Queue up: James Brown’s “Mashed Potatoes”

Today, cooking school was in session, so we donned our aprons, washed our hands, and tried not to nibble too much along the way.

We had a rare opportunity to hang out in a txoko (CHA-ko) for a few hours. Txoko’s are secret gastronomic societies that were formed by men to get away from women. No, really. I’m not kidding. Remember, I said the apartments here are small. Well, in the way back times, men formed these societies that had a huge kitchen where they could cook with friends, and hang out over a meal, and talk about everything but politics and religion. I will leave it to your imaginations to determine whether this was a good thing or bad thing for the women of San Sebastián.

To join a txoko is invitation only, with a long waiting list. Each one has a “purpose”. Ours was where you used to place bets on horse races. Today, I think it is just cooking and eating.

Slowly over time, some txokos began to admit women, but still not allow them to cook. This isn’t sounding like such a bad thing to me. I mean if you are going to discriminate against women, then I think this is the way to go….let the men have a place to cook a traditional meal, and then invite you to join in on the consumption. Now, some txokos admit women as members. You reserve a time, and table, cook a meal, and then invite friends and family to join you. The kitchen and space is large enough for entertaining, especially if your apartment is not. And the best part….wait for it….you don’t have to clean up after yourself. Part of the txoko fees cover someone coming in to do dishes. The originators of this concept really thought of everything.

We met up with Ellie, and Chef Christina, who walked us to the market to buy the ingredients for today’s meal. The flowers and vegetables were street level, and looked similar to our Saturday farmer’s markets. What we didn’t realize, is that under our feet was a subterranean level with fish, meat and cheese stands. All the food was from individual purveyors. It made Whole Foods seem like a Circle K.

There is one big rule at the market – NO TOUCHING! The feeling is, that if a lot of people touch something then no one will buy it because 100 icky fingers have been all over it. I can’t imagine what Basque people must think when they walk into a US grocery store and watch us all manhandling the vegetables.

Ellie did get into a bit of a scuffle at the cheese and asparagus store. She was talking about how the best tomatoes came from southern Spain, and the woman behind the cheese counter kept yelling back at her that they come from Navarro (a region in Basque Country). We really wanted the white asparagus, which has just come into season. So we grabbed those, and the machengo and hustled out of the store before she took them away from us.

Let’s get back to the secret men’s club, that now has women. Christina led us up to a nondescript door and then down to a basement. I can imagine it was like entering a speakeasy from the 1920’s. One of us had to duck to get down the second flight of stairs… it had a bit of a sneaky feeling, and I was waiting for someone to ask for the secret handshake.

Christina immediately put us all to work peeling, chopping, and stirring. She was smart enough, not to let anyone behind the stove. Within 2 hours we had a traditional Basque lunch of (yes, I am breaking travel journaling rule #2, talking about food, but since that is all we did today, that’s what I’m going to talk about):

Appetizers:

• La Gilda – named after a Rita Hayworth movie that was banned by Franco because it was too spicy. They had anchovies, pepporcini-like things, and an olive on a skewer
• Basque-style pigs in blankets – little sautéed sausages you eat in a piece of baguette

Lunch:

• White asparagus 2 ways: grilled and boiled with a vinaigrette in the colors of the Basque flag
• Shrimp with a parsley, olive oil, and garlic sauce, finished whiskey, flambé style
• Hake (a white fish) over roasted potatoes and caramelized onions.

Dessert:

• Machengo cheese with quince paste
• Fried milk (not a typo)

We were thinking about recreating this meal for friends when we get home, but since we can’t get most of the ingredients, you’ll have to take our word for how fabulous it was.

In other news of the day, Peter did laundry. Ok, now you’re caught up. I’m off to spray some super expensive and terrible tasting spray in my throat in hopes of having a good night’s sleep and conquering this cold virus in time for tomorrow’s adventure.

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