Tag Archives: spanish
It took me a while to decide on how to present this post about Spain’s most infamous and disputed dish. I thought about going down the history route and how it arrived to become the national dish of Spain for the rest of the world. I considered just discussing what makes a ‘true’ paella and why. But after a year of living in Valencia, I feel what I can best write on is what the Paella is and means to the Valencian themselves. The photos were all taken at an afternoon lunch on a friend’s farm in the heart of Valencia’s most fertile farming land where Paella and an addictive preparation of snails were served.
As a Londoner I have never been able to lay claim to a ‘regional dish’ of my own. In fact the only true London dish I can think of is some East End jellied eels. I am however a fierce defender of English food and believe we have some truly great dishes and a recent resurgence in British cooking has produced some amazing new chefs, restaurants and a realisation that the dishes and produce that we have can actually be wonderful with a bit of time and thought. But despite the resurgence here. there isn’t the same attitude and relationship to regional foods and their history that exist in the likes of Spain, Italy and France; amongst many other countries.
I remember my first flight to Valencia from London and reading an article from the in-flight magazine about the debate between Valencia and Alicante over the origins of the Paella and other rice dishes. I couldn’t believe things were so heated and unresolved after so many years, especially as it is barely a two hour drive between the two.
The first paellas I ate were very average and formed part of lunchtime set menus in restaurants. I kept asking where to go for a good paella and I was often pointed in the direction of Albufera (the National Park and principal rice growing region in Valencia) but the resounding answer was you need to go and eat it in a Valencian home. As cliché as it sounds, it really is true, and most simply because it is a Slow Food. Each paella needs to be done in it’s own pan, from scratch, preferably over wood from the abundance of orange trees and carefully attended to for flame intensity amongst other things – quite infeasible in a restaurant.
The beauty of the Valencian paella, lies not in fancy ingredients but like most truly great dishes, in the little touches and techniques that bring those basic flavours and textures together in perfect harmony. I learnt that the rice is the real star of the show: it holds so much flavour from the other components that their role is reduced to mere sidekicks alongside the perfectly textured and rich grains. It was a peasant food, using the things that were easily available to the inland ‘campesinos’. Water voles have been replaced by rabbits and chicken, snails disappear and reappear through time, but nothing else has changed in the recipe.
Ask a Valencian what their opinion is of chorizo in a Paella, or worse still the combination of chorizo, seafood and anything else that Costa del Sol restaurants throw in and watch as they shudder a little before composing themselves to ridicule what is known as ‘Paella Mixto’. Many just don’t understand why you would add chorizo which overpowers the other flavours of a seafood or Valencian Paella, or why the basic Paellas need changing at all. I guess that’s how the Italians feel about the thousands of abominations of Pizza and Pasta around the world too. And why wouldn’t they be frustrated? The gastronomic representation of their land and history is essentially abused and potentially given a bad name to the rest of the world that consumes it.
A memorable experience of this shared passion for their local food was during Las Fallas festival when I was invited to a sort of Paella ‘cook-off’ in one of Valencia’s tree lined streets. Fire wood, a paella stand and a table were provided and each group of guests supplied their own pan, ingredients and of course alcohol. Much like I imagine the ‘grillman’ culture to be, the men quickly congregated around the paella, each one giving his two cents throughout the fire building and cooking process but never daring to get in the ‘paelleros’ way. By the time the Paella was cooked, the competition had been forgotten for most, but this bringing together of friends over a dish that had always been in their lives left a lasting impression of its ongoing importance in Valencian culture
Returning from Sunday bike rides with my team was made an even more challenging task due to the midday air in the streets of every small town being filled with the aromas of Paella emanating from kitchens and gardens. As each member of the team recounted their personal stories with Paella, debating matters such as varieties of rice and varying flame strength I came to understand that it remains a very macho dish that the man of the house devotes a few hours to every weekend. If not to provide a good family meal, to uphold his reputation as a good ‘paellero’. There is an unmatched pride in producing a Paella which ticks all the boxes and presenting it to friends and family who all come with their own expectations of how it should be. Successful execution of this depends on controlling the numerous small variables throughout cooking.
It is perfecting the combination of developing a rich stock; the absorption by the grains; the speed of evaporation and correct cooking point of the rice – all this is very difficult and makes it the most challenging rice to cook well. This makes me wonder why its fame is so superior to that of the numerous other Valencian rice dishes. Ranging from dry to stock-heavy varieties, baked in the oven or on gas and with ingredients ranging from Cuttlefish ink to Morcilla (black pudding). In my opinion, nothing tops the ‘Meloso’ types of rice. These are cooked with a higher ratio of reduced stock to rice than Paella and therefore leaves a creamy rice almost comparable to a risotto but with flavours left true and not dampened by a parmesan and butter finish.
In writing this post, I came across an interview with a rice grower from Albufera in El País newspaper. Threatened by cheaper Asian imports, the rice growers of Valencia uphold a tradition dating back centuries. The passion with which he speaks about rice is typical of the attitude of many other Valencians:
“Rice has a neutral personality. It doesn’t have a particularly powerful or pleasant flavour, however we have such a varied gastronomic environment for it. There’s no other product with such a vast number of recipes; this is due to the capacity that it has to lose its personality and acquire the tastes of all that you combine with it”.
So, how do you recreate this masterpiece? I would start by visiting www.LaPaella.net which provides insightful information into the history of the dish and the region, tips and tricks (including correct pan size) as well as recipes for this and Seafood Paella.
As I learnt through watching, I will put down below what I took away. But in the words of the ‘paelleros’ that day, it is a dish that takes experience to perfect; so if you follow this recipe or the very similar one from LaPaella.net then you will recognise tweaks and how to improve its elaboration.
La Paella Valenciana:
Ingredients per person
30ml olive oil
1 chicken liver
50g chicken, bones in
50g rabbit, bones in
30g of broad beans
30g of green beans in pod, cut into 2cm chunks
30g butter beans, soaked overnight if they have been dried
40g tomato, grated
⅓ clove garlic, v. finely chopped
¼ teaspoon smoked paprika
pinch of saffron
80g rice (Bomba, Senia or Bahía)
small sprig of rosemary
In the correct sized pan over a medium-high heat, add the livers to the hot oil. Once browned, remove the livers and eat separately/discard, then add the chicken and rabbit. Brown the meat well, good caramelization here is vital to the stock.
Once browned, reduce the flame and add the vegetables. Stirring occasionally, leave them to sauté for a few minutes.
Make a well in the centre of the pan and add the grated tomatoes and the garlic, leaving it to reduce for a few minutes. Then add the paprika, stir and quickly add water so that it doesn’t burn creating a bitter taste. Fill the pan up to near the edge with the water. Add salt to taste, then leave it to reduce for around 35 minutes until the level is halfway up the pan and covering 75% of the ingredients. Taste for the correct level of salt here too, remembering that it will lose some intensity once the rice is added.
Add the rice to the paella in a line from one side to the other through the middle of the pan. This line should be about 5cm wide and come above the stock level 1-2cm. Add the saffron and then stir well to spread the rice evenly around the paella, ensuring no grains are above the stock level. Now leave this for 8 minutes on a high flame. In this stage you achieve the burnt crust on the bottom layer of rice.
Then reduce the flame to minimum and leave for another 6 minutes. Add the rosemary sprigs now too so they can infuse the paella. After these 6 minutes if stock is still visible then leave the paella on a medium flame for a further 4 minutes and if there isn’t any visible stock leave for another 3 minutes on minimum heat.
Remove from the heat and leave to rest for 5 minutes before proudly taking it over to the table.
Some time since my last post as I found myself put straight to work last week and catching up with all the people I had left here in England. Serious respect for anyone blogging that manages to work all day then come back ready to cook and put together a post. The problem here is that by the time I’m home and cleaned up from a day at the building site, there is barely any light (just rain – anyone in the UK at the moment will feel my pain) and I don’t have the equipment to shoot at night, so I will try and set aside dedicated cooking and shooting days but until I start university again I feel my post count will decrease.
To bring some Spanish sunshine back into my life, I opened up the box of treats I brought back from ‘Rafa the anchovy man’ of whom I spoke in my last post. Just the sight of them made me happy and the smells reminded me of starting my day at his market stall with a glass of young wine and one of his creations. I quickly got used to strong flavours first thing. The quality of this cured fish means that preparation should be limited, i.e served very simply. For me the best way is on bread with some good tomatoes to cut through their richness. He had also packed some of his own sun-dried tomatoes which he assured me would be better than any other I had tasted, and I had no reason to doubt him.
We, in England have some amazing produce unfortunately little of it seems to filter down to the masses, instead being sold in expensive markets or snapped up by the catering industry. But one thing we do have is an endless demand for Italian products and thus a copious amount of deli’s, cafe’s and bakeries in the capital. I am fortunate to live around the corner from what must be one of the best. The Bottega del Pane supplies the infamous River Cafe and other restaurants with their baked goods and I challenge anyone to leave empty handed after seeing what’s on offer. So I bought some of their famous sourdough and some amazing tomatoes (English grown!) to make some ‘Tostas’, the Spanish crostini.
I served the anchovy and tomato on slightly thicker cuts of bread because I wanted some of the juices to be soaked up without making it soggy throughout. I am positive this quality fish cannot be bought in a supermarket, so you’ll have to splash out somewhere but remember a little go a long way. The sardines should be on thinner slices as the flavours are more delicate and topping drier. The dried tomatoes were wonderful and very different to ones I had tried and slated before, and with the basil made for the perfect trio. These probably aren’t for standing up and eating at parties as these things have become fashionable for but would go perfectly at the start of a meal. Or if you are lucky enough to live somewhere with more that 8 days of sun a year then bask in its glory with some cold wine and make everyone in the UK jealous.
Anchovy and Tomato Tostas
sliced sourdough bread or similar
extra virgin olive oil
tomatoes, chopped finely
good quality fresh anchovy fillets in oil
Place the chopped tomatoes in a bowl with a tiny pinch of salt and pepper and allow to sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. For 4 tostas I used 2 tomatoes.
Preheat the grill/broiler to a high heat and toast the sliced bread until golden around the edges. Drizzle with a little oil.
Spoon the tomatoes onto the bread using a slotted spoon. Lift an anchovy fillet from the oil, let just a little of the oil drip off then lay on the tomatoes.
Sardine & Sun-Dried Tomato Tostas
sliced sourdough bread or similar
sardine fillets in oil
Prepare the bread as above. Cut the sardines up into 1cm slices; the tomatoes into slightly smaller pieces and roughly chop the basil.
Mix well in a bowl with one tablespoon of oil from the sardines and one from the tomatoes. Spoon onto bread. Serve.
It was the third time in less than a week that I was removing a pot of trotters from the oven. This time I had followed almost every step exactly and I was quietly confident that this would be a success. I donned my pink marigold and tentatively reached into the pot, barely able to look as I carefully pulled up one of the three trotters that had made it to this stage. The prized skin on this ‘little hand’ as the Spanish refer to it had split, revealing the unsightly bones and cartilage beneath as if trying to escape from their soft casing. I sighed. I had said this would be the last time I attempted the trotters for as important as it is to never give up or stop trying, one must also know their limits and know when to stop and after three attempts trotters and I seemingly weren’t destined to work together.
Nevertheless, I am posting this failure for what is a blog but to tell a story, to start a discussion or to share information. Some of you may have seen my start with a pig’s head, with which I was delighted at the end result and lack of complications. Like the head, trotters were a novelty to me, I had barely read anything on them before I bought 6 on special offer at the market. Upon closer inspection I was shocked at the lack of meat on them, it was just bone and cartilage! So after a bit of reading it dawned that the skin is what is wanted here. I searched for a Spanish style preparation for them but nothing really appealed to me so I went for the most distinguished trotter recipe of them all. Koffman’s stuffed pig trotter’s filed under ‘difficult recipes for masterchefs’ and made famous by Marco Pierre White at his restaurant Harvey’s, it is very 80’s and very, very French. This video gives such an insight into a young and aspiring Marco Pierre White (and a timid Gordon Ramsay) as well as going briefly through the recipe in a professional kitchen whereas this blog excellently details the recipe stage-by-stage.
I decided to prepare the trotters in a similar way, just changing the filling. Less French (sweetbreads, morels, chicken mousse); more Spanish (black pudding, apple, serrano ham). I was actually happy with the filling as the black pudding called Morcilla de Burgos here is wonderfully soft, well-flavoured and spiced, whilst some finely chopped caramelised apple cut through it. Plus with my deadline fast approaching for cooking through a pig, I wanted to kill two birds with one stone. I also didn’t use veal stock as suggested. This undoubtedly affected the final colour and taste of the trotter, possibly even the texture but I can’t confirm that. I instead used a chicken stock I had already made, making a veal stock required another 3 days of labour in a kitchen that also functions as a sauna at the moment.
I obviously won’t put the recipe for this but I will score it like last time:
Porkiness: I really was not a big fan of the texture of the trotter. After a 3 hour braise in alcohol and stock it was soft and silky in texture but it just felt too fatty in the mouth. There isn’t much to be said for the flavour which is largely affected by the braising liquids, so a veal stock braise would be beneficial, but I can think of far better uses for such a fine stock. The saviour was the sauce which I followed from MPW in the video linked above, adding some of the gelatinous stock that remained after cooking it produced a rich, smooth, almost syrupy like ‘jus’ which went beautifully with the mustard pomme purée I served alongside. 4/10
Inconvenience: After two attempts this dish had become more than an inconvenience and my patience was non-existent. This is a 3-day dish for any normal person and if done like Koffman not a cheap one with ingredients that could be difficult to resource. I can almost imagine the young chefs in MPW’s kitchen festering hate for their boss as they hacked their way through the thirtieth trotter of the day. You need seriously sharp knives to initially prepare the trotters or a very nice butcher; this video outlines de-boning. Despite claiming about 5 minutes per trotter my attempt was one hour for 3. Next time I’d pay a restaurant to do the work. 10/10
Gratification: I imagined that the pain and frustration of making this dish would be forgotten if I had bitten into one of the best dishes in my life. But as I sat moving what felt like (and essentially is) very soft fat around my mouth all I could think about was why did I bother. For there are far simpler preparations with crispy skins which sound far more appealing as I write this. Perhaps I had just bitten off more than I could chew this time. 3/10
It is a shame that I can’t praise pig’s trotters in the same way as their heads. In a way I also feel like I haven’t exhibited and have let down the unpopular black pudding. Anyone that has eaten this outside of a greasy spoon can perhaps join me and appreciate its complex flavours and uses so I will try to revisit them shortly. In the meantime any suggestions of offal preparations would be greatly appreciated.
In the mighty world of hams in Spain, nothing surpasses the acorn eating, wild Iberico pigs that provide the cured meat world with ‘Jamon Iberico de Bellota’, to be served and consumed only in paper-thin, translucent slices. Despite it’s fame, as a student I can’t quite justify a price tag of around €90 per 100g of the stuff. However, I happily downgrade to Serrano whose silken texture; meaty yet fruity and floral flavour isn’t as rich as Iberico ham but whose uses are much more versatile without causing offence to any onlooking Spaniards. I’ve definitely eaten my fair share of these melt-in-the-mouth hams this year and fully intend on taking as much of a leg as possible to England.
To quote the godfather of Food Science, Harold Mcgee: “Hams are to fresh pork what long-aged cheeses are to fresh milk – a distillation, an expression of the transforming powers of salt, enzymes, and time”
Serrano (or parma etc) with figs is a tried and tested combination; flavours and textures readily complementing each other without any work required. It was something I ate regularly on arriving in September in time for fig season and have missed them ever since they disappeared from the market in October. So I was very happy upon the appearance of these black figs, also known as giant figs which precede the smaller varieties that arrive in August. Their fleshy interior isn’t red like many varieties but they have a wonderful flavour, not so syrupy but just sweet enough with some woody notes.
My ‘go-to’ man for herbs in the market introduced me to this purple basil which I believe is the Red Rubin variety. I had never seen such vividly coloured basil before. It has a lovely floral aroma, not quite as pungent as standard green basil, and has a bit of a citrus taste alongside the sweet basil flavour. I intend to make a ridiculously deep purple pesto with my next purchase.
The balsamic I used was of the ‘glaze’ kind, the overused, controversial plastic bottle stuff that any Italian would turn their nose up to. A raspberry balsamic glaze at that. But then I don’t think it is any worse than using a shop bought balsamic anyway. In Italy vinegars from Modena of quality are sold labelled with the age of the content, are syrupy in consistency (getting thicker the older they are) and extremely complex in flavour as they must be a minimum of 12 years old. Around 35 kilos of grapes are converted over time by acetification, fermentation, maturation, evaporation and other processes to produce 250ml of balsamic vinegar. So that ‘traditional balsmic of modena’ you get in your posh deli for £10 is most probably wine vinegar coloured with caramel and sweetened with sugar, with some young balsamic and cooked down grape must if you’re lucky. Unnecessary rant over.
Black Figs with Serrano, Purple Basil and Balsamic
Makes a great easy starter of antipasti
Serrano ham in paper-thin slices
purple basil or similar variety if unavailable
Trim top hard stalk off the fig and cut a cross down to the midpoint of the fig. Press at the base of the fig at 4 points towards the centre so the top slits you made open up.
Wrap each fig with slice of ham and plate. Dress the fig and plate with the basil and vinegar. Serve
To celebrate my last month in Spain, I, like many before me will be cooking my way through a pig. I need not repeat the wise words of Mr. Henderson and co in stressing the importance of knowing where our food comes from. That the plastic-wrapped cuts of meat so easily placed in our shopping baskets do actually come from a living, breathing animal. So what better place to start this journey than in the land where a cured hind leg can fetch €1000; where care is taken over a well-fed animal; a simply prepared cut is juicy and flavoursome; and each body part is displayed proudly at every butcher.
Of course, I will aim for a Spanish preparation of each meal and I will score each dish on my personal P.I.G scale:
Porkiness – flavour/taste/texture
Inconvenience – labour involved/difficulty
Gratification – value/satisfaction derived
scores from 1-10. 1 being low, 10 high.
Credit where credit is due for this recipe is taken and only slightly adapted from a truly inspiring source. The British Larder consistently produces some of the most original dishes I see and share it over the web. Not only are they generous but a quick read of their ethos is insightful and heartfelt. I endeavour to eat at the restaurant on my return.
Croquetas are a sublime creation and a staple tapas throughout Spain, and almost every country seems to have their own versions. It was my first attempt and I was delighted to be able to incorporate them into this month. I could have served them on their own but I wanted some freshness and acidity to cut through their richness so I served it with baby Red Chard and crispy Tatsoi leaves with a mustard vinaigrette and some pickled red onions which lent their own tartness and a beautiful colour to the dish. I also used the ears to make crispy ‘scratchings’ which I dusted with sweet paprika to add another element to the dish.
So before the recipe the all important PIG scores:
Porkiness: The tough gelatinous meat in the head needs a long cook , so after 4 hours cooking in stock melt-in-the-mouth meat was falling off the bone upon touch. I found the flavour lovely and subtle, but the texture is the real winner here. 10/10
Inconvenience: Unless your butcher delivers you will be lugging at least 6 kilos of head home. It’s big. I didn’t have a pot big enough for all the snout to fit (how ironic my first dish misses the nose), and then you have to try and lift this slippery, flaky mass out of a pot filled with stock. But it took no more than 15 minutes to prep for cooking then to remove the meat (unless you live with a medic who wants to give a lesson in anatomy). However, much more inconvenience was found by my two vegetarian flatmates. fairly inconvenient 7/10
Gratification: The realisation of what I was dealing with only dawned when shaving off any remaining hairs then the head adopted a more human aspect. The pores in the soft, subtle skin; the beard-like growth; and a mouth and eyes which seemed to subtly smile. Cue vivid flashbacks of Animal Farm. But then at the same time I was proud to be putting this beautiful head to good use and it not being ground up into cheap sausages. Any simple prep and long cook would leave you with a wonderful meat. It’s also inexpensive, I scooped out around 800g meat including the tongue and paid €5. It’s not something I will cook very often but I was truly satisfied with my experience and the resulting meal and am keen to try other recipes. Satisfied in more than ways than one: 9/10
Pig’s Head Croquetas with Crispy Ears, Pickled Red Onions, Baby Leaves and Mustard Vinaigrette
makes 25 croquetas
1 whole pig’s head
1 stick celery, cut into 4 even size pieces
1 carrot, cut into 4 even size pieces
2 bay leaves
2 sprigs thyme
2 sprigs rosemary
1 onion, quartered
Once any remaining hair are removed from the pig with a razor, place it alongside the other ingredients in a large saucepan and cover with water. Bring this to the boil, removing impurities that rise to the surface. Reduce to a simmer and leave for 3 1/2 hours, topping up with water to make sure it is covered at all times. Let cool in the stock for 1 hour more and then remove from pot carefully.
Flake off the meat and set aside. I also finely chopped the tongue into this mixture, but be sure to cut the rough edged from it first and use the centre.
To prepare the croquetas:
3 medium waxy potatoes, peeled and cut in equal sized pieces
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
1/2 teaspoon ras-el-hanout
meat from pig’s head
Sea salt and freshly cracked black pepper
4 tablespoons chopped soft herbs (chives, tarragon, parsley)
Bring a saucepan of water to the boil, salt well and add potatoes, cooking until soft and falling apart. Drain and when cool enough to handle press through a ricer or sieve.
Meanwhile gently fry the onion until translucent then add the garlic, ras-el-hanout and season, cooking for a further 5 minutes. Remove from the heat, add the meat and herbs stirring until well combined.
Add the pomme puree to the mix and stir again to combine continuing whilst adding the milk and cornstarch.
You should end up with a mix that is difficult to stir, if not, add a little more cornstarch. Refrigerate this mix until cool – around 2 hours.
Roll into individual croquetas and refrigerate these again on a plate
To cook the croquetas:
1 egg, beaten
4 tablespoons plain flour
Heat preferred deep-frying oil to 160C
Line up 3 plates, one with the flour, one with egg, and the other with the breadcrumbs. Panée them by rolling each one first in flour, then egg, then breadcrumbs.
Deep fry in batches until golden all over and leave to drain on kitchen towel. Meanwhile dress the salad and arrange with the onions on plates. Serve
For the crispy ears (optional):
I removed the ears after they had cooked with the head, sliced thinly and allowed to dry on paper towel an hour. Dust with flour and cook in the same oil as the croquetas for 4 minutes until crispy. Drain then season with paprika and salt.
Serve this as a starter or serve more croquetas as a main meal or tapas. I did this over two days, refrigerating the flaked meat overnight before preparing the rest the next day.
Adapted from the Scott’s of London dish
I served this dish as a starter as part of a 6-course dinner, it wasn’t originally planned but the sea urchins for my planned starter weren’t available at the market (typical having just read an article on having a plan B for dinner parties and thinking I would never need one because I lived next to Europe’s largest food market).
Comparing this effort to my last one showed how much more refined I had become in my cooking style. Using these ingredients it is easy to overuse one aspect and unbalance the flavours of the dish so less really is more:
- A fresh and delicately flavoured shellfish
- An oily and intensely flavoured chorizo
- A salty and easily spoilt green
This dish really does exhibit how the best quality ingredients can make a dish. The chorizo required won’t be found next to the sausages in your local supermarket, it needs to be a semi-dry one. I chose a chorizo from ‘Jamon Iberico de Bellota’ (the pig used to make the world’s best ham – it really is the best money can buy and goes a long way, 3 sausages between 7 people). So make the effort to go to the nearest deli in search of them or try ordering from Brindisa in London. The fat rendered creates such a rich and simple sauce so have some bread handy to mop it up.
Also this is great for dinner parties as the clams can be prepared hours in advance and re-heated in the oven when ready to serve.
Razor Clams with Chorizo and Samphire
1kg of razor clams
half a glass of white wine
small handful of parsley
3 garlic cloves
3 semi-dry chorizos cut into 1/4″ thick coins
handful of samphire/ sea asparagus
Oven at 180C
- Rinse the clams under cold water for 10 minutes until clean.
- Heat the wine, garlic, parsley and salt in a saucepan wide enough to lay the clams.
- When boiling add clams, shake pan and cover for 2 minutes or until shells open
- Remove Clams, run under cold water to cool and clean. To clean, remove the darker looking sac from the mussel and discard, reserving the flesh and shell
- Lay the shells on a roasting tray, one or two per person and replace the flesh (I put two clams in one shell)
- Drizzle each clam with a teaspoon of stock water left in the pan and place on middle shelf in oven for 10 minutes
- Meanwhile, add chorizo coins to a frying pan on medium-low heat (NO OIL) render the fat, stirring occasionally and lowering the flame if starting to burn
- When fat rendered and chorizo cooked (around 8 minutes) remove with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen towel. To the oil left in the pan add the butter and stir with a small whisk over a medium heat until well combined and thickened
- To serve: Remove the clams from the oven and plate accordingly, scatter over chorizo, dip samphire into sauce and place then drizzle over sauce as desired.