There are many sights to see on the road to Santiago, Spain, better known to pilgrims as St. James Way, or simply the Camino. Perhaps one of the most unusual I’ve experienced is Herreria de Compludo – the Forge of Compludo. Older than the pilgrimage itself, which became popular during the Middle Ages, the forge dates back to the seventh century.

Not only is Herreria de Compludo the oldest blacksmith shop in Spain, but it has been continuously running with a fire in the forge since then. It uses coal mined in the mountains to the north for fuel, and an ingenious system of waterpower to run everything else. It is a self-sustaining industrial marvel crafted before the dawn of the industrial age, back in the shadowy prehistory of an automation that was just a gleam in the first smithy’s eye. And it is the last vestige of a farming community nestled in a remote valley of Northwestern Castilla y Leon, Spain.

We hiked in on what was probably once a wagon road, a half-mile path winding in from the highway along a crystal mountain stream. The water swiftly descends into the valley while the path gently climbs the steep slope above it. The elevation can be misleading. As the path and stream separate a stone-lined causeway becomes visible between them, seemingly flowing up hill. The illusion ends as the path levels and it becomes evident that gravity channels the water into a small, natural-looking reservoir between the path and the stream below. Beneath the reservoir is the stone building that houses the forge. It is so shielded by the lush greenery of the forest that a casual hiker could pass it by. A small sign announces Herreria de Compludo.

We walked down a woods path to the clearing in front of the forge to meet the smithy, Manuel Sanchez. He, with his faithful German Shepard named Rex after the popular Spanish TV series of his youth, “Rex, un Policia Diferente”, that starred a German Sheperd police dog, broke the loneliness of this nearly abandoned setting. He is the fourth-generation smithy to operate this self-sustaining forge since his great-grandfather took it over in 1908. Manuel has traced the ownership back to the 1700s, but local histories place a forge at this site one thousand years earlier! With sections of the original stone building – probably the residence – collapsed, the moss and lichen covered forge looks its age. It is thanks to Manuel’s commitment and perseverance that people can still visit to see the ancient process of forging metal into plowshares and other tools.

Behind an outbuilding there was a pile of stones with a tree growing out of it that Manuel described as what was the shared oven for the once-thriving farm community. As a baker, after seeing how the forge worked, I wondered what marvelous system they used to have in place to heat the communal oven. But that is another story lost to the ages.

Behind us, the runoff from the reservoir spilled down next to a water wheel before being channeled back into the stream. Everything looked rundown and cobbed together, the last repairs done before even baling wire was invented. It was a doorway into antiquity.

That doorway opened to a dark cavernous space with the crashing sound of water surrounding a lighted hearth. We entered the cave-like structure, our eyes adjusting to the glowing coal fire. That, and what light entered through tiny windows made my eyes widen at the primitive surroundings. There was nothing simple about what I perceived. Genius was evident at every turn.

The stationary waterwheel was as much inside the shop as outside, visible in the dim light as connecting to a massive tree trunk that we learned was basically a huge hammer. Through an ingenious rigging a cable snaked up through the roof and connected to a spillway door. One need only pull the cable to open the spillway causing the water to turn the wheel. How much it was opened determined the speed of the waterwheel which, in turn, regulated the speed of the hammer. Because this was all made out of wood except for the hammer’s head, the connections would overheat relative to the speed of the work being done. To counter that, a wooden trough was placed to catch more of the water the faster the wheel turned, channeling it to cool the friction sites. It was brilliant, if ancient, engineering!

The sound of cascading water came from the rear of the forge as well. Behind the hearth there were carved stone steps up through a curved doorway into a well-like structure. Hidden beneath ferns and moss was the wooden system that replaced the conventional bellows. It is a Catalan horn, in which air is injected according to the Venturi principle. As water from the reservoir came down in and outside wooden tubes that narrowed in size as they descended, air was forced into the forge. That air was in turn regulated by a stopper that, when removed, allowed the air to flow into the room, but when in place it directed the flow right into the glowing coals of the forge. No bellows were needed! So much of the labor was automated that the smithy’s main task was to move the hot metal from the fire to the hammer to be shaped. It enabled the farming community built up around the forge to have all the repairs and tools they needed to survive.

Speaking of surviving, Manuel is part of a family tradition. I asked him about a fifth generation, a son to take over and he said “I have no son to succeed me. It would be impossible! Don’t get me wrong. I can have sons, but not one to continue this tradition. No one would want to.” And with that final statement, he picked up a hammer and shaped a metal spike for me, pounding it flat on four sides and curving the head. While it was still hot he hammer-stamped my name on the shaft, cooled the spike in water, and handed me a historic souvenir 1700 years in the making.

To visit Herreria de Compludo contact Castilla y Leon Tourism or see:

The Herreria de Compludo website.

There is a fee and specific times it is open. It is advised to make arrangements in advance. It is well worth the visit.

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At first glance, the Timanfaya National Park in the interior of Lanzarote, the Eastern-most of Spain’s Canary Islands, seems little more than a desolate landscape of lava fields with volcanos rising over them. It is only once you look closer that you can see the austere beauty of the many lava tubes, calderas, and craggy peaks, the lava sea, all wind-worn over the centuries. The arid, rocky plains and the smooth, naturally wind-swept fields of volcanic ash hold an austere beauty all their own. Euphorbia plants and lichens, as well as lizards and insects, call this untouched, protected area home.

Lanzarote is known by the sobriquet “Volcano Island” because of its volcanic origins and these vast areas covered in lava and volcanic ash, but one can find the occasional oasis of posh resorts with golf courses and palm-studded lawns dotting the rugged shoreline. What were once poor fishing villages are now sailing harbors with destination resorts. One such, the five-star Secrets Lanzarote Resort & Spa in Puerto Calero, is an all-inclusive hotel with more pools and restaurants than can be explored in a week of indulgence, and too many steps to climb to do it. At least that’s what I thought climbing to and from my suite with its swim-out pool. Fortunately, there are elevators, and the service is so great I didn’t have to leave my room except for an occasional tour of the interior.

As man has turned these oasis’ into tourist destinations, it is the hand of man that sculpted much of the rest of the island into pock-marked slopes with semi-circles of lava rock walls on the windward side to protect the fruit trees and especially grape vines growing at the bottom of the depressions. While Lanzarote has little rain and scarce water, there is a sea fog that rolls in condensing, as does the dew, on the porous ash which then seeps down to water the plants. This natural funnel is enough for grape vines to flourish so that wineries can produce some excellent wines. There is no better place to see this environmentally constructed design than at Stratvs Winery.

Located in La Geria, the wine growing region of Lanzarote, Stratvs Winery is an architectural gem surrounded by natural beauty. Their uniquely shaped bottles showcase their eminently drinkable, delicious wines. I’m a white wine fan, so their Malvasia white was my favorite, but their Tinto Joven is the rare red I would buy and drink again. You are well-advised to stop in for a tasting. While you are there, the restaurant is exceptional, and their shop is filled with unusual canned foods and gifts. Everything about Stratvs Winery says “quality.”

But Stratvs Winery is not the most remarkable “hand-of-man” construction in Lanzarote. For that we must look to César Manrique Cabrera, Lanzarote’s renowned artist, sculptor, architect, and designer. César Manrique (as he is known) had as much influence on the “look” of the entire island as Roberto Burle Marx had on Rio de Janeiro. (The white and black tiled sidewalks and squares paired with tropical plantings were Marx’s trademark.)

César Manrique is so completely tied to Lanzarote that even the airport is named after him. His concept of white houses, no more than 2 stories high, each with either green or blue trim, depending on location and use, was the model throughout Lanzarote. His commitment to environmentally sound construction and land use set the stage for the island’s development. And stage is the right word for many reasons. César Manrique lived his storied life in the spotlight surrounded by glamorous people engaged in hedonism and debauchery, influence and intrigue. His two most dramatically visible accomplishments utilize lava tubes both large and small to mix art and nature, creating unique structures where his sculpture, paintings, and designs are dramatically displayed.

To understand his architecture, you first must know a bit about the geology of the area and the nature of volcanos. Lanzarote is an ancient volcanic island. Three hundred years ago it underwent a violent volcanic period (there are more than 300 volcanoes on the island) that covered large areas in lava and ash, vastly increasing the island’s size. Lava flowing down the slopes and across the fertile farmland cooled on the outside, solidifying even as the hot lava still flowed inside. Then, as gases built up inside, some pockets exploded, while others expanded until eventually the roof collapsed, leaving holes in the lava tubes called jameos. What was left were expanses of underground tunnels with random sized jameos open to the sky. It was César Manrique who saw the value and beauty of these formations, turning them into underground living additions and creative spaces.

The César Manrique Foundation is where César Manrique lived before his death in a car accident in 1992. It is a more-or-less conventional house built over a lava tube with five jameos which he converted into rooms. Some open into covered living spaces while others into gardens and courtyards, the most dramatic housing an underground pool with waterfall, all connected by narrow passages of exposed lava. The underground rooms have small conversational areas, or trysting niches, if you are to believe the many photos on the walls. It is a hedonist’s playhouse, with the framed images of same and opposite sex couplings leaving little to the imagination. It is wondrously beautiful stage for a talented and free-spirited man with a lust for life! (NOTE: the many steps and narrow passages may restrict the infirm, and the imagery may not be suitable for all ages.)

”Jameos del Agua”, the first Art, Culture, and Tourist Center César Manrique created, is woven through and above a much larger lava tube. Its design exemplifies his belief that artistic creation should be in harmony with the environment and nature. It was completed in 1977, before the term “handicap accessible” was a consideration. The entrance is via a steep spiral staircase down into Jameo Chico, a rough-hewn levelish area that houses the open-air restaurant. A short tunnel off to the east goes to the sea. To the west are steps down to a subterranean tidal pool where white endangered Blind Crabs are located. Passing through that you’ll climb up to the Jameo Grande where the most stunning swimming pool defiantly advertises No Swimming, yet begs to be swam in. It is a natural looking pool defined by the white painted smooth concrete separations César Manrique’s designs are known for. Stairs up to ground level lead to a visitor’s center of unusual and fun exhibits. The mirror room is not to be missed!

However, the crowning achievement of “Jameos del Agua” is just off the pool level, with steps down to an underground auditorium with excellent acoustics. Here, 550 people can hear classical and contemporary concerts in a natural setting, with seating sloping down to a stage set in a lava tube. The Auditorio Jameos del Agua is one of the many sites for the Canary Islands International Festival of Music held mid-January to mid-March every year. The auditorium is an artistic treasure linking the beauty of music to the beauty of nature in an environmentally sound way – the way all of César Manrique’s projects do.

Other things to do in Lanzarote include taking a short ferry ride to the neighboring La Graciosa island to experience a more rustic and isolated retreat, with no paved roads and few residents; visit the extinct volcano caldera on the edge of the sea called the Green Lagoon; visit Janubio Salt Mine (really evaporation pools) the largest in the Canary Islands for a friendly, personal tour; hike into the caldera of Volcan del Cuervo on a mostly level and well maintained path in Timanfaya National Park; also in the Park, Devil’s Kitchen should not be missed; and finally, eat and drink with abandon at the many fine wineries and restaurants.

I think the best meal I had was at Bodega del Santiago, but overall, the food everywhere was great, although the beef was often overcooked. I also spent one night at the five-star Hotel Fariones and compiled a video of the hotels and restaurants so you can see them for yourself.

Whatever your passions or pleasures, you’ll love visiting Lanzarote!

The post After Nature, The Hand Of Man Created Lanzarote appeared first on Traveling Archive.

Since my visit to Asturias, Spain, last October, I’ve been dreaming about a rustic chicken dish I was served there. I was visiting for the natural paradise that is Asturias, with hiking, climbing, horseback riding, kayaking, even coal mining on my itinerary. But all that exercise led me to explore the fantastic kitchens of the region too.

Since that Asturian trip I’ve researched recipes for Pitu Caleya only to learn that, as is so typical of true rustic dishes, each household has its own way of making it! The version I was served was a rice-centric dish with all the flavors of chicken but no big pieces. The recipes I found online were more formal, featuring chicken pieces and rice ranging from a risotto consistency to a crusted paella style. Below I combined the best recipes to deliver the great chicken flavor I remembered with a rice somewhere between the two. I’ve made it several times now and really like the fragrance, texture, and taste. I even included a shortcut so the dish can be made in one day if you are short on time.

A note about the spelling: Pitu caleya is the Spanish version. Pitu Calella is the Asturian version, with the double “ll”s pronounced as “l”, not as a “y” in Spanish.

Pitu Caleya – Asturian Chicken “Paella”

Ingredients – serves four (with the best leftovers!) to eight

• 4 each chicken drumsticks and thighs, (eight pieces) bone-in, skin-on
• Marinade:
  • 3 tbsp salt
  • 1 ½ tbsp sugar
  • freshly ground pepper to taste
  • 4 tbsp vegetable oil – more as needed
• Braise:
  • 10 sprigs thyme
  • 1 garlic head, cut in half
  • 2 bay leaves
  • 2 cups whole apple cider
  • 2 cups Sidra (Spanish cider) Preferably Trabanco, but in the US Angry Orchard would do.
  • 2 cups chicken stock or broth as needed in braise or paella
• Paella:
  • 5 tbsp butter (or more as needed)
  • ½ cup flour
  • extra chicken stock or broth
  • 1 medium onion diced
  • 1 medium carrot diced
  • 1 medium red pepper diced
  • ¾ cup Calasparra rice
  • ¼ tsp crushed red pepper
  • 1 tsp salt
  • mixed chopped fresh herbs (parsley, chervil, chives) to garnish

Instructions

• Stir the salt, black pepper, and sugar in the oil until sugar dissolves, then drizzle over the chicken legs and thighs in a zipper plastic bag and rub chicken through sides of the bag to fully moisten and refrigerate from six hours to overnight. (Alternately, rub the marinade on the chicken and proceed to the next step.)
• Remove chicken from the refrigerator. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the chicken skin side up in a 9×12 baking pan, add thyme, garlic, and bay leaves, pour in the cider and sidra, (the liquid should be halfway up the chicken – if not, add enough chicken stock to get there) and braise in the oven uncovered for about 1 -1 ½ hours. The chicken should be tender, golden and caramelized on top and the liquid should have reduced by about half. Allow to cool enough to handle. 
• Remove the meat (skin attached) from the chicken drumsticks in pieces while keeping the thigh intact as you remove the bone.Set aside the thighs and garlic, strain and defat the liquid, mashing the roasted garlic back into the strained braising liquid. Reserve liquid and set aside the bones for your next stock.
• In a large sauté pan or paella pan brown the butter. Toss the pieces of chicken leg meat and skin (not the intact thighs) in a plastic bag with the flour and the remaining salt and add to the brown butter. Cook until the chicken becomes golden brown and crispy. Remove to a plate and keep warm.
• Then add the chopped onion, carrot, and both diced and dried red peppers and saute’ until soft, 3-4 minutes, adding more butter as needed. Return the chicken legs to the pan. Add the rice, stirring to moisten, followed in a minute by the remaining braising liquid from the chicken and, if needed, enough extra stock to make 4 cups.
• Cook over medium heat until the rice absorbs most of the liquid, stir, trying not to disturb the bottom layer of rice as it begins to stick to the pan – about 30 minutes. Taste the rice and adjust for seasoning, especially salt. Preheat the oven to 350.
• Arrange the reserved chicken thighs (halved if serving eight) on top of the cooked rice in the pan and finish cooking in the oven for ten minutes. Garnish with chopped herbs and set on the table. Serve on warm plates each with a thigh on top of the rice. Pass a salad.

Unfortunately, I was unable to get chef Noé Alvarez’s recipe for pitu caleya, of Castillo Del Alba Hotel, but this slightly fancier substitute will still deliver the delicious flavor while being true to the traditional regional specialty. I hope you enjoy it!

Note on accommodations: In the old quarter of Aviles, my hotel, the Palacio de Aviles, is a converted palace with centuries of history and beautiful, formal gardens to relax in. From there it was an easy walk or short drive for the culinary adventures described above. All but Pitu Caleya. I stayed at the Castillo Del Alba Hotel for that meal.

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From the cover photo of prayer flags in Annapurna, to the introduction explaining what the phrase “above the fray” means to him, Jon Meyer sets the mood for the reader. Hiking up into Thorong La in Nepal, at 18,000 feet the highest pass in the world, he passed under a thick ice field moments before it crashed into the path behind him. He was then “above the fray” with a new appreciation of his mortality and his love for the freedom being above the fray brings.

Each poem is a simple five-line sensory experience evoked by the photograph. The facing page has a paragraph explaining the photograph’s origins, so there are two chances to interpret what each means to you. That is the author’s wish. He presents the vision and the words, sometimes with clarity and sometimes blurred by the clouds, and you are meant to feel the inspirational love he conveys in your own way.

My favorite poem, if I can be said to have one, is on a photograph of an old truck abandoned in the woods with its hood removed and an old tree growing up through the engine compartment. He wrote:

“Nurture our planet
And produce more
Of these trees
Growing through
The old to . . . new life.”

Clouds – Love Poems From Above the Fray is not a book to be rushed through. A thoughtful perusal will leave you time to “hear the prayer flags flutter” and imagine the sound of the Tibetan bells singing, while perhaps revealing to you the author’s vision. It is a joyous one to observe and linger over.

Clouds – Love Poems From Above the Fray
Poems and Photographs by Jon Meyer
Published by Joshua Tree Interactive, Lexington Massachusetts
196 pages, 8 ¼ x 10 ¼ inches, 64 b&w photos, hardcover
ISBN 978-1-7332328-4-5   $35.00

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From tunnels under the falls, to zip lines into the gorge, and from a soaking boat ride to the base of the falls, to a challenging hike along the shore of the grade 6 rapids, Niagara Park’s attractions are amazing. There are tranquil gardens to stroll, a butterfly house to get lost in, and historic sites to visit between the adrenalin rushes these outdoor adventures kept causing. We had no idea that there was so much to do in this elongated park.

For all you hikers out there, Niagara Park has 9 miles of walks and trails along the Niagara River which are accessed through six different nature areas. Some are handicap accessible while others are quite rugged. Some have stairs and elevators from the escarpment down to the water’s edge, while others are a hike, so no matter your level of ability you can visually experience the class 6 rapids below the falls. Good thing, because there’s no way you’re going in them. They’re far too dangerous!

If you want to be on the water, just upstream from the rapids is the modern Hornblower Niagara Cruise. As many as 700 passengers every 15 minutes depart from the festive restaurant and park landing for the cruise to Horseshoe Falls. The Hornblower fleet alternates with the American side’s venerable Maid of the Mist, but only one boat at a time is in the powerful, raging waters of Canada’s Horseshoe Falls. Dressed in iconic free ponchos, red for Hornblower and blue for Maid of the Mist, passengers brace themselves as the decks are awash with some of the 600,000 gallons of water that pommels over the falls each second. Each Second!

You can only get closer to the falls by taking the Journey Behind the Falls, descending by elevator and stairs to the 126 year old tunnels behind (and under) the falls. There, in damp and thunderous tunnels, you can feel the vibrations of the crashing falls and the roar of the cascading river feeding them, before walking out to the edge for a full behind-the-falls soaking. There is also a tunnel to the side where you can walk out and look down at the boats entering the falls below. It is amazing to go from one attraction to another and see just how close the boat gets to the falls from a different, dryer, vantage.

When you are ready for some more tranquil entertainment, The Botanical Gardens offer a large diversity of plants and environments with tree-studded lawns, bogs and ponds planted both naturally and formally, all surrounded by dramatic plantings and landscapes of trees, shrubs and flowers. I found myself walking down a long allée of tall hemlock trees leading into a fabulous rose garden.

There is also a walled herb garden, wildflower butterfly fields and a pyramidal glass conservatory filled with exotic butterflies. Inside I walked through rocky paths around large waterfalls and under towering jungle trees, and everywhere I looked were thousands of colorful butterflies in all shapes, hues and sizes. That was an amazing experience!

Continuing the horticulture theme, the road back to the falls passed the Floral Clock, an odd attraction of a large mechanical clockface tilted upward and planted in a different elaborate design for each season. It was a colorful mosaic of standard annuals that only briefly caught my attention.

Then we went on past the falls for a truly unique horticultural experience at the Floral Showhouse. At first I thought it would be a redundant rehashing of the extensive plantings of the Botanical Garden, only on a much smaller scale. And then they blew my socks off with their most impressive collection of Amorphophallus Titanum, a.k.a. Titan Arum.

I’d read about a National Geographic expedition into the jungles of Sumatra in search of these extremely rare plants. It ended at the site of the rotting remains of its giant flower, still a rare sighting of a floral oddity fast disappearing in its native setting.

When we first walked into the Floral Showhouse’s magnificent greenhouse I thought the toilets had backed up. Then the stench got worse and I thought someone had died. I was almost right. What the guide proudly showed us was the huge flower of the Titan Arum, commonly known as the corpse plant.

Since 1878, when the western world first discovered this unusual plant, fewer than 200 documented bloomings have been recorded outside its dwindling jungle habitat. Only 40 blooming-size plants are known to exist outside of Sumatra. What I’d stumbled upon was the largest collection of those plants in the world – and one was in bloom! Now you know what I meant by a “truly unique horticultural experience.”

The flower only lasts 24 hours. In that time the 8 ft tall flower opens, attracts the insects needed to fertilize itself and then collapses into a stinking, rotting mass. Sometime after that a large, tree-shaped leaf grows up into a 20 ft. canopy of green and lasts for months, or longer, feeding the corm-like roots below. Then that collapses and eventually the cycle begins again. It is an amazing sight to behold.

The Floral Showhouse has more than 60 plants now, some just seedlings, but enough blooming ones that it experiences 2 or 3 similar shows a season. Plan your trip in advance and try to be there when the Titum Arum blooms. It is an unforgettable event!

I know I casually mentioned that we passed the falls to do this and were near the falls to do that, but I don’t mean to diminish the falls themselves. Six million cubic feet of water pour over the falls every minute. They are captivating, mesmerizing, and steal your eyes away from everything else in a demand for your undivided attention. We took turns dragging each other away from the hypnotizing gigantic deluge of water to take in all the other attractions Niagara Park offers.

The brand new ziplines down to the old power generating plant below the falls fly over the Hornblower’s landing, while the 100 year old Whirlpool Aero Car crossed the giant whirlpool a mile below the falls on cables strung over to the American side. Thrilling and sedate, respectively, both offered another view of the raging river below.

There were wineries for tastings, early Canadian military and literary sites for fascinating educational tours, and great restaurants to frequent. We drove 35 miles in three days, had artisanal brews, local cheeses and excellent farm-to-table fare, to complete the shortest road trip ever.

Hotels

For a base camp there are lavish Casino Hotels, chain lodgings and the particularly elegant Double Tree Fallsview Resort and Spa by Hilton.

Restaurants

The particularly honky-tonk downtown sported a great brew pub with the perfect third story aerie for views of the seemingly nightly firework displays. More elegant dining was had at Queen Victoria Place Restaurant and Elements on the Falls, both with spectacular (and dry) views of the falls, and there are fast food and casual dining chains dotting the landscape.

Adventure Passes are available for discount admittance to a variety of attractions. Ranging in price from $54.95 to $84.95, each include a two-day “hop on and hop off” WEGO bus transfer if you want to pass on the road trip aspects and avoid the parking hassles everywhere. Visit http://www.niagaraparks.com

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Every day I found myself in the mountains, seeing things no guidebook mentioned.

Photographs by Richard Frisbie

The clouds of Asturias roll in over the rocky shore from the Cantabrian Sea like fog, filling the valleys and cascading over the low hills to butt against the spikey ridgelines of the Pico de Europa mountains in the interior, causing them to look like islands in an inland cotton sea. We drove to this view early one morning on a winding mountain road, the only traffic a herd of cows coming down from their summer pasture, nonplussed by our presence, yet they skitter by, their cowbells echoing the change of seasons through the valleys long after they pass.

We are following Jose Andres’ guide to experiencing Asturias. The world-renowned humanitarian and chef was born here and returns as often as possible to replenish his soul in the stark mountains, lush valleys, and rugged coastline of his family home. He said to truly learn the heart of my country “begin your day in the mountains with the sunrise”. And so we did.

Breaking through the clouds as we continued to climb this serpentine road, more a switch-back narrow track than a bonified highway, we stopped at an overlook with a view on clear days far down through the valleys and out to sea. Today, with the sound of the cowbells still reverberating in the hills, the spires of the Basilica of Covadonga were all that was visible poking through the mists below, while the horizontal light of sunrise gilded the mountaintops above as they pierced the impossibly blue sky.

We drove on, upward through the sentinel peaks to look down into the branas, or high valley pasture where the cows had summered, the golden ridges reflected in the mirror waters of two pristine lakes, Enol and Ercina. This is a popular destination in the Pico de Europa National Park, already busy with the early-risers, and soon to be busier with busloads expected to crowd this verdant valley until its serenity is broken, only to be refreshed overnight and readied for a new dawn and the onslaught to return.

There are day hikes, limited overnight camping and only one small lodge to hike in to, so it is a daytrip to be enjoyed at dawn and dusk, and possibly for moonlight stargazing, when the crowds are thinnest. We left before the sublime beauty was crushed under the arriving busses.

The rising sun’s rays washed down the valley walls pushing the clouds lower, until as we descended, we could see the huge basilica emerge beneath its spires. Nearby a tiny church was tucked into a grotto above a cascading waterfall that filled the pool below.

This achingly picturesque spot is where one legend tells us that the Virgin Mary appeared to Palacio (Palayo) leader of the Spanish forces, and handed him a cross, telling him that if he carried her cross into battle against the Moors, Spain would be Christian. Another, more likely scenario, has him praying for victory to a statue of the virgin he found hidden in the cave while lying in wait for the Moors. Asturias was Spain’s last holdout against the advancing Moorish army, with Palacio’s victory marking the beginning of a surge, called the Reconquista, that eventually drove the Moors out of Spain.

Of course, defeating a force that was so entrenched in Spain does not remove its many influences. The further south you travel in Spain the more pronounced are the architectural and culinary remains of the North African culture. (The Alhambra and sherry immediately come to mind.) And even in Asturias the occasional Moorish arch in a window reminds us of the pervasiveness of their influence.

The beauty of our surroundings dulled these thoughts of conquest as we continued to a distant branas unknown to tourists, ironically called Las Vegas del Toro because it was once the home of the bull that serviced the local herds. This is where the last of the shepherds still minds his flock of sheep. Following a rutted, 4×4 dirt track miles off road, past a tiny village, we entered a pristine green valley surrounded by barren mountain peaks.

Here we found a cluster of ancient stone buildings, their red tile roofs held in place against the wind with stones the glaciers dropped when they receded millennium ago. That is, the roofs that hadn’t collapsed already. There is a sad state of disrepair and dereliction evident in the mountain beauty.

This was once a community of twenty or so shepherds, each minding his flock in these summer pastures. By day the sheep roamed the valley and surrounding slopes, guided by the sheepdogs and their master, the gentle ringing of their bells reminiscent of a Tibetan Bowl ceremony in the quiet high-altitude serenity. At dusk the sheep were herded into a paddock that led to a cave for shelter and protection from inclement weather and the ever-present wolves.

The lead dog, a large mastiff fitted with a spiked collar to shield his throat from wolf attack, remained with the flock overnight while the shepherd rested in his stone hut or made his way back to the village. His is a solitary life made more so because he is the last of his kind in the valley. When he is gone, more than just the shepherd and a way of life will be lost.

The delicate ecological balance of the valley’s environment will be disrupted, the plants the sheep no longer eat will flourish, choking out the grasses and wildflowers as they overrun the valley. But for now, the sound of the sheep’s bells persists, soothing in the pure mountain air.

Leaving the shepherd and his flock far behind, we soon found ourselves on a small back road, one that climbed through forests in a national preserve for Spain’s endangered brown bear, past tiny villages of 20 to 30 stone houses clinging to the steep hillsides. We were here to explore another fast-disappearing way of country life: teitos, or thatched roof cottages.

Accompanied by the sounds of a mountain stream tumbling down through the steep valley below, and ever on the look-out for bears, we hiked into La Brana Campa (place where shepherds stay) in Saliencia Valley to find three thatch-roofed stone houses, really cow houses, nestled in obscurity. Centuries old, these houses are where the cows were wintered over once they came down from summer’s high pasture.

Each has a small field for the six or so cows they hold, and the surrounding slopes are thick with broom, the plant used to thatch the roofs. The earthen ground floor houses the cows; the loft above holds the hay to feed them when there is more than a dusting of snow on their pasture. The men hike in and out from the small villages nearby to care for their herd as needed, sometimes staying overnight in the haylofts if bad weather persists, the body heat from the cows keeping them warm.

Originally, teitos were more than cow houses. In one tiny village nearby is a museum dedicated to teitos as houses for people, too. Ecomuseo de Somiedo Las Casas de Teito de Escobe is a cluster of three houses. One was being renovated so we could not visit it. Another, called Casa Rosa, was the more prosperous residence, built on a hillside with an attached kitchen, and the area above the cow pen a one room living quarters, with hay for the animals in the loft above it. This one even had an oven with a rounded back stonewall built off the kitchen, with room for pigs to sleep beneath.

The kitchen also had a typical open fire in the floor with seating around it and no opening for the smoke to be released. The only opening was the door, which was used to go outside to climb stairs to the living quarters. Everything in the kitchen was black with ancient soot. Sitting around the fire while working was called filandox, and it is where knitting and other group activities took place.

The third teitos, Casa Flora, was the poorer residence. The cows had a stall to the right as you entered. The rest was an “L” shaped room with a kitchen similar to Casa Rosa, but without the oven, with a bed in the alcove. In each, plumbing was nonexistent, nor were there outhouses. The compost pile in the kitchen garden served that purpose, your bodily functions on display as all aspects of life are in a small village. People lived in this house until 1954, when the road came through that connected all the isolated villages. Before that, people could be born, live, and die without ever leaving.

This way of life is being preserved somewhat, as the teitos are registered and numbered as historic landmarks. But of the three we saw at La Brana Campa, one’s roof beam had broken, the thatch folding into the center, one had a blue tarp over a presumably damaged roof, and only the last was intact. It was numbered #224, while Casa Flores and Casa Rosa in the museum complex were #32 and #33 respectively. Less than 300 teitos exist today. As the people who use them pass, more will decline. We were extremely fortunate to see these ties to past traditions that have survived. But I have to wonder how long they will last.

And that’s why I travel; to see the history and culture of a region. To feel the beating heart of the rural countryside and see the agricultural history of a place means so much more to me then all the cathedrals and Roman ruins combined. And, of course, there is always the food and wine to taste and experience. But that is another story.

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If you follow this column you know that I have reviewed MP Magic Socks and I’m still wearing them!) in the past, so reviewing MP Magic Towels just seemed like a natural for me. And while they are made by the same company, a company I now have a trusting relationship with, I don’t know if the towels have the same odor neutralizing properties as the 5-day Magic Sock. Who would even want to find out? (Umm, maybe me . . . ?) More importantly, these are magic in the way they are woven and the top-quality Egyptian cotton used. Not being stinky when I dry my face is simply a bonus.
See how dry my MP Magic Towel left me . . .

I couldn’t resist that – sorry. When I saw that picture on the MP Magic Towel website I had to ask myself exactly what are they selling here? Further reading clearly showed off their magnificent towels, but for a brief moment . . .

Anyway, I decided the picture was to show how these super absorbent towels are designed to wick away the most moisture and be big enough to reach all the places you don’t want to leave damp. The unique waffle weave also permits faster drying. No more damp towels to greet your morning shower! MP Magic Towels dry so quickly you can use them twice a day and still feel dry. And, at 31” by 59”, they are soft, absorbent, and cuddly enough to make a great blanket for babies and toddlers.

I’m a guy. I know nothing about the quality of cotton. I bought conventional Pima Cotton towels because I like the heavy weight and feel of them even if they take forever to dry and are sometimes scratchy. MP Magic Towels are nothing like that! They are nearly as bulky as my own, bigger in size, but lighter, weighing only about 18 ounces. The waffle weave and the highest quality Egyptian cotton make them an incredibly light, soft, and absorbent water-magnet. Only Giza 86, the top 10% of the finest Egyptian hand-picked, long-staple cotton is used to make these MP Magic Towels. The quality shows. These towels are beautiful!

I was swimming when the MP Magic Towel arrived, so I put it to good use immediately. I couldn’t believe how soft and absorbent it was. The next morning it was dry and smelled nice when I used it after my shower. And the morning after as well.

Then it was time for the real test – I threw it in the laundry. I probably should have read the washing instructions, but I feel that if a garment is sensitive or picky about a normal wash and dry, I don’t want it. Since then, I’ve washed and dried the MP Magic Towel several more times with no apparent change in shape, color, or condition. It looks and feels as soft and absorbent as the day I got it.

Well, you’ve read all the Pros above. Here are the cons.

MP Magic towels:
• Only come in grey.
• Can’t be hung on a hook or nob without leaving an “ugly bump” impression in the towel.
• Cost $27-$37 each depending upon how many purchased.
• Are part of a crowdsourced Kickstarter campaign. (Since all previous Kickstarter campaigns for the company were successful, this could also be a Pro.)

And while it is not their fault, shipping times from Asia fluctuate widely during this pandemic. So, even though they promise “fast delivery”, order these sooner rather than later to insure they will be here by the Holidays.
That being said, when you are really looking for top-quality Egyptian cotton towels, look to MP Magic Towels to transform your bath into a luxury spa experience.

DISCLAIMER: The author sometimes receives products and/or services at no cost for review, with the understanding that he will mention things he does not like about the products as well as the things he does like. Every effort is made to present an unbiased, objective, and fair assessment of their capabilities and value. He does not get paid or receive any revenue from manufacturers or retailers of products reviewed, nor is he paid for this review.
Was this review helpful? Please rate it in the comment section below.

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This wasn’t a conscious thought. As the travel restrictions weighed more heavily upon me I started to broaden my cooking, unconsciously seeking out new recipes from favorite countries that reminded me of my visits. Then one day I realized I’d taken a grand tour of Europe without leaving my dinner table. Over the course of two weeks I cooked ten different international meals. With the resulting leftovers and lunches I had 14 days of reminiscences of past visits while enjoying the taste of each country.

And it wasn’t just Europe I visited. I went to Cuba (I wish!) New England (a favorite summer haunt) and to North Africa for an adventurous dish. But it really all started rather simply in Mexico.

I’m a big fan of tacos, but not one of “messy eating around the dinner table” tacos. So now I make taco bowls to be eaten with a fork and spoon. Yes I’ll still eat tacos as street food, say, in Mexico City, with sauce dripping down my chin and arms, but doesn’t this look more inviting?

The next evening I was transported to Spain over a dish of Chicken Chilindron. This dish could be from any Mediterranean country except for the addition of smoked paprika, a.k.a. smoked pimenton, a very distinctive Spanish spice added for its red smoky heat. The aroma and taste had me right back in Extremadura, Spain, where smoked pimenton has its own DOC.

For a Friday in Lent I made cod cakes. The Iberian Peninsula is historically connected to cod, with Basque fishermen crossing the Atlantic, way before Columbus “discovered” the New World, to catch and dry fish for transport back home. All the salt cod you see today is descended from their preserving tradition. The Portuguese fished New England’s cod banks as well. This recipe is from an older Portuguese woman I once knew. It is healthier and more complex than the deep fried Spanish cod croquettes I love.

The next three dishes could easily be lumped into an Italian trifecta. Not that I was on a roll here. And certainly pizza the way I make it has nothing to do with Italy. But it’s still good and does have Italian-American roots. No, these reflect a desire for a more extended stay in the boot of Europe.

And while the scallops in white wine and garlic could be found along any Mediterranean coast, serving them on pasta got the dish included here.

But the true dish of Italy I made was a huge batch of slow-cooked Bolognese sauce, fragrantly simmering all day in my kitchen. It made a great base for some homemade ravioli I enjoyed for many days before freezing a quart for another trip, er, I mean meal. And speaking of slow cooking, I also made a vat of Pasta e Fagioli, unconventionally using some Rancho Gordo pinto beans I got as a Christmas gift. (If nothing else, we’ve all learned to improvise ingredients during this pandemic shut down.) I enjoyed the soup’s rich deliciousness many times.

Then, while I was in the neighborhood, I thought I’d skip across the Mediterranean to taste a bit of Ethiopia. It wasn’t my plan, but I was inspired by a description of berbera spice mix on Milk Street Radio one Sunday. Apparently Ethiopians put berbera spice in everything, everyday, and each house has its own distinctive blend. I researched the basic recipe and made my own, adding and subtracting to my tastes. By the second batch I knew to use less hot ingredients, so everyone in the household can enjoy this taste of North Africa. The result is Doro Wat, an Ethiopian chicken dish with a red onion to chicken ratio of 1:1, a head of garlic, and a half cup of berbera spice blend. Wow! Just Wow! I doubled the next batch of berbera I made so I can use it every day, too.

Europe bound once more, I had a layover in Greece, because I always wanted to. And because I had all the ingredients for this delicious sounding dish: Greek Braised Chicken, a.k.a. Kota Kapama. It’s not what you’d think – no olives or feta cheese – just a healthy amount of cinnamon and allspice rubbed into the skin-on chicken thighs before they are braised in a tomato and wine stock. It was just so fragrant and tasty – Yum!

On my last visit to France (and the word “last” takes on new meaning during this pandemic as I wonder if we’ll ever travel again . . . ) I was in the Lorraine region when I remarked that during my entire visit I had not tasted the celebrated local dish, quiche. Arrangements were promptly made, and quiche was served with drinks before dinner, by a chef who disdainfully told me that we “never serve quiche here.” (I can only throw my hands in the air and exclaim “THE FRENCH”! when I think of it. They should serve quiche more often – and more civilly.) It was delicious. Since then I have it on rotation in my kitchen, using up bits and pieces of ingredients and things “going bad” in the refrigerator. This one used up the sheets of phyllo pastry left over from the Greek spinach and feta dish, Spanakopita, that I ate all of but neglected to photograph!

Last year a sale on pork loins left me with an eight pound loin (I cannot resist a food sale!) Half was butterflied, stuffed with herbs, wrapped in prosciutto and braised (with much work and little reward except that it was pretty) while the other was frozen. I thawed that for the next two dishes.

The first was a slow-cooked New England balsamic and stock braise on red potatoes and carrots. It fits the travel theme because we visit family in New England often. Coastal Maine and New Hampshire are favorites for summer fun and food, so while it wasn’t lobster rolls I was cooking, it was comfort food.

But the real reason to cook the pork, besides making room in the freezer, was for the leftover pork needed to make Cuban Sandwiches. With thinly sliced pork loin, Swiss cheese, ham, dill pickles, and two kinds of mustard layered in a crusty loaf, then pressed and grilled, these are always a favorite in our house. They were so satisfyingly chewy-delicious served with a horseradish cole slaw and a cold beer. Heaven!

There was another Cuban dish – Braised Chicken. It tasted great, but except for the raisins, olives, and capers it looked just like all the other chicken dishes pictured above. So, instead of looking at same ol’ same ol’, here’s a picture of the Cuban Sandwiches plated:

So wasn’t that a fun vacation to the culinary hotspots of the world? You got to read it and enjoy a vicarious tour through kitchens of seven countries, while I gained five pounds cooking and eating! Does that seem fair to you?

Do you like to recreate the dishes of your favorite vacation destinations? Please tell me about them in the comments below (and share the recipe!) Thanks for reading.

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Monterosola Winery is a 25 hectare hillside estate in the heart of Tuscany, Italy, between the world-famous wine-growing regions of Chianti and Bolgheri. It is a family owned and run vineyard with a brand-new architect-designed state-of-the-art cantina. Monterosola makes award-winning organic wines by combining old traditions with modern technology. Besides the reds they sent me, I received two bottles of white wine to taste. Here’s how they are described:

They Say: Cassero 2018 – “A sophisticated single variety Vermentino, straw yellow colored with youthful green highlights. Enjoys an elegant and consistent aroma with hints of white flowers, grapefruit, pear, white peach and a pleasing minerality. Fresh and well balanced on the palate with a lingering light finish.”

I Say: Cassero is a dry white wine made with the Italian Vermentino grape, which I first tasted (and loved) in Sardinia. It has 14% alcohol, is light and drinkable with a floral bouquet, tree fruit and citrus notes, and a medium acidity – ready to drink now. $15

They Say: Primo Passo 2018 – “A warm light golden color. Intense and elegant aromas come to the fore, ripe apricot, peach, citrus zest and minerality evolve into a hint of sweet spice. A generous, silky and balanced wine with an authentic personality. Remarkable aftertaste.”

I Say: Primo Passo is a blend of three grapes: Viognier, Grechetto, and Manzoni Bianco, the last two (even though Grechetto is originally Greek) being typical for a Central Italy white blend. Its fruity bouquet only hints at the flavorful and dry goodness this winner brought to the table. $28

The Meal: I have the ability to read a recipe and know if I want to cook it and who I want to cook it for. Ever since being served the Brazilian fish stew Moqueca in a whole pumpkin, I wanted to recreate that presentation, just not necessarily with fish. The October issue of Food & Wine magazine has a recipe for rice cooked in a whole pumpkin that I knew would be perfect for two old family friends with discerning taste. Since they also like white wine, they were perfect for this Monterosola Bianco tasting one sunny October Day.

In this age of pandemic dining, a warm early afternoon offered the perfect opportunity for an alfresco meal on the patio. My guests are always game guinea pigs when it comes to my penchant for trying out new recipes on company. Thank goodness, because it did not go as smoothly as planned, although it could have been far worse . . .

Prepping the pumpkin was easy enough, and the simplicity of the recipe had me thinking it would be a breeze. Rice, curry paste, coconut milk, and water are mixed and poured into the hollow pumpkin. Then it gets baked with the top on for one hour at 350 degrees. Easy as pie, right? It was in the oven and well on its way through the first phase of cooking when guests arrived.

We opened the lightly chilled Monterosola Cassero and sipped the delicious wine while nibbling snap peas in a hummus dip with toasted baguette slices and a side of brie. There was crunch, green, and my own smooth garbanzo & sesame paste to pair with the light “summer is still here” Cassero. After the first satisfying tastes of wine, I excused myself to finish the next cooking phase.

Once out of the oven with the filling bubbling, I stirred in fresh green beans, fish sauce and salt, replaced the top and popped the pumpkin back into the oven for another 45 minutes. Then it was back outside for more good conversation and wine. Part way through, I took the pumpkin out of the oven to come together. I opened the Monterosola Primo Passo then, so we could taste the two whites side-by-side. It was touch-and-go which was preferred as we finished the cocktail hour, but the Primo Passo definitely got to shine later.

The main course was beautiful straight out of the oven, and the fragrance filling the kitchen had everyone eager for a taste. I should have quit while I was ahead. The pumpkin split open moving it to a serving platter, so there was no photo op. Saving face, I scooped the insides into a bowl and we took that and a salad to the table. Unlike the wines we tasted, the meal never lived up to the fragrance. It was bland and so undramatic looking out of the pumpkin. The kindest remark was that at least I’d used fresh green beans, not canned or frozen. But they only knew that because the beans were very much al dente! I’ll know better if there is a next time.

Not every meal can be a success, and not every bottle of wine approach perfection. But the Monterosola whites delivered what they promised, a flavorful and delicious addendum to an otherwise unremarkable meal. They were the hit of the afternoon!

The Monterosola winery offers concerts and events in its various performance spaces, with fine dining to accompany their superior organic wines. I can’t wait until it is safe to travel again. After the pumpkin near-failure, I think I want my next wine tasting with their superb Italian food. Tastings and tours can be arranged through the Monterosola website.

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“Savoring the Camino de Santiago: It’s the Pilgrimage, Not the Hike” by Julie Gianelloni Connor, is the latest of the many books about the Spanish pilgrimage popularized for the American audience by the Martin Sheen movie “The Way.” With a history of 12 centuries of pilgrims making the arduous trek from all over the world to the Spanish city of Santiago de Compostella to see the tomb of St. James, the author learned that there is still plenty of history and tradition left to discover.

After retirement and other life changes created a now-or-never window of opportunity, this book is the culmination of the author’s 40 year desire to walk the Camino de Santiago finally realized. Years of planning, last minute cancellations, and a major change of plans later, she plants her feet on the Way, grabs her day pack and maps, and, with her son in tow, takes the reader on the journey of a lifetime.

There are many routes to Santiago de Compostella. From the north, coming in from all over Europe, the routes converge on the tiny village of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port, on the French side of the Pyrenees. This is known as the French Route, and is the one the author writes about. It crosses the Pyrenees to Roncesvalles, famous for “The Song of Roland,” then comes down through the Basque region to Hemingway’s Pamplona, across the culinary Mecca of Castilla y Leon, and finally into Galicia, known as Green Spain, with its capital Santiago de Compostella.

Writings about the Camino are legion. In this iteration, the author makes the point that it is a journey, not a hike. Originally pilgrims went by foot, taking six months and more to complete the Way in order to receive indulgences from the Catholic Church and be assured entry into heaven. Modern purists still insist upon walking the entire route, but today there are all manner of transportation choices to complete the trip in a matter of weeks, not months. The author used local buses and taxis to supplement the extensive walking she did, with a luggage service to move heavier bags ahead to each evening’s accommodations. In my own Camino experiences, I walked only a few miles of it, bicycled more, and took a 10 day bus tour the entire length.

While walking (or driving) a marathon is not the same as running it, I have still done the Camino from start to finish, and seen more churches along the way than most people have. The author rightly complained that due to budget constraints, too many of the smaller rural churches were closed when she was there. For my tour, arrangements were made in advance for all the churches to be open when we got there. I endorse her recommendation to visit as many as you find open, and join her in encouraging the others to open more frequently. The artwork, architecture and history of each are well worth the time spent.

The first part of the book is a collection of occasional blog posts about the journey the author made along the way, combined with others she wrote after her return. The second part is her day-to-day journal entries with photos and charming little drawings. Then there is the resource guide and an index. The author has an engaging writing style, and – to her credit – I found not one typo in its 265+ pages. However, an editor’s job is more than just catching typos. I found this one too indulgent of the repetitive nature of many of the blog posts. Perhaps that would not have been so annoyingly apparent if I read them the way they were written instead of all in one sitting. But, don’t let it bother you too much. Some of the information bears repeating.

Furthermore, as an informed reader, it was so nice reliving my memories of the route as she carefully described it. Place names, historical tidbits, and apocryphal tales I’d nearly forgotten came alive again. And because the author was much more involved in the day-to-day hike, she was able to share experiences I never had, such as interactions with interesting people like the Almond Man, who handed out almonds and treats to the pilgrims, and the hospitable locals she met who offered food and drink and company.

You don’t have to be a Camino veteran to enjoy this book as much as I did. In fact, it has many useful bits of knowledge that would help the neophyte. The author lists guide books, histories, and personal recollections to read as you prepare for your Camino. To them I would only add my favorite, Andrew McCarthy’s award-winning travel book: “The Longest Way Home.”

The author, Julie Gianelloni Connor, often refers to American Pilgrims on the Camino, an organization that offers advice and guidance to all would-be pilgrims. She recommends finding a local chapter to join. Then there are practical tips about technology, hygiene, and first-aid that she had to learn the hard way. You can learn them simply by buying and reading the book.

In an age when we can only travel vicariously, “Savoring the Camino de Santiago: It’s the Pilgrimage, Not the Hike” by Julie Gianelloni Connor, is a comfy armchair of a journey. So leave behind the blisters, injuries, aches & pains, and inclement weather, to revel in the author’s descriptions of the people and the places she encounters, and the comfort she finds along the Way. Buen Camino!

Savoring the Camino de Santiago: It’s the Pilgrimage, Not the Hike
Bayou City Press ISBN 978-1-951331-01-6 Paperback 276 pages $17.99

So, now you’ve read the book and want to trek the Camino. Next year, 2021, is Xacobeo, a rare Holy Year when the Feast of St James, July 25th, falls on a Sunday. During Holy Year the east door of the Cathedral of St James is open and a record number of pilgrims are expected to travel the Camino and pass through it. Which means that now is a good time plan to be a part of history and a possible spiritual awakening. If nothing else, you’ll enjoy the beautiful Spanish countryside, meet warm and friendly people, and discover the culinary excellence of Spanish cuisine.

Get some general travel information about Spain

Then talk to my friend Alex Chang about a Camino Tour

And contact American Pilgrims on the Camino

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