Random thoughts on Spanish bread

I'm not much of a bread eater. Not because I don't like it. For most of the past decade I've tried to avoid notorious allergy triggers such as wheat, dairy, sugar and alcohol (I know, I know).

In Spain, all rules were tossed aside, and I really indulged, enjoying every bite.


It may be impossible to get a bad -- or even ordinary -- piece of bread in Spain. From crispy-crusted, feather-light baguette-style loaves to long, seeded whole-wheat rolls to a giant savory fruit-and-nut concoction that must have weighed more than a kilo from the international Le Pain Quotidien franchise at Plaza Mayor, Iberian bread is the stuff of dreams.

Although I never eat sandwiches at home, in Spain it seemed like no day was complete without a bocadillo -- a crusty roll layered with garlicky fried calamari or chewy sliced jamon or rich manchego cheese or fragrant oil-packed tuna or spicy chorizo or cozy tortilla Espanola. Every tapas bar and most restaurants and bakeries sell bocadillos, usually for just a few Euros. Eat in or take out, strolling and enjoying the street musicians as you snack.

Whether filled, buttered, dipped in rich green olive oil, rubbed with tomatoes and garlic or absolutely plain, the breads of Spain were a daily delight.