THE CELEBRITY ROAST.

[Note: This is an essay that I published in Expatica Spain a few weeks ago.]

Eating in Spain’s central plains region is a vegetarian’s nightmare. If there’s an organization here in Castilla-LaMancha that goes by the acronymn PETA, then it probably stands for “People for the Enjoyment of Tasty Animals.”

Sure, we have wonderful, meatless delicacies like Pisto Manchego, Queso Manchego and Alcárria honey.

But the reason why cookbook author Penelope Casas called central Spain the “Region of the Roasts” is clear. Roasts are the gastonomic celebrities in these here parts. Particularly, the “Three C’s”—cordero (lamb), cochinillo (pig) and cabrito (goat).

Each of these roast dishes have similarities. The animals destined for the dinner table are young—weaned only on mother’s milk and slaughtered at a tender (pun intended) age.

Cooking preparations are likewise similar—not to mention, simple. The animals are rubbed with lard, sprinkled with salt and laid to rest in a shallow, earthenware baking dish. They are then roasted in a wood-burning brick oven until medium-well done. Toward the end of the roasting time, the browned drippings are deglazed with water to make a thin “gravy” and the lot is usually served with roasted, sliced potatoes. There are, of course, variations—with some chefs adding garlic, onions, white wine and other subtle ingredients—but the basic preparation is...well...it’s basic.

Quite often, restaurants require you to order an animal by the quarter (i.e., half of a half of the carcass). This is where the real fun begins, because it’s a crap-shoot as to which part of the animal the waiter will bring to the table. Sometimes a leg. Sometimes the ribs. Sometimes the [gulp!] head. My personal preference is the rear leg, because there’s a lot of good eatin’ there. But then again...it’s always fun to get the head, because it allows you to gross-out the ladies at the table by eating a hunk of brain.

And in anticipation of your question, brain tastes...OK. But its texture is absolutely disgusting.

The specific region in which I live (“la Alcárria,” near Guadalajara) is famous for its cabrito. I always insist that my visitors from abroad try roast cabrito—a request that is, more often than not, met with howls of protest...if not downright disgust. This is understandable. Most non-Spaniards who’ve eaten goat did so in a curry house—and then paid the price the next morning.

But I’ve been pretty successful in convincing my guests to taste LaMancha’s preparation of the animal, and the end-result is usually the same. They love it. How could they not? Cabrito’s flavor is milder than lamb’s, yet more interesting than pork’s.

Yes, Castilla-LaMancha loves its roast animal flesh—and the US-style girth of many of my fellow townfolk will attest to this.

But then again, what did you expect from a region that considers a glass of beer to be a vegetable side-dish.