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Where it's at
The Catalan tradition for an "-ada" (a meal, usually
for 1,000 mouths or more, based around a single ingredient
which could be anything from snails to salt cod to chocolate),
often creates some highly unusual, charming and community
spirited festivals. In the town of Valls, capital of
Castellers - the people practice the precarious art of building
human towers - and of calçots. Calçots
are pretty much re-sprouted onions that are not allowed to
die. Catalans hate waste so they shove them back underground
until something happens. They sprout and the shoots are then
covered in earth to maintain a white, succulent stem which
grows into a long, gangly spear something between a leek and
a spring onion. And then, after months in the dark, they barbecue
them.
What happens at the Calçotada?
The town's annual Calçotada celebrates the harvest
of these sumptuous, char-grilled treats by laying out huge
steel barbecues through the streets. Calçots, grubby
from the earth are laid in thick bundles across glowing vine
embers and charred to black. On removal, they are wrapped
in newspaper (to soften the skin and steam the innards) before
being downed in much the same way as a baby bird might neck
a worm. In another of the town's plazas, five strong-armed
volunteers pounded together a special calçot dipping
sauce.
As the streets fill with the smell of vine smoke, barbecued
meats hiss and crackle on the pyre where the calçots
lay, the crowd heaves and slithers through the narrow streets,
dunking and devouring with gusto as they go. Porrons (long-spouted,
glass watering cans) filled with cheap red wine are shared
and shattered, cheers erupt out of chupito (thimble-sized
shots of local hooch) fuelled chattering. In the town's main
plaza, the annual calçots eating competition built
to fever pitch as local champs from all over Catalunya compete
to down as many as they can within 45 minutes. It's not unusual
to see them neck as many as 300 in one sitting.
This years winner - beefy, rugby playing Adrian from Barcelona-had
an entourage of squealing blonde beauties on the verge of
orgasmic delight as he downed onion after onion after onion,
grinning and winking all the while. That's just one of the
oddities of a Calçotada, the erotic overtones that
seem to put everyone on heat for the day. Just close your
eyes and think of Nigella Lawson opening her gob and sucking
one down and you'll get the general idea.
A winner marks the end of the festival and the start of the
feasting proper in the innumerable calçot factories
(huge, cafeteria style restaurants), and in the handful of
local cafes in town. For around 20 euro you can expect a never
ending mound of calçots piled into the hollow grooves
of roofing tiles (all part of the tradition) a heap of grilled
meats, a lusty crema catalana to finish and lashings of cava
- Catalan champagne.
Unlike the Tomatina or the Running of the Bulls, the Calcotada
is refreshingly local in style and ambience. Few non-Spanish
tourists make it for the day, which ensures a genuine and
friendly welcome for anyone heading off the beaten track.
Of course it helps to know how to say Salute and Buen Provecho.
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