Passport & Plate - Polbo á galega
Spain | Friday, March 14, 2014 | 5 photos
Serves 8, as part of a tapas spread.
Ingredients
5-6lb octopus (Note: The octopus will shrink considerably when cooking. If using a frozen octopus, defrost the day before. Before you begin cooking, remove the beak, located at the bottom-center of the skirt, with a knife.)
About 2 lbs medium-size waxy yellow potatoes, peeled
Generous pour of extra virgin olive oil
Handful of fresh flat-leaf parsley
1 bay leaf
About 2-3 tablespoons pimentón (sweet Spanish paprika)
Salt, to taste
A copper-coated penny
How to prepare this recipe
1. Rinse octopus under cold water.
2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil.
;3. When the water boils, hold the octopus by the head and dunk in the water, tentacles first, for about 5 seconds. Take it out and let the water return to a boil. Repeat this process two more times.
4. After the three dunks, submerge the entire octopus in the water, head first, and add the bay leaf and penny. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat slightly to allow the octopus to cook at a medium simmer.
5. Let the octopus cook for 45 minutes to an hour, depending on its size. You’ll know the octopus is done when you can pierce it easily at its thickest part, the skirt area, with a knife – just like a potato. About 20 minutes into the cooking time, add the potatoes.
6. When the octopus is tender and the potatoes are done, turn off the heat and let them sit in the pot. Meanwhile, chop the parsley.
7. After about 15 minutes, drain the contents of the pot. Discard the bay leaf and copper penny.
8. Slice the potatoes into thick rounds (about ½ inch) or large chunks and place on a serving plate. Sprinkle with salt.
9. Cut the octopus tentacles into medium pieces, using a pair of kitchen scissors or a sharp knife. You can cut the octopus head into bite-size chunks – this is optional, as the head is not considered as flavorful as the tentacles. Arrange the octopus on top of the potatoes.
10. Using a spoon, sprinkle the pimentón over the octopus and potatoes, then season with salt and dress with a generous pour of olive oil. Finish off the plate with a sprinkle of fresh parsley. In true tapas style, serve with toothpicks.
The story behind this recipe
Bliss is sitting at a beachside bar on the coast of Spain, the salty air from the deep-blue Mediterranean tickling your face as you sip a glass of tinto de verano and contemplate the ebb and flow of activity: old folks pausing from their daily stroll down the boardwalk to chat, a lone fisherman perched on his favorite rock, kids screeching with delight as they run into the waves. All of these colors and sounds are embodied by polbo á galega, or Galician style octopus, a tapa that celebrates the sea. Succulent octopus pieces laid over a golden bed of potatoes, glistening with olive oil and bright red paprika, the dish somehow manages to be both comfortingly rustic and irresistibly exotic. I learned to make polbo á galega in my host mother Luisa’s kitchen when I lived in Barcelona one summer. Luisa is originally from A Coruña, a city in the Galicia region where this tapa is famously prepared. While the water simmered, she’d explain the rich tradition of the October festivals honoring Saint Froilán, when the octopus is served on wooden plates, hence its nickname, polbo á feira, or fair-style octopus.
Like many Spaniards, Luisa stressed that the octopus must be cooked in a copper pot to ensure a tender texture, reminiscing about festival season when polbeiras (women who cook the octopus) stand over huge copper vats that hold several masses of tentacles at a time. She also taught me to dunk the octopus in boiling water for several short bursts to ensure that the tentacles curl attractively and the vivid purple skin remains intact. Since then I’ve learned how different cultures achieve the treasured consistency in octopus meat: Greeks whack the octopus against ocean rocks, while Japanese cooks rub the flesh with grated daikon before cooking. My Italian grandfather also showed me how he’d add a cork to the boiling water. My trick is to use a copper penny; since I couldn’t carry a huge pot with me across the Atlantic, it’s my way of bringing a little bit of Spain back home.
