Throughout my experience abroad in Madrid, it came as no surprise that food culture was a cornerstone of our immersion. I had learned, through high school Spanish classes and my mom’s old stories from her study abroad in the south of Spain about the many incredible dishes; from paella, tortilla, patatas bravas, and croquetas, to gelato, fresh tomatoes, orange juice, touristy sangria, and much more. My food expectations were extremely high, but what I was not expecting was how mealtimes in Spain could change the entire rhythm of daily life.
From the fundamentals of learning how to order in another language to the time spent with your host family at a warm meal, a majority of my language practice occurred around the kitchen table. Madrid has an incredibly rich culture of food, rooted in “sobremesa” and hours spent each day at lunch. I was immediately drawn to the slowed pace of life incurred by food culture and the appreciation of a whole meal with friends and family. Back at home in the US, I found our meals were, more often than not, filled with work, fast food, tupperware, skipped breakfasts, and inhaled lunches. Studying in Madrid, almost by force, brought a new joy to mealtimes. My host mom was incredibly generous with her time and care for others; there was no limit to the meals she would prepare, the local drinks she would serve, the hours we would pour over her cooking, and the genuine pleasure she derived from hosting her friends and family. Ironically, one of my favorite meals in Madrid was not the tortilla española, patatas bravas, or croquetas (although they were all delicious), but a hamburger she made, with the highest quality of beef and tomatoes and seared to perfection. My host mom and I would spend two meals each day together and exchange stories mostly over dinner. She, very kindly, respected my distaste for shellfish, instead serving incredible pastas, tortillas, salads, fruit bowls, and steaks. I found myself in perpetual awe of her dishes while she found herself in perpetual awe of just how much food I could consume in a day. “Comes como un señor” was her pleased acknowledgement as I finished a bowl of chorizo soup or “patatas al rioja”. Ultimately, she instilled in me an appreciation of providing for yourself and others through the nourishing therapy of cooking.
Even more astounding to me was the demand for fresh produce and the ease of leaving the house for 10 minutes to retrieve ingredients for the meal that same hour. Growing up in the US suburbs it was more customary to shop ahead for a week, with lots of lists and planning and too many hours wandering the aisles; but, in Madrid, it was much more common to shop daily for fresh groceries. As a result, small shops and stands were prolific throughout the streets, ready to meet the demands of each day. When the weather turned warm in Madrid, my host mom would delight over her refreshing, rich, and colorful salads. In the middle of her plans for dinner she would often pause with another ingredient entering into her vision for the meal. This was cause for an immediate reach for her sneakers and a pop over to the market to procure one more beet or avocado. The “mercados” or fresh produce stands could be seen twice every block you traveled with the active and creative home chefs leaving sometimes three times a day for warm bread, farm to table veggies, and (my personal favorite) a sweet pastry. Whatever the demand of that day, food in the city was always easily accessible with a much more beneficial culture of only buying what you need, not overconsuming weeks of food, and paying attention to what you put in your body each meal.
Ultimately, while the rich flavors of the food itself in Madrid certainly lived up to my expectations, the culture of mealtimes is what stuck with me the most. I learned that the incredibly delicious plates that were typical of Madrid came from a larger communal value of nourishing your body and your relationships with the people around you. As this is not something that I found to be valued in the same way in the US, I was pleasantly surprised to learn from my host mom and share in her appreciation for the slow achievement and creativity of a good meal.
