An Andaluz Christmas

...noche buena among the coak-oaks

When my children were not yet of an age to argue with their parents (remember that?) our Christmases were spent in a remote valley in southern Spain and the shape of the family celebration - given that my own childhood experiences, spent in South America, were distinctly un-English - was something of a hybrid.

While our neighbours ate salt-cured, wind-dried pata negra ham sliced from the bone (a bonus from the cork-oak forest where the last of semi-wild breed was in residence). This was eaten with thick slabs of yellow-crumbed bread, pan candeal (wood-fire bread) and garlicky green olives from the brine-pot (everyone, including me, prepared their own). For the children, bought-in from the market, there were crumbly almond cookies, poverones (see recipe below) and a fudgy almond nougat, turron, of Moorish descent. There was also an opportunity, weather permitting, to head for the hills on Christmas Day (the Eve being the main event) and cook a paella over a campfire among the cork-oaks.

Meanwhile, on the day before Christmas Eve, as strangers in everyone's midst, we hosted a nativity play, choice of language optional, dress-code flexible (Virgin Mary excepted), parents excluded till the performance itself. Refreshments provided (no choice) were: salty thick-cut chips (home-made, olive-oil, straight from the frying-pan) and supermarket icecream (vanilla or chocolate), possibly together. Fizzy lemonade (gaseosa) for the children with or without a splash of rough red wine that turned your teeth black (Jumilla poured from the barrel).

Which was all very neighbourly, but the real challenge, at least for me, was our own non-Andaluz dinner on Christmas Day. The recipe for the pudding required grated suet (separated-out from the membrane), de-pipped raisins (sticky), hand-peeled almonds (from a bowl in boiling water - hazardous) and home-candied orange peel (laborious and dangerous owing to the boiling sugar), all of which had to be done in-house. Brussels sprouts (obligatory, said my very English husband) were (happily) unobtainable; sourdough-bread-sauce proved itself a mistake; and the festive goose was delivered live on the end of a string by the teenage son of the baker's wife (and no, his mother had too much else to do to help me slaughter and pluck, and slaughtering a bird was women’s-business). This was a challenge. Nevertheless, the spirit of Christmas prevailed. Mostly.

Polverones

Literally translated, dusty biscuits - very soft and delicate, wrapped up in scraps of tissure paper for storage, this is the treat all good Spanish children hope to find in their shoes when the Three Kings bring them their presents on January 6th. The fat used is pure white lard, mild and sweet and made by melting pork fat very very slowly in the lowest possible oven with a little water to keep it from any possibility of browning - commercially-prepared stuff won’t do. This is a beaten dough, which is rather easier and quicker than the more familiar rubbing-in method.

Makes about 30 biscuits

8 oz/250g flour

4 oz/100g roughly-ground blanched almonds

1 tlbpn ground cinnamon

1 tspn ground cardamom

8 oz/250g fresh white lard, softened

4 oz/100g icing sugar

1-2 tblspns cold water

Sieve the flour into the ground almonds and mix in the spices. Beat the lard with the sugar until light and fluffy - easiest in a food processor. Work in the flour and Önut mixture until you have a soft ball of dough. Cover with a clean cloth, and leave to rest for an hour in a cool place to firm up.

Heat the oven to 350F/180C/Gas4.

Roll the dough out to twice the thickness of a pound coin. Cut out neat little rounds with a biscuit cutter and transfer to a well-buttered baking sheet. Press together the scraps with the tips of your fingers and cut out as many more rounds as you can.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until pale gold. Transfer gently to a baking rack and leave to cool. The end result is like very soft, crumbly shortbread. Wrap in scraps of tissue paper before storing in an airtight tin.

p.s. more Andaluz recipes and my own watercolour illustrations in Flavours of Andalucia (Grub Street).