“That can’t be right,” I said, staring at the bodega’s menu. “
Lagartito
— doesn’t that mean ‘lizard?’”
Rich already had his phone out. “According to my translation app, it’s ‘little lizard.’”
So … tender young reptile? I flagged down the harried woman dashing among the tables and asked for details.
“It’s meat,” she replied. And was gone before I could pin down any particular species.
“Hmmm,” I mused. “What wine goes with lizard? I’m thinking white. To me, red pairs best with a mammal-based meal.”
“I’m sticking with beer,” he said.
We’d already obtained small, ice-cold starter
cervezas
to slake the worst of our post-sightseeing thirst. For medicinal purposes, of course.
My long-time readers will recall that ten years ago I published one of my most popular posts ever:
“Hot News! Beer Rehydrates Better Than Water!”
After perspiration-inducing athletics, we need to replenish not just moisture but electrolytes and calories, which are found in beer but not water. This groundbreaking humanitarian research was (naturally) conducted on a college campus here in Spain.
The bottom line: beer is good for you.
It’s science!
However, on this occasion Rich and I should probably have opted to rehydrate with H2O, as we were in Alcalá de Guadaíra, a town famous for its water. In fact, the town’s gushing springs and robust river supplied the city of Seville for 2000 years via a Roman aqueduct.
This marvel of engineering carried clean drinking water ten miles from Alcalá to a vast cistern in Seville for distribution throughout the city. It never stopped until 1912, when, in the giddy rush of progress, everyone decided they didn’t need that old thing anymore and tore it down. Jesus wept.
Despite occasional outbursts of progress, there remains plenty worth seeing in Alcalá de Guadaíra, and Rich and I decided to visit so we could tour the town and enjoy a nice Sunday lunch. Normally we do our “Out to Lunch” excursions midweek, when everything is open and less crowded, but I was inspired by Peter Mayle, who wrote about his experiences in Provence:
“Sunday lunch, at any time of year, is my favorite meal. The morning is undisturbed by work, the afternoon siesta free of guilt. I feel that restaurants have a more than usually good-humored air about them, almost an undercurrent of festivity. And I’m sure that chefs try harder, knowing their clients have come to enjoy the cooking rather than to discuss business. There’s no doubt about it. Food tastes better on Sunday.”
Would that, I wondered, hold true for the
lagartito al PX
(in Pedro Ximénez sherry sauce) I’d just ordered?
But before arriving at the lunch table, Rich and I had much ground to cover — starting, of course, with a second breakfast. We arrived from Seville by bus at midmorning and immediately popped into the nearest café, where I was eager to try the town’s other claim to fame: great bread.
Nicknamed Alcalá de los Panaderos (Bakers), the town rejoices in abundant wheat fields, hydraulic power, and such unusual breads as
teleras, medias bobas, and albardas. “
Alcala’s bread comes in various shapes and sizes, many of which are not found outside of Alcalá,” wrote blogger Mexican Cassie. “When I asked about this I was told that it’s really
all about the texture rather than differing tastes
.
”
Let me tell you, it’s about the taste, too. Flavor and texture both surpassed what I’m used to in Seville’s traditional bakeries.
According to Spanish friends, 700 years ago most of Seville’s bakers were Moors who were persecuted along with the Jews during the dark years of the Inquisition. When all the professional bakers were gone, no one wanted to step into their shoes, so quality lapsed.
How Alcalá de los Panaderos escaped that fate I don’t know, but they’ve been baking great bread for countless generations.
Just blocks from the café we found the town museum filled with romantic landscape paintings, a few lovely Roman artifacts, and a handful of fossils. The star exhibit: a couple of six-million-year-old teeth from the now-extinct giant mackerel shark
megaselachus megalodon
, which fans of direct-to-video action movies may remember from such epics as
Shark Attack 3: Megalodon
, and
The Meg
.
And then began the ascent to the castle, which as usual was located in the highest, most inaccessible part of the landscape. For nearly 4500 years humans have looked at that outcropping and said, “Yep, easiest place to defend. We’re building there.”
Twelfth-century Berber Muslims put up a fortress, but the vast castle you see today began taking shape after Ferdinand III claimed the region for Christian Spain in 1248. A new line of defense was added in 2007: the colorful, Gaudí-style Dragon Bridge.
Beside the castle stands Santa María del Águila, the church of Saint Mary of the Eagle. They say after Ferdinand III retook the town, an eagle kept flying over the castle walls then landing in a small cave. There folks discovered an ancient statue of the Blessed Virgin, hidden during 500 years of Muslim rule. The simple figure, gussied up with crown, fancy robes, and an eagle at her feet, was declared the city’s official protector and permanent mayoress; they began carrying her through the streets during wars and plagues to comfort her many devotees.
Four centuries later, documents came to light in which Ferdinand III says of the statue, “Call it the Eagle,” explaining his second wife was a big fan of St. John the Evangelist, whose symbol is the eagle, and he knew this would please her. It was all the king’s hoax! Shocking, I know. Because otherwise the story is so believable.
The statue I saw wasn’t even the original. The nun at the gift shop explained that during the Civil War the church had been attacked by Republicans, who burned the statue and much else. A replica was immediately commissioned and presides over the altar today.
After hiking all over town, Rich and I were more than ready to sit down to the kind of leisurely gourmet lunch Peter Mayle described so lovingly. Having armed ourselves with a list of possibles, we trudged around to half a dozen restaurants, only to learn they were all
completo
(fully booked).
Would we be reduced to eating in one of the pizza and hamburger joints we’d passed? As you can imagine, when I spotted the modest, family-run, old-school Bodeguita Sanlucar, I was overjoyed.
In the end, I learned my
lagartito
wasn’t really lizard but pork extracted from between the pigs’ ribs and loin; apparently the long, skinny strips remind people of sinuous reptiles.
I’m lucky it wasn’t the real deal. Lizards tend to be bony and bland, where my
lagartito
was succulent and delicious. And the sweet, slightly tangy Pedro Ximénez sauce was so yummy I sopped up every last drop with the fine local bread.
I reflected this meal might not fit the definition of five-star haute cuisine beloved by serious travel writers, but it certainly ranked as the best damn lizard I ever tasted. Thanks for the memories, Alcalá!
WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THE BEER STUDY?
Of course you do. Here’s the link:
“Hot News! Beer Rehydrates Better Than Water!”
READY TO TRY MAKING LAGARTITO AT HOME?
Surprise your family!
Lagartito with Pedro Ximínez Sauce Recipe
OUT TO LUNCH
This story is part of my ongoing series “Out to Lunch” about visiting offbeat places in the city and province of Seville, often by train, seeking cultural curiosities and great eats. (
Learn more
.
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