The Future of Paella

     A few days ago I took a run along the beach. That's a good thing. Even better, after a short time my head started to clear and this allowed me to think a little about a topic that interests me: the future of paella.



What follows are the thoughts I had during my run, edited into fully formed sentences. For a long time now paella has been one of Spain's most internationally recognized señas de identidad. Visitors want to consume it, of course, and many millions of Spaniards also enjoy paella not infrequently. The food industry, aware of paella's great marketing power, has convinced bars and restaurants all over Spain that they must offer this traditional dish from Valencia if they want a piece of the tourist business. As a result, mediocre and less than mediocre establishments offer several varieties of pre-made paellas. This pseudo-food is barely eatable, so just seeing it advertised is painful. It's not just restaurants, of course. The food industry has for some time now been marketing many varieties of pre-cooked paellas. Frozen paella? Yes! Paella in a can? Yes! A paella sandwich? Yes! Paella pizza at Pizza Hut? Double Yes!! (But, apparently, only if you live in Poland.)  In short, bad "paella" has become ubiquitous. It is a sad state of affairs, especially when you consider that serving a high quality paella is not an especially expensive or difficult task. (That said, it does take work, patience, and much attention to detail.) One might think it's not a big deal, really. After all, in the developed world we are surrounded by bad food of all kinds. (Here's an image that readily evokes gastronomic nightmare, USA version:



And you wonder why we have an obesity epidemic?)
     But what really has some people terribly agitated in Spain is the question of authenticity. You know, the how dare you call that a paella! issue. A transcendent topic: what, exactly, constitutes a paella? First off, it's helpful to understand that the word paella comes from Catalan, and simply refers to the pan in which the dish is prepared. (In Spanish, the pan is referred to as a paellera.) Thus, anything prepared in a paellera can, by logic, rightly be called a paella. (Or not!)

In Spanish it makes more sense to refer to these dishes as arroz a la paella, that is, rice in a paella pan, since arroz is, evidently, the defining ingredient. Not any rice, of course, and this is the beginning of the authenticity discussion. Paella should be made with the bomba variety, a very short grained rice. You may have read that the real rice for paella is Calasparra. Not so: Calasparra refers to a specific area south of Valencia known for producing very high quality bomba rice. It is not a variety. There are many excellent bomba rices, some from Calasparra and others not. You can make a great paella with Calasparra, but there are many other great bomba rices as well. And when I say should be made, it is not because I have any interest in the authenticity debate; rather, it is simply because the qualities of bomba rice are such that any other variety is not nearly as well suited to producing a flavorful and satisfying dish. For many, of course, it doesn't end here, especially if we specify that what we are talking about is paella valenciana. Now it becomes about recipes. (Tempers flare, indignation explodes! Hide the children!) Suffice to say, the debate rages. Regarding what constitutes a traditional Valencian paella, there is sufficient consensus regarding some of the basics: definitely no fish or seafood; rabbit, yes; chicken, yes; garrofón (a particular variety of white bean), yes; ñora (a kind of dried red pepper) and tomato for the sofrito, yes; saffron, of course. And I stop there, because it starts to get tricky. Quickly. And imagine all the other debates: the kind of heat (you must have a wood fire!), the moment when the rice is added, the importance of the socarrat, etc. To give you a sense of how this question really gets some people going, I cite the example of British celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, who had the temerity last year to publish a paella recipe that included (horrors!) chorizo. Oliver was skewered (ha, ha, right?) on social media and the outrage was such that it became a story covered by major media outlets around the globe. (Just google "Jamie Oliver chorizo paella".)
     The venom directed at Oliver was intense. It comes mainly from paella "purists", but I believe what's really going on is symptomatic of the global phenomenon of identity anxiety. Around the globe many are feeling uncertain about their status within communities, about the role they play in connecting past to future. These conflicted feelings are real, but efforts to resolve them via food rants are doomed to fail. There is no such thing as "authentic" paella, a dish that has evolved very quickly in modern times. Those who strive to defend the traditional, Valencian paella do good, valuable work, but they are, to some degree, operating in a small bubble. Ultimately, trying to heal identity anxiety via paella vigilantism is comical. It is comical because most consumers don't care one bit what the protectors of the faith think. Further, serious cuisine has become a quintessentially globalized dynamic. No one needs to go to Valencia to have a fantastic paella. Place, perhaps sadly, perhaps even tragically, has become disconnected to paella.
     Nonetheless, the future of arroces is wonderful. While junk paella is spreading, high quality paellas are spreading just as quickly. Innovation is good. Chefs are coming up with surprising, and surprisingly fantastic, new flavors all the time. Much more knowledge about how to maximize flavors is available. For me, it's about the process, the enjoyment of the ritual. The aromas, the texture. Above all, without a doubt, it is about the tremendous satisfaction of sharing great food with friends and family. How I do paella... that's material for another post.