My previous post introduced the term Riu-Rau. A Riu-Rau is a raising drying veranda or building, typified by a series of arches. Well, I suppose that it’s a grape drying building, really, since they become raisins only once they are dried. 😉 Anyway, today we were off with a couple of friends to see one.
We weren’t just off to see a Riu-Rau. This particular Riu-Rau is in Jesus Pobre, a small town relatively close by, and is used each Sunday for a farmers market. Markets are good [well, perhaps regular British markets aren’t so great] but farmers markets are even better. I think this one was actually being billed as an artisan market, which sounds even better – the power of marketing! 😀 Our friends picked us up and we set off in one car.
We didn’t know quite where we were going but our driver knew the way to the town/village. We abandoned ship in the first field that was being used for parking and implemented our strategy for finding our way to the action at such events: following other people or, occasionally, backtrack people carrying bags. Sure enough, we soon found the Riu-Rau which gets pressed into use as a market hall, allegedly each Sunday. This building looked new but I imagine it had been given a wash and brush up. (The lump behind it is the Montgo, BTW.)
There were some stalls scattered around the outside of the Riu-Rau but from my point of view the most interesting stuff was inside under cover – this is where most of the food was. I was particularly taken by a charcuterie stall (OK, that’s French but I don’t know the Spanish equivalent term). Here were some splendid looking chorizo sausages and some particularly fine looking morcilla (black pudding/blood sausage). I couldn’t resist – I bought one. After all, a plateful of morcilla y habas [broad beans] would make a fine supper. There were some good looking alcachofas [globe artichokes] on a vegetable stall which we couldn’t resist, either.
Sitting after our purchases with a coffee, we bumped into a couple who we’d seen peering around our development the day before. We’d shown them around our little Spanish hacienda, amicable folks that we are. They’d actually wansted to be nearer teh action and had made an offer on a place in Jesus Pobre. (I hope we didn’t put them off.) They were another Scottish couple looking for an escape route from the Scottish climate. I’ve recently realized the disproportionate amount of Scots that we count amongst our circle of friends over here; discounting our immediate neighbours in England, who are not out here full time, we now know 12 people living in the valley full time, 7 of whom are Scots. Considering that there are about 10 times as many English as Scots (in our home island, I mean), that’s one helluva disproportionate amount of Scots. Our latest acquaintances would make it 9 out of 13. Scotland must be a great country to leave. 😀
Regrettably, Francine’s stomach seemed to object slightly to the richness of my farmers market morcilla so I don’t suppose I’ll be able to repeat that. Still, I have at least sampled it. (I thought it very good.)