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TRAVELLER
easyJet
flies to...
Alicante and Valencia. See our insider guides on
page 112 and page 178. Book online at easyJet.com
sure though: the Valencians certainly take their rice
seriously. This became ever clearer as we neared the
city and observed the many abundant fields of green
rice plants that had been planted, the water between
them gleaming in the morning sun.
At the futuristic City of Arts and Sciences, however,
the atmosphere was one of mutual appreciation as the
nine chefs took their turns demonstrating a signature
rice dish before an audience of foodies, journalists and
other chefs. María José San Román wasn’t invited
and the distinction between “rice dish” and “paella”
was sharply drawn: if it didn’t contain the traditional
ingredients, then it wasn’t referred to as paella.
Instead, I was treated to dishes called
arroz a banda
(literally “abandoned rice” because it’s made with
fish stock that’s been “abandoned” by the fish),
arroz
negro
(rice with squid ink) and rice macaroons from
legendary pastry chef Paco Torreblanca.
Dani showed us how to make what he calls
arroz
de sepia y castañuelas ibéricas
(rice with cuttlefish
and Iberian castañelas [which turned out to be pig’s
salivary glands]) to a crowd of a hundred or more.
Despite not carrying the traditional name, these
dishes were better than any paella I’d ever tried.
Then it occurred to me: perhaps I’d never had the
real thing. To find out, I had to go outside to what they
called the “tunnel of paella”, a long row of tents each
containing an enormous, sizzling black pan. I stopped
at one and asked a tough-looking, mustachioed chef
called Jesús Melero whether he would mind if people
down south developed their own definition of the dish.
The response was instant and unequivocal.
“Paella,” he said, scraping at a large dish to get at
the prized
socorrat
(the burned rice at the bottom), “is
the most important rice dish in Spain and it was born
here. It has to have ingredients from Valencia. That’s
vegetables, chicken, rabbit, rice and perhaps snails
from the mountains. You can’t use 50,000 ingredients
and call it paella.”
He gave me a generous scoop of the paella and
at once I could taste why he was so keen to defend
paella’s good name. It was delicious: crunchier than
most paella I’d had, with a warm, rounded flavour and
a touch of sweetness from the socorrat.
This was the real thing, but I wondered, is it the
only thing? The nine chefs from Alicante who were
here have proven that many other rice dishes can taste
just as good. Perhaps it’s time to come up with a new
name for the dish? I’d suggest one myself but, unlike
María José San Román, I don’t want to offend the
paella purists. After all, I want to be invited back to
the Congress next year.
To critical acclaim,
a number of chefs
have developed the
idea of paella by
varying the
ingredients
Mar
í
a José San
Román cooks with
rice in the kitchen
of her restaurant
Monastrell inAlicante
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