Bocadillos of Spain

Bocadillos, or bocatas, are a sandwich type in Spain. In Spain, there are several words for sandwiches–maybe not quite as many as in American English, but with somewhat explicit differences between the sandwich each word references. There’s the Montadito, a Spanish family of open-face sandwiches we explored a few years ago, and the Bocadillo, which is generally a simple combination of 1 or two ingredients enclosed in a baguette or other roll. Finally, Spanish has a word for a sandwich made with two slices of bread–they call it el sándwich.

There are a few popular named types of bocadillo, and there are nearly unlimited variants possible. At heart though, the bocadillo is not a complicated sandwich.

Start Simple

Bocadillos tend toward simplicity, with only a few main ingredients in each sandwich. Many feature only a single ingredient, such as Jamon Serrano, in a baguette or bread roll that’s been rubbed with garlic and tomato pulp and drizzled with olive oil.

• 

• 

• 

Alternatively, the same bocadillo might use Spanish chorizo, a more salami-like sausage than the more familiar (to me, anyway) Mexican variety of chorizo.

• 

• 

• 

Jamon Serrano is maybe my favorite type of ham, a powerful dry-cured ham that is covered in salt for a period of weeks, then hung to dry in special sheds in the cool mountain air for 6 to 18 months. Similar to prosciutto, it is sliced very thin and served raw with fruits or nuts or cheeses, and has a salty, funky flavor. I get nutty, cheeselike flavors and the occasional mineral tone like organ meat. The chorizo, also dry-cured, has a sharp, peppery garlic and paprika flavor. Both are complimented well by the savory and fruity combination of olive oil and tomato. It was certainly a better combination than chorizo and allioli, a powerfully garlicky Spanish (or Catalan specifically) version of aioli that is used in many types of bocadillos. Steer away from it here.

• 

• 

It wasn’t bad specifically, but the tomato and olive oil does a better job of allowing the chorizo flavor to come through, while the garlic of the allioli fights it for dominance.

Another classic bocadillo combination is that of membrillo, a fruit paste made from quince, with Manchego cheese.

• 

• 

• 

This Manchego is a raw sheep’s milk cheese, aged for 4 months, so that it is firm and richly flavored but not terribly sharp. The quince membrillo comes as a sliceable firmly gelatinous brick of fruit preserve, not chunky but not quite smooth either, with a sweet and slightly tart flavor somewhere between a pear and a tangerine. The two are commonly paired on small plates at tapas bars, and the combination works as well when enclosed in bread.

• 

• 

Manchego, a versatile cheese, also works quite well in a bocadillo of Jamon Serrano with tomato and olive oil. In this case, I used a 12-month aged Manchego, firmer and sharper than the 4-month, with a more aggressive flavor comparable to that of the Serrano. The 12-month Manchego also works well with the quince membrillo, but leans much harder into the sweet/salty contrast.

• 

• 

• 

If you’ve spent much time watching Anthony Bourdain shows, you’ve probably seen him make a bee-line to the nearest place serving morcilla when he does a show in Spain. Morcilla is a blood sausage, and the Spanish version is the best I’ve had. It has a deep, black color, with yellowish-white pockets of fat and a reddish film of oil on the casing’s surface. For the sandwich, I poached it gently then sliced it thick and laid it on a layer of caramelized onions, which accentuated the slightly sweet and spicy flavor of the sausage itself.

Come Prepared

Some Spanish bocadillos are more complicated to make, while still only boasting one or two ingredients. That is because the ingredients themselves are prepared ahead of time before being combined in a bread roll for a bocadillo.

Tortilla Española

One of the better known of these is the bocadillo de tortilla española, a sandwich made with a slice of Spanish tortilla, a type of potato omelet.

The Spanish tortilla is made by slowly frying potatoes and sometimes onions in a large amount of olive oil–frying them slowly that they take on no brown color, so slowly in fact that you might even be said to be poaching the potatoes in olive oil. The potatoes and onions are then combined with egg and seasoned simply–salt and pepper, perhaps some oregano or sweet smoked paprika–and briefly fried in a non-stick pan before being finished in an oven and inverted onto a plate or serving dish.

The tortilla is then allowed to cool to room temperature before being sliced into wedges and served.

It’s a tasty and filling meal on its own or with a small salad. However, many Spanish people prefer to gild this lily by enclosing it in a section of crusty baguette and eating it that way, perhaps with some ketchup or allioli.

It’s not a bad way to eat a Spanish tortilla. While there is an aspect of the carb-on-carb type of sandwich that has never been a favorite at the Tribunal, the egg helps mitigate that issue. The tortilla is not a firm sandwich filling, and in a firmer-crumbed baguette might squish out the sides, but this baguette has a light enough crumb to conform around the tortilla and help hold it in place.

The main issue with it is that the tortilla, while tasty on its own, is not strongly-flavored enough to make up for the sheer volume of bread surrounding it. This was helped by the addition of a garlicky homemade allioli, but not quite enough. Maybe a less thickly-cut wedge of tortilla and more liberal use of condiments would help there. I may try it again some day.

Piperade

Piperade is a popular Basque dish, a stew of sweet peppers, tomato, and onion, flavored with the red espelette chili. It is eaten on its own, as a side dish, or used as an ingredient in other dishes. Sometimes it is combined with scrambled eggs and eaten in a bocadillo.

Two years ago we wrote about the pepper-and-egg sandwich commonly served at Chicago sandwich shops on Fridays during Lent. This is just about as good a version of that as I can imagine existing. The tomatoes, garlic, vinegar and onion add savory, pungent, and sour flavors missing from a simple sauteed bell pepper, and the espelette pepper adds a nice layer of heat.

It was so strongly reminiscent of that sandwich, in fact, and such a good version, that I messaged my friend Mike, a connoisseur of the pepper-and-egg sandwich who had provided me with a lot of information and inspiration when I was writing about it, to let him know he needed to try this.

Escabeche

Escabeche is a dish of marinated fish or meat common to Iberian, Mediterranean, and Latin cuisine. Brought to Spain during the Moorish conquests of the Middle Ages, escabeche involves a brief cook of the flesh before marinating in a highly acidic mixture of citrus and/or vinegar and oil along with sauteed vegetables. A Bocadillo de Escabeche may be made with mussels or tuna or even chicken breast, but when I spotted this at a local grocery store, I knew I needed to include it in this post.

Salt cod, or bacalao in Spanish, is a highly popular ingredient in Portuguese cooking, but is also commonly used in Spain and many Latin countries. The fish is boned and preserved in a layer of salt, and requires soaking in cool water to draw the salt out of the flesh.

The escabeche recipe I settled on calls for cutting the desalted bacalao into 2 inch sections, dredging in seasoned flour, and briefly frying in olive oil. The bacalao is then placed in a nonreactive bowl and covered in a mix of sauteed peppers, onions, and garlic, olive oil, Spanish olives, white wine vinegar, and bay leaves and left to marinate overnight.

I served this the next day in a bigger, softer style of baguette that I’d heated in the oven to give a nice crisp crust. I split it only along one side to allow the bread to cup the loose ingredients, and drizzled some of the marinade into the bread crumb.

The escabeche was not well received by my family. The acid of the vinegar made the flesh of the bacalao quite firm, but the breading quite soggy. While I enjoyed the flavor of the escabeche, I prefer the texture of its South American descendant, ceviche, where the fish is placed into the marinade raw.

I do hope to discover another use for the bacalao though–I was excited to find it and would like to experiment with it again.

Get Fancy

Whether due to a more complicated set of ingredients, or simply higher quality ones, these bocadillos are the deluxe versions that I tried this month.

Next Restaurant’s pork belly bocadillo

Next Restaurant was opened in 2011 in the Fulton Market area of Chicago’s West Side, using an inventive reservation system where tickets are purchased for certain seatings, similar to the theatre or a sporting event. Co-founded by Alinea chef Grant Achatz, it completely changed menus every few months, presenting new themes, and winning many awards along the way.

It is a far fancier restaurant than I would generally eat at, especially for the Tribunal. However, since Shelter in Place order issued in Illinois as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, they switched to a take-home meal kit model, with meals that were more reasonably-priced than I suspected a restaurant like this would offer. Earlier this month they announced a Spanish menu, with paella, a Manchego cheese spread, a crema-based dessert, and an optional bocadillo with Jamon Iberico.

I needed that bocadillo.

Sadly by the time I was able to sign up, they had run out of the Jamon Iberico, but were instead offering pork belly bocadillos as a optional addition to the menu. Mindy and I decided to give it a shot. The paella was tasty enough, though the shrimp it came with was possibly the best-cooked piece of shrimp I’d ever eaten. The manchego spread had a kick, tasting like a fancier pimento cheese and the crema, while delicious, was gone in an instant. The bocadillo though was what I had signed on for.

• 

• 

• 

The pork belly was good, brightly-flavored, minced with cilantro and onion and some kind of citrus, dressed with a peppery orange sauce, and served in a crusty chewy section of baguette. It was more than enough sandwich for an entire meal, and along with the paella and cheese and crema, I was unable to finish it, though it made an even better breakfast as leftovers. We skipped the Next beverage pairings and decided to make the Baltimorean Spaghett cocktail that had its time in the sun last summer, a mixture of Miller High Life with Aperol and lemon juice that I served in High Life bottles.

Overall, the Next experience made for a good special occasion meal and we may try it again soon. They’ve already moved on from the Spanish menu and currently list Japanese and Italian meals on their web site. I’ll be keeping an eye on them to see what happens next.

Jamon Iberico de Bellota

I still needed that bocadillo with Jamon Iberico though. As much as I like Jamon Serrano, Jamon Iberico is considered the king of hams. It is made only from black Iberian pigs raised in certain areas of Spain and Portugal, and when those pigs are raised specially, allowed to range freely in the oak forests along the Spain/Portugal border where they eat only acorns, the resulting ham is labeled Jamon Iberico de Bellota.

This jamon iberico is less salty than the jamon serrano I’d eaten, but with a far more pronounced nutty flavor, again making it reminiscent of certain cheeses.

I served it in a toasted baguette rubbed with tomato pulp and drizzled with olive oil, with no other accompaniment. No other was needed.

Based on sheer expense–I paid nearly as much for 2 ounces of the Iberico de Bellota as I did for 16 ounces of Jamon Serrano–I can’t say I’m converted. But this was a very special ham and I’m glad to have gotten an opportunity to try it. Next time I’ll probably skip the sandwich and eat it on its own.

Spanish Anchovies

Early on in the month I bought several tins of Spanish anchovies, thinking that for sure they’d be an ingredient in several bocadillos. I wasn’t really able to find as many recipes using them as I’d hoped though. I finally found one that I thought was worth trying. While I can’t be certain that it’s an authentic Spanish recipe, it certainly uses Spanish ingredients.

The sandwich starts with a crusty baguette, which I chose to toast lightly and drizzle with a little olive oil. Then black olive tapenade is spread on one half and sprinkled with microgreens–I used watercress. Atop the greens go a smattering of walnuts and crumbles of the farmer’s cheese. Finally, just a couple of the anchovies finish the sandwich.

These anchovies seem to be of higher quality than others I’ve had–they are still quite salty, but there is a subtle fermented quality to them that brings to mind good fish sauce.

While the watercress gets buried by the other flavors here, the firm, buttery walnuts and the crumbly, slightly sour cheese are able to be distinguished between the bitter and salty olive spread and the intense anchovy flavor.

It is not, however, a sandwich to eat if you plan on kissing anyone afterward.

Bocadillo Serranito

I discovered this recipe late in the month, and I’m glad I waited to publish until I’d tried it. Popular in the southern Andalusia area of Spain, and especially in its capital Seville, it is made with pork loin, Jamon Serrano, Italian frying peppers, and tomato, is often dressed with either aioli or mojo picón, and is invariably served with fried potatoes.

The sandwich is served in a softer-crumbed type of baguette, though I heated it in the oven to provide the crisper crust I enjoy. Like many bocadillos, it can be served with the tomato pulp crushed into the bread, but often simply uses sliced tomatoes instead, here placed atop a thin layer of my homemade allioli.

Then the sandwich gets two thin slices of pork loin, pounded thinner, seasoned simply with salt and pepper and shallow-fried in olive oil.

Atop the pork goes the pepper, which has also been fried in olive oil until softened and the skin and seeds removed. I used Cubanelle pepper here.

Finally, the ingredient from which the sandwich takes its name. Two slices of Jamon Serrano are loosely piled over the top of the fried pepper. I finished the sandwich with another swipe of allioli on the top bread half before closing it.

I made the mistake of preparing this sandwich only a few hours before Mindy and I were to have our anniversary dinner from Tribunal favorite Hermosa, otherwise I’d have surely devoured it. As it stands, I needed to share it with the family so I would have room later. I want another one though. This sandwich has it all.

The allioli and tomato combine with a similar alchemy as tomato with mayonnaise, but enhanced by the additional explosive garlic flavor of the allioli. Between this pairing and the Jamon Serrano, there are certain BLT-like aspects to the sandwich, but with the mildly spicy-sweet pepper and the lean but well-seasoned pork loin in between them, the bocadillo plays more like an upgraded club sandwich. The fries, by definition a necessary accompaniment to this sandwich, are an excellent way to shovel more allioli into one’s mouth.

This one goes in the repertoire. I will make it again.

I made and ate a lot of these sandwiches this month, and while I have waited until the last possible day of May to post this, I have barely scratched the surface of the possible variants, and have likely missed many popular bocadillos. I’d love to hear about any I missed, as we’re continuing in June with another type of bocadillo, the Bocadillo de Calamares, and I may be able to use that opportunity to make up partially for the shortcomings of this post. Please let us know your favorite bocadillo in the comments!