Rosa Azul, Cadaques

September 1st, 2009. 1 PM.

Attempting to learn our lesson from the previous day, when the massive lunch had provoked several hours of nap and a relative lack of interest in dinner, we swore to keep things light before The Best Restaurant In the World. As usual, there were some minor problems with the ordering. Guilty as charged, Your Honor.

But you almost don't need to eat, do you, when this is the view over your table and out to sea? I had eyed this place every time we drove or walked by, and it seemed like just the casual, light thing to do of an afternoon even if the weather was a bit overcast.

A bit of stucco, some tables facing the bay, cheap tapas...Rosa Azul has a good location and trades on it. The inside is cave-like and populated with British working holiday-makers. But we would have sat outside unless threatened with bodily harm.

Just normal food here, done normally. This is Spanish omelette, or tortilla as it's known in my country. Actually, it would be nice to know how tortilla became tortilla chips, which are related in almost no way I can think of - totally different ingredients (excepting maybe water) and preparation method. If anything, the color of the sliced and cooked products are similar. That's pretty thin. Another pretty thin thing was the taste of the tomato bread here; the Spanish do seem to delight in using cheap bread and cheap tomatoes and pretending that putting them together makes them better overall.

Canned tuna on tomato bread. I love canned tuna.

Manchego cheese. Really ticking boxes here, aren't we? After a couple days in Spain these were the first tortilla, tuna and Manchego we had eaten. These did not enrich our lives in any perceptible way. 

This ham sort of did though - it was definitely a different experience then you may be used to. The slices were thick, as was the flavor - dark and a bit harsh, with a side-order of chewiness. I guess the value of this lunch was in seeing what more normal people eat, or at least people on holidays going to cheap restaurants (though if you were on a budget you probably wouldn't want to go here. Or anywhere else in Cadaques. You'd go to the supermarket and buy this stuff, then eat just across the street, actually on the beach.).

Did I mention the view? That was the real value of this lunch. While we ate, the weather cleared up a bit, making it perfect for parking in front of a beer, looking at the water and passerby. This would be an everyday thing if you summered in Cadaques, and such a consommation is devoutly to be wished. It might take a few days to slump into the swing of things, downshifting to the proper speed, but then you'd be reclined by the water, beer in hand (I'd pardon you for choosing sangria), grunting occasionally in pale imitation of conversation.

Did I mention the view? The other value in this lunch was in putting us in just the right frame of mind to sit for a few minutes on the balcony back at the hotel, admiring the yachts and the distant lighthouse, before falling asleep to the distant sound of waves on the pebbled beach. And then of course getting up and dressed for dinner.

Casa Nun, Cadaques

August 31, 2009. 9 PM.

Massive fooding fail. That was all I kept thinking as we walked back to town for dinner after having a short walk and a long sleep to work off the colossal pasta lunch. Pictures don't do justice to how much we ate at Els Pescadors...but still, there were things to do. Walks to be walked. Dinners to be dined. Practice to stay in shape for the next night's extravaganza at the Best Restaurant In the World.

Under the guise of a random walk, we eventually found ourselves in front of Casa Nun, which I confess was recommended by some online forums. But seriously, we did walk around the waterfront and old town quite completely, and I don't think there's a better-looking place to be had. The main square in particular is a bit bereft of interesting options facing the packed-earth petanques area. It's as if everyone wants to eat exotic food on vacations, and exotic food for the French and Spanish people who vacation in Cadaques consists mainly of pizza.

Here's the House of Nun - flowery print half-wall paper, green moldings, cane chairs...it's a quaint mix of seaside and turn-of-the-last century parlor. Lovely! It's also tucked into the northwest corner of the harbor and set back a bit from the road, behind a large olive tree. Somehow, there was a table outside on the terrace, and all that was just too good to refuse. I loved the service as well; throughout dinner we wondered about the family relationships and even countries of origin, but the basic fact is that the woman who served us was really lovely. When we attempted a further fooding fail, she proactively saved us.

Just something light, OK? Settle the stomach, stay healthy and tip-top, all that rot, what. Perhaps this is how gazpacho is done in Spain. Both times I saw it during the week, the presentation followed this two-stage approach. A big bowl of tomato soup comes first...

...followed by a plate of condiments. The interactivity is nice, but do they really think you're not going to eat some of these? My favorite bit is the quail eggs in the background. Nothing too exciting here, but pleasant and soothing, with a few croutons and fresh peppers for textural interest .

This is where we realized we were in danger if a larger fail - early signs of stomach rejection ocurred at the sight of just one of these bowls, nay tureens, of tomato soup. We started discussing among ourselves that we were in trouble, and the waitress heard us and came back to ask if there was any problem with the food (Mr. Nun had taken our order in mixed languages). She talked us back through our order and let us cancel the whole fish that we had ordered, which was a real blessing.

Because there was this plate of squids to be attacked. Perhaps not quite the equal of the ones at Cervesaria Catalana, but it's difficult to go wrong with a freshly-grilled cuttlefish and his good friend Mr. Lemon.

And even harder to do so with good-quality ham. If you keep following this blog through the massive dinners coming up and then into the bits after, you'll see The World's Best Ham, but until then, please be content with this. It had a very deep and rich flavor but was a bit too salty for all of us; I'm sorry that I wasn't yet sufficiently-versed in ham to enquire about the salting method, or the hanging time, or which part of the leg they cut these soft, whispery slices from. We just kept working on it until it was done, drinking white wine from plain, flat tumblers. These slices of bread, rubbed with tomato, are of course a very normal thing in Spain but not something that has appeared here yet.

Suitably relieved at not attempting to eat a fish on top of the above, we decided that we might as well dessert (the verb). This was some type of airy lemon tart, not overly memorable. But big. No one will accuse Mr. Nun of having "terrible food...and such small portions."

This was a chocolate-nut cake - foreshadowing, perhaps, the nut-dependent dinner at The Best Restaurant In the World. More on that shortly.

Another funny feature of the Cadaques waterfront at night is the street performers. It's either quaint or irritating depending on who's doing it. While we were at Casa Nun, we were first treated to a long-haired guy doing Bob Dylan covers in a heavy Spanish accent (this was not the quaint part) and then instrumental favorites from a West African guy who lives in France and spends the summers in Cadaques. His music was nice to listen to, and he was forthcoming with the loan of his guitar, which finished off dinner perfectly and left us ready to brave the dark, quiet walk back along the water to the hotel.

Els Pescadors, Cadaques

August 31st, 2009. 2 PM

Thanks to providence, we survived a day of tourism and eating in Barcelona. That afternoon may even have included a visit to Sagrada Familia, but my memories are hazy. Something that was also hazy was the sky the next morning. We suffered through a mediocre breakfast of bread and coffee at a cafe (when in Europe...) on the edge of the Barri Gothic near the water where the other patrons were of indeterminate status - up early or still up late? -  and were playing Europop on a boombox. After that we went to Europcar, rented our Europeancar, and, pausing only for a short freestyle detour through the gridless one-way streets of the Barcelona waterfront, we were on the highway to The Beach. The sky was no longer hazy when we got there. Hellz Bellz!

 
You've been to Europe more than me, no doubt. And you've probably visited the Amalfi Coast, or Greece, or Croatia or somewhere equally picturesque with vibrant blue ocean, similar sky, and white houses on overlooking cliffs. If so, lucky you, and feel free to tune out to your own memories. As for me, I was really looking forward to seeing Cadaques. Based on a few grainy blowups on the worldwidenetz, it seemed to deserve its reputation as the quaintest of towns on the Costa Brava as well as the one closest to France. After all, this was the place where Picasso and Dali chose to vacation (which makes you wonder if there's something in the water). It wasn't the most convenient way to get to El Bulli, but the nearest town for that is the dull-looking Roses, and we were taken with the idea of a hotel with balconies overlooking our own Mediterranean bay. As a result I had agitated for a schedule that involved leaving Barcelona early, getting to Cadaques by lunch, and spending most of two days there.

Staying at a hotel on the outskirts provided a nice opportunity to walk a bit - a pleasant 10 minutes each way, through the residential road and then along the tiny coves and shops of the waterfront (pictured above) until you reached the old casino and then the town square. We drove out to the hotel, checked in, got amazed by the views, and started walking back for lunch. We didn't make it all the way back to town; there are a few seafood restaurants in the last cove before the center, and we looked at each other and called dibs on the one open table at Els Pescadors.

For obvious reasons, no? As a newbie American in Europe, I was shamelessly excited about eating in a setting like this - the only thing that could be slightly better would be to perch the restaurant on a rocky cliff. But that might be different, not better. These French people were there before us and there after us, enjoying a view that was 2 metres closer to the water and all the better for not having themselves in it. During our time at table, they handled two bottles of wine between them with aplomb. And they seemed pretty excited about the view too. Tell me, does one get tired of this? I prefer to hope that Samuel Johnson was correct in saying, "When a man is tired of eating seafood and drinking wine by the sea, he is tired of life."

I envied the vinous capability of our French neighbors. Also I was, as usual, stunned by the low low prices of very drinkable sparkling wine in Spain, so we started with an attractively-necked bottle from the near-Barcelona Penedes region that went down our own necks just as nicely. This pretty little fellow was the same price as one glass of his French cousin who we drank at Le Cinq. It's cava. Don't call it recession champagne or they get very annoyed. And then we began le fooding.

Si, si, I was still distraught at not having had octopus for any of three meals the day before. This fellow was small, tender, salty, sliced in pieces, and most importantly sitting on a table next to a bottle of sparkling wine next to a blue ocean cove. Gaaaaahhh! I can only imagine that there are better octopi in the world. I'm not ashamed to say it, I spent this lunch in love with all things European.

Very tolerable prawns were also on the agenda, prompted by the incredible ones the night before. They were of course not equal in any way, but they were superior in quantity and inferior in price, so all was far from lost.

But again with the main dish...ORDER FAIL. At another table we saw a nice-looking paella. We debated about which one on the menu it could be. We tried to ask. We ordered fideua, which is best described as 'pasta paella'. Sounds weird if you've never heard of it (like me), but the pictures should make it clear - make pasta in a shallow pan with lots of seafood, then broil/grill until crusty on top. Why the fail? For some reason we ordered this for 4 people, and we certainly got a portion for 4 people. While we (nearly) finished the whole pan, we were reduced to gibbering wrecks. ONE of us went to bed, not to recover until morning.

Who would think that such an innocent dish could hide such depradations? The other truly depraved thing about this is that, in addition to the hunks of cholesterol-of-the-sea liberally mixed throughout (the ham-like bits are in fact octopus, while the white ones are squid, not fish), it was served with a mayonnaise topping. Sure, not regular mayonnaise - aioli. My cholesterol is fine, thank you, so I went for broke and put a dollop of garlicy mayo on every last bite. And the last bite finished me; I barely remember the walk back or the fall into bed.

Els Pescadors doesn't have a web site, but I saw one review in French that talked about the professional staff, great atmosphere and huge portions. Spot on. It's on the south side of the bay. Keep walking past the casino and you'll see it. Don't be fooled by the even-more-touristy place next door.
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