Last year, we hinted that we were going to be attending our first Medieval Festival in Vic, located north of Barcelona approximately 70 km, but we never let you in on the experience. Vic is the capital of the region Osona, nestled alongside the once beautiful Meder River. Now, unfortunately, the fumes that float up from the once pristine waters smell something closer to 2 month old rotten eggs, but the town itself is quaint, swanky and primarily built in Neoclassical architecture. On a crisp, overcast winter day, Vic is a wonderful and almost dreamlike town to visit.

Having gone with a large group of friends in December of 2007, we were completely swept away by its charm and beauty, motivating a much anticipated return trip yesterday. Ryan and I visited well over 200 stands adorned with: gigantic loaves of crispy bread, huge wheels of fresh cheese, greasy and delicious looking cured hams, perfectly browned sausages, thick slabs of bacon, handmade candles, scarves, hand painted wooden toys, customized perfumes, hundreds of bags of whole-leaf teas, brightly colored candies, medieval clothing, chocolates, 1meter long pastries, grilled ribs and freshly boiled octopus. This doesn’t even begin to describe the myriad of animals on display, such as vultures, owls, falcons, camels and half shaved miniature horses (don’t ask) .

But unlike last year, where our group of approximately 15, chose to escape the bitter cold into a warm and cozy restaurant serving traditional Spanish cuisine, Ryan and I opted to go rogue to feast exclusively on street fair.  With rich aromas of paprika and cumin in the air, we savored a plate of couscous, garbanzo beans, falafal, herbed sausage and a …

Allow me to start this post with my visit to the Bodegas Peñafiel stand at the Cata Vins Sabadell Wine Fair last weekend. Bodegas Peñafiel is located in the heart of Ribera del Duero, situated in the central north portion of Spain. The attendant for the stand, Emilia Marín Fornielles was a tall blond in her early forties with a wonderful, open smile and kind demeanor. José Manuel from Yvinos was a friend of Emilia and was kind enough to not only guide me through her wines, which all showed very well, but also begin a conversation with Emilia regarding our FREE PDF for wineries on Social Media. For her part, she listened attentively and professional curiosity, but was clear that she was a hands on type of person. Someone who prefers a sensory experience in life, versus a distant digital experience, but was very eager to learn more about this “blogging” and “social networking” concept.

I say this because upon visiting Bodegas Peñafiel’s website this morning, I was astounded to see that they had a “blog” button on their header. Unbelievably excited, and a little astonished that our friend Emilia didn’t bring this up in conversation, I clicked on the header button to find zero posts. Not one. It appears to have been originally created for the winemaker to share their thoughts, but sadly this incredibly cool function has never been played with. It sits idle, unused, lacking any information. Which only makes me think, what happened? Did your web designer sell you this feature that you weren’t really interested in? Did someone forget to teach the winemaker …

Prior to my arrival on the Peninsula, my experience with wild mushrooms were both infrequent and rather tame. Having lived in Illinois, New Mexico, Colorado and Minnesota, my knowledge of mushrooms solely consisted of cute little button white mushrooms bought in the grocery store that had a slightly sweet flavor eaten raw, and when cooked, seemed to absorb any of the stronger flavors surrounding it. However, truth be told, both Illinois and Minnesota are renowned for their wild mushrooms. Every November, festivals are celebrated across the Midwest, with avid  mushroom lovers coming in droves to hunt Sheepheads, Stumpers (or Honey Mushrooms), Goldentops, and Morel mushrooms, among many others. And although I have very fond memories of picking forest berries, my family was never keen on scavenging for fungi. Granted, my four year stint in Japanese restaurants exposed me to a wider range of exotic mushrooms including: Shitake, Maitake, Bunashimeji, Nametaki, Hiratake, and a long stringy snow white mushroom with a wee little head, Enoki, but nothing as compared to the variety you can scrounge up here in Catalunya, Spain.

Come fall, as humidity sits upon our valley like a thick wet blanket, fruit stands come alive with various plastic containers filled with exotic mushrooms. Many of these mushrooms are so incredible ugly that your wondering if your local vender isn’t trying to pull over your eyes, selling you something more fitting for your compost heap than your evening meal. Tófona Negra, or the Black Trumpet, is one of the most frightening looking buggers you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Black as charcoal, with polygonal warts, grooved longitudinally, the Black Trumpet’s inside, or gleba (word of the …

This past week, after visiting a new client in Palafrugell, we spent an incredible night in a sleepy seaside pueblo called Llafranc, approximately 135 km northeast of Barcelona. It was a chance for us to get away for a night as a couple, far from tweets, status updates and cellphones!

This coastal section of Catalunya is known as the Costa Brava, stretching from Blanes, 60 km northeast of Barcelona, all the way to the French border. Costa in both Catalan and Castellano means ‘coast’, while Brava means ‘rugged’ or ‘wild’. In the 1950’s, under Franco, the government destined this area as the sweet holiday spot of Spain, hoping that substantial developments in restaurants and hotels would entice both the Brits and the French to spend leisurely vacations relaxing along the sandy shore. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your view, his vision was realized; and today, tourists swarm this section of Spain, half clad in flip flops and bathing suit bottoms, with a drink in hand.

As for myself, the Costa Brava holds a very special place in my heart. Not three years ago, I took my first dive into the Mediterranean on a chilly September evening, flooded with an eerie full moon’s light, swearing to myself that I would come back to live. Well, I may not have my rustic Spanish home along the sea quite yet, but at least I was able to smell the rich scent of lavender, pine and rosemary, alongside ceramic pots filled with brightly colored flowers. And as a heavy blanket of fog settled among the mountain valleys, as seen by the lighthouse just above our hotel last Monday night, I was happy to be back!

However, part of my …