Eel spinagada, a pasta linked to the territory

Within the inherited, assumed and lived cuisine, we often come across dishes, typical pastas… that we have internalised as our own, with surprises when we unravel the thread of their origin, and even more so when they become symbols of a specific place. This is the case of the spinagada.

Spinagada, which has been claimed and accepted as a typical pasta of local cuisine, is, in my opinion, much more than a symbol of a specific place. I have nothing against the claim made by the people of Sa Pobla, on the contrary, they are to be congratulated for their persistence in its preparation and consumption and for having made it their own and given it a personality and character, but I still think that it goes beyond that.

If there is one thing that can define espinagada, it is that it is a pastry with a base of unleavened bread dough enriched with a suitable amount of butter and olive oil, leaving a dough similar to that of cocarrois. It is filled with winter vegetables: spinach, chard, spring onions, parsley, garlic and, sometimes, cabbage, peas and slices of artichoke heart, all seasoned with olive oil, pepper, salt and sweet paprika and cooked to taste.

And this is where our eel espinagada and its origins come in. If there is one thing that defines the cuisine of the area of sa Pobla and Muro, leaving aside tastes and presentation, it is the proximity of the Albufera and the influence that this wetland has had on the way these people eat. We could properly call it ‘Albuquerque cuisine’, which forms part of the mosaic of styles within what we call and know as Mallorcan cuisine. Mountain or inland cuisine has nothing to do with that of the coast. The vegetables, pulses and rice grown there, together with hunting and fishing, have deeply marked the styles, tastes and seasonings. Therefore, the incorporation of eel into the espinagada is not at all surprising.

According to Damià Payeras, in an article published in the local information magazine Algebelí, now extinct, within the documentation relating to the Convent of Santa Ana de Muro, which belonged to the Order of the Minims (1584-1835), and which is kept in the Archive of the Kingdom of Mallorca, there is an annotation that says: to allocate money to buy eels from the fishermen of the Albufera, in order to make eel panades, so as to celebrate their fiest.

The eel, a mysterious fish, which is born in the Sargasso Sea, near the Antilles, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, at abyssal depths, and about which nobody knows much more, closes its life cycle by dying where it breeds, its offspring returning in the form of small elvers, looking for places of fresh water, rivers, streams, rivers and lagoons to grow and, in time, migrate again. The fishing of eels with worms or tackle, such as morenells, was common in the Albufera. The fishermen and consumers distinguished between the white-bellied eels, which were more appreciated because they lived in fresh or running water, and the yellow-bellied eels, which lived in stagnant water and lived more in muddy soil and, therefore, had a different flavour. Nothing that could not be fixed with a good seasoning.

Hunting and fishing in these places probably gave rise to the custom of seasoning with hot pepper and other spices to disguise the strong flavour of hunted or fished meat and fish. Mallards, coots and moorhen are among the birds. Mullets, wolf fish, mullets were the most common and strongest tasting fish. The eel, with its fine white flesh, but bland in flavour, needs a spicy counterpoint, essential to leave us memorable dishes in Albuquerque cuisine: ‘Noodles with eels’, ‘Eel casserole’, ‘Anguilas ofegades’, ‘Anguilas fritas con ajos’, “Anguilas fritas con salsa de tomate y pimientos” or the Espinagada, which we have already mentioned. There have always been people with a mania for eating eels, either because of their appearance or because of their taste. Tradition has given rise to the ‘espinagada de musola’ or dogfish, which is the same as the previous one, only substituting one fish for another.

I leave aside the popular espinagada of pork loin, onion, cabbage and sultanas, which is also very popular for those who do not like eel. In the old days, cocarrois were made with meat and the same stuffing, which were also popular in my village of Muro. Of course, as they didn’t have spinach, the name would have to change, but that’s not the intention of this article. I could tell a thousand anecdotes and theories that would bear witness to what I am saying, but it would be too long and repetitive.

Espinagada, which is called spinach pie, is a medieval heritage that the Galician writer Álvaro Cunqueiro called the great Christian cuisine of the West, the great cuisine of roasts. A cuisine that stretched from Constantinople to Santiago de Compostela, and which, out of a strict sense of hygiene and food preservation, breaded all kinds of meat, fish and vegetables. It is true that earlier civilisations, those of the Middle East, the Greeks, the Romans, the Arabs… also had this type of preparation, but it was in the Middle Ages when this technique was most widely used. References can be found in the ‘Libro del Sent Soví’ from 1324, one of the earliest known recipe books, written in Catalan by an anonymous author. Later, we find them again in the ‘Libro del Coch’ by Master Robert de Nola, cook to the King of Naples Ferdinand I and, later, to Alfonso II, published in 1520, although it is believed that there is an earlier edition. Master Francisco Martinez Motiño, cook to King Philip II, also left a note in his ‘Libro del arte de la cozina, vizcocheria y conserveria’ (Book of the art of cooking, cooking and canning) published in 1620.

The doctor, cook and writer Eliana Thibaut de Commelade (1928-2021), a scholar of mediaeval Catalan cuisine, which she has collected in her books, refers to a ‘coca tapada de espinacas’ from the Sent Soví book which makes one think of ‘espinagada’.

These are the ingredients for this recipe: 2 kilos of raw spinach, 4 tablespoons of olive oil, 4 cloves of garlic, 20 cl of flor of milk, 3 chopped parsley shoots, 1 crumbled slice of dried thyme 300 g pork belly pork, 2 hard-boiled eggs 40 g pine nuts, salt, pepper, nutmeg 80 g grated cheese.

In other words, except for the flor of milk, the hard-boiled eggs and the grated cheese, the garnish is very similar to that of the spinach. And it is the same, if you replace the pork with eels.

So far, this small brushstroke of espinagada, emblematic and emblematic of a cuisine that is made at a specific time, winter, around the feast of a deeply-rooted saint, Saint Anthony, and savoured in the heat of the bonfires that are lit to lighten the darkness and cold of winter, helping the sun to overcome the darkness, already making out the longed-for perfumes of spring.

Bon Appetit!

Joan Segura Miró is a lifelong baker and master artisan pastry chef. Retired