http://www.nytimes.com/2011/07/20/dining/the-allure-of-romesco-sauce-spreads-beyond-spain.html?_r=1&ref=style
The Allure of Romesco Spreads Far Beyond Spain/>
Daurade with romesco sauce at Boulud Sud in Manhattan.
By FLORENCE FABRICANT
/>Published: July 19, 2011
WITH Spanish cooking so much in the spotlight, it’s no surprise that romesco, one of the cuisine’s classic sauces, is reaching a wider audience.
Charlie Mahoney for The New York Times
David Solé i Torné prepares romesco sauce in the kitchen of Barquet, his restaurant in Tarragona, Spain.
Charlie Mahoney for The New York Times
Mr. Solé i Torné adds skate and mussels to a simmering romesco. “Each person makes romesco differently,” he said.
Chefs in the United States are discovering its allure, and so should home cooks, especially in the summer to serve alongside whatever has been sizzling on the grill.
Romesco, a rustic, ruddy-hued, all-purpose sauce from Catalonia, is served with fish, poultry, meats and vegetables, and in stews. In that northeastern part of Spain, eating the seasonal grilled spring onions called calçots without romesco for dipping is unthinkable.
There is no standard recipe or even ingredient list for romesco. It invariably includes ripe tomatoes — we did say summer? — garlic, olive oil, almonds or hazelnuts, bread and mild chiles, but the proportions can vary. It is not particularly spicy, unless you want it to be. The nuts and bread thicken it and give it texture.
David Solé i Torné, the chef and owner of Barquet, an elegant seafood restaurant in Tarragona, is a romesco expert. “Each person makes romesco differently,” he said. “And each insists that his is the authentic one.”
The sauce contributes savory richness to many dishes, and not just Spanish ones.
At Boulud Sud near Lincoln Center, the chef Aaron Chambers spoons it alongside portions of daurade, a Mediterranean fish. “The sauce is also great as a dip for crudités, and you can use it to thicken soups,” he said.
Luis Bollo, the chef and an owner of Salinas in Chelsea, uses it to “punch up” a kind of Majorcan ratatouille served with red snapper. He likes it with lamb and to fold into rice and noodle dishes.
On the lunch menu at the Boqueria restaurants in New York, a lashing of romesco seasons a grilled chicken sandwich. The restaurants’ executive chef, Marc Vidal, also likes it in a dressing for bitter greens like escarole or frisée, and in countless other dishes. In California, at Zuzu in Napa, it garnishes roasted potatoes and onions. And Gringo Jack’s, a restaurant in Manchester, Vt., bottles and sells its romesco pasta sauce.
In the summer, think of slathering it on a burger or using it as a dip for fries or to replace butter on corn on the cob, as my granddaughters did when I tested the recipe. It is as versatile as mayonnaise, with even more personality, and keeps for weeks in the refrigerator.
But like professionals, the amateur cook should plan to make it, not buy it. There is no supermarket gold standard, as there is for mayonnaise. Romesco sold in small jars in Spain, or imported and sold here, is less vibrant than anything you can make at home.
One exception is at Fairway, which has started making romesco in house ($11.96 a pound). It is spicy. “I like to be bludgeoned by it,” said Steven Jenkins, a Fairway partner. “It comes out of the Catalan countryside like that.”
Fairway uses ancho and chipotle chiles. But in Tarragona, the city south of Barcelona where the sauce is thought to have originated, the chile of choice is a dark, round, dried ñora. This small, mild pepper is available in stores and online in the United States. Anchos are acceptable, though they lack the almost chocolaty bitterness of ñoras.
Mr. Solé i Torné uses romesco as a condiment, in salad dressings and notably to thicken sauces for seafood, as in a casserole of fish baked over potatoes, or simmered in a dish of skate with clams and mussels. His own recipe will vary according to the application.
Some cooks and chefs add wine, onions, roasted peppers like piquillos or red bell peppers, vinegar and Spanish paprika or cayenne. The ingredients are always cooked before being blended. Most chefs grill and roast them. Mr. Solé i Torné prefers frying, which for home cooks is an easier method than roasting batches of each ingredient.
Either way, it’s a typical Mediterranean mixture, originally pounded in a mortar, like Italian pesto, and French rouille and tapenade. Near Tarragona, Victor Gilgado Martos, a local chef, demonstrated making romesco using a mortar in a farmhouse kitchen while the calçots were grilling outdoors. But halfway through, he picked up a hand blender. So it goes.
Traditionally, fishermen made it to eat with seafood. But when? Some say its origins are Roman, from the time that Tarragona was a provincial capital of the empire. Others credit the Moors. Mr. Solé i Torné said that “rumiskal” — a word meaning to mix, from the Moorish era in Spain — may point to Arab origins for the sauce.
Nonetheless, it took the arrival of tomatoes and chiles in Spain in the 16th century for romesco to acquire its present-day character.
And now, with a growing interest outside Spain, romesco’s uses and variations are bound to keep multiplying.
