Food, Family, and Memory… Part 2
Food, family, and memory are inextricably linked.
Eating and drinking mark the special events of our lives…who we were with…what was being celebrated. We remember the tastes, the scents, the textures, and most importantly, the joy we felt.
A little over six weeks ago, I had lunch at the El Portal restaurant of the Hotel Echaurren in the little La Riojan village of Ezcaray, Spain. Owned and run by the same family for 125 years…five generations…every corner of this lovely auberge is steeped in memory.
The hotel’s El Portal restaurant, and its chef, Francis Paniego are famous. It has two Michelin stars, and Señor Paniego, Francis, serves up sumptuous, wildly creative food, which his brother, the sommelier, pairs with beautiful local wines. Course after course…small bites, really…come, arranged in themes, likes scenes in a play. It is a glorious way to spend an afternoon!
I love this little place: the village, the hotel, the food, and really, the whole idea of its familial continuity. It took hardly any time for me to feel like home here. Before my lunch at El Portal, I had myself comfortable in the hotel’s library, working near a window overlooking the old village church.
It was a very comfortable spot. But, at around noon, I was politely asked to leave the space, as I was told it was needed. A special luncheon, I thought…though I was soon to learn I was wrong about that…
I returned to my room, worked for a while, and then changed for lunch. At about 2:00, I made way to the ground floor, where I was pointed back upstairs to the very same library I had just recently vacated. Starting there, overlooking the church, and then moving to an elegant dining room, for the next three hours and half hours, a wonderful gastronomic performance was played out for me and the restaurant’s other guests.
How should I describe a play to those who were not in attendance? Fortunately, El Portal, as a leaving gift, provides an excellent ‘Playbill’.
Inside, is a ‘scene by scene guide’ of the gastronomic play performed that day. This scene guide is wrapped in ‘memory’, that is, a delicate wrapping paper of photos capturing the 125-year-old life of the little inn.
Carefully unwrapping this lovely covering, there is an overview of each scene. Starting with Act 1…
On the other side of each card are the ‘players’ of that scene…
And the ‘players’ were unforgettable…
So it went for six more Acts… Act 2 was an homage to Francis’ mother’s amazing croquetas!
In Act 3, the pace began to pickup. Traditional foods, like this delicious lobster with a Pil-Pil sauce of local nuts came to my table.
Act 4 transitioned to the avant-garde, into which the scene guide sought to ease me.
Act 5 was sad.
It was a tribute to Francis’ brother, the most gifted cook in the family it is said, who was tragically killed in a car crash some years ago.
Reflecting back on the meal now, it is so clever how Francis and his team use food to change the mood. After the somberness of Act 5, the setting was changed again. First, with a plate of lovely local cheeses.
And then, with the sweetness of the desserts.
Finally, with culinary fatigue setting in, the final Act of the petit fours came.
And ultimately, like the accompanying musicians of a wonderful play, the wines were feted…
Over twenty-five plates were served during this ‘performance’. But it is not the plates, or the performance that sticks with me now. No, sitting here, far away, and far removed from the meal, above all, it is the memory of the feeling of the place. The little village, the church, the inn, and, more than anything else, the warmth of Francis, his brother, and his team.
This memory is the seed of my longing to return…