For the potatoes.
From It Happened. Make of It What You Will.
Julio could cook. I’d already noticed that Spaniards treat food very seriously, in a different way than most nations. He’d already spoiled me with perfect grilled chicken and a homemade flan that was pure heaven.
That day he just said, very briefly:
“Get in. We’re going to get water for the potatoes.”
“What water?”
“For the potatoes.”
I thought we were driving to some special spring for some special kind of water – in Galicia that wouldn’t even be strange. But I was wrong. We drove to the next village.
By the main road there was a huge metal pot, and next to it two women in spotless white aprons. Proper kitchen generals: perfectly organised, joking all the time, laughing, each holding an enormous ladle.
“Pulpo a la gallega,” Julio explained.
“Every day they sell it in a different village.”
We walked up and Julio asked for a few pieces of octopus. The women fished them out of the giant pot and dropped them into plastic bags. Into the second bag they poured some of the liquid from the pot. Only then did it click: that was the magic water. The one the poor octopus had been cooked in.
That’s the water you use for the potatoes.
That’s why they taste the best.
Obviously.
This is one selected scene from the book.