Café Español for farewells and well wishes

I've mentioned that TC was leaving for Ghana, and a few days before she flew out a bunch of friends and family got together to send her off in style. We started the evening at Café Español, a Spanish restaurant on Bleeker Street that managed to have a seating area big enough for the twelve of us.

I skipped over the lobster special in favor of the shrimp and rice entree, not knowing how enormous the portion size would be. For a meal preceding what promised to be a full night of drinking, a huge vat of rice, shrimp, and sausage was probably not the way to go.

The dish was really good, though, with plump grains of saffron-hued rice that had really soaked up the flavors of the tender shrimp and sausage. I didn't care for the peas, but then again, I never do when it comes to rice dishes (fried rice, etc.). I was glad when other people started helping me finish it, but I was a little sad, too, that I couldn't have it all for myself.

By the time the night ended we had spent nearly twelve hours eating, dancing, drinking, playing beer pong, singing karaoke, and eating again in a diner which I can no longer remember. The sky was lightening by the time I made it home. I hadn't had a night like that in years, but what better way to send off a friend than a truly epic night of partying and feasting?

A meal in Spain at La Nacional

The last time I went to La Nacional, hidden in the basement of the Spanish Benevolent Society, it was several years ago with a group of eight or so friends for a Secret Santa exchange dinner. After making our way through plate after plate of different tapas, washing it all down with pitchers of red and white sangria, we decided to put in an order for the house paella. When the server asked "How many are eating?" we said eight, thinking he was inquiring how many new plates to bring out, and not knowing we had just asked for eight full orders. What came to the table at the end of the meal was a giant pan of paella nearly three feet across, costing a pretty penny. We barely made a dent…luckily paella still tastes pretty good as leftovers.

There again a few weeks ago for dinner, RO and I were smarter. I wasn't that hungry since I had had a late lunch, so we decided to simply go with three tapas plus one paella to share.

The sauteed mushrooms were meaty and flavorful, but the pincho moruno—on the menu as "Spanish kebab"—was uninteresting and a little dry. A lot like your average chicken street meat kebab, both in presentation and taste.

However the croquetas were terrific, beautifully crisp and greaseless on the outside and filled with a creamy potato and fish mixture. I almost wanted to ask for another order, but we had our final dish coming…

The fideua, a noodle-based paella paired with fish and seafood. Despite some tougher pieces of shellfish scattered on top, I liked this dish a lot, especially the crispy bits of noodles stuck to the bottom and sides of the pan. It was a little oily so I couldn't eat too much of it, but what I had was packed with flavor and quite delicious.

La Nacional is one of those great, sort-of hidden gems of New York City, but there has been some talk recently about the place being in danger of closing, which would be a sad day if that really does happen. I haven't always liked everything I've ordered there, but I've always left the place feeling like I've been in another country for a little while. And everyone knows it's nice to have a place to get away.

Striving for tortilla de patatas

Tortilla de patatas—Spanish potato omelette—is one of those things I try to make all the time but never get exactly right. Oh, I come up with something good enough to satisfy myself (and occasionally others), but it's never anything like the comforting wedges of rich, soft-textured omelette that I remember eating in Barcelona and Valencia. Not as good as the ones made by my brother's co-worker for their office parties, either.

Nonetheless, when I have the ingredients on hand I give it a shot. I dutifully slice the potatoes and onions, saute them in olive oil until they're cooked through and not brown, and then pour the beaten egg, seasoned with some salt, over the onion and potatoes in the pan. I let the combination sit until the bottom is firm. I cover the pan with a large plate, invert the pan so the omelette falls onto the plate, and then slide the uncooked side back into the bottom of the pan. I let the new side cook. Then I tip the omelette out, let it cool, and cut myself a wedge.

It's never as good as I want it to be: the potatoes are either not soft and creamy enough or the textures aren't melded. I assume either wrong potato variety or improper technique, usually; here, I've clearly not sliced the tubers fine enough. Yet it never tastes bad, because eggs and potatoes and onions are a magical combination. When placed between two halves of a lightly toasted roll, even my botched omelette is close enough so that I'm reminded of how the bocadillos tasted in Spain. One day, I'll get it right.

Enter the giveaway!