Gaucin, Spain

This place is special. Looking out of the window the only signs of life are the occasional whitewashed fincas dotted through the cork forest and the high Andalucian hills rising beyond them. Far below and right the sea glistens silhouetting the brooding limestone mass of Gibraltar. Beyond that, the snow-capped Rif Mountains rise from their North African haze.   Just a stone’s throw away, is Gaucin, the tiny pueblo blanco I have called home for the past few weeks. It feels so welcoming…in the evening everyone is on the streets and what a diverse group…artists, farmers, off duty policemen (and their extended families) all gathering to chat and to eat and drink. How different from the main street at home!

The food is so tasty too! Antonio, the village’s happiest barman, insisted we get together and cook. He recently sold his taxi business to realise his dream of owning the small tapas bar where I have found myself most evenings.  How could I refuse?  Maria, his sister-in-law, brought the freshest, ripest tomatoes I have ever tasted. She made a wonderful tomato and chorizo salad. I contributed my own Moorish tapas dish (Pinchitos Morunos) and Antonio treated us to paella, the classic dish from his Valencian homeland but with a few very tasty Andalucian twists! What a feast……

“Buenas noches mis amigos”