My Other Half

Life can be hectic. Life can be busy. Even when taking a moment to try a new recipe, one might get a little stressed. Everyone needs some time to pause and reflect. This post is not a new recipe, neither is it a culinary adventure outside the kitchen. It is a homage to the best cooking partner one could ever ask for: My other half. As I was making my dinner tonight, I thought of him, and what it means to share a kitchen.

I am not sure if he knows this, but one of the things that he always does in the kitchen drives me bonkers. As much as I hate it, that's how much I cannot help but love it. It is his spirit, his character. When I cook, I try to keep things neat(ish), and (try to) clean as I go. My other half resembles the Tazmanian Devil from Looney Tunes. Every single pot is out. Every single tool is out. The sink is filled to the brim in vegetable scraps. "How can one possibly do this?", I ask myself. But that is the joy of cooking with someone else. You find out other ways of doing things that you, yourself, have a habit of doing. You learn your quirks, as well as someone else's, and gain education from both instances.

Both of us have a "list" of edible "no-no's", foods that have unappealing textures or flavors. These are preferences, of course. He enjoys all of my "no's" and visa-versa. The point is, he is always looking for creative alternatives. He is the king of substituting something for another, for example, switching dates for raisins. Brilliant.

I am vegetarian, and have absolutely no problem when my other half craves meat. We love to cook for and with each other, which leaves cooking meat very rare (Pun intended). When a recipe calls for meat, I usually just cancel it out, no problem. Not my other half. He is in the cashier's queue at the grocery with a soy alternative before I even blink. He always wants to try something new.

Cooking is fun. And if there is any point to this post, what I am trying to say is enjoy cooking with someone else. You can laugh at the differences. You can enjoy similarities. You can create memories that would not have happened unless you had "that time" in the kitchen.

To my other half, my partner-in-crime, you are an inspiration. You are a joy to cook for. You are a joy to cook with. When thinking about some of our hilarious moments in the kitchen, I cannot help but snort, and laugh. I remember chopping vegetables for Thanksgiving on my stove because two people could not fit in my kitchen. I remember not being able to go to bed because Christmas Cookies were cooling there. I remember falling asleep on the kitchen counter because I thought I could "whip up" Torta de Tagliatelle after work. Thank you for these adventures. And thank you for being you. I do not think I could have asked for a freer spirit, a bigger helping hand, or a more enjoyable person with whom to share these adventures.

La mejor tapa Málageña

Málaga finds me frequenting the same spots over and over again. Cities do that to people, I think. No matter how large or small your city is, there are always your favorite places, and when you are there, you always feel at home. A great afternoon in Málaga is having the opportunity to visit all my favorite places: "my" book store, "my" coffee place, "my" quiet place. And doesn't one refer to these places by just that? For example, you could casually ask a companion, "Oh! Want to take a coffee at the coffee place", and that person would nod 'sure' not batting an eye. No clarification needed: It is simply "the" coffee place.

Most importantly, for the sake of this blog, I often go to "my" tapas bar. This spot has the usual tapas, but most importantly has a tapa that I am always on the lookout for... Espinaca con Garbanzos. This tapa makes me smile inside and out. When it arrives, I smile. When I take a bite, I smile. I close my eyes, chew slowly, and smile, all the while humming "Mmm. Mmm. Mmm". I sit on my bar-stool, take a sip of my wine, and sigh... this tapa is home for me. What is it about this combination that is so special? I don't think I will ever know.

I find myself craving this tapa. On nights like tonight, when there is no possible way to take the bus to Málaga, I re-create this myself. I am always glad I did. And it takes no more than 10-15 minutes to make.

Materials:
2 large handfuls of spinach, chopped
1 garlic clove sliced fine
1 cup of garbanzo beans
half of 1 lemon
salt
olive oil
A couple of slices of fresh, spongy bread

Method:
Pour several heavy dashes of olive oil in a pan (I don't like to measure when it comes to oil. Well, I dont like to measure at all, but the readers already know that). Lightly sauteé the garlic slices watching carefully that they do not burn. When they start to get some color, add the spinach, tossing frequently to wilt. The pile will be large, but trust me, it will wilt down to a managable size. Add your garbanzos, and again, toss to coat. Sprinkle with salt (don't be shy). When the spinach has all been wilted, and the beans have heated through, plate your tapa. Squeeze the lemon over the dish and enjoy. Don't forget to serve this with bread to dip and mop the plate with when you are done. That is my favorite part.

¡Disfruta!