The secret to a killer paella is the wind. This I discovered in the hills outside of Santa Fe, as fall faintly nipped the air and a big Spanish stew bubbled on the grill.
Of course, the preparation of an authentic feast must follow a few rules. A true paella needs a certain shallow pan, a paellera, for which the dish is named. Valencian arroz bomba is the grain of choice for its ability to sponge rich liquid without losing its al dente texture. Threads of amber saffron guarantee a paella’s mesmerizing color. But it’s the outdoor air that brings the stew to life: the wind blowing through aspens and pines, swirling the smoke of an early-autumn fire, jostling the scents of garlic, onions, and wine. That’s what makes me fall in love with paella.
Of course, I’m starving—and that helps, too. It’s 2 P.M. after a traipse along the Tesuque Peak Road Trail, which begins at 9,800 feet and ascends from there. Brilliant idea, this combination of hike (led by Santa Fe Mountain Adventures) and outdoor culinary class (conducted by the Santa Fe School of Cooking). Our group of nine—mostly flatlanders—saunters along the trail at a pace befitting thin air. We gaze upon purple asters and Indian paintbrush, and admire the first yellowed leaves of aspens that will soon daub the mountains in gold.
And that smell—that wonderful, hearty aroma emanating from the pan. “Paella is a communal food, sometimes prepared in paelleras as big as bathtubs,” chef Susan Anzalone explains. She pours a dollop of grated tomato and a glug of local Gruet Chardonnay into the mix.
Meanwhile, a peach cobbler cooks in a Dutch oven while the group gathers around a picnic table dressed in a cheery, flowery plastic cloth. Anzalone, who also runs Gold Leaf Catering in Santa Fe, prepares tableside guacamole. “My secret ingredient is toasted cumin,” she says. The eating begins: blue corn chips, salsa fresca, toasted bread and grilled vegetables brushed in olive oil, garlic, Mexican oregano, and balsamic vinegar. Anzalone flits between table and grill, juggling the workload. This is far more demonstration than cooking class. Nevertheless, the group enjoys a relaxing respite in the sun as food keeps coming to the table.
Anzalone scurries off to top the simmering paella with chicken, shrimp, Polish sausage, red peppers, artichokes, and green beans. A moment later, she presents the giant pan, revealing a stew as vibrant as the Indian paintbrush along the Tesuque Trail. The wind kicks up a notch, bringing with it the aroma of caramelized garlic and onions in that rich tomato-saffron stock. I feel it even before it hits my tongue. And I now know why the Spanish traditionally make it outside.
Sundowner Hikes & Outdoor Cooking Class; $160/person; 800-982-4688; cookin@santafeschoolofcooking.com
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