Gastronomic Societies are huge in San Sebastian. Hundreds. Tony B does not belong to one because Madame will not let him. Itziar says the Societies break up too many marriages. They are for men. A society will own a place of its own in town. Looks like a bar. With tables to eat at but principally a very large, fully-equipped professional-standard kitchen. And a very well-stocked cellar.
At a get-together blokes will cook their own particular specialities for their friends. There are no staff; it's strictly DIY. Blokes. (Maybe someone comes in the morning to clean up).
Ladies are often invited to come and eat. But never to cook. There is a piano and lots of singing. And well... you can guess the rest. They have loads of get-togethers. So blokes sometimes lose the habit of going home. At all. Hence marriage wrecking.
Barring the last bit of course I think we should consider this idea for Britain. I have friends who cook a bit. Or think they can. I can cook.....well, I can grill steak.... Maybe it’s not such a good idea.
But in San Sebastian I suppose it might have something to do with this little area having more Michelin stars than anywhere on the planet. Basques amaze you in many ways.
We drove the long and winding way home, over the Pyrenees, up through the whitewashed villages and green glades to the Barreros’ country home in French Basque Country. For a final display of food fanaticism. The tuna the can themselves, and the peppers they drive miles to buy, then bottle, the very special oil.
Long lunch with a stunning Garnacha rosé which I am going to try and get. Plus a very well-aged old red I completely forgot to take the name of. Too relaxed this holiday. Hard drive home.
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