Chicken with Tomato
Pollo con Tomate
Fresh, ripe Spanish tomatoes are full of flavour, so this recipe really doesn't need anything else. Serve with rice or pasta as a main meal and any leftovers make a great tapa served with fresh bread.
4 chicken legs, separated into thighs and drumsticks
2 kilo (4 1/2 lb) fresh tomatoes
2 bay leaves
Sweet paprika
Salt and pepper
Rub the chicken pieces with salt, pepper and paprika and allow to rest for an hour or so in the fridge.
Heat a little olive oil in a large casserole dish and brown the chicken gently.
Chop the tomatoes into small chunks and add to the pot along with the bay leaves.
Season with salt and bring to the boil. Then lower the heat and cook gently uncovered for about 45 minutes until the sauce has reduced and the chicken is tender.
CHAPTER 29
DOCTOR'S ORDERS
“Vicky? Joe? Dammit, I loathe these infernal machines. Vicky, would you be an absolute angel and pop round tomorrow? Mother’s under the weather again and we’ve had the quack out. He’s given her a prescription and I wondered if you’d be kind enough to pick it up for her tomorrow? Only if you’re going down the mountain, of course, don’t you know…Tyson, I do wish you’d stop that! Good Lord, Curly…Buster! That’s an antique! Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the bloody prescription. Might see you tomorrow then, toodley pip!”
Next day, we knocked on Judith’s door, setting off the hounds baying within. Judith opened the door, fighting back the pack.
“Vicky! Joe! Frightfully good of you,” she said, letting us in.
“How’s Mother?” I asked.
“Well, dear,” she said in a stage whisper. “Quite honestly, I’d say she’s fine today. But when she heard the doctor was dropping in this morning, she took herself straight back to bed.”
“That’s odd,” I said. “Why do you think…” I stopped as a man came into the hall.
“Vicky, Joe, I don’t think you’ve met Dottore Esteban, have you?” said Judith. The doctor was young and easy on the eyes. Crisp, dark hair curled over his collar, and he had a decisive handshake.
“How do you do, Madam, Sir? I am, ah, very pleased to meet you.” The doctor’s English was excellent, if formal.
“The good doctor has just finished upstairs, dears. He says Mother just needs a tonic and she’ll be right as rain.”
“Oh, that’s good news,” I said. “We’ll pick up the prescription for her today.”
“Excuse me, Sir. That is a nasty cough you have,” said the doctor, turning to Joe. “Ah, perhaps Sir will permit me a quick examination?”
“Well, I…”
“That’s a good idea!” I said. “Joe hates going to the doctor and he’s had that cough for ages.”
“Well…”
“Good!” said the doctor briskly. “I have my stethoscope here. If you’d kindly open your shirt…”
Joe had no choice, and obeyed without further protest.
“Hmm… Cough now… Ah, I think you have a little chest infection. A course of antibiotics will be the best thing. I will write for you a prescription. I believe you live in El Hoyo? Ah, next week I will be visiting El Hoyo. I am seeing Sancho Lopez.”
“Old Sancho at the shop?”
“That is correct. And now I must go. Ah, one last small thing… I believe you have chickens?”
“Er, yes, one or two.”
“Fresh eggs, ah, delicious. So tasty. I will see you next Wednesday.”
We got the hint. I mentally crossed scrambled eggs off our menu for the week. The doctor left and we went upstairs to pay our respects to Mother. The scent of Chanel No.5 assailed our nostrils even before we entered her bedroom.
Scrambled Eggs with Ham
Huevos Revueltos con Jamón
50g (2oz) jamón serrano or other ham
1 tbsp olive oil (for frying)
4 eggs
2 tbsp milk (optional)
salt and pepper
Cut the jamón into small pieces.
Beat the eggs together with the milk (if desired) and season with salt and pepper.
Stir in the chopped jamón and pour into a frying pan. As the egg is cooking, gently stir it until it is cooked through but still very soft. Keep a close eye on it, if you leave it too long it will go like rubber...
Once it’s ready, get it on your plate straight away and serve with crusty bread. Tapas recipes don't come much simpler than this!
Note: Scrambled eggs are a traditional tapa in Spain. This recipe uses serrano ham but you can use all kinds of ingredients. Try it with bacon, chorizo, asparagus, mushrooms or onions.
Mother was sitting bolt upright in bed, propped up by enormous, frilly pillows. I was expecting to see a frail old lady, but she looked wonderful, and as sprightly as ever. Her almost transparent negligee was topped by a saucy bed-jacket. Her face was fully made-up, and ringlets of silver hair cascaded around her shoulders. There was a dent in the bed where the doctor had sat.
“Has the doctor gone?” murmured Mother, smoothing the satin sheet with her manicured hand. “Most awfully handsome, isn’t he?”
“Mother! You’re old enough to be his bloody great-grandmother!” Judith’s outraged voice floated in from behind us.
Mother smiled, fluttered her false eyelashes and sipped from her wine glass. I noticed another one, empty, on her bedside table. Joe and I took our leave, went downstairs and waded through dogs to reach the front door.
“Well, that was lucky, wasn’t it?” I said as we drove away. “That doctor might sort out your cough. And you wouldn’t get a doctor calling on you at home like that in England, would you? Better than the National Health, if you ask me.”
“Huh, we’ll see.”
We collected the prescriptions and delivered Mother’s to Judith. At home, we picked up another answer-phone message. The garage had called to say the jeep was ready. So the next day we drove yet again to the city, collected the jeep and returned the hire car. The assistant at the car hire place didn’t notice the sand in every nook and cranny, and we didn’t point it out.
The repairs to the jeep and the service were not cheap, but we felt the money was justified. Unfortunately, the oil leak soon reappeared but we couldn’t face taking it back to the garage.
“How do you complain effectively in Spanish?” despaired Joe. “Now, if this was England…”
I cut him short. I didn’t want to hear. I hated hearing anything that might help Joe decide we should leave Spain at the end of our five years.
Wednesday came round quickly and the doctor called.
“Hmm…” he said after examining Joe. “Your cough is no better. Ah, I think we need a more direct course of antibiotics. I think we will put you on a course of regular injections. I can, ah, give you a choice.”
“A choice? What sort of a choice?”
“Ah, well, you can drive down to the Centro Medico for the injections. Or one of the ladies in the village can give you the injection. Ah, she’s very experienced.”
Joe looked at me and made up his mind. “Okay, I’ll go to the lady in the village. That’ll save me driving down the mountain every time.”
“Good, then I will give Marcia the medication. Ah, you know Marcia Lopez at the shop? Good, your first injection will be on, ah, Monday, next week. Now, I must go, and, ah, thank you very much for the eggs.”
“Marcia?” spluttered Joe when I returned from seeing the doctor out. “I didn’t know she was a nurse! I’m not sure I like the sound of this!”
I kept quiet. I didn’t think Marcia was a nurse either, just a wise and experienced old lady. And I didn’t accompany him for his first visit that Monday. He returned grim-faced and flopped into a chair.
“How did you get on?” I asked.
A long pause. “It was awful. Awful.”
“Why? Why was it awful?”
“When I got there, Marcia
was behind the counter as usual. She told me to come into the kitchen because she’d got my stuff all ready there. So I follow her into the kitchen, and all her family are sitting there.”
“Old Sancho?”
“Yes, Old Sancho, and those sons of theirs, and their wives. Oh, and a couple of teenagers - and some little ones. There were loads of people sitting round that huge table of theirs.”
“So what happened?”
“Well, you know how polite everybody is… They all stood up and offered to leave the room while she did the injection. But I said, don’t worry, stay where you are… I didn’t want to disturb them.”
“Did they leave the room?”
“No, I absolutely insisted they stay. So they all sat down again. I pushed my sleeve up for the injection but Marcia kept shaking her head like mad. You know how she is - hairpins flying everywhere. Anyway, she was pointing at my trousers…”
“Oh!”
“Vicky, I had to pull my trousers down so that she could inject me in the backside. In front of all those people.”
“Oh, you poor thi…” Stopping myself laughing was difficult.
“That’s not all. As if that wasn’t bad enough! When Marcia gave me the injection, she said ‘¡Madre mia!’ and pointed to my bottom, then prattled away to her relatives. I couldn’t see them because they were all behind me. Anyway, they all went quiet then started laughing.”
“Why? Why would they do that?” I asked, trying hard to compose myself.
“Well, I’ve only just realised myself… It was that bloody Indalo branded on my backside, wasn’t it? That’s what was amusing them.”
I couldn’t speak.
“You can laugh, but how would you have liked it? I tell you, give me the National Health any day.”
I stopped laughing. My hopes for staying permanently in Spain were looking decidedly shaky.
∞∞∞
Five short years. Five years nearly gone, and I was still desperate to stay in beautiful Spain. The thought of leaving was devastating but a deal was a deal. If Joe wanted to return to England, then I’d promised to agree.
I couldn’t bear to bring up the subject. I couldn’t bear to think of selling our house, giving the chickens away and turning our backs on the village and our friends for ever. It was Joe who finally brought the subject up.
“Five years are almost up,” he said. “I think we should go on holiday.”
“But we’re on holiday every day already!” I kept my voice lighter than I felt.
“Vicky, we always said this was a Five Year Plan. I want to go somewhere totally different, somewhere neutral. Not England, not Spain. I want to enjoy a holiday away from everything and think about the future.”
So there was still hope. I knew Joe wasn’t exactly unhappy, but how much did he want to go back to England? Was I being selfish wanting him to stay? Just how much did he miss the National Health, English food, English friends and the familiar English way of life?
“Okay, that’s a good idea. Where do you fancy going?”
“I want to go somewhere exotic. Are we still members of that home exchange site?”
“Yep, is that what you’d like to do? Swap houses again?”
“Why not? This house is finished now. And I think we should go for quite a long time - perhaps a couple of months. Then I’ll have time to think, and decide if we should go back to Britain.”
HomeExchange.com was a fabulous site. We’d discovered it in England a few years before. We’d posted up our details, then had the pleasure of having people from all over the world contact us wanting to exchange homes for a holiday. That first time, we’d agreed to swap with a retired American couple.
What a holiday we had! We swapped everything: house, car, computer and friends - for a blissful month. For four weeks we stayed in a mansion on a private island in South Carolina. We drove their Mercedes, played pool in their billiard room and drove their golf cart down to the private beach. The island was a nature reserve, and wild deer came right up to the house.
In return, Chuck and Barb stayed in our modest suburban house, drove our little jeep and went sightseeing in West Sussex. We felt it was an uneven swap but they assured us they were delighted.
“We sure enjoyed visiting your castles,” Barb had drawled. “And we went to see where your Battle of Hastings took place. Britain sure does have a whole lot of history.”
“And your cute jeep was awful good fun!” said Chuck. “He raised his silver eyebrows and paused, “Have to say we found your roundabouts a bit testing, though.”
This time we had a quirky house in a tiny, remote mountain village to offer. Would anyone want to sample Spanish village life? We needn’t have worried. As before, plenty of people contacted us, but it was Ken and Glennys’ email that stood out...
From: [email protected]
Subject: Possible Exchange
G’day!
Wondered if you’d be interested in exchanging with us sometime around Sep/Oct/Nov? We have a large house overlooking the golf course with private swimming pool. Close to shopping, beaches and hinterland. Pleasant 4 hr drive to Barrier Reef. We’d love the opportunity to improve our Spanish and experience real village life.
Hope to hear from you,
Cheers,
Ken and Glennys Flagstaff.
Queensland, Australia? Private swimming pool? Of course we were interested! We replied immediately and so began our cyber friendship. Over the next few months we corresponded, the level of excitement in our emails rising as the exchange date drew closer.
Paco and Carmen-Bethina were totally bewildered by the concept.
“¡Madre mia!” said Carmen-Bethina. “And you have never met these people? How do you know they will not ruin your house? They could steal everything!”
“We’ve been writing to each other for ages. We’ve seen their photos, we know about their two grown-up children, Rob and Amy. They don’t seem like strangers.”
“Pah!” said Paco, setting the wine bottle down with a thump. “What is wrong with El Hoyo? El Hoyo is the best place in the world! Carmen and I have never been out of Andalucía…” he leaned forward, eyes bulging, “…and we don’t want to!”
“¡Claro!” Carmen-Bethina nodded her head in agreement.
After a frenzy of lists and preparation, the day came to collect Ken and Glennys from the airport. I recognised them easily from the photographs; it was like meeting old friends. We managed to squeeze their luggage into the jeep and set off back to the village. We had 24 hours together before they would take us back to the airport to catch a plane to Australia.
There was a lot to show and tell. We had just enough time to point out the quirks of the house and car, and introduce the chickens. Then Joe and I were in the sky, looking down on Andalucía, heading to Australia. From now on, the only contact we’d have with our Spanish life was via email.
Spanish Meatballs
Albóndigas
Serves 4
400g (14 oz) minced chicken
100g (4 oz) minced bacon
2 medium onions (one grated, one sliced)
1 carrot (grated)
I large tomato (chopped)
2 cloves garlic (chopped finely)
3 dessertspoons brown or white bread crumbs
1 glass white wine
1 bay leaf
Tomato puree
Half a stock cube
3 dessertspoons soy sauce
Handful of frozen peas
1 teaspoon fresh parsley (chopped)
I teaspoon oregano
Meatballs: Mix the minced chicken with the bacon. Add the grated onion, half the chopped garlic, soy sauce, oregano and breadcrumbs. Mix well and roll the mixture into small balls. Roll these in the flour until coated, then set aside.
Sauce: Heat a little olive oil in a frying pan and add the sliced onion, chopped garlic, parsley and pinch of salt and pepper. Fry gently for about 10 minutes until soft, then add the chopped tomato. Then
grate and add the carrot.
Dissolve the stock cube in a little water. Add this, the white wine, peas, a squirt of tomato puree and the bay leaf to the sauce. Stir well and allow to carry on simmering very gently.
In another frying pan, heat enough oil to cover the bottom. Fry the meatballs until brown all over, keeping the meatballs moving and the heat low. As each batch of meatballs is cooked, add to the pan containing the sauce. When all the meatballs are fried and added, allow to simmer gently for half an hour.
Serve hot with salad and crusty bread.
CHAPTER 30
HOUSE SWAP
From: [email protected]
Subject: Welcome to Aus!!
Hi Joe and Vicky,
Hope that by the time you open this you will have had a good rest to help you get over your long and tiring trip. How was the journey? Hope that you are settling in at our home and that everything is ok for you? Did Rob pick you up ok?
We made it back to El Hoyo after dropping you off at the airport - no problems....no wrong turns or anything. Ventured into the city yesterday to do some shopping but everywhere was closed...must have been a public holiday or something. Ken fiddled with the zip on the jeep and got it working ok...so don’t worry about it. Everything here is good, so just relax and enjoy yourselves.
Chickens, Mules and Two Old Fools Page 23
