As winter gently breathes her way towards spring (between the rain showers that is), calçots immediately ‘spring’ to mind. Huh? Well, for the uninitiated, we are currently in the middle of the calçot season which technically harvests between November through April, with January to March being the best months to sample them. Calçots are a traditional Catalan fayre, which over the decades, have spread their exquisite roots beyond regional borders to our own Mallorcan shores, becoming as much a part of our own seasonal cuisine as ‘pastanagas’ (black carrots), ‘raor’(razor fish) and ‘higos negros’ (native black figs). But what are calçots, you might be asking? Well, the first thing you need to know is that they are inseparable from the gastronomically acclaimed ‘Romesco Sauce’, an essential accompaniment to their legendary fame. Secondly, never attempt to eat them without a paper bib, face mask, or a strategically placed napkin to protect your clothes! Oh . . . and be prepared to have a smothered chin, maybe a messy forehead and definitely sticky fingers to boot!
OK! So calçots: a variety of spring onion which tends to think it’s a slender, fashionable leek. And tastes exquisitely like something between the two! Yet it’s the specific way they are prepared, cooked and eaten, which makes ‘calçots’ something to seriously celebrate.
As with any island speciality, Mallorcans love to showcase and mark a seasonal arrival with a fiesta, and eating calçots for the very first time was a privileged event I will recall, forever. We hadn’t been living on the island for very long, so felt genuinely honoured when invited to a weekend lunch party by recently acquainted Mallorcan friends. We had no idea at the time, that the lunch was a celebration of the said calçots; yet, as one of our hosts hailed from the Basque country, it soon became evident that this was a very special occasion indeed.
I observed Mallorcan Marilena with great interest as she took bundles of calçots, freshly harvested and covered with clinging earth, and flung them on a makeshift grille set over a roaring bonfire. I must admit, unwashed and in their raw state, the seasonal ‘speciality’ didn’t look remotely appetizing. “Isn’t she going to clean or peel them?” I whispered. But no, for that’s how the best calçots are prepared. As this was our first initiation to a native gathering, we were totally taken by the rustic charm of the weathered trestle table, set and dressed with wild flowers and host to a regimented row of mismatched chairs, all placed beneath the dappled shade of a restless tree. Sunlight danced on glinting wine glasses, polished cutlery and terracotta roof tiles! Yes, that’s right . . . roof tiles were being used as individual place settings. When the calçots were completely blackened over the roaring fire, Marilena portioned and wrapped them tightly in newspaper, settling the bundles in the natural curve of the long, terracotta tiles.
It's a messy affair to eat calçots.
Cava corks popped, and individual bowls of Romesco Sauce found their way to the table along with eager guests, who obviously knew what they were doing! We followed suit as the newspaper parcels were ceremoniously unwrapped. The baked earth clinging to the calçots stuck to the newspaper, exposing the white, juicy, tender flesh within. Dipped and drenched in Romesco Sauce, the silky calçots were held aloft, and dangled like succulent serpents over waiting mouths, then lowered and eaten whole. Chomping calçots with Romesco Sauce dripping everywhere is not for ‘dainty diners’, but it’s traditional, and seriously the only way to eat them! It’s also amazing how many you can get through in one sitting!
However, the downside of being a local ‘onion’ variety, means calçots often ‘repeat’, and the ozone layer invariably suffers as flatulence follows the feast. Well, it did with me, anyway! Yet the greatest surprise of all came when the host suddenly grabbed Other Half by the hand and, without any prior warning, ran at the bonfire before leaping over the roaring flames with Yours Truly in tow. Apparently, a personal tradition, yet a scorching surprise if you’re not expecting such a reckless leap of faith. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Other Half leap so high or far, or look so terrified with burning embers at heel! And not something I think will ever be on our ‘repeat list’, although the traditional calçots will always be something to re-try and treasure, again and again!
No comments
To be able to write a comment, you have to be registered and logged in
Currently there are no comments.