Adafina: The Sephardi Stew That Started It All
How the Islamic, Jewish and Christian cultures shaped the Spanish cuisine. A medieval market in the historic town of Orihuela. And a warming stew for the Sabbath.
Some historical context.
The castle that overlooks the small town of Orihuela, in Alicante, Valencia, dates back to around 713 BCE when the invading African and Arabic Moors were rapidly making their way up from the south. Unfortunately for the Visigoths who ruled the lands, they didn’t stand much of a chance against the Moors and were forced to flee to the safer grounds of the Kingdom of Asturias in the far north of the peninsular.
The influence of 800 years of Islamic culture on Spain has undoubtedly been responsible for the “Spain is Different” slogan, defining the cuisine, fashion, architecture, music, art, and cultural traditions that have made Spain unique among European countries. Those Visigoths who fled to the north were the seed that was to become the Reconquest, the bastion of Christian defiance, soldiers of the Roman Catholic faith.
A medieval market.
Every early February, Orihuela transforms into a time when the Christians, Muslims, and Jews of Iberia lived together in relative harmony, though more through necessity than desire. Each of the three religions brought to the table the skills and craftsmanship of their cultures. The streets of Orihuela are decked out in colourful awnings, medieval flags, and more than 400 market stalls offering all kinds of artisanal products, edible produce, and workshops, and the sellers and craftspeople all dressing the part. It is one of the largest medieval markets in Spain with over half a million interested visitors each year.
For three days, the historic town is host to dozens of musicians, belly dancers, fire breathers, acrobats, jousters, swordsmen, and giant bizarre-looking puppets. There are tradespersons carving, cutting, forging, painting, and creating pots out of clay on spinning wheels. There are camel and donkey rides for children as well as medieval carousels and games. And of course, there are enough food stalls to satiate every appetite, many with stone and earthen ovens generating an endless supply of fresh bread, and enormous grills laden with chorizos, morcillas, sausages, and an array of other porcine products. And let’s not forget the obligatory whole pig roasting on a spit.
Pork and the good Christian.
The emphasis on pork at these markets shows how the Christians pretty much had the last word on what made it to the post-medieval table. After 2500 years of invading cultures including the Phoenicians, Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, Visigoths, and Moors, it was eventually the Christians who used food as a weapon against unwelcome infidels. By the 1600s, the Mudejares (Moors forced to convert to Christianity), and Conversos (Jews forced to convert to Christianity), were eager to prove their conversion and avoid expulsion by publicly and happily eating pork. Those who appeared to be less keen to scoff a pig were quickly shown the door.
The medieval diet depended on where you lived and what you could afford. Oxen was for the poor while meat from suckling animals was for the more affluent. Mutton was common, followed by kid (the goat kind), chicken, pork, beef, and game such as hare or deer. If you lived by a river or the sea, fresh fish was an option, which was also dried, salted, preserved, or smoked. Wine, cider, mead, or beer was a safer choice than water which was often the cause of disease and dysentery.
The Moors had brought numerous new foods and spices with them including rice, oranges, saffron, pomegranates, garlic, and coffee, to mention just a few. Their knowledge of irrigation transformed the Valencian landscape and cuisine, producing the wonderful paellas and other rice dishes the region is famous for.
A pot of stew.
The medieval diet has defined Spanish cuisine. What we think of as quintessentially Spanish can be essentially traced back to between the 8th and 17th centuries. Besides the rich variety of dishes introduced by the Moors, the Sephardi Jews (the Jews who hail from Iberia) are responsible for the nationally popular platos de cuchara (“spoon dishes”- aka “stews”). Think of those rich dishes of legumes, meat and vegetables found in every corner of the country – all descendants of the Jewish dish, Adafina, the Sephardic name for the Sabbath stew Cholent, found in other countries.
The name comes from the Arabic, addafína, meaning hidden or buried, as the meat, beans and vegetables were placed in a lidded pot to cook slowly in the hot coals Friday evenings before the Sabbath, ready to consume the next day. This dish has evolved into some of the most iconic Spanish stews such as the Madrilenian cocido, the Catalan escudello, the weirdly named olla podrida (rotten pot) of Burgos, and the Asturian fabada.
Stews were a cheap yet nutritious way to feed a family. And they still are. The eternal cooking pot, with associations of bubbling cauldrons simmering a concoction of basic ingredients (occasionally the dubious mystery meat) evokes the idea of magic and transformation. Which is what it is. The slow cooking process of meat, legumes and vegetables in water produces a perfect umami pottage which in modern terminology would be called “comfort food”. It triggers the olfactory senses and stirs ancestral appetites.
“A comfortable old pot like that one, filled with a thick stew still hatching bubbles from its surface, is a little like a kitchen in miniature, an enclosed pocket of space in which a hodgepodge of cold ingredients get transformed into the warm glow of a shared meal. What more do you need? Like the kitchen, the pot bears the traces of all the meals that have been cooked in it, and there is a sense (even if it only a superstition) in which all those past meals somehow inform and improve the current one. A good pot holds memories.”
Michael Pollan – ‘Cooked’.
And that brings us to today’s recipe - a homage to medieval fare that has withstood the test of time. These days, in an era when there was never so much variety of produce, it is baffling to see how much we rely on processed and junk food. It takes so little effort to create a bit of magic in a pot.
The effort involved in creating an adafina stew lies in the waiting, not the preparation. While the traditional stews would be left to simmer for many hours, a shorter cooking time is still guaranteed to warm the cockles. I personally am not comfortable with leaving the oven or stove on all night, even if it is on low. So, alternatively, give the food at least 4 hours on a slightly higher heat – a low simmer. The longer and more slowly the stew cooks, the more time the flavours have to develop and the richer the dish.
Adafina
200-400 grams (1/2 lb) meat of choice, eg: beef brisket, chicken pieces (on the bone), veal shanks, and/or lamb or pork meat.
1 cup of chickpeas or dried beans of choice, pre-soaked at least 8 hours.
2 medium-sized onions
4 carrots
2 sticks of celery
4 eggs
8 pitted dates
1⁄2 cup olive oil
3 bay leaves
1 tbsp salt
2 tbsp brown sugar
1 whole head of garlic, peeled
1⁄2 tsp ground cinnamon or 1 cinnamon stick
½ tsp black pepper
1 tsp cumin
3 cloves (or 1/2 tsp ground cloves)
1 star anise (or 1/2 tsp ground anise)
½ tsp saffron (optional) or ½ tsp turmeric
½ tsp ground nutmeg
water
In a heavy saucepan or ovenproof pot, brown the meat in the oil over a high heat.
Add water to cover the meat and boil for about ten minutes. Let cool a little till a layer of fat forms on the top. This can be skimmed off and discarded. *Ignore this step if you prefer to keep the fat.
Add the rest of the ingredients to the meat and water, including the whole eggs in their shell.
Cover all the ingredients with the rest of the water.
Place the lid on the pot and let cook slowly on a low heat (a gentle simmer - DO NOT BOIL) for 4-5 hours, or alternatively, cook in the oven at 100 degrees C (210 F) for 10 hours.
When ready, peel the eggs before serving.