If I could choose one packaged food item for which I’d risk a session of interrogation and/or man-handling by U.S. Customs in Newark Airport, it’d be La Vieja Fabrica diet marmalade. I know, that’s a pretty violent process to put myself through for a measly jar of sticky jam. But the contents of this glass container are far more addicting than they may appear.

Every morning for the past 4 months, my Spanish mother-figure has been serving me a continental breakfast of tea and toast. (Side note: We call these homestay mothers “señoras”. I could not, for the life of me, understand why every time I referred to this woman as “my señora” in conversation with a Spaniard, he or she would erupt in a fit of giggles. I was later informed that “señora” is also a term for wife. Unbeknownst to me, I have been married to a 73-year-old, barrel-chested grandmother for nearly half a year.) Sorry for the tangent – back to the food.

I’ve been offered an array of jams and marmalades to spread across the breakfast toast, but my favorite by far has been the sugar-free La Vieja Fabrica brand in peach flavor. While some of the other options have been excessively sweet, runny, or pulpy, this brand boasts the perfect tanginess and consistency. I usually run in the opposite direction from any food product labeled “diet” or “sugar-free”, but the absence of sugar brings out the peach’s natural sour flavor. The texture is a bit sticky and wobbly, like a Jell-O Jiggler, and is speckled with pieces of diced peach. I became so obsessed with this orange goo that I bought myself an extra jar to stash in my room for late-night study snacks.

Unfortunately, my time with this peach marmalade will soon come to an end as I am flying back to the States on May 10. We’re advised not to bring any food items with us, but maybe I’ll be able to jimmy-rig a jar or two past Customs. I figure they’ll probably be preoccupied by something fleshier than a peach – like my new Spanish spouse.

One of the very few downsides of studying abroad is missing out on family holidays. This weekend was Passover, which meant I could only visualize my favorite home-cooked meal of Matzoh ball soup, brisket and roasted potatoes topped with mushroom gravy, candied carrots, and coconut macaroons. Not only was my seat empty (or filled by one of my boorish younger cousins) at the dinner table this year, but I also had to forego the chaos and community of my family’s Seder. The root of the table’s disorder actually comes from the top of the family tree. My grandmother starts devouring her leaden potato kugel before it’s served and replaces the Hebrew words of the chant “di-ay-nu” with a more rhythmic combination of “la la la” and spastic clapping. I knew this unpredictable yet laid-back family atmosphere would be tough to top in Spain.

Lucky for me, my friends were hosting a taco night at their apartment this past Saturday. Margaritas, shredded cheese, and flour tortillas hardly recall the story of the Jews escaping ancient Egypt, but nonetheless, the evening was dedicated in part to Passover. I contributed charoset (recipe listed below), a Seder-plate staple of apples, walnuts, and wine which represents the mortar the Jews placed in between the bricks of the pyramids. While the Jewish-Mexican theme was a bit incongruous, the communal aspect of preparing a meal with a group of close friends was a perfectly memorable way to celebrate the holiday. The chaotic aspect, of course, was well-replicated with the aid of tart, tequila-laced margaritas.

The table was covered with pans of slightly spicy chop meat and beef, shredded cheddar, warmed flour tortillas, lettuce, cilantro-infused pico de gallo, fluffy rice, and refried and black beans. The meal was delicious, simple, and a nice change of pace from the paper-napkinned restaurant world. I’m sure Rabbi Jose (a name which questionably appears in my family’s Passover haggadahs) would have been quite proud of my obese burrito and side of sweet charoset on this year’s Passover.

Passover Charoset
3 apples, diced
1 1/2 cups chopped walnuts
1/2 cup red wine (the sweeter the better)
1 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 tbsp. honey

Stir all the ingredients together in a big bowl until evenly mixed. (For a Mexican-themed Passover, serve alongside a glass of tequila.)

Ever since my last post, I’ve been guiltily combing through my meager list of blog entries and racking my brain for new ideas. I’ve been living in Madrid for just over three months, which is more than enough time to fall into the trap of pathetically repetitive eating habits. Not that I don’t love robotically chanting my daily lunch order to the chicas behind the counter at Cafeteria Segre, a tapas bar near the NYU building. (Un bocadillo de jamon Serrano y queso, para llevar!) Emphasis on the “para llevar”, or to go, because eating the lightly toasted, olive oil-drizzled sandwich on the premises involves inhaling the bar’s perpetual cloud of smoke.

While I desperately miss the diverse food options in New York City, I’ve decided to compile a list of my favorite foods and food items in Spain that are hard to come by in the Big Apple. Perhaps this will remind me of my first days in Madrid, when everything I ate was fresh, new, and exciting.

1. Serrano ham and Manchego cheese sandwiches. Although the meat-to-bread ratio is the exact opposite of the entire slaughtered cow one receives at Katz’s Deli, the sandwiches here are rich and salty (and easier to handle). Serrano ham, if sliced thinly enough, nearly melts in your mouth, and Manchego cheese is slightly sharp and adds extra punch to the combination.

2. Tortilla Española. I’ve had variations that are either too salty or too bland, but if seasoned properly, this traditional dish is a winner. A big, spongy wedge of eggs stuffed with sliced potatoes and sometimes onions, the tortilla is sure to please any carb-lover (like myself).

3. Spanish salad dressing. Instead of loading salads with creamy ranch or bleu cheese dressings (guilty!), Spaniards prefer theirs light and simple. A mixture of white onion, olive oil, salt, and vinegar lightly coats the lettuce instead of competing with its flavor.

4. Croquetas. These fried, 2-inch-sized cholesterol-killers are typically filled with cheese, béchamel, and bits of ham. My favorites, however, are a bit bigger and are stuffed with only béchamel and a sharp cheese (probably Manchego).

5. Spanish coffee. It’s just better than coffee in the U.S., which comparably tastes like water. Instead of brewing coffee grounds with water, Spaniards add steamed whole milk to espresso to create a richer, creamier concoction.

6. Cocido madrileño. This typical stewed dish varies from place to place, but it usually consists of garbanzo beans, dark meat chicken, chorizo, and potatoes. Although the ingredients are stewed together so that the flavors mix, they are placed separately on the plate.