About this time of summer, barbecuing starts to look appealing again - until you lift the lid on your kettle barbecue to discover a grill barnacled with the remains of your last cook-out. Don’t let that put you off. Just take a length of aluminium foil, crumple it up, and use it to scrub off the burned gunk. It will fall like autumn leaves from a tree.
Barbecue is not just a grilling technique, it's a whole philosophy. (Some women might say it’s the only way to get their man to cook supper.) Just as with the origins of pasta, there are arguments over where ‘barbecue’ comes from. In one, the word is thought to be a corruption of ‘barbacoa’, the term Spanish explorers gave to the wooden platforms used around the Caribbean to slow-cook meat over fire. In another, it refers to a method of cooking meat that originated in Mexico.
In the US where grilling is a national sport, there are further arguments - over what meats are used, what flavourings, what methods. For Texans, barbecue means beef. In Memphis, it’s pig in a tomato-based sauce. And the meat must be pulled, not shredded or minced, as they do in North Carolina where the sauce is vinegar-based. In Kansas City, barbecue means ribs.
In Europe, barbecuing is less inspired, though the bread rolls are generally superior. It tends to be limited to pink-at-the-bone chicken drumsticks, charred sausages, ersatz hot dogs, and hamburgers made to each man’s secret off-the-cuff recipe with squeezes from a collection of ketchups - Marmite, even…
But while the eye-watering smoke and curses over burnt fingers too frequently result in the presentation of a blackened puck of exhausted mince, the barbecue itself can produce one of the best paellas you’ve ever eaten, one lightly flavoured with smoke. It certainly knocks the socks off those in farmers markets and delicatessens across Britain and Spain and France that have been stewing all morning.
Just to hook you into this recipe and to give me a chance to name-drop, I was fed this paella in his garden by the uncommonly decent human being that is US-based Spanish chef José Andrés. In the wake of the catastrophic earthquake in Haiti in 2010, he founded World Central Kitchen, a non-profit providing meals in disaster areas which currently has a crew in Poland feeding Ukrainian refugees. The man who introduced small plates to America, he was always generous in feeding the press, too. Even if you won’t make his paella, try his trick for the best gin-and-tonic: smash some juniper berries and toss them into a glass then take a few fresh mint leaves, lay them on the mound of one palm, lightly crush them with the mound of the other and fling them in after the juniper before adding the booze. José started us off with these before setting to on barbecuing paella.
Originally lunch for farm labourers and farmers made with whatever was to hand, paellas are traditionally cooked outside, over wood fires. They are associated in particular with Valencia and originated in Spain’s rice-growing land along the Mediterranean coast, the area to which the Romans introduced irrigation following their annexation of the Iberian peninsula in 19BC. When Arab forces who invaded in 711 took over seven years later, turning the Iberian Peninsula into one of the great Muslim civilisations, they brought in rice.
José stood over his barbecue throwing out one cooking hint after another, some of them heretical: A good paella doesn’t have to be infused with saffron. (That was a joy to hear. Saffron for me is a musty flavouring that makes everything taste like it's been steamed in the corduroy section of a fabric department.) Nor does it have to include traffic light colours. Chunks of yellow pepper? Out. Ditto red and green capsicums. This is a dish about rice, said José, not about a disproportionate quantity of extras from chorizo and chicken to squid, shrimp and peas. And you don't have to have conniptions about the exact ratio of rice to protein and vegetables. Keep it simple. This is rustic food.
He demonstrated three different paellas, one cooked by Quim Marques, a Barcelona chef José Andrés would regularly invited to Washington DC to assist in the annual paella festival he held at branches of Jaleo, part of his impressive portfolio of restaurants.
In a paella pan, Quim Marques browned some chunks of bone-in chicken thigh. Next he poured in a quantity of mineral water, tilting the pan over the edge of the grill to flood the chicken pieces with liquid. Once the chicken had released its flavour into a rich stock, he added short-grain Calasparra rice. Just before the cooking ended, he added chopped garlic, some beans, chanterelle mushrooms, cauliflower florets and pattipan squash, from a selection of dishes on a table behind him.
In a different method, José cooked down in oil the thick tomato and garlic sauce called salmorra before adding chicken pieces, raw shrimp and then the rice, turning it and turning it to absorb the other flavours before adding mineral water. Saffron went into a final paella of lobster and squid, cooked in a massive pan the size of a side table. This was a trickier process, needing repeated fanning of the coals to keep the heat high enough to set the stock at a continuous boil. See what it did to José's own temperature? Nothing gets in the way of something he believes in, certainly not his own comfort.
Doesn’t all this make you ready to have a go?
First, buy a paellera, the flat round pan with two handle in which it is traditionally cooked and from which it is served, of at least 38cms/15ins. It will look tremendously folksy hanging on your kitchen wall. But you could use a good frying pan. In it, brown some chunks of bone-in chicken thighs in vegetable oil. Next, pour in a quantity of water to flood the chicken pieces with liquid. Once the chicken has released its flavour into a rich stock, add short-grain rice - Spanish Calasparra, a rice from Murcia, if you can find it, Arborio risotto rice if not. Just before the rice comes to the al dente point that concludes the cooking of the dish, add chopped garlic, and chunks of seasonal vegetables. You really don’t want them mushy.
More precisely, here’s the recipe for José Andrés’ barbecue grill version of paella.
60ml/2¼fl oz Spanish olive oil
450g/1lb seasonal vegetables such as green beans, peas, chopped courgettes, and cauliflower florets
200g/7oz mushrooms
1 kg/2.2lbs chicken legs and thighs cut into chunks
1 tablespoon roughly chopped fresh garlic
175g/6oz grated fresh tomato
pinch of saffron (optional)
900ml/30fl oz water
120ml/4fl oz dry white wine
1 teaspoon piment d’espelette or paprika
340g/12oz Spanish Calasparra or Bomba rice, or Italian Arborio risotto rice
Lay a paella or frying pan on a charcoal grill filled with red hot and evenly spread coals. If you don't make a good fire, you won't make good paella.
Add the olive oil to the pan. Once hot, sear the vegetables until they get a nice brown colour. Remove vegetables from the pan and reserve. Add a little more oil to the pan if necessary, then the chicken in small batches, and sear until skin is golden and crisp, removing the chicken to a warm dish and reserving. Add the chopped garlic and cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the grated tomato and cook for 1 minute, making sure to scrape up all the browned bits from the chicken. Pour in the wine and let it reduce by half, about 2 minutes.
Check the heat and if necessary remove the paella pan from the grill and add more coals to increase the heat. Return the vegetables and chicken to the pan and pour in the water. Allow the mixture to boil for 2 minutes to flavour the water. Then stir in the rice. Season to taste with salt and boil for 10 minutes. Do not stir the rice again, as this can cause the rice to cook unevenly. The intense charcoal heat will create a crust or socorrat. (Don't worry. You haven't ruined the paella. For many the socorrat - the caramelised crust at the bottom of the pan - is the best part of the paella.)
Remove the paella pan from the grill and check the coals again. Spread them out to reduce the heat. Return the pan to the grill. Crumble the saffron across the top of the paella if using and sprinkle over the pimenton evenly. Do not stir the rice. Cook for another 5 minutes. Remove the paella from the heat, cover with a clean kitchen towel and let the paella rest for 5 minutes before serving.
Will never get near saffron again without thinking of your wicked description. And I’m going to cook this paella soon, adding clams.
I sure am glad I stumbled on a recent talk by Martin Walker on YouTube, where he urged everyone to subscribe to Julia Watson's substack blog on all matters culinary. I did so and could not be more pleased. Thanks for this piece and I look forward to future installments. (And thank you for suggesting the name "Bruno" -- a masterstroke).