I was surprised this morning to find local landowners already bringing in their olives. Shaking the trees so that the olives fall into netting laid out on the ground below.
It seemed to be happening earlier than usual and that was confirmed to be by one man, Paco, who said that his variety was ready weeks early because of what was a very unseasonably warm autumn.
When people speak of Spanish oranges they inevitably, and understandably, think of Valencia. But that is not the only area in which oranges grow in great quantity.
This morning I walked out on a sunny but crisp and cold day to stroll among the orange groves that make the Lecrín Valley famous throughout Spain. The autumn was such a warm one that the oranges are showing every sign of being ready for harvest earlier than is usual.
Were I to ask you to name a Spanish sausage, the chances are you would mention Morcilla or cheer about Chorizo. But it is less likely that you would have much to say about Sobrasada.
It hails from the Balearic Islands so you may have seen it on a menu on, for example, Majorca. To be true Sobrasada the label must say the words Sobrasada de Mallorca de Cerdo Negro.
What’s the difference between a sardine and anchovy?
No, it’s not a joke. There is no punch line.
Sardines take their name from the Italian island of Sardinia. The Romans thought very highly of the fish. The Greeks, meanwhile, looked upon the sardine less favourably. They linked them with the goddess of the dead, Hecate. Only lower class Greeks ate sardines.
For centuries the sardine was considered to be the food of the poor.
As autumn approaches in Spain, certain fruits are ripening and are about to be at their best. One such fruit often goes unnoticed in Spain. People walk past it and presume, because of its uncanny resemblance, that it is a pear. It is not.
In Andalucia, the tree I walked past several times this morning, was the quince tree.
On the roofs of houses around me are peppers. People hang them out to dry on their roof terraces and in their gardens.
This morning I went for a walk above Lake Beznar, overlooking the beautiful LecrÍn Valley.
I came across a lone house with stunning views. In the garden was a lone man admiring his peppers. And I could only join him in marvelling at these splendid home grown peppers.
I realised this week, whilst finalising this year's turron line up for The Tapas Lunch Company, that the standard classification of turrons, as used by the manufacturers and the 'Consejo Regulador', is somewhat confusing. Actually, it's a minefield.
I well recall the day I tried to encourage a squeamish friend to eat Morcilla. He had no wish to taste blood sausage. Now, for me, good Morcilla is a delight.
It may be calorific. I don't care. It's a triumph of Spanish food. It gets even better when it comes in the form of Morcilla de Burgos.
The angler fish or, as it is known in Spain, rape (pronounced "rah-pay"); is a fish which doesn't exactly look the most attractive when you first come face to face with it.
Reddish in colour it grows up to 2 metres in length. It has a big head and a thick tail.
Fishmongers in Spain rarely display the fish with its head on. It puts people off buying.
It is caught in coastal waters that have a sandy or muddy bed.
