Of Poetry and Paella

I've taken it upon myself to memorize poetry on my way to class. The inspiration for this seemingly insane measure is a very convincing article in the New York Times.

It's a wonderfully entertaining exercise- I find myself constantly laughing or furrowing my brow as I make those routine steps towards campus. Yet there is a downside as well. The author makes plenty of warnings about the strange looks that reciting poetry outloud (or even quietly) to oneself in public might elicit. However, he makes no mention of the fact that in saying poetry to oneself, it is quite easy to tire of one's own voice! Yes, in diligently memorizing these poems of woe and happiness, I have become absolutely annoyed by the sound of the voice in my head. I can't seem to stop REPEATING these lines to myself for fear that they'll stealthily escape around a back corner or fall off the cliff of consciousness to the depths below.

Before you dismiss me as a lunatic, I'll try to get to the point here. You see, while I'm sick of my own voice, I must tell you that there is one other voice that I'll never quite be able to get out of my head. This particular voice is slightly raspy, extremely quick, and prone to oscillate up and down in pitch with bursts of energy. It makes its presence known to me in phrases like "¡Ay! ¡Hija mía!" and "¡¿Pero qué haces!?" I swear, when I'm thirty-five I'll still wake up with it reverberating throughout the walls of my cerebellum. It's none other than the voice of the señora that I lived with in Spain- Loti.

If I could define Loti in one word I'd say "fierce". Although she had lived in a few different Spanish cities, she was a pure Madrileña- energetic, obstinate, and a true individual. Standing at a prominent 5 feet and pushing her late 60's, she dominated the streets of our small, quiet neighborhood. In fact, I'm pretty sure that she went out and enjoyed the restaurants, bars, and theatrical spectacles that Madrid had to offer more than my roommate and I did. On nights when we decided to stay in, it was Loti that immediately and pressingly questioned as to why we were wasting our time when we could be out reveling in the life of the city. She would then proceed to get dressed and head out of the door. My roommate and I would breathe a quick, simultaneous sigh of relief, brush our teeth, and go straight to bed.

Loti was also not one to fool. I had the unfortunate experience of somehow breaking the hinge of her 300 year-old cabinet. I tried to hide the shameful evidence of my blunder (I had to sacrifice not wearing a few necessary articles of clothing for a week!) but she caught me and unleashed a tirade in Spanish that is too studded with expletives and witty insults to publish on this site.

No matter how much I complain, I admire and love Loti more than words can say. I really enjoyed her energy and spirit. To me she was not only Spanish but was Spain itself. She nagged not for the sake of nagging, but rather because deep down, she felt as if she was our Spanish mother. Every night I'd sit with her in the "salon" and watch Spanish game shows as she smoked cigarettes. She'd whir through the answers as I'd stare blankly at the screen, just trying to grasp the questions that the game show host was asking. The one day (and there was only one) that I answered a question correctly, she exclaimed "Anda!" and I let a smug smile escape my lips as I deeply inhaled her second-hand smoke. Ah, I miss those days.

Because each of us had a busy schedule during the day, the one time that we really all shared together was our nightly (10 pm) dinner. Typically, the largest meal of the day in Spain is the "comida", or lunch. Yet, as a working woman, Loti was in no position to come home midday to cook for us (and force us to come home between classes as well). So we'd eat large dinners together at the end of the day. We'd sit in her tiny kitchen with fold-out chairs and talk about the news, the price of bread, boys, or the fact that I could not roll my "r's" to save my life. Dinner itself was always a gamble- sometimes we'd eat a boiled potato, microwaved vegetables, and broth. Sometimes though, she'd make something incredible. That's where the paella comes in.

Loti's paella was phenomenal. Golden rice, beans of various sizes cooked to the perfect consistency, juicy chicken, ah! The flavors! She knew I loved this dish, and even cooked it on the last night we were together. Thank you Loti.

So when I came across a simple paella recipe, I could not contain my excitement! Armed with saffron, rice, vegetables, and broth, I re-created what I had grown to love and associate with Spain. Well, it's certainly not Loti's paella, but it's pretty good. I guess I'll have to go back to that apartment in Madrid, deal with some nagging about the status of my haircut, and watch some more "pasapalabra" to taste that paella once more.

Vegetarian Paella

adapted from Whole Foods

I happened to make a vegetarian version, but feel free to add chicken, shrimp, etc. and/or substitute chicken broth for vegetable broth. If you're really lucky, you'll have two incredible roommates that want to partake in a Spanish feast, replete with "pan con tomate" (picture below) and sangria :)

Ingredients

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 cup uncooked jasmine or basmati rice
1/4 teaspoon saffron strands
1 (14-ounce) can whole tomatoes, drained
1 small green bell pepper, cored, seeded and chopped
1 small yellow bell pepper, cored, seeded and chopped
1 cup frozen lima beans
2 cups vegetable broth
1 cup frozen peas
Lemon wedges for garnish

Heat oil over medium heat in a large skillet. Add onions and garlic and cook for 3 minutes. Add rice and saffron and continue to cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute more. Add tomatoes and stir to break up with a large spoon. Add peppers and lima beans and cook, stirring, for 1 minute more. Add broth and bring to a boil. Boil for 2 minutes, then reduce heat to a simmer. Cover and cook for 10 minutes. Check to see if more liquid is needed to prevent sticking. If so, add about 1/4 to 1/2 cup water, then cover and cook another 5 minutes. Stir in peas and cook until just tender and liquid is absorbed. The rice should not be over-cooked, but just slightly al dente. (If not tender enough, you may add a bit more water and continue cooking.) Serve garnished with lemon wedges.