Garbanzos y Galicia

Updating because we are making progress and readers are asking! DIY cruise control is an option and doesnt affect Toyota’s 15 year warranty.

Big Red was a horse, one of the greatest. We love horses around here but at the moment we are talking engine horsepower not the Belmont Stakes.

After a run of birthdays and more birthdays at Caserío del Mirador, mostly age two and three, with the odd 35 or 40 quietly creeping in, we have made the Porsche cake over and over. Courgettes and cocoa, trust me.

I have been channelling all that 911 energy into red fingernails, a new (red and rather noisy) coffee machine and fantasies of me and my new Carrera.

But the reality is I actually need a real car. Something capable of surviving hotel life. Lugging laundry, cases of wine and sacks of everything. The odd airport run. The occasional 500 km drive up to Barcelona to see the kids. Wheels for rural Spain to last me the next few decades.

So I found myself on a train to Vigo, land of smoke, salt, pulses, octopus stews and sharp white wine.

Galicia is not obvious holiday Spain. It is working Spain. People in waterproofs drinking wine beside octopus and shellfish while rain lashes sideways against stone walls. Galicia loves smoky paprika, pork fat, deep red oils and slow cooking. The food looks humble but tastes deep. Vigo sits inside the world of Rías Baixas and Albariño. Yes, might just be my favourite once you take me out of Epernay. The vineyards here run down to the Atlantic estuaries and the wines are saline, mineral, citrusy and clean.

And this is where you go if you want to buy a second hand 4x4.

There is simply more demand for working vehicles up there. The mountains, forests, farms and weather all require proper machinery. So when the Catalan fire brigade renews its fleet of Toyota Land Cruisers, this is where they send the old ones. Fire engine red Land Cruisers for sale in Vigo, home of Albariño and pulpo. You could not make it up. All my dreams at once. The universe provides.

Except Johnny decides he cannot manage a 65 minute airport run without cruise control and the whole plan comes crashing down. I think I can fix this but bear with me.

Alejandro had the weekend all set up for me. Albariño, pulpo and red wheels. I was ready. But it was not meant to be.

So actually that trip never happend. I am home, disappointed, empty and hungry. And so I give you my recipe for chickpeas and Swiss chard. as comforting as Alejandro himself, and as red and smoky as I could muster.

This is a recipe inspired by a meal at the River Cafe about 30 years ago, Jamie Oliver was still chopping onions in the background.

Fast forward and here in Spain the Swiss chard is threatening to overrun the vegetable garden. It is not a subtle plant, it’s massive, and in a panic I axed a few, fed a lot to the chickens and dragged my memory back to our version of Inzimino di Ceci. Now I’m hooked and it’s a staple on the tapas menu.

I like to use the small nutty Pedrosillano chickpeas, they hold their shape and textrure better than big soft creamy ones we use for hummus.

A main for 4, a side for 8 or tapas for 12.

· 4 carrots, diced to a similar size as your chickpea.

· 1 red onion, slices are nice so you can see them, and they hold some crunch too..

a few diced courgettes if you want, we always have a few on standby.

· cherry tomatoes cut in half, always across not down through the core, prettier.

· 1 tablespoon smoked paprika, maybe more.

· 1 jar of chickpeas, drained. Our jars are 400g

1 large bunch Swiss chard

· 1 lemon, zest and juice

· Flat leaf parsley

· Extra virgin olive oil

· Sea salt and a generous dose of cracked black pepper

We chop the carrots small, regular and diced so they keep their crunch. Slices never do. Fry them gently in olive oil, then add red onion and fresh cherry tomatoes. A good scoop of smoked paprika goes in next, followed by a jar of chickpeas and a few handfuls of chard. I like to dice the stems and add them first, then add the finely sliced leaves later so they just soften and collapse into everything else.

I like to serve this low on a wide platter rather rather than deep in a bowl. Splash with lemon juice and a good olive oil, some lemon zest and some paprika flakes. Probably a handful of parsley, that is over running the garden too.

I eat mine with a spoon. Johnny might add a poached egg. For a dinner I would serve it alongside shredded lamb and a green bean salad. Refresh leftovers with more chard and lemon as you go.

Either way, it is probably as close as I am getting to Galician fireman food any time soon.

The boys are home tomorrow.