Pan Con Todo

Southern Spain seems to be more about food than any other thing.  After riding through a big chunk of Andalucia I am struck by how much of every possible piece of arable land is being used intensively for agriculture.  And most impressively it's not a mono-culture focused activity, every other field had something else growing with some sections being harvested and others just being planted.  There was a particularly aromatic few miles that I will long remember where what smelled and looked like sweet onions were being crated up. 

A variety of perennials were in the mix as well. I am for sure figuring out how to bring home some fresh press virgin Spanish olive oil and maybe some wine, probably red.

In the Malaga market where I happened to serendipitously stumbled into on that first morning anything and everything even nominally considered edible could be found with a huge percentage originating within 100-miles of the place. Vegetables, fruit, tomatoes (just based on size and variety deserving to be called out singularly regardless of the whole fruit or vegetable thing), fish, beef, pork, lamb, chicken, spices yadayadayada it was all there. 

And in the restaurants - and where there was one restaurant there was at least another - the abundance continued.  Even the lunch menu in the most backwater place had several pages.  Although simply asking for a "jamon y queso con un Coke-a-Cola" usually did the trick.  And regardless of what was ordered a side of bread is was served with everything: breakfast, lunch and dinner.  And it wasn't always that steaming when you rip it open fresh out of the oven doughy goodness.  Sometimes it was a just slice of the local equivalent of Wonder bread or a bag of miniature bread sticks.  I definitely have a preference for the fresher.

At one point the shacking of my head must have reached terminal velocity as a yet another side of bread was delivered with my ham and cheese sandwich; "pan con todo" came the proud triumphant shout from the next table.  This then prompted reminiscents of a Spanish grandmother who always asked where was the bread when it was not immediately present on the table.  As someone who had survived the Civil War in the 30's bread was often the only food on the table.  So without the bread there might as well be no other food.