Paella: It's crack

How much am I giving away if I confess (as I did early on in my blog about brisket) that I've never made paella? There you have it. I just can't formulate a clever enough lie to cover up the fact! I've eaten a lot of it (and a lot of BAD paella I might add), read a ton about it and talked and thought and dreamed and planned...but no.. I'd never made it until tonight.

I used to visit Seattle's Spanish Table all-things-Spain store near the Pike Place Market and drool over the paella pans. I have sought out Spanish chorizo for years and again, read and reread paella recipes and grew a little more intimidated (I like to do things authentically and having tasted bland and pedestrian paella on so many occasions I figured the real thing MUST be difficult to make) I've read about its origins, and various family and regional twists. I consider myself a bonafide arm-chair paella expert. Until tonight when I put the Barca-lounger to rest and stepped up to the hot paella pan.

Sunday dinner saved my paella bacon! I have Vivian to thank. It was enough that Vivian and Kevin arrived in their full-on kitsch vintage Le Mans convertible complete with Kevin's kilt. That was enough!! But Viv brought her massive paella pan and her paella spoon. I was balls out in.

Nancy had shopped earlier for the best of the best shrimp, Penn Cove mussels, Spanish chorizo and fresh chicken at Whole foods (actually the chorizo had come from another source). We had busied ourselves chopping, marinating and readying ourselves for the arrival of the paella master.

Vivian produced paella the way she does just about everything else I've witnessed her do - with the toss of her hair and an ease that comes from an inner peace and genuine joy of life. I was so thrilled to be making paella for the first time with Vivian! I knew it was going to be great when Vivian didn't even glance at the recipe on the counter near the mis en place!

We started with a hot paella pan over a wood fired grill. A generous dose of Olive oil and then the chorizo.

Okay, here's another great thing about Viv: She laughs in the face of high heat! That's right. She was so aware that the action hitting the bottom of that paella pan was not to be disturbed. And together we respectfully watched as chorizo gave up it's fat and sizzled away over the heat of the coals.. little stirring and much less fussing all together. Then we added the chicken and waited for that perfect golden brown crust to develop on it.

Then the red onions, Piquillo peppers, sliced garlic, the rice, stock, tomatoes, saffron and smokey paprika.

Vivian measured NOTHING! She waved her magic paella spoon over the whole conglomeration and closed the lid and picked up her wine glass without skipping a beat finished her story. After about 15 minutes we opened the lid, tasted the rice, added a little salt, some mussels and shrimp and truly, the best paella I've ever had emerged from that effortless dance!

I ate all this (and I have to admit...a little more).

It was great to learn from someone who cooks with a natural ease. The elusive crusty rice that forms on the paella pan is called "socaratt" and has been the missing element in almost every rendition of paella I've had thus far. It was not only present here but Vivian informed me that in Spain it is the prized part of the paella and saved for the elderly members of the family.

Fortunately there was enough to go around our table even though we are all still youngsters.

I need a magic paella spoon of my own (and a pan to go with it). Off to The Spanish Table.