Yet another Spanish food festival

I grabbed a copy of the free paper El Micalet the other day while I was heading to the market to chitchat with cheese lady Carmen and purchase some goodies. After picking up some cheese and discussing the political probems of Pais Vasco with a pleasant old man at the cheese counter, I returned home, made up a plate for lunch and opened up the paper. The El Micalet is great because it comes out for the weekends and has a bunch of articles about things going on in Valencia. Normally I breeze through the thing since I don’t have the urge to intensively translate the gossip about Spain’s latest celebrity, but this issue had something better than just movie times and film star divorces; on page 16 there was an ad for the VIII Festa D’arróz al Forn!

D’arróz al Forn is the Valenciano for Arróz al horno which is the Spanish for Oven-baked rice—a delicious treat consisting of rice, pork ribs, pork meatballs, morcilla, garbanzos, potatoes, garlic, peppers, tomatoes, pepper, salt and stock. All the goodness is mixed together in a large clay pan topped off with some whole sausages, tomatoes and a head of garlic for effect, popped into an oven and served when done. The beauty of this festival was that the rice was made by the lovely people of Xátiva and brought out into the streets to be enjoyed by all. Best of all, a plate of rice and beer was absolutely free. Spain is too good to me.

(poster pic)

After arriving at the Xátiva train station I stopped at the tourism office to pick up a map. The woman working clearly wanted no part of my hackneyed Spanish. She spit out a few words before thrusting a map into my head and sending me on my way. Feeling a little dejected, I stumbled upon the beer truck and ordered myself a plastic glass of reassurance. The main avenue was lined with long plastic tables just waiting for heaping plates full of rice. Families and groups of friends started piling into the streets, carrying with them coolers full of beverages and a bags stuffed with breads, olives and wine. I started to feel a little lonely and realized why food festivals are better enjoyed with friends as I looked upon the happy Spaniards waiting for their fest. I hunkered down on a pleasant little bench, sipped my beer and contemplated the day ahead of me. I yearned for rice.


A few minutes later, two ladies walked up to me. One spoke to me in English as the other just looked on with a smile on her face. Being caught off guard, I mumbled a few words before realizing what was going on. The woman was asking me if I understood the person at the tourist office and we got around to talking. My Spanish was slowly waking up and the two asked me to join them and their friends. Delighted—minutes before I was sulking into my beer, watching old men pass around bottles of wine and tell jokes—I headed over to the table to be greeted by a slew of lovely women all telling me to sit down. I quickly obliged and got to chatting with the locals who would kindly guide me through the ways of the rice festival.


After a good hour of hanging out with my newfound friends, the feast was ready. With ticket in hand I made my way to the rice table with one of the lovely ladies to receive my plate of goodness. The line was filled with old ladies chatting about the “proper” way to make the dish. Once they overheard me asking my friend about the ingredients of a classic arroz al horno, they quickly filled my ear with a laundry list of ingredients and techniques. Old Spanish woman can be very insistent when it comes to authenticity. This is one thing I love about food festivals—everyone knows the proper authentic way to prepare a dish and no two people have the same recipe.

(While noting the lovely young lasses dishing out rice, note the lovelier ladies hungrily awaiting their grub.)

Upon completion of my rice (it was delicious) the ladies at my table whisked off to purchase dessert from a pastry shop that’s been feeding the city since 1915. To my delight they returned with a tray of freshly prepared goodies and began handing out samples of some of the tastiest sweets I’ve had. There were coffee meringues, toasted egg yolk tarts, creampuffs with walnuts and crystallized sugar and one thing that tasted like a gourmet Peep. Que delicious.


Once the sweets were done I did as the Spaniards do and drank some coffee. However, in accordance with the lifestyle this coffee took 45 minutes to ingest. My new amigas showed me pictures from their friends wedding and swapped some stories about their drunken escapades. About this time the band started playing (think a party band, complete with smoke machines, light show, small lead singer in tight pants and choreographed dance moves) and we high-tailed it to the beer truck for some dancing juice. After several cervezas, everyone decided the beer truck was a sufficient location for the fiesta and we danced in place, talked about Manhattan and bought a few more rounds.

The rest of the day was a filled with me expressing my love for Spanish food festivals and drinking to our health. I ended up getting a ride back to Valencia and was invited back to Xátiva multiple times for dinner and drinks. A bunch of the girls are planning on heading to New York next summer so I gave out my information in order to meet up with them in the States. I’m hoping I can get some more arróz out of the deal but I’ll have to wait and see.