Boquerones al vinagre a la Paco.

Nimes kõlav lubadus haute cuisinie'le saab otsa esimese osisega retseptist. 

Kilu. Küll Vahemerest, aga siiski kilu, anšoovis, või vähemalt nende kaugem sugulane.   

Nime teine pool, a la Paco, viitab me toonast sadamalähedast restorani järjekindlalt rünnanud meremehele, kelle päevane (vabapäevane) cańanorm ajanuks kodumaise TAI spetsialistid nutma või vähemalt masti kraapima. Jõrm merimees, kes andnuks Nordea seilamisele hädavajaliku touchi, aga no kes siis teadis professionaale kutsuda.

Kahe suure mereriigi esindajate vahel tekkis ootamatu koostöö ehk ühiskokandus ja kogemuste jagamine vägagi internatsionaalsel liinil. Hispaania meremees pluss ülikehva kohalikku keelt kõnelev Eesti wanna-be kokk. Kokkuvõtlikult võib öelda, et päevad olid emotsionaalsed ning tihti kantud kulinaarsetest fopaadest kuid samas ka õnnestumistest.

Boquerones. Valge kilekott, otse laevalt. Lõhnast oleks võinud toote Vahemerelist päritolu ka varem aimata, enne kui kott köögilauale langes ja mind töötsoonist minema lükati. "Nüüd teeme süüa nii nagu minu VANAEMA ikka on teinud!" andis teada ca 50-ndates elupõline kalur. Koristasin end teelt ja avasin meeled Hispaania klassika sissevoolule.

Vahemärkusena pean tunnistama, et seda vanavanemate lahendust kilude (anšooviste?) tuunimiseks olen ma oma edaspidises praktikas minimaalselt muutnud. Alati jääb pisuke mängumaa, kuid Paco suguvõsa põhitõed on seni me jaoks olnud piisavad.

Seega, kott lahti, paar kilo värsket kala kaussi, korralik koorem meresoola selga ja kiire segamine. Nüüd algab parem osa - Sul on 2 tundi aega, kuniks kala sooldub. Piisav aeg külmaks õlleks ja mõneks tapaks. 

Tunnid loetud, saab kala välja pestud ning, pane nüüd tähele, ka sisuliselt fileeritud. Sest sool on teinud oma töö ja kala puhastamine on lihtsam kui Hispaania kuuenda klassi matemaatika!

Fileed sõelale ja pessu, käega kuivaks ning kaussi tagasi. Sedapuhku aga valge veini äädikasse, või viimases hädas õunasiidri omasse. Veerandtund, mille jooksul on parajasti aega peotäie küüslaugu ja peterselli hakkimiseks, ja rahu majas. Uus kalapesuring, kaunis kaanega suletav karp juba ootab oma tundi läheduses.

Ladumine. Kiht kalafileed, hakitud küüslauk, petersell, oliiviõli, uus kiht kala, küüslauk, petersell, uus kiht... ja nii edasi kuniks materjali jagub. 

Kannatamatud saavad proovida kohe (muuseas, ka värskelt marineeritud kala ehk otse äädikavannist on enam kui kena õllekõrvane). 

Pärast mõningat laagerdumist läheb uhke nimega imelihtne roog lauale koos värske saiaga (paremal juhul kergelt röstitud musta leiva viiludega, mille sa vahvasti Vene poest koju oled smuugeldanud).

Klassika.

PS Üksik meremees oleks selle kulinaarse etteastega saanud rahulikult maha võtta 99% vallalisi naisterahvaid lähema 5 km raadiuses. Nii nad rääkisid.

PSS Eelpoolmainitud fopaad tulevad jutuks pisut hiljem, kui tervis lubab nende meenutamist. Klassikaks kujunes Paco ema ühepajatoit punase veini ja kaheksajalaga... vaene kaheksajalg, kelle teise poole kööki koristades nädalaid hiljem külmiku taganurgast leidsin. 

Boquerones al vinagre a la Paco.

The promise sounding in the name referring to haute cuisine ends with the first ingredient of the recipe. A sprat. From the Mediterranean indeed, but sprat it is, an anchovy  or their distant cousin at least.

The other part, a la Paco, refers to a fisherman, who  consistently attacked our restaurant near the port of that time and who’s daily (only on his day off) cańa rate would have driven the specialists from The National Institute for Health Development crying or scratching the mast at least.  Rough mariner who would have given an essential touch to any globe-sailing company.

In between the representatives of two big countries by the two big seas an unexpected cooperation in other words common-cooking and sharing the experiences began in a rather international level. A Spanish fisherman plus an Estonian wannabe-cook with super-poor local language skills.  In conclusion I may say the days were emotional and often carried by culinary failures, yet by successes as well.

Boquerones. White plastic bag, directly from the ship. The smell referred to a Mediterranean origin even before the bag fell on the kitchen table and I was pushed out of the working space. " Now we are going to cook like my GRANDMA always has done it" announced the lifelong fisherman in his 50's approx. I moved myself from his way and opened my senses to the inflow of Spanish classics.

As a remark I must admit that the given solution of the great grandmothers for tuning the sprats I have changed only minimally in my further practice. There will always remain a small possibility to play around with it, but the basics of Paco's family have remained sufficient for me so far.

Therefore, open the bag, put those few kilos of fresh fish into a bowl, cover it with a proper load of sea salt and mix it. Now the better part starts - you have 2 hours until the fish is pickled. Now there is enough time for a cold beer and some tapa.

The hours counted, it is time to wash out the fish and notice, practically filleted as well. Because the salt has done the job and rest of the cleaning is easier than sixth grade math in Spain! Fillets on the strainer and in the wash! Dry with the hands and back to the bowl! This time in a white wine vinegar (apple cider vinegar will do too if you do not have the first) for a quarter of an hour, which gives you exactly the right amount of time for chopping the handful of garlic and parsley. And the new wash! Nice box with a closable cover is already waiting it's time close by.

Stowing. Layer of fillets, garlic, parsley, olive oil. New layer of fish, garlic, parsley, new layer...and so on as long as there is material.

Impatient persons can taste it right away ( by the way, freshly marinated fish right from the vinegar bath is also a more than nice snack by the beer).

After some maturing the simple dish with proud name goes on a table with fresh bread (in the best case with slightly roasted black bread which you have smuggled from Russian grocery store). Classic.

PS        With  this dish the lonely fisherman could have easily take off 99% of the single women within a radius of 5 km at least. So they said.

PSS      The above- mentioned failures I will speak about a little later, when my health condition allows to recall them. The hotpot of octopus and red wine by the recipe of Paco's mother became classics...poor octopus, it's other half I found from the back end of the fridge weeks later when I was cleaning the kitchen.