A couple of summer months filled with many beachside lunches of paella so good and so long ago that I am still chasing the memories of a perfect paella. My sister and I were in the Catalonian village of Arenys de Mar for a good part of the summer. On the wide, white beach surrounded by rugged hills were a handful of rustic 'restaurants' that made only paella over wood fires. They were makeshift structures covered with bright pieces of miss-matched canvas tacked down to keep the strong Spanish sun and ocean breeze at bay. These little makeshift restaurants were always busy for lunch, the only meal that they served and I had my favorite one.
The beach side paella restaurateurs were waiting like gulls as the little boats motored back to port around 10 o’clock in the morning. Each boat filled with the fresh caught fish and shellfish still moving violently seeking to be set free. There was fish to fillet and chunk, stock to make, onions and peppers to chop and most importantly the wood-fire had to be started, time was of the essence.
My favorite restaurant had a round stone fire pit built on the sand. A variety of wood collected from the beach was piled into the pit covering yesterday's scrunched up newspaper which was barely visible in the center. A wooden match was struck and the day's cooking commenced. When the flames burned down, the cook balanced a grill on top of the stone pit.
After cooking up a bunch of boneless and skinless chicken thighs the other day, I decided to turn some of them into chicken a al king. I don't know what made me think of this dish from the past – white sauce with chicken and vegetables stirred into it. For one thing, I've never really cared much for it. It brings back bad memories of creamed chipped beef and canned peas that my mom used to make when I was a child. She'd serve it over toast. The peas were mushy, the toast was soggy and the chipped beef was – well – chipped beef. I did not like it. Not one bit.
Whenever I fire up the grill, I always grill corn. I think it makes the perfect summer side dish eaten right from the cob with nothing, not even salt. But often enough after a family dinner, especially the one this past Labor Day weekend, I find myself with a few leftover ears. I'm always trying to come up with new ways to use the corn. I slice it from the cob and use it in rice dishes, in salsas, or make a succotash. But one of my favorite ways to use leftover corn is in a chilled soup.
It's well known that paprika is the famous spice of Hungary. What I think most people don't realize is that the red powder is made from ripened peppers also called paprika. The word paprika means pepper in Hungarian, and I don't mean peppercorns, but rather the fruit or vegetable, depending on how you look at it. Hungarian sweet peppers are typically pale yellow to pale green in color when they are fresh. They can be eaten raw or cooked into many recipes. But when they ripen to bright red, they are dried and ground into the fine red powder known as paprika or what I like to call Hungarian gold.
As with many good things, a cherished recipe resulted from an accident.