The day had started very early in that early European spring, at the end of last March, and it was quickly passing by the window of the train that was taking me from Madrid to southern Spain.
The destination, in the bay of Cádiz, was tempting: the Aponiente restaurant, owned by chef Ángel León, a fish and seafood expert. More: there would be a unique lunch produced with two guests, the Peruvian couple Virgílio Martínez and Pía León, responsible, among others, for the award-winning Central, in Lima.
But, instead of the anticipation exciting my senses, the rattling of the train disturbed my bowels, which had nevertheless been treated royally on the eve. Among other adventures, they were taken to an extensive tasting of the restless and pungent cuisine of chef Dabiz Muñoz, a mohawk-haired enfant térrible at DiverXO Madrid.
And the night before leaving the train, perhaps bored with so much modern cuisine, they soothed themselves in a century-old bodegón, La Ardosa, with a nice (not necessarily light) double — or callos à la madrileña.
It was these, perhaps, who, in a familiar gathering inside of me, were worried about the short night’s sleep, and about the rocking of the wagon. And so uneasy they would go on for hours.
It was everything I least expected. Upon arrival at Puerto de Santa María, everything was exciting. The Aponiente is located on the seafront in a complex of old buildings, but the main building, a 19th-century mill, has been beautifully restored.
From there, I can see the historic salt flat. And walking in the surroundings, facing the cold and brackish wind, we travel through a rough landscape of swamps where fish, crabs, algae and other marine life, which will enrich the menus of the Aponiente, immortalize the environment for which chef León values so much: he is a prominent activist for sustainable fishing and the defense of maritime biodiversity.
All lovely —until the tasting begins. My body, tired and nauseated, insisted on refusing to eat anything, since it wasn’t really “anything” that I would have in front of me. The first, terrifying morsel—of the two dozen that would follow—was nevertheless one of the most delicate delicacies possible.
A round tortilla, the size of your palm, very thin and worked like a lace, sprinkled with tiny shrimp.
Even this little gem functioned as a perverse madeleine, evoking the days following the worst youthful excesses. I just nibbled on it and, embarrassed, left its precious remains under a paper napkin casually forgotten in a corner.
Halfway into the meal, they continued their revulsion at the masterpieces that followed, and the childish ploys to hide the lingering leftovers. Until, unexpectedly and progressively, a miracle took place.
Without warning, a small aroma opened a first crack in the wall of intolerance that my palate had become. Then, insinuating flavors penetrated even further into the gaping holes. And soon, the surprising vegetables of the Andes coated my palate with their atavistic flavors; and the charcuterie and the porchetta and the mille-feuille, all made from seafood, shone their wisdom and provocation.
I was relieved to see that even the malaise caused by too much good food has its antidote: a good dose of more excellent food!
Epilogue: the meal finally ended well, pleasant and full of teachings. But the body charges the excesses, of course. The end of that afternoon at the hotel was shivering under the covers. I just got up the next day. Ready for another though.
