A MAGIC PAN, PAELLA FOR THE SOUL

My soulmate Margie knows that when I am in a funk, three things spark joy (sorry, Marie Kondo), relieving a grumpiness unseen by many over the last few years. First, give me a hotdog, yes, the red tender juicy, a culinary enigma of mystery meat—this isn't just any dog, it must be Jolly Hotdog.

- DIOKNO OLIVES

The next would be anything Chinese, a magical realm where flavors dance and twirl. A symphony, a riot of MSG that soothes the soul and a hangover. Yet, if there's one dish that will put a smile on my sallow face, and a step in my pace—it must be the sun-kissed canvas of flavors, a vibrant masterpiece of grains, a mysterious trot of saffron—it is the paella, the classic Valenciana treat that I fell in love with over 50 years ago.

In the late '70s, my dad's younger brother Tony and his wife, Maruja, came to Manila from Sevilla on a visit. Daddy and Tito Tony had not seen each other in decades, and it was very much a homecoming to listen to stories of their youth and their journey. Tita Maruja, on the other hand, brought a paellera, and all the accouterments needed to make a paella. Manila was still a desert when it came to epicurean pursuits—there weren't delis like Santi's or Terry's that we take for granted today. Olive oil, arroz bomba, saffron, chorizo and jamon jabugo were hard to come by. The quality was wanting. I was smitten by this magic pan, and since then I have made it my mission, so to speak, to make that elusive paella, done right. It was the '70s, Spanish kitchens like Alba (in those days, okay) made do with what was available, substituting time-worn ingredients for local flavor.

Years later, I found the same paellera in the kitchen. We cleaned it up and oiled it and started, mostly by chance, on the steps in making one. It wasn't till I picked up Penelope Casas' compendium Paella that I started to get the idea of technique and style. Casas' book covered over 60 different recipes of this rice dish of robust flavors for easy, elegant entertaining. This book became my bible.

When Margie and I were newly married, we took our first long trip to Madrid, and it was a culinary journey that held its mark. We would have long lunches in spots that my grandparents dined at. La Barraca on C/Reina was as old school as you can get.