These are the best anchovies in the world
This is the second of The Bikepacking Chapters as I cycle across Spain with my partner.
I spent 15.40EUR on a jar of anchovies at an Asturian market in Llanes. Yes, that is 15.40EUR. It was a conscious choice, and I don't regret it.
They are the best in the world. Google it if you don't believe me. Or re-mortgage to find out for yourself.
The jar in question
Fished in the spring Cantabrian sea, these little fishes are caught with care, processed by hand, and partially preserved either in sunflower or olive oil. The result is an anchovy that you can eat straight from the jar, soft and delicate. This is not a shock, as I have sometimes found anchovies to be, but a genuine pleasure to eat.
And when I say these are processed by hand, I really mean it. Often women, sobadora have the incredible skill to hand fillet and gut these tiny, shiny fish. Washed and cured, they’re then packed and sold. Like the food I most enjoy, it’s honest and well looked after.
But reading how best to enjoy these anchovies, pairing with a mild cheese was suggested. The question was, though, which one.
Everyday is a sensory assault on the bikes. Through Asturia one corner would bring the heady depths of orchards, the next the unsubtle haze of dairy farm inhabitants. The sonorous clang of cattle bells harkening each new herd only piqued my interest further as to the story of cheese in the region.
An Asturian herd on the coast. Listen for the cattle bells
So having pocketed my little jar of anchovies in the Llanes Asturian market, I was looking for my knight-of-cheesedom. When along came John.
John (who I’m pretty sure anglicised his name for me …)was the cheesemonger foisted upon English-speaking customers. Patient and passionate, he was my tour guide to the dairy delights of Asturia.
John and his cheeses in the Asturian market, Llanes
Pushing him a little bit, he’s keen to tell me, “the cows here are the best in the country”. I wonder whether everyone says this and ask him why. “It’s cooler here. The further north, the cooler, the grass is better, the cows are happy.”
An Asturian cow, glowing in the morning sun
The freshness of the land had been in my mind, despite the 30 degree heat everyday. Having heard of both destructive heatwaves and decimating rainfall, it was a lush landscape that held us on its roads. The verges, like the land, dense with vegetation, little polka dot colours of flowers, some shy, some brave rambling up garden walls and sneaking through cracked windows into abandoned houses.
A map showing Asturian cheese in La Gijonesa Bar, Cudillero
It would make sense, then, that happy cows and sheep make for happy cheese. John lines up three, all made within five miles of Llanes. I go for the most mild. Semi-soft and slightly waxy, it’ll be the modest friend to the humble anchovy.
One of these little delights on Asturian cheese and fresh baguette
Sat on a picnic bench sunk into side of the cliff above Playa de Torimbia, the sun sets. The pop of the anchovy jar sounds like a 50km day cycling coming to fruition. The cheese from John slices like a dream. The combination, with olive oil from the jar poured over baguette, is heavenly.
Food that tastes like the land that it comes from is a special thing. It is honest and gracious. The beauty of travel is finding these little gems, and being able to eat where these little gems are most at home.
We wild camp that night. My partner laughs. 15.40EUR on a jar of anchovies, but the thought of paying for a campsite seemed excessive. I guess it’s the allure of the land, the freedom, the honesty that the wild brings with it. What delights our pedalling is to bring, we’re yet to see.