this day where we drug our feet a bit regretting that we’d ever have to leave.  This week has been absolute magic and that’s not just the port talking.

We walked slowly along the path between the river and an endless line of restaurants.  You know where one ends and another begins only by the change in umbrellas and chair back colors at these little places where there is more seating outside than in.  I stopped at each placard to read the menu seeing if there might be something appealing for everyone in our group of eight and when we did, we found ourselves at Chez Lapin, a local icon for over 70 years.

Our waiter brought bread to our table accompanied by a delicious white bean vegetable salad and a garlic tuna “pate.”  At this the table became silent except for “mmmm,” and “we need to get more of this.”  The tuna was light and creamy almost like the stuff I put on sandwiches as a kid, but it had a more complex taste.  Olive oil, a hint of garlic?  It was so delicious that we did order another plate and my 5 year old ate that for her meal.

French onion soup, good salads, beef dishes, pasta - everything that came to our table was good, but my meal?  Exquisite.  I thought that rabbit at Chez Lapin ought to be good, after all, it’s the namesake, so I ordered the Coelho Chez Lapin (rabbit cooked in a port wine sauce) and proved myself right.  Tender, flavorful, complex.  The sauce took on the body of the port wine without any excess sweetness and the rabbit practically fell off the bones. 

This was one of those food moments when you find yourself in such love with your meal that you try to ignore the pleading looks from your companions.  “If I don’t look up, may be I won’t have to be polite and offer a bite.”  To spare one bite of this is truly a gift.

The plates emptied and table cleared, it was time to take my little ones to the WC.  We followed the signs through an old stone gate and into the narrow alleyway facing the cozy indoor portion of Chez Lapin where a vast array of oddities covered the walls and ceiling.  There sat two stacked rabbit hutches.  The top one was empty.  The bottom held a very fat, very cute white rabbit.  A brief flash of my succulent lunch went through my mind.  Five minutes later we returned to our table looking back as we walked by.  The top hutch now held a long-haired grey rabbit and the white rabbit was gone.

Well, at least I know my lunch was fresh.

Caxton College is an International school and boarding school, so they offer everything from dentist appointments to haircuts, communion ceremonies to birthday parties.  Most of the parties that Elise has attended have been here at Caxton, so when asked where she'd like to have hers, the answer was simple.

It's really quite easy for the "mum."  Just call, arrange an available time, and show up.  One week ahead the invitations go out:  little Caxton party postcards with a sheet attached for the RSVP.  Parents fill out the forms with their child's name and class and the day before the party, the mum gets an email list of all the RSVPs so she is aware of numbers.  Mum does the math.  Winces.  There are drawbacks to having a popular child. 


Party day is here.  The school day ends and two young coordinators, easily in their early 20's, work together to pick up all the party attendees from their classrooms and take them directly to the large gymnasium above the cafeteria to play, color, and paint faces.

The mum is instructed to show up at 5.  When she shows up just before 5 with armloads of extras (which is so not normal), the cafeteria is silent and every child is upstairs playing in the gym.  Crazy mum hands out leis and hula skirts taking time to help the girls tie them on, then untie for a new color, then tie again...

It starts to rain and suddenly the gym is partitioned so that the tennis club can play.  The volume increases a hundredfold.  A boy hits a girl in the nose.  The coordinator does nothing.  The kitchen won't give this mum ice because it's the coordinator's job.  Mum goes to talk to the coordinators again.

There are two long rows of tables already set.  The one above is for the adults with coffee, milk, and a really delicious lemon pound cake that they always serve.  The bottom is set with nuts, chips, tuna sandwiches, ham sandwiches, coca cola and fanta.  At 5:40, the kids come downstairs to "merendar."  They eat like they haven't eaten in a year.


The birthday girl sits at the head of the table.   The kids eat, talk, then run off in small groups to play.  The sun has come out and tennis is over, so they play upstairs and outside and run pretty much wherever they want to.


Parents trickle in.  Mum spends her time greeting parents as they arrive and saying goodbye when they go and sometimes greeting again when they come back.  It takes a long time with a lot of kissing. 

The adults sit at the long tables.  Mum's friend, Elisa, brings a nice icy bucket of horchata to try and lemon granizado which mum loves.  Mum made tiramisu at Elisa's request that the parents hadn't previously tried.  Now Enrique serves up horchata and granizado de limon and becomes a "pusher" for the tiramisu.  Soon it's half gone and the Spanish parents love it.  Mum tries horchata.  It's slightly chalky and a bit too sweet, but not horrible.  She prefers the lemon to the local horchata, but half the parents drink it.  It's a Valencian thing - the "milk" of a plant here.  The parents continue to sit and talk and drink cafe solo.

6:42.  The children gather at the snack table for cake.  The chocolate cake is from the school.  Elise likes it, but her sisters don't, so mum makes cupcakes too which are a big hit with all the kids.  They light the candles.  Several boys "help" Elise blow them out.  They sing happy birthday in Spanish. 













6:45.  The candles are relit and they sing Happy Birthday in Spanish.

The party coordinators cut the cake while Elise's sister leads the group in Happy Birthday auf deutch.
Children mob Elise shoving gifts at her in all directions.  Mum never sees the chocolate cake or when the kids eat it.  The coordinators usher Elise to the other side of the room to a little chair.








6:47.  The guests form a line behind the birthday girl.  They each have their gift.  Elise opens them one by one, smiling, posing, and thankful.














As a gift is opened, the giver of the gift stays around to watch.  Some run off to play, but most stay around.









6:53  The mob around Elise gets so thick that mum can't get photos anymore.  It takes Elise just 12 minutes to open over 19 gifts.  Pablo brings her flowers.









7:08.  Elise pulls the string on the pinata and a bunch of candy and cheap toys fall out.  It's a mob scene of sugar hyped kids.









7:25.  The sun is out and all the children are playing a version of duck, duck goose except there's a cute little rhyme in Spanish about a shoe.  They are supposed to cover their eyes.  Elise peeks.




Elise gets picked and runs around the circle.  Then it's her turn with the shoe.

It's 7:28.  The weather is nice.  The adults are relaxed.  The kids are happy.  No one is in a rush to leave.

7:45.  A slow trickle begins.  One family says thank you and goodbye.  We hand out goody bags and tell them to keep the leis and skirts.

Elisa and Enrique help us gather out things together and go.  They are rewarded with what is left of the tiramisu.

8:30.  Home.

General Route:  Valencia Nord train station, down Calle Russafa to Avenida de la Reina, into the Turia, around the CAC, up the Turia to the bridge "Puente de la Exposicion," through Glorieta Park, down Calle de la Paz, around the Plaza de la Reina, and back to Valencia Nord.


Calle Ruzafa (Russafa) holds an eclectic mix of shops and artists, restaurants and interesting graffiti.  To be fair, interesting graffiti can be found everywhere in Valencia, but here in Ruzafa, it fits.  On Mondays, you can find a large outdoor market filling the streets around the Iglesia Parroquial.  Walk to the entrance of the church, then turn around and you'll find the indoor market building full of artistically displayed produce and racks of hanging pig legs - jamon serrano.   I stopped today to buy a meter of navy blue velcro for the girls skirts which my mother painstakingly sewn on for me.  The plump lady selling it to me was very friendly.  She has 7 grandchildren and oh, what a ruckus when they are all together.  "Caos," she said.  Oh, I can believe it.

The weather seems to have turned, or at least we hope.  After so much cold and rain, we need a little sun.  Oh, Weather, if you are reading this, I do emphasis the word "little."  The sun was shining.  The layers we wore pealing off quicker than we'd imagined.  I'd hoped that the lovely Turia gardens would shield us from the heat.  Large trees growing in a sunken riverbed ought to provide some solace, but any winds that blow flow right over the top, and leave the turia quite warm in spite of its shade.  We circled the CAC to see Calatrava's breathtaking masterpieces there observing some formal ceremony involving Ford that the mayor of Valencia and a slew of suited gentlemen attended with much pomp, security guards blocking access to the Hemispheric.   Made it back into the shade if not the cool and hurried a bit towards the bridge near Glorieta Park, the Puente de la Exposicion.

Starving.  The cafe on the corner had a "Cafe Valiente" sign.  Like Bitburger in Germany, the beverage signs for this well known coffee company are displayed so much bigger than the name of the actual establishment that it's hard to know where you're at.  The placard said "4 Euros Portion Paella o Bolognese."  We each ordered a coffee, a water (we were simply dying of heat), and a small pastry to tide us over.  I hadn't even reached my seat when a stout man carrying a 3' pan of steaming fresh paella walked in and set it down.  Pout.  Oh?  Can we change our order?  Sigh.  So, now I know.  Show up just before 1 and you can have the first delicious portion of paella.  A few minutes later, the bolognese came out of the oven.  A lady walked in behind us, plunked down her measly 4+ Euros and walked out with a enormous portion of this local rice dish and a beer.  She apparently didn't notice us salivating as we watched her from the window while she sat with her book.

Glorieta park is the mid or end point of many parades because of its location at the end of two main roads, one that leads to the main train station, and the other that leads to the Cathedral.  It's not a large park, especially next to the Turia, but the small green triangle is a nice quiet spot in the bustle of crisscrossing streets.  In this park of pathways and benches are two absolutely enormous trees.  Baby varieties of these line Calle de Colon in some places, stringy roots hanging down from their branches with the idea of someday taking hold and thickening into a sturdy trunk.  There, they are pruned and kept small.  Here, you can see where many individual strands have taken root and come together to form the thick trunk that now supports a vast canopy of leaves and branches.  It's a tree of storybooks and day dreams.  To read under it, to climb it, to listen to its history would be delightful.

Today, under this tree, sat a bench.  And on that bench sat a nicely dressed, clean-shaven man with white hair.  He watched me stare at the trees.  I asked him what they were.  He didn't know, but that got him talking.  "An American," he smiles when he hears my nationality.  He's traveled to the US and told me how much he loves my country and how disgusted he is with his president, Zapatero.  He's traveled to the Caribbean and Florida as well as Europe.  He's sung on ships.  He's been on TV.  He learned to speak English, but doesn't use it now.  He didn't use it today.  We talked fairly freely in Spanish and that was nice.  "Como se llama?"  "Antonio."  Tony.  "Like Tony Bennet", he says.  He sings like Tony too.  I told him it would be nice to hear him sing.  He says to come back to Glorieta park.  He'll be there.

On Calle de Paz there's a really nice Starbucks with a covered "outdoor" patio right there on this busy street.  It's like drinking coffee in your living room though - peaceful and somewhat quiet.  It was a good place to buy some beans and pick up souvenirs for mom.

On Calle de les Avellanes we saw rose petals from the day before when La Virgen de los Desamparados was paraded from the Basilica to the Cathedral in a sea of diligent onlookers who would try to touch her believing that she can help.

There's an outdoor market circling Plaza de la Reina with pottery and souvenir stuff.  It's going to be here all month.  I found a nice "gira de tortillas," a specialized ceramic plate for tortilla espanola that has a handle on the bottom that can also be used for a stand.  That way, you can flip your thick potato/egg pie onto the plate, then slide it back into the pan with ease.




At the Plaza Lope de Vega we found our lunch.  One restaurant is split there into "the restaurant proper" and the "quick eat stop".  The style differs though the kitchen is ultimately the same.  We opted for the proper food.  The maitre'd was charming, a common theme for restaurants that mom and I choose together.  After all, it's not the food that lures us in... but it is the food that lures us back and I suspect we'll be back.  To start, a mixed green salad topped with goat cheese.  Perfect.  I complimented our waitress who told me that they get the greens from local farmers fresh each day.  So, so delicious.  We each had a bit of wine - the second glass a light and fruity white from Marina Alta that I later found at my grocery store for 4 Euros/bottle.  Not sweet nor dry, it is the perfect balance to the intensity of the rosemary duck rice that we ordered.  Arriving in a steaming black pot which we shared, this is essentially a paella with broth, the same rice and basic flavors, but with a flavorful "caldo" that's perfect with a chunk of bread.   It didn't last long.  Our friendly waitress offered dessert.  "No thank you, we really have to hurry to the train."  "How about our sampler?  It's quick."  Arm twisting at it's finest.

No regrets.  Here is.  Splitting it is the perfect plan - so intensely flavored, neither of us felt that we were getting too little.  Mango ice cream, crema de Catalan, a fruit tarte, and some sort of yummy berry mousse in the center. 


Our view during lunch was really quite nice.  The Plaza Lope de Vega is just one narrow street from the Plaza de la Reina, a very busy tourist center, but it's surprisingly quite with just little groups passing through here and there.  Across from us is a large church that is rarely open, but quite beautiful.  The square is flat and open, perfect for a girl in a twirly dress or a little boy with a ball.  Fun for little dogs who lead their masters to who knows where.  No leash, just determination.  Fun for connoisseurs of ice cream like these for they can sit in the old covered windows of the church and relax there.  It's quite informal here in Valencia.  And so beautiful.  I'm been blessed with another Valencia day.

Enrique and Elisa are from a beautiful little village near Benidorm in the more beautiful southern part of the Valencian province and I have the pleasure of knowing them because our daughters are friends at school.  Today they came over to cook a paella for us and show us how it's done.  What an experience!  It was really fun to watch.  Like most American families, the art of BBQ is dominated by the men and quite frankly, I think most women (at least this one) is glad of this because it's one less area of the house for which we are ultimately responsible.  Let them grill!  Let's grill every night!  Means less dishes to clean.

In Spain the paella is cooked outside over a wood fire or on a specialized round grill and, like the US, it's done mostly by the men.  I remember our Spanish nights in Germany - men weren't allowed at our women's events, but they came to cook and serve the paella.   (Men are also responsible for cleaning the paella pan both before and after they use it, oiling it well to prevent rusting.)

Elisa told us how delicious her fideua are (a local noodle dish), but the paella... "Enrique does that."  The beautiful thing is, though, that while Enrique controlled the long handled spoons, the whole family was involved.  Elisa and her son ("little Enrique") prepared the vegetables and meats while Enrique prepared the paella pan.  Elisa stood there and visited with us, but also watched the paella and told him if she thought it needed a bit more salt or water or oil.  They made decisions together.  And little Enrique was the one who grabbed the morter and pestle to prepare the pate of garlic and rabbit liver. He was there the entire time watching, helping, and learning.  In about 20 years, it will be his job.


They are the ones that prepare the paella now when they go home for family events in Benidorm as well, but normally Elisa's mom is there to watch over the paella and tell them both if it needs more salt or a little more time.  This was the first time that they've ever cooked a paella without her mom standing there.  "But it's for American's," they joked to her mom, "they won't know the difference!"

We stood around our Spanish BBQ area talking while it cooked and little Enrique picked nísperos off of our tree.   I'd been too scared to try them.  He peeled the thin skin off of one with ease, broke it open to remove the two large brown seeds inside, then handed it to me.  Sweet, cool and watery, a bit tart - really refreshing.  A few minutes later and my girls were picking nísperos and eating them as quickly as they could peel them.


Such a nice day with friends.  For this, I'd cook paella every day.  It's not the dish itself (although this paella was absolutely delicious), it's the time spent together talking around the grill.  That relaxed "no stress" time that seems so hard to find these days.  I love it.  We served fruit salad and green salad with the paella.  Baked parmesan artichoke dip on baguettes for an appetizer.  Green Spanish olives.  American tortilla chips (because the kids love them).  Tiramisu for dessert which Elisa like so well that she says I must make it for Elise's birthday party in a couple days.  I will.

Dining on the patio.  Sitting, relaxing, talking, eating.  Sun and soothing nísperos.  The kids are off playing.  Life is good.


Tools:  (all significantly less expensive if you come to Spain to buy them!)

• 1 paella pan  (this is a nice gift set)
• 2 paella spoons 
• 1 paella grill

Ingredients:

• Vegetables:  Flat green beans, red bell peppers, zucchini, artichokes, carrots (any combination... we just used the beans and peppers)
• Broth
• Crushed tomatoes
• Short grain rice
• Garlic
• Salt
• Meats:  1 chicken, 1/2 rabbit, pork ribs

1:  Clean pan (obviously).  (photo 1:16pm)







2.  Heat pan, then add olive oil.  When the olive oil is heated, add the quartered red bell peppers and cook until slightly charred.  Remove them and set aside.  (photo 1:23pm)
3.  Put the meats into pan to brown - browned well - practically cooked through.  Salt the meat.  (photo 1:30pm)


4.  Remove the rabbit liver and mix it with two cloves of garlic and parsely with a morter and pestle.  Set aside.  (photo 1:38pm)










The meat will be browning well in the oil.   When it is brown like this, it's time to add the beans, then some crushed tomatoes.  (photo 1:42pm)



5.  Add green beans and other vegetables.  (photo 1:42pm)




6.  While the beans are mixed in, measure 1 demitasse cup of rice per person plus 1 for the pan.  That means, one more demitasse cup of rice than the number of people that you're serving.  (photo 1:44pm)
7.  When the beans are tender, add rice and stir well.  (photo 1:51pm)



8.  Add the rabbit liver mixture.  (photo 1:53pm)










 9.  Add water (about double the rice amount) and some chicken broth.  (photo 1:55pm)











10.  Add saffron or coloring and bring to a boil.  (photo 1:56pm)





11.  Boil and cook until the “caldo” is completely absorbed.  (photo 1:56pm)










Put peppers on top.  (photo 2:10pm)



Serve when the water has been completely absorbed into the rice.  (photo 2:27pm)

The traditional way to eat a paella is to gather around it each with a spoon and all eat from the same paella pan.  No plates needed.








Elise and Lola - the sweet little friendship that connected her parents with us and inspired another friendship and this delicious paella!

Just 90 minutes north of Valencia and about 10 Euros in tolls lies a beach like none other I've seen here so far with fine pale sands that squeak under foot and the aqua blue waters of a travel brochure.

The land rises to a hill on one side with homes stacked like legos along the side facing the sea, then flattens on the northern side where you can walk along the wide flat beach all the way to Benicarló.

In the center is what most people know Peñíscola for, a small mound of land that juts out into the sea with a castle at its peak overlooking it all.  Tall white buildings with tiled terraces and geranium filled terra cotta pots sit wall to wall along narrow streets.  Little corners hide gift shops and cafes.  The north side has a small bird refuge and from every edge all around you have the stunning view of this turquoise water.

It's beautiful and quaint, and, yes, of course it's touristy.  But isn't everything these days?  If it's great, then it's been discovered.

Today wasn't bad though.  The strong winds kept the sun's heat at bay and the tourists weren't thick in the streets.  That will come later - July and August are horrible, a shopkeeper told me.  Good for her, good for business, not so good if you really want to enjoy the beauty there.  Too many people.

Along the south side of the castle itself one street is completely lined on both sides with an eclectic array of souvenirs.  Here you can buy an Australian boomerang and a hunk of Murano glass, African art and shells.  A small gallery on the right as the road bends sells local art:  pottery and beautiful sterling silver jewelry.  A baker at the end sells local cookies and really delicious lemon empañadas.  If you look on the wall, you'll see pictures of her father and hear how he was an extra in a movie that was filmed there.  Walk farther and you'll find a nice tapas restaurant with good Spanish ham and wines.

On the other side of the castle is a lighthouse and steep stairway that leads down to the edge of the peninsula where the land meets the sea and every restaurant has a stunning view.  The waiters here will offer, in several languages, the special of the day until they see the recognition in your eyes, then try to lure you in for a rest and a meal.

We chose a restaurant with a great view (not difficult), really friendly people, amazing service, and really quite average food (for an above average price).  C'est la vie.  It's Peñíscola.  This is what movies are made of.  The view - indescribably beautiful.  On my return visit, I'll do big food elsewhere, or just sip a bit of cava there with that view.  The vibrant blues and the heat from the sun is enough.  Food is almost a distraction.

On my return, I'll spend more time digging my toes into that silky sand and venturing out into that water. 

My return... must go back soon.  June is supposed to be nice... good weather, light crowds...  May be I'll get a chance to walk the beach all the way to Benicarló.