Iberica and Ice Cream Ale

When I was young and carefree (not that long ago) and unencumbered by the albatrosses of a mortgage and an adopted cat and trying to keep my, previously gleaming, rust bucket on the road, I used to like to travel, and the Iberian peninsula was always a favourite destination.

Now days, while I'm keen to get away whenever possible, spending the late summer in Seville or a few nights in Bilbao seem to have been usurped by trips to Salford, Hackney Wick and the Gordano services on the M5. As much as I enjoy a pint of Manchester bitter or a bottle of West Country scrumpy, and I don't even mind the drizzle, sometimes you have a hankering for calamari and cold sherry.

On another glamorous recent trip, this time to West Yorkshire to visit the family, my aunt and uncle must have sensed my pining for foreign climes and offered to take us out to lunch at the newly opened Iberica in Leeds city centre. It was as though the weather gods knew too, and attempted to recreate the scorchio Spanish climate for our stay. Indeed, for probably the first time on record, somebody got sunburnt just outside Leeds. Sadly that somebody was me; my nose is still peeling in protest.

Found in Grade II listed Hepper House, a former Bonhams auction house, it's a striking building, with a glass roof and vaulted ceiling, that oozes Moorish sophistication the way a good tortilla oozes when you cut it. The unisex loos are as impressive as the main dining room, with their patterned tiles, piles of fluffy towels and fancy sink. Apologies for the blurry photo, either the result of switching on my macro lens or my greasy fingers from eating too many croquettas.

As we were with my aunt, clearly there was bottle of vino tinto involved, in this case a beefy tempranillo from a big wine list. They also offer a huge range of 'fishbowl' GnT's - although sadly not at Spanish prices. Beerwise, along with ice cold Mahou from the tap, they stock bottles of Alhambra Reserva 1925. An interesting beer, as far as lagers go, with a spicy, malty flavour that hid its 6.4% well and paired nicely with the fried food. 

The jamon croquettas were masterful; a gossamer thin crust gently cradling the wobbly, ham-flecked bechamel interior. Blistered padron peppers were sweet, salty and smoky, although surely the best thing about them is playing chilli roulette and hoping (or not) that you get the hot one.

The tortilla, although requested to be served still soft in the centre, oozed more of an unappetising watery puddle when cut into. Taste wise, it was pretty good, if a little salty with the potatoes seeming to have already been fried, like little chunks of patatas bravas.

Better were the chorizo lollipops; chunks of charcuterie impaled on cocktails sticks and dipped in batter that had turned a vivid Donald Trump hue on deep frying from the paprika in the sausage. A well-judged pear aioli was both sweet with fruit and punchy with garlic.

The standout plate was the, gloriously gothic, arroz negro; a short grain rice dish cooked with cuttlefish ink and a fish stock and finished with prawns and springy rings of cephalopod. A dish that leaves you with ghoulishly blackened lips that makes you suddenly thankful for the abundance of mirrors in the loos.

Hake with green sauce and a token smattering of salad was light and fresh and accurately cooked, if a little underwhelming - the biggest danger when you try and refine the salty, smoky rough and tumble of good Spanish food. The Ewing did have high praise for the bed of sauteed sugar snaps, though.

The dish of the day (offered with your choice of tapas to start for a bargain £12) was fabada, the frugal stew of beans and pork from Asturias. Although the thrifty nature of the dish was emphasised by the solitary slices of morcilla and chorizo bobbing on top, and the porky stock the beans were cooked in was a little lacking in depth, the beans themselves were wonderful; nutty and creamy and cooked to the perfect consistency.

Tocinillo de Cielo is a desert that roughly translates as heaven’s custard or heaven's little pig - surely the most glorious name for a pudding. It even looks a bit like bacon, with its two tone stripes.

Modelled on the ubiquitous wobbly flan (or crème caramel across the border) this is a denser and sweeter dessert, with a rich flavour that reminded me of the egg yolk custard buns that round out a good dim sum feast. The salted caramel ice cream alongside was flawless, although it did take the dish to a burnt sugar crescendo that kept my pancreas working overtime. The only part I couldn’t get excited about were the wafers, that resembled fossilised leaves in the park, and had about as much flavour.

Other desserts included a strawberry cheesecake that was topped with shavings of that well know Spanish cheese, Parmesan. While not a strictly orthodox addition in a Spanish restaurant, I enjoyed the contrast of smooth and bland with sharp and salty. Even better was the fantastically tart and smooth strawberry sorbet, probably the only time I have seen the addition of a sorbet enhance a cheesecake in any way, although I would happily have eaten it on its own.

To carry on the holiday theme we had to have ice cream, this time in the form of the Neapolitan Pale Ale brewed by Northern Monk in collaboration with Tall Boys Beer Market (treasure trove of beery beverages found in the Corn Exchange). 

Originally a one-off, the brew was so popular they have just brewed the next batch, and we enjoyed it fresh from the brewery. Still one of my favourite places for a pint, Northern Monk combines fantastic beer  - both their own and others – with great staff, cakes and pies and the best light I’ve ever seen, making even my blurry phone pics look good on Instagram; even with #nofilter. And while north Leeds may not be Lloret del Mar, the beer is much better.

An Ibizian Interlude

I have to confess, of all the places I have ever wanted to visit in the big wide world, Beefa was never one of them. For such a tiny isle, it packs a big punch and it seems everyone I know has gone there, many of them multiple times. But for every person that spoke about the 'unspoilt north', or told me 'it's not all about the super clubs', I couldn't fail to get the thoughts of short shorts, fish bowls and Paris Hilton coated in foam (shudder) out of my head.

But then #emilyandnigelaregettingmarried happened, and the venue was on a beach in one of their favourite places, the White Isle. Not wanting to miss one of the parties of the year (and realising, due to impending old age, the idea of an all-nighter at a super club soon wouldn't exist, if i wanted to go or not) I packed my straw hat and shades, downed a few lagers at the airport, and got down on it.

I'd like to say it wasn't all late night dancing and days spent in bed or by the pool, but it mostly was. We did, however manage to rouse ourselves to see some of the delights of Ibiza, and I can confirm it is a very beautiful place. Our villa, high up in the hills in the sleepy town of San Josep, was gorgeous and Ibiza old town (now a UNESCO heritage site), far away from the flashy marina and the frozen pina coladas (which were also very good) is well worth a tour.

While the trip may not have provided haute cuisine, from the serrano ham flavour crisps eaten in bed (surely a culinary highlight of any holiday), to a gorgeous wedding breakfast, we ate plenty of good grub; Here are some of the best bites.

Breakfast most days, alongside some of the best chocolate croissants I have eaten, was sobrassada, a raw, cured sausage made with pork and paprika that's a specialty of the Balearics. Unlike most sausages, the sobrassada remains almost pate-like inside, a result of the curing conditions (high humidity and mild cold) which are typical of the late Balearic climate.

The size of the sausages range from thin winter sobrassada, stuffed into intestines, right up to bisbe (or bishops) that are stuffed into large pig's bladders and made in the warmer months. The one I picked up from the supermarket deli stood somewhere in between the two, and was rather good spread onto crusty bread and served with a handful of sweet Mediterranean tomatoes, especially with the view from our veranda across to Sa Talaiassa.

Another local dish is the ensaimada, a spiral of coiled dough made with saïm, or a type of reduced pork fat. Apparently you can tell a true ensaïmada if it stains a piece of paper with the lard - how you would differentiate between  the mark made by lard compared to another fat, it isn't clear.

I tried the traditional ensaimada, which, if I'm honest, was underwhelming when compared to the rest of the pastries we sampled from the local baker's counter. Apparently you can also get filled versions, stuffed with pastry cream, chocolate or strands of candied pumpkin. Even better, you may also find greixonera, a kind of bread pudding made with yesterday's stale ensaimada, eggs, cream and cinnamon (yeah, if you ever manage to see daylight and or make it outside the villa - TE).

On our cultural day - which, of course, was also the greyest - we made it out to Cala d'Hort (thanks for The Ewing for transporting us) (that's ok - TE) a small, secluded cove on the western coast with great views of the tiny island of Es Vedra.

There's two restaurants at Cala d'Hort, del Carmen down on the beach and Es Boldado, our choice, up on the cliff. As is fitting for a seaside gaff, the menu offers a whole gamut of fish and seafood dishes, with a particular focus on rice dishes including arroz a la marinera (fisherman's rice); Arroz negro (black rice) and Arroz ciego ('blind' or boneless rice) alongside the Ibizian specialty Bullit de peix con arroz a banda, a bright yellow fish stew that was flying out the kitchen on our trip.

Of course, as Brits we couldn't come to Spain and not order the Paella. We chose the mixta, featuring both meat and seafood, and after twenty minutes drinking cold Mahou and eating green olives, bread and obscenely garlicky aioli, our lunch was ready.

Ropy photo aside (hen party 'jinks' had seen both my phone and camera end up at the bottom of the swimming pool, leaving me at the mercy of the Ewing's cracked and battered iPhone) (think yourself lucky you had a phone to borrow - TE) this was exemplary. a mixture of chicken, crab, prawns, langoustine (which always look so beautiful, but taste, oddly, of not much), mussels, and chunks of squid in a saffron and squid ink infused savoury rice with just the right amount of stodginess.

 

While there are, reportedly, still plenty of hidden 'foodie' gems, Ibiza has won it's party reputation for a reason - with sustenance often coming off second best to giant gin and tonics and beach-side dj sets. That said, who could resist the copious menus offering pizza, pasta and things served with chips. 

Our local haunt in San Josep did a good crab tagliatelle and rigatoni amatriciana and also got extra points for serving the cava in wine glasses and graciously putting up with our raucous pre-hen party. We also ate decent pizza in Ibiza old town, topped with blue cheese sausage and broccoli (my one concession to green vegetables during the week) with raspberry panacotta and a round of limoncello on the house.

We also had a - slightly stressful to organise, with people coming from all across the island - but ultimately lovely - pre-wedding dinner at Pinocchio's, again in Ibiza old town. I had a fabulous classic holiday salad, topped with grated carrot, olives, tuna, ham, sweetcorn and a lone white asparagus spear followed by a decent milanese cutlet with proper chips and a couple of bottles of rioja.

After our exploits over the previous week it was a miracle we made it so fresh faced (or at all) to the wedding; the bride and groom both looked radiant, the location was stunning, the photographer (and a few of the congregation, sitting in the sunshine) was hot, and the 'sand man' was a legend.

It was also the only wedding I have been to with pedalos, or should that be 'wedalos'. Whatever you might call them, they were great fun, as were the classic garage tunes and bad wedding dance moves ala Croydon circa 1999.

Possibly the thing I had been most looking forward to all week was the 'sea bream a la mama' recommended by the bride to be when they made a little recce to the venue and sampled the food earlier in the year. It didn't disappoint - despite drunkenly swallowing several bones - with the bed of roasted tomatoes the fish nestled on being an unexpected delight.

The rest of the food was equally delightful, from the sharing platters - bowls of mussels, veggie stacks and buttery salmon pate with bread sticks - to start and ending with an assiette of deserts, a sorbet, a perfectly judged chocolate and sour cherry fondant and one of the best creme brulees I have eaten. (Fellow guests, please feel free to correct me on the menu recollection; horrible pictures with flash and lots of white sangria can lead to unreliable memories...)

They say you haven't lived until you've drunk coconut liquer out of a ring-shaped, flashing shot glass, or something. And of course, no right thinking bunch of sensible individuals fast approaching their mid-thirties would turn down a luminous thimbles of petrol. Just as well really, as we seemed to be offered quite a few of them. 

So a huge congratulations to Mr and Mrs James-Walsh; it was a ball and a pleasure to be there to celebrate with you (a delight! - TE). And while I thought - at least after I got home, sat at my desk at work, head in hands - that I could never face the White Isle again, now I've had time to recover, I kinda miss the place. Here's to Ibiza 2016.

2011: The Best of the Rest

A rather unconventional round-up of 2011. This post doesn't feature any haute cuisine, exciting revelations or a lists of my favourite restaurants/meals. Instead here are a select few of the random nibbles, morsels and unblogged high points, often shared with family and friends, that have brightened up my table this year.

As is always the way plenty of great food and drink was missed through forgetfulness, inebriation, poor lighting or politeness (although, as I found out through writing my blog, people became offended when I didn't bring my camera and write about my dinner with them!). But most of what I did capture was pretty great. Here are a few of the many, tasty highlights:

An unconventional Shrove Tuesday treat: dorayaki, or custard pancakes, from fabulous Japan Centre in Piccadilly. As well as picking up a few of these each visit I also love browsing the aisles in search of the weird and wonderful. Recent hauls include dried, smoked squid; fizzy grape candies; chestnut-filled chocolate and industrial quantities of panko breadcrumbs and Bull-Dog sauce. The fresh food counter at the front is also good - the eel nigiri and okonomiyaki make a great, quick lunch.

Lunch at the Sun Inn in Faversham, Kent. Although the food here is simple fare I really like the way they used the local produce. I enjoyed a ham, cheese and Masterbrew rarebit, followed by a Kentish hop-pickers cake with gypsy tart ice cream. Our visit coincided with St Patrick's Day, and were lucky to find they had the special Shepherd Neame stout, brewed for the occasion at the brewery less than half a mile away, available on tap. 

Fry Tucks, Zealand Road, Canterbury. Included here for the solely sentimental reason that I could see this chippy from my bedroom window at uni. A favourite Friday night treat after a hard week studying was cod, chips and a pickled onion. Even as the only fried fish purveyor in the street it struggled to be the best, but I had to bring the Ewing here to experience the delights of the soggy batter and saveloys, still served up by the same lady who used to patiently let us count out handfuls of pocket change in exchange for our fish supper.

Easter trip to Yorkshire and the ice cream van at the end of the world (or the beach at Robin Hood's Bay). There's nothing quite like a Mr Whippy and strawberry sauce, with the cold North wind blowing sand onto every mouthful. Proper British treat.

All the aerated fat and sugar was followed by a very civilised weekend at my aunt and uncle's in Leeds. Not only did we enjoy a beer festival, a monster rib of beef and a boule tournament, but my uncle made some excellent oysters Rockefeller. Enjoyed al fresco, with a glass of white wine, while basking in the unseasonably warm spring sunshine.

A pint of Rebellion Smuggler supped in an sunny pub garden, one of the true joys of an English summer. This was enjoyed, along with a lovely lamb burger, at the Whip in Lacey Green.You also get a lovely view across the fields to the oldest smock windmill in England too. Bonus.

The bacon cheeseburger at the Doghouse Kennington. A favourite Sunday haunt just down the road from our good friends in Elephant and Castle. This behemoth was desperately needed the morning after a rather lively 30th birthday party. I can't remember too much about its culinary merits, despite being on the lime and soda by that point, but I can attest it contained healing properties hidden amongst all the gooey cheese and crispy (streaky!) bacon.

A bocadillo mixto and a cold caña at the Museo del Jamon. Although I wrote about this fabulous shrine to the porcine in my Madrid blog earlier in the year, I just couldn't leave this ham and cheese sandwich out. In the half dozen visits I have made to the Spanish capital this is always my first stop. I even booked a hotel within striking distance of the Carrera san Jeronimo so we could call in here everyday for breakfast.

The Ewing's Wimbledon Roll. I always know I'm going to be in for a treat when the Ewing barricades herself in the kitchen and goes very quiet. This gorgeous, squidgy, creamy beauty was the result of her labours; based on an Edd Kimber recipe this contained a great strawberry filling, laced with large amounts of Pimms. Game, set, snooze on the sofa.

The contents of our fridge, amassed while on a trip to Berlin. A girl of simple tastes, one of my very favourite things is visiting foreign supermarkets. Luckily the Ewing is both very patient, and a complete chocholic. As long as every trip to Kaiser, Norma, Aldi and Lidl included a big bag of sugary treats (and maybe some cheap German beers) then she was happy too. I enjoy most Ritter chocolate, somehow the square shape of the bar seems to make it taste even better, but the stand outs were the Olympia (a yogurt honey nut combo), rum, fruit and nut, and the good old dark chocolate peppermint cream.

A double scoop of Purbeck's chocolate and Chili Red ice cream. This was served up at Millets Farm Shop, near Abingdon, to celebrate Their August Bank Holiday Chili Festival. Chili and chocolate make good bedfellows, but I was unsure how the ice cream element would work; the answer was rather brilliantly. The combination managed to be deliciously cold and creamy, with a deep fruitiness and real kick at the end from the large flecks of red chili blended into the mixture.

Another Ewing special: This time a version Konditor's Curley Whirley chocolate cake, made for my birthday. This was pimped up with Violet Crumble honeycomb chocolate bars (carted all the way back from Oz) crumbled all over the heavenly vanilla bean icing. Thanks to @Aoafoodie on Twitter for turning me on to this one. When I tweeted a while ago that I was feeling a bit down in the dumps he suggested that this could be the cure. And it did a mighty fine job.

Birthday booze: a lovely treat from the lovely Ewing. We supped this with new season wet walnuts and local blue cheese whilst sitting amongst the palm trees in our little Cornish cottage. The hangover the next morning wasn't quite so lovely.

Terrible photos, but some of the very best food I have eaten this year. This was part of my birthday meal at Paul Ainsworth's Number 6 in Padstow. To start a delicious champagne cocktails, then the Jimmy Butler crispy pigs head with smoked eel and salad cream. Just check out those catherine wheels of crackling nestling amongst cubes of porky goodness. If all of that wasn't exciting enough the main was the equally fab Wings Land and Sea; a rolled skate wing served with boned chicken wings, a fabulous carrot puree (I never knew the humble root veg could taste so fabulous) and incredible chicken gravy.  And we had the Taste of the Fairground, the winning pud seen on The Great British Menu, for pudding. Awesome.

No visit to my Nan's in Norfolk would be complete without a trip to John's Rock Shop, down on the seafront in Wells-Next-the-Sea. As a child we would be allow to run amok in the penny arcade and children's play centre, and would then make ourselves sick scoffing pineapple rock and vanilla fudge on the way home. Despite being older, I'm still no wiser and struggled to find room for my roast dinner after the big bag of candy floss I had eaten. An e number-filled delight, and the beach is rather nice too.

Unlike cracker jokes and bad jumpers this is Christmas cheese I'm always pleased to see. My Mum always picks one of these up from her local butchers in Wiltshire for the holidays; while it's great with oatcakes, pickles and a little glass of white wine, my favourite approach is spooning it straight out of the box and into my mouth. As an extra treat my lovely friend, Beth, bought a new season cheese round for dinner a few weeks ago. It didn't last long.

So, rather a tasty year. And with plenty of cooking, eating and travelling already planned for 2012 bon appetit to all!

Tapas Trail, Madrid

Pigging out with the Madrileños.

As mentioned in my previous post I was lucky enough to spend a few days in one of the greatest cities in the world along with the Ewing, my sister Em and our friends Beth and Ellen.  Our guide for the trip was the wonderful Tom, an old school mate, local resident and, luckily for us, fluent Spanish speaker. While my poor attempts at schoolgirl Spanish always seem to end up with being offered cups of lukewarm tea, no matter what I'm actually attempting to order, Tom guided us seamlessly through some of the coolest markets, bars and restaurants in the city.

I have always found the food here to be almost uniformly excellent.  From the simple tapas plates of superb ham, tortilla,chorizo and olives to traditional feasts of suckling pig, cocido (a chickpea and meat stew) and callos (tripe, luckily we didn't have time for any on this trip!).  For a landlocked city there is plenty of seafood,  MercaMadrid is the largest wholesale market for perishable goods in Europe and the second largest fish market in the world.

With such a great variety of choice, and lovely company I couldn't wait to get stuck in to some delicious Iberian treats.

Museo del Jamon: The first stop every time I visit this is still one of my favourite places in the whole of Madrid. The 'Museum of Ham' combines a perfect place for a cold beer and a few tapas with the visual spectacle of seeing multiple cured pig's legs hanging from the ceiling.  My favourite branch is on the Carrera san Jeronimo, just off the Plaza del Sol, and we called in here every day on this most recent visit.

The pan tomaca, a ferociously garlicky tomato mixture served on toast and topped serrano ham, accompanied with a cafe solo and a glass of freshly squeezed zumo de naranja became my daily breakfast.  There is no finer way to pass the time than propped up against the u-shaped zinc counter, drinking a cold caña and eating chunks of chorizo and green olives.

The Mercado San Miguel.  This indoor market has only recently opened after extensive refurbishment and I was very excited about finally visiting.  I was not disappointed.  While rather small and pretty expensive the buzzy atmosphere and range of food and drink is excellent. On our two trips we enjoyed some lovely fishy pintxos, including salt cod with fish roe, tuna belly with anchovy and polpo gallego, We also sampled mini fois gras burgers, squid ink croquettas in a violent dark violet hue and prawn and pineapple skewers for the Ewing.

The pickled snack stall was also pretty fab; the highlight being some spicy chillies and an amazing creation that involved stuffing a gherkin with tuna and roasted peppers and then securing it with cocktail sticks speared with pickled onions and olives.

I shall definitely be saving some room on the next visit for the amazing looking scratchings, available in 'bacon rasher' or 'Iberican ham' flavour.  Perhaps washed down with something from the sherry stall opposite. 

Mercado de San Anton is enough new foodie addition that features a modern, multi leveled space with market stalls, bars and a restaurant with terrace on the top floor. On our visit the bottom floors were closing for the evening, but we enjoyed an nice aperitif of white wine and oysters on the middle level before going up dinner in the restaurant.

The food was good, if a little restrained in portion size. Probably a good thing, given our habit of over ordering.  We shared some mussels, salad and octopus to start before I enjoyed a lovely pork burger, made from pigs from 'the mountains of Jabugo'.  The juicy, lean meat was served slightly pink and was gorgeously dense and meaty in a way like no other pork burger I have tried.  It was served with those lovely, greasy slightly soggy, chips that seem to taste amazing when you're on holiday (less so at three o'clock in the morning outside the kebab van). The Ewing, along with a couple of the others, enjoyed a big piece of flaky bacalao, served with a langoustine and a little fish risotto.

A shared cheese board deserves a mention for being vast and having a good selection of perfectly ripe, stinking specimens, as well as a great goat and the obligatory, but lovely, Manchego.  A chocolate desert, with a strange orange sauce, was not a success, but they saved the best for last as my favourite part of a good meal was my rather unphotogenic arroz con leche.  A perfectly sweet and creamy cold rice pudding with lots of cinnamon.  Absolutely fabulous.

A lunch stop in the bustling Plaza Santa Ana.  As well as albondigas (meatballs),  tortilla and croquettas we enjoyed amazing Jamon Iberico with picos de pan and this rather lovely dish of fried aubegine slices with a salmorjo (bread, tomato garlic and vinegar garnished with chopped boiled egg) sauce.

Another night of great food, cocktails and company started with a refreshing summer drink featuring pineapple and basil  at a bar in Malasaña . We then moved down the road to La Musa for mojitos followed by red wine and vast, beautifully charred venison skewers, pictured here with my lovely sister Emily. 

We also enjoyed some 'bomba', with three slasas, which seemed to be meatballs that had been half breaded and topped with a tomato sauce and soured cream, fried green tomatoes with goats cheese, carpaccio beef rolls and baba ganouch with an alarming amount of garlic.

An afternoon stop at el Rincon for what Tom proclaimed 'the greatest tortilla in Madrid'.  As the Ewing and I had got caught in a rainstorm walking from the Reine Sofia gallery they very kindly nabbed us the last piece.  It was certainly worth getting wet for, beautifully light and creamy, just set it the midle with lots of sweet onions and potato.

The red vermouth was on tap, and came in little glasses with ice and orange.  Perfect with a dish of salty green olives.

Our final night was spent in the dark and lovely lamucca, a great little restaurant with a mixed menu of pizzas, tapas, fish and meat.  After sharing a cheese and meat platter, served with membrillo and pan con tomate, and some moreish padron peppers (my sister picking the only hot one) The Ewing enjoyed the fabulous seared tuna with a ginger sauce and spinach salad.  Although rather minimalist in its appearance the piece of fish was enormous, with a lovely texture and perfectly cooked.  I had the Pulpo Pizza featuring a incongruous sounding mixture of octopus, potatoes and paprika.  This was truly outstanding, slightly blistered on the bottom, smoky from the spices and loaded with cheese and seafood. 

Packs of Iberico ham bones, choritzo and pig fat to make Cocido madrileño at the el Corte Ingles supermercado, a favourite foodie stop.  No room in the suitcase this time but I did manage to pick up a mini wheel of Manchego cheese and some lomo embuchado (dry-cured pork loin).

My lovely friend (and sugar fiend) Tom with his froyo. This was from Cherry Pop, a fun, pay by weight, self serve frozen yogurt bar with a variety of different fruit, nut and chocolate toppings. We were lucky that the sun had just come out so we could enjoy eating our frozen treats in the sun on the Plaza Mayor.

Finally, I find myself immortalised in chocolate and sugar!  We found these eponymous doughnuts, as well as turron, sugared violets and polverones (a very crumbly almond shortbread), in the window of Casa Mira on the Carrera de San Jeronimo.

And finally, what night on the tiles in Madrid would be complete without some chocolate con churros on the way home.  The most famous purveyor of the deep fried batter sticks is the Chocolateria San Ginés; a traditional cafe with green wooden panelling, mirrored walls, and marble tables that that can be found hidden down a passageway close to San Ginés church near Plaza del Sol.  Although the churros are a little too oily for me the Spanish style chocolate is a triumph.  Rich and thick with a slight bitterness that make it perfect for dunking your donuts.