Part I : A Tail of Two Fishes - New England Fish and Chips and Andalusian 'Pescaíto'

Part I (Cádiz, Andalucía, Spain)

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Andalusia and New England - no two places more different. No two landscapes more contradictory. No two cultures more antithetical.

If any two cultures could be understood through their landscapes it would be those of Andalusia and New England. Harsh winters, rocky Atlantic coastlines, and unpredictable weather have shaped the hardworking, humble and resilient character often associated with New Englanders.

In contrast, the mediterranean landscape of Andalusia is dotted with sun soaked cities and towns full of bougainvillea filled patios. Its inhabitants are often characterized as extremely sociable people who appreciate the small luxuries of life. (Cue images of sun-soaked glasses of Cruz Campo beer, beads of condensation dripping down the small caña glass, sandy beach in the background ).

No regions of the world could be more different climatically and perhaps culturally. And yet during my three-month stint in Andalusia this summer I found myself repeatedly comparing Andalusia to my New England origins, specifically through the food.

From Portsmouth, NH to the end of the ancient world.

Growing up on the seacoast of New Hampshire (yes we have a seacoast - 13 miles to be exact), I had a love of seafood despite the debilitating seasickness that plagued my understandably limited attempts at fishing.

Anyone who knows anything about Andalusia knows it has a vast coastline. And not just any coastline, but one in which the Atlantic meets the Mediterranean to create a unique stretch of water called the 'Strait of Gibraltar'. The Strait's importance is seen through its representation on the Spanish flag as the two columns that flank the coat of arms, known as the 'Pillars of Hercules'.

The 'Pillars of Hercules' precede even the birth of Spain as a country. They date back to greek mythology and were used to represent the two promontories that mark what the ancient world considered the ‘end of the world’. That is, the entrance to the Atlantic.

Andalusia may trump New England in the expanse of its coastline, but both share a love of seafood - specifically a tradition of fried fish, despite more than 3,000 miles that separate the two regions.

A Tail of Two Fishes

Go into any bar or restaurant in Andalusia and chances are the menu will contain a variety of options of fried fish. What I love most about Spanish seafood is that anything and everything is eaten. Shrimp is served 'heads-on', squid is fried with just the ink pouch removed, other innards intact, and cod roe sits beside raw onions slices still within its membranous pouch.

Americans expecting to see the 'basics' - clams bellies, clam strips or scallops - will be overwhelmed with the variety of Andalusian menus and by the new culinary vocabulary. Spanish food vocabulary is hard enough as it is - considering the nomenclature changes not just within each Spanish speaking country but also between regions.Andalusian 'pescaíto frito' warrants an entire unit of AP Spanish in itself.

From left to right: Chocos, puntillitas, chipirones

Chipirones (small cuttlefish), chocos (cuttle-fish mantle cut into cubes), puntillitas (baby cuttlefish), sepia (squid), cazón en adobo (dogfish preserved in adobo seasoning) morena (moray eel), calamares (calamari), ortiguitas de mar (sea anemones), and hueva (cod roe) are just a few of the essential vocabulary words necessary for lunch.

The more casual ‘freidurías’ are entire restaurants dedicated to serving up a variety of expertly battered seafood. Sheets of cardboard-colored paper are rolled into cones, topped up with scoops full of seafood and folded on the top for easy transport. Unfold the cone right there at one of the tables, squirt a dollop of mayonnaise or alioli ('all' - the catalan word for garlic and 'oli' - oil) onto the paper and go to town. But be careful, in Spain the lemon wedge is generally reserved for sub-par pieces of fish to mask dryness, or a funny taste.

(Photos taken from Google)

The paper cones not only serve as a method of transport but also absorb any excess oil. if you wish to consume your fried feast elsewhere - whether it be at home or on a nearby park bench, the easy mode of transport will keep your meal from getting soggy.

The famous ‘Feria de Sevilla’ even dedicates one night of the seven day long fair to ‘pescaíto frito’ (the regional pronunciation of 'pescado frito' or fried fish) in a night dubbed the Noche del Pescaíto.

Exchange paper cones for white and red-checked food boats, alioli for tartar sauce and trajes de gitana (the typical flamenco dress worn at the Seville Fair) for Irish fishermen's sweaters and you may find yourself not in the south of Spain, but along the United States’ northeast coast.

(Photos taken from Google)

My nostalgia for home was in part spurred by corona virus travel restrictions which prevented me from returning home. But there is also no denying the power of the senses. The memory of taste can transport you from a tapas bar in your 20s to a plate of fried clams at The Old Salt before your 4th grade father-daughter dance. Your taste buds recognize the similarities without your consciousness ever making the connection.

One night eating pavías (fried strips of battered hake) in El Puerto de Santa María, I could have mistaken the dish for a plate of New England Style fish and chips if you changed my tapa of ensaladilla rusa and the ambient sounds of spanish tertulia for a side of fries, and my grandfather's Boston-accent riddled jokes.

But why fried?

There is something undoubtedly comforting about a cedar-shaked clam shack serving up fried clam bellies steps away from the beach or a salty marsh. Autumnal seafood festivals and fish-fry feasts are as much a part of New England culture as the Noche del Pescaíto in Andalusia. But where did the tradition of frying fish come from? And why is it shared with a drastically different coastline thousands of miles away?

Andalusia’s tendency to fry their seafood is somewhat understandable - as the region with the greatest production of olive oil in the country that leads the world's olive oil production, Andalusians have unlimited access to a high smoke point oil perfect for light and crispy frying. New Enlgand also benefits from an abundance of local seafood, however it is not a region generally known for its olive oil production (their ‘liquid gold’ does not come from olive trees but rather maple...and is definitely more delicious on pancakes than fish). The most logical explanation would be that the tradition of fish and chips in Britain influenced its popularity in New England (it is called New England after all) where the dish was then adapted to include other seafood found locally, such as clams.

I nevertheless found myself asking why two regions with prosperous fishing industries would choose to fry such high quality seafood, when its freshness could be better appreciated with other cooking methods.

I found my answers in the sherry-sipping afternoon meetings of the town elders. They explained that Andalusia historically enjoyed practically unlimited amounts of seafood (that is until Spain's entrance into the European Union which limited the amount each country could fish so no country could monopolize the market). They also commented that the agricultural south of Spain remained largely rural even through the middle of the 20th century, and lacked modern luxuries such as refrigerators in every home.

Combine a plethora of fish with a hot climate in a country where refrigerators were luxuries of the big cities, and frying provides the high heat necessary to safely consume un-refrigerated fish. New England on the other hand benefitted from a colder climate which would have ensured the freshness of their seafood at least in the winter months. But nevertheless, despite the fame of lobster rolls, fried clam bellies and fish and chips are arguably the true marine comfort food of the north.

In the case of both regions, despite their differences, an abundance of seafood spurred the popularity of a fast, cost-effective and delicious way of cooking. Fried seafood is easy to eat, and delicious but most importantly easy to share. For both Andalusia and New England there is no doubting that traditions such as seafood festivals, and the Noche del Pescaíto and fish fry feasts are communal activities that celebrate the regions local fare.