Spanish Fish ‘n’ Flights
Who on Earth would travel abroad during an epidemic knowing full well that on their return to the country, they would be subjected to a strict quarantine? Well, due to force of habit, I have rarely missed a September trip to sunny Spain for many years. A spur-of-the-moment solo trip, this time organised at the last minute. The cheap flight was an indication of the number of passengers on the plane. There couldn’t have been more than twenty people aboard. It took me less than five minutes from arrival at Newcastle airport to be through to the closed duty-free shops. After all this was the last flight out at 8:30pm! Having worn a mask to the shops for the last few weeks, I would soon have to get used to putting one on everywhere I went despite the searing heat for fear of being handed a hefty fine. “La Guardia Civil are very strict here!” a neighbour warned me. Having filled my health details before departure, I sailed through Alicante airport after I got my QR code scanned. An email immediately arrived welcoming me to Spain and warning that if I noticed any Covid-19 symptoms, I was to contact the authorities.
The morning after arrival, the blue sky, hot sun and upper twenties temperature brought memories flooding back. Gatherings with friends and neighbours, trips to the beach, bike rides to local villages for a “café con leche” and a “tostada con tomate”.
I decided to make the most of my stay, and while adhering to the guidelines, do what I usually do. Food shopping, swimming and cycling.
One thing that has always impressed me in Spain is the ability for even the smallest of supermarkets to offer a huge array of fresh fish displayed whole on a bed of ice just like at some of our best fishmongers. My last purchase was a Dorada, a sea bream. Once I chose the fish, it was weighed, gutted, scaled and washed by the adept hands of the sales assistant, who hardly stopped talking to her colleague, in machine-gun Spanish which despite my best efforts, rarely sounded like what I’d learnt at night school many moons ago.
While whole fish rarely appeals to British tastes, Mediterranean restaurants almost always serve it on the bone and customers will not blink at a fisheye gazing up at them. However, it is understandable that for some, given the choice of eating a nice piece of fish fillet or having to rake around for fishbones, there is only one option. But, ask anyone who has eaten fish on the bone at least once, and they will ramble on for ages, on the superior taste of anything cooked that way. I sadly or happily have to confess that I belong to this species, despite the fact that, in my thirty-four years in restaurants, I never once served fish on the bone. That would have amounted to commercial suicide!