I am wrting from a charming suite on the fifth floor of El Môderne in Gijón —the largest city in Asturias, situated on the stunning Cantabrian sea. The sea glistens and the seagulls squawk as it’s a bright and sunny day today.
I craved to be by the sea and to write freely on Christmas this year and at 10 a.m. yesterday I decided to make the plan to spend these days in Gijón as it just felt right. I have no family Christmas traditions anymore — there is no tree, there are no stuffed stockings, there is no family Christmas dinner —and therefore holidays are always loose territory. If there’s a place at someone’s table I’ll take it and if not, I’ll simply wander. I find peace in foreign places as holidays stateside to me are full of forced hangouts, greed, chaos, and mediocrity in terms of gift-giving (but I’d be lying if I wasn’t missing Southern holiday food right now!).
An ex-lover asked me a couple of summers ago, “Are you lonely, or alone?” I think about this sentiment often, and a lot over the last couple of weeks, which have been anything but what I had anticipated. This trip has been nonstop and chaotic but always beautiful.
During my marriage, we’d sit mostly silently for hours in the oversized living room at the inlaws on Christmas day, where I forced myself to put on a fake smile when it came to my turn to open presents. Ah, another year of “shit for corners” gift-giving, I say to myself. Does anyone even know one thing about me in this house, I think internally? Yes, it’s true, you can feel more alone and lonely in a marriage, with a large extended family, than when physically alone. Perhaps after breaking free from this toxicity, this is why I am so nomadic in so many ways.
I woke up this morning to a sweet voice note from Roberto wishing me a Merry Christmas with smooches and a wish that I got to eat jamon today as he knows how much I love it. I moseyed downstairs to breakfast for just that, plus a double espresso and Asturian queso. *Roberto has requested an introduction newsletter so that’ll be coming soon and I promised him it would make him (and everyone else reading) blush.
I have been thinking about Anthony Bourdain this morning. Well, truth be told he’s been on my mind the last couple of weeks as I maneuver around this region, diving headfirst into the unknown.
The unknown to me is a language barrier, a stranger in a hotel, a mountain road less traveled, and driving into a parking garage during the holiday season in Oviedo. The unknown is being lonely, but never alone, as there’s always someone waiting around the corner whether it be a new face when checking into a hotel or a taxi driver who becomes a great new friend; a stranger at a bar, or a guide at a Sidreria who teaches you a few words about cider in the Asturian language; or a chef in a crazy, crowded restaurant who can see the excitement and joy from my face via a perfect platter of arroz con pitu de caleya (chicken rice).
“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life—and travel—leaves marks on you.” ~ Anthony Bourdain
“What are you doing for Christmas,” everyone continues to ask. “Whatever the f*ck I want,” I reply. “But aren’t you lonely not being around family?” Short answer: yes and no. My family is also here in Asturias with the people who have left marks on me from encounters along the way.
On Christmas Eve, I arrived in Gijón and hightailed it to Coalla, fighting my way through the rowdy wine-drinking holiday crowd with my arms piled high with sidra, tinned snacks, Spanish potato chips, and queso. It was my very own Amanda in The Holiday moment minus the shopping cart.
How did I fall in love with Asturias in the first place? I lived (driving around the mountains and in a scary parking garage) to tell.
I landed at OVD airport in fall 2021 only to find that my plans were uprooted and the only thing I knew about Asturias was that I was to judge the World Cheese Awards in Oviedo, and I only knew about Oviedo because of Vicky Cristina Barcelona (one of my favorite films). I also rented a car but forgot to ask for an automatic and the only automatic available was a Mercedes-Benz A 180. I am glad I didn’t get the beater budget car i’d originally planned as it never would have survived the mountains — although I almost sh*t myself when parking on an incline in a parking lot on the side of a mountain by merely pressing a button that said “P.”
I give credit to my now friend Dolo for really introducing me to Asturias; it's a place I’ve longed for since I left and it is truly one-of-a-kind. Dolo and I met in person after my food journey at Casa Marcial, aka my first array into chef Nacho Manzano’s world of brilliance and she became my unsolicited fixer…and friend. I still think about Nacho’s chicken rice dish and croquetas de jamon — reminiscent of the freshest, most perfectly cooked, crisp McDonald’s french fries. Yes, this is a compliment. We drank tequila espresso martinis long after the restaurant shut down and days later, I found myself hiking with her into the El Teyedu cheese cave on the side of a mountain in Picos de Europa.
Just last week, I reunited with Dolo but only for a few moments as the parking garage in Oviedo is where this Americano made a scene and a half. It should be a comedy skit. I drove down into the abyss and was underground for at least 30 minutes trying to fit the larger-than-life (by European car standards) Cupra Formentor into a microscopic parking spot. It’s at least a 300-point turn to get into a spot and after hearing several people crunch their cars panic and try to exit, only I didn’t validate my parking ticket as I never parked and therefore could not exit. There were cars backed up behind me, the parking garage attendant was yelling at me in Spanish, and I freaked out and showed him my Google translate that reads, ¡Déjame salir por favor (can you please let me out!?!). He became so annoyed with me that he just let me out.
Dolo is calling as I drive up and into the chaotic holiday rush hour traffic and she ushers me to pull over (like a Spaniard!) on the sidewalk while her boyfriend, Julio, finds us. They both hop in, I run a red light, and we find a second parking garage. Julio offers to back the car into a space, otherwise my plan was to abandon the car and run. We have time for one glass of cava before they have to leave as it took almost an hour to park.
Lessons learned on this trip: learn how to drive a stick, ask for the tiniest toy car or just don’t ever drive into a garage again.
The unknown from day to day on this trip has been the most rewarding. In Gijon, Yolanda Trabanco, a fourth generation family member of Casa Trabanco (the best sidra in Asturias) connects me with Ana for a tour. We goof off, eat jamon sandwiches on freshly baked bread in the barrel room, and I learn how to espichar (shoot the sidra from the barrel into the sidra glass). Later on I learn some Asturian words with Ana over a giant bowl of fabada asturianas at Casa Trabanco’s scenic (and delicious) restaurant, alongside lots of sidra — including my favorite, Alicia, which drinks more like wine.
In Lastres, I discovered the best anchovies known to mankind at Anchoa Hazas. Their new storefront is super stylish and they’ll be hitting the U.S. market in 2024. Later this evening I drive into the charming sea village at night and get lost in the cobblestone maze as it’s so different at night. Constance and Damien of Native, whom I met in Paris during a popup at Dame Jane (Damien was cooking) with Rooksana earlier this summer, had a little dinner party to share our love of Asturias. The duo, and their daughter, Jo, have since moved to Asturias and will be opening a restaurant next year. Butternut squash and mussels and melon, oh my. I remember oohing and ahhing over Damien’s oyster dish with Sprite and vibrantly green peas in Paris. One thing’s for certain: after midnight laughs are truly the best.
In Oviedo I got to visit Nacho’s new restaurant, NM. I can’t wax too much as I need to save my words for work but it was otherworldly. I entered into a futuristic bubble and met a new friend, Génova, with delightful, playful banter the entire way. There were references to Holly Golightly, Willy Wonka, and Fifty Shades of Grey. I consumed modern day fabada stock, “earthy ink” with squid noodles, a crispy cockscomb, and some heartwarming sea elixir that I can’t stop thinking about. The tunes were right and the Northern Spain bubbles were bright.
In the storybook town of Cangas de Narcea, I had the pleasure of visiting with Alan, third generation of the family behind Manín Panadería — and arguably one of the best bakeries around. They’re so humble they don’t even have a website but they do have the most to-die-for Manínttone (a panettone with their own version of Nutella in the mix). At the OG mountain location, a specialty shop with marmalades, chocolates and ice cream (pending season) exists and is as sexy and sleek as a Gucci boutique. Alan and I don’t speak the same language but we made it work. He describes to me that the business is like a pine cone and everyone is a link, plus how important it is to not press the future. My favorite takeway was that it’s okay to long for things (ie: ice cream in the summer and Manínttone in the winter….or for me, a cute Italian overseas).
Later that evening I finagle my way into Bar Blanco (thanks to the help of Ana from my hotel, Parador de Corias) where I enjoy cecina “eclairs” with peppers and quince and Rey Silo queso atop and the most giant serving of arroz con pitu de caleya. Brothers Pepe and Enrique “Quique” Ron Linde took over the business from their mother, Engracia, and it’s all the rage in these parts. Pepe brought each dish out to me and I am certain, while we didn’t speak the same language, that he saw the excitement and pleasure on my face when finished. The vermut, Búpili!, is a project with Quique, who is the restaurant’s sommelier, and local winemakers.
I almost face death in Cangas de Narcea while attempting to visit a winery in my Cupra. 100/10 do not recommend visiting mountain wineries without an emotional support passenger, however, I safely turned the car around on an incline, with zero inches to spare, on a one way road on the side of a mountain. I will say that driving solo in a foreign place will definitely get you out of your comfort zone in the best way possible. There’s only you to calm you down and that is a skill I will forever cherish.
Am I lonely? Often. Am I alone? Often not. My Asturian friends and characters play a huge role in why I love this place so much. I am in a far away land for the holidays and my Christmas dinner consisted of anchovies and Sidra. This is paradiso. Do I miss my loved ones? Of course. You bet I was ugly crying at The Holiday while eating panettone in bed last night missing everyone but I am not alone.
Can we all agree that the scene where Frou Frou’s “Let Go” is playing and Graham spots Amanda in the pub comes complete with fuzzies? I realized last night this is the same feeling when I get when I see Roberto in person. I melt into fondue and there’s nothing quite like it. Yep, he’s also going to read this. When we first met I remember him saying to me, “so you’re scared of not being scared?” Fondue, I say.
“Let Go” is also one of my favorite songs and fitting for this piece as it’s about beauty in the breakdown. The protagonist encourages their friend to stop waiting and jump into the moment because it's amazing and they will find beauty even in the mess. Life is a mess but it sure is a beautiful mess, isnt it?
Merry Christmas to all that celebrate and thanks for reading this roller coaster of an essay.
COMING THIS WEEK: A “where to go in 2024” list curated by some of my favorite substack and newsletter friends — plus a few more end of year shenanigans.
xxJenn
I loved being along with you for the ride every minute, especially the worth-the-trek eats and drinks! 🥂 keep letting your light and voice shine bright my friend!
Thank you for taking us with you for a Spanish holiday. We miss you but I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else right now! 😘