OVERSEAS BRIEFING

Author: Dave Barker

MADRID - There exist slices of America here in Madrid. Homesick students can catch an English movie, watch college basketball at an Irish pub or visit Taste of America, where maple syrup and brownie mix fill in the gaps of the simple and meat-filled Spanish diet. I try to avoid these experiences like I do the Casa de Campo Park at night, home to Madrid's legal and bustling prostitution industry.

I prefer being a looker to finding a hooker. Looking in the windows of the countless tapas bars and delicatessens, that is. One of the best ways to probe into the culture and feel Spanish is to cook Spanish. I enjoy nothing more than strolling from my apartment in the center of Madrid past curing hams, sheep's milk cheeses and Spanish tortilla. After indulging my eyes, I head straight for the San Miguel market near Plaza Mayor to please the palate. I first tackled paella.

The risotto-like rice dish is as Spanish as the mournful stomp of a flamenco dancer. For the first paella go-around, I followed the step-by-step directions to a "quick and easy chicken and chorizo (sausage) paella." I took a shortcut by using three paella Valenciana seasoning packets instead of buying each spice individually. Forgive me, Julia Child, for I have sinned. Nonetheless, the final product was tasty.

In the following weeks, I related my paella exploits to several Spaniards who proceeded to tell me about their grandmothers' delectable paellas. Conversations over paella have allowed me to improve my shaky Spanish and have given me new culinary ideas. Recently, I took a plunge.

At San Miguel, a walk past the butcher's case recalls past dissections of various animal parts in an eighth grade science class. I told two butchers that I needed some chicken and rabbit for paella. For traditional paella, you need to stray away from traditional poultry. With the introduction of rabbit, I was graduating, getting deeper into the culture.

Instead of getting a few chunks of rabbit, the butcher grabbed one of the skinned creatures on ice and gave me half. Later in the afternoon, after pondering the preparation of the rabbit in my sociology class, I confronted the little bundle wrapped in paper, armed with a frying pan and a bottle of olive oil.

Maybe it was the garlic that masked the smell, but after throwing everything together in the wok, I enjoyed one of the most delicious meals I've had here, save the delicacy of the Middle Eastern kebab.

I suppose I'm ready for a trip to the seafood stand at San Miguel, where the real paellas are constructed. Shrimp, mussels, and the end of seasoning packets await. For now, my paella sure beats brownie mix.