There are only a handful of
Goya's paintings in New York, so I wanted to see as many as possible while in Spain. Looking at the broad variety of his work in the Prado and the deep honesty of it, in a flash I was hit with the analogy of Goya as the
John Coltrane of late-18th/early-19th-century painters. The
cartoons Goya did for tapestry designs were like Trane's early days: Solid talent, paying dues, earning a living, honing technique, attracting attention, but not necessarily making a unique personal statement. Like Trane walking the bar at the Ridge Point in Philly circa 1950.
Goya's court paintings are like the Coltrane years documented on his
Prestige recordings, many of them as a sideman: Amazing technique, remarkable creativity, an honest vision, this guy can do anything and consistently do it very, very, very well. He could bring a lot of soul and expression to a standard, a la
"I Want to Talk About You."There's something entirely different going on in Goya's
black paintings. He's channeling something higher, producing something deeper. His chops are so enormous by this point that it feels like the paintings just flowed out of him, covering the walls of his house. The work may not have been as commercially viable as the cartoons and not as accessible as the court paintings, but it's intensely passionate and personal, like
A Love Supreme or
Meditations. Looking at these pieces took my breath away.
Seeing that breadth of expression made me want to track down as many Goyas as possible, which eventually brought me to
Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida. The artist painted frescoes on the ceiling, including the rotunda, which depicts the monk who became St. Anthony raising a murder victim from the dead so he can exonerate an innocent man who just happens to be the future saint's father. It's amazing work, intense, dramatic and sensuous. From the looks of these frescoes alone, Goya influenced everyone from Matisse to Monet to Degas to Picasso.
As Uncle Louie says, Goya's work is ahead of his time and continues to have a remarkably modern feel.
Goya is buried in the little Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida.
So what does all this have to do with being a food soul? Goya's tomb just happens to be right across the street from
Casa Mingo, a classic sidreria (cider house) reputed to have the best pollo asado in Madrid. I believe it is the only pollo asado I ate in Madrid, but it was slammin'. Hot and juicy roast chicken, simply seasoned with salt and garlic, two gorgeous golden halves served on a plate with their own natural juices, with delightful crusty bread and a simple green salad on the side, plus agua mineral and the house brand of the mildly fizzy, mildly hard cider (3 or 4 percent alcohol). Simply perfect. We didn't have room for
dessert.
In Spain, no matter how full a restaurant is, your table is yours for as long as you care to stay. We were on the early side, so Casa Mingo was practically empty when we got there, but it filled up as we lingered over our meal, talking about what we'd seen and watching the parade of people passing along the paseo.
In spite of a full and fulfilling day, Goya and pollo asado helped us find the energy to walk back to our apartment, taking the long way in the twilight past
el Templo Debod,
el Campo del Moro, el
Jardines de Sabatini,
la
Plaza de Oriente,
el
Palacio Real and la
Plaza Mayor to our home in
Sol.
We stayed near Puerta del Sol n Madrid, and we hit El Corte Ingles,
Spain's largest department store, almost every evening on our way back to our apartment. In their basement supermercado we stocked up on eggs, cheese, bread, jamon Iberico or Serrano,
olives, roast peppers, smoked salmon, fruit, fresh veg and the like for tapas dinners and hearty breakfasts. We bought and consumed several containers of blood-orange juice every day (Tropicana brand -- do we have that here?!), and sampled unbelievably inexpensive and highly enjoyable riojas and albarinos. We all appreciated having such great variety less than five minutes from home.
