A Sunday drive

Two weeks ago we set off for a drive and got no further than the river bed just down the street. More info click here for those of you who haven't read it on Just Land Rovers.

Anyway, today we had a proper trip. Into the hills.

In our search for the perfect finca with idyllic olive groves and almond trees we have explored the hills behind us more than once.

We went to Riogordo a couple of times. Beautiful place, with lots of rolling olive groves. We liked it but the second time we went we realised it was miles away from anywhere. And it seemed a bit chilly.

Then we discovered Canillas de Aceituno. It is only about 25 km from the coast, but very nice and high. It has beautiful views, and a lovely feel about it. From Canillas you can go walking in the hills, but it is sheltered and faces south. It has never been cold in Canillas when we have been, even in winter, although it is always a few degrees cooler than where we live on the coast. We thought this might be nice too. Not that we could find any reasonable properties that just happened to be for sale.

We still like to go up there. And after my embarrassing vertigo attack on Christmas Day I thought it was time I got my head around heights again. So onwards and upwards we went to Canillas today.

At 649m above sea level it nestles in the foothills of the Sierra de Tejeda, and is one of the starting points to climb the mighty Maroma. Technically Maroma is partly in Granada and partly in Málaga province, but it is known as the highest mountain in Málaga. Er, no, we didn't climb Maroma today (2,065m).

The pueblo under the protection of the sierra


Canillas has a long and colourful history going back to pre-historic times. But like everywhere else in La Axarquía, the most influential civilisation was that of the Muslim kingdom, when it was part of Al-Andalus. The pueblo's prosperity - and apparently its name - dates from this period when it was a centre for the Moorish silk industry. (The Arabic word Azeytuni refers to silk).

This is very confusing to idiots like me who thought the name - Aceituno - referred to the countless olive trees around there, especially as there is a local olive oil factory. (The Spanish for olive is aceituna. However, one source I consulted seems to think that the name is derived from the arabic word for olive - az-zaytun). The factory was doing a roaring trade today, and we couldn't be bothered to join the huge queue.

Olive trees right in the village


La Axarquía is not very touristy (Goody). Apart from the coastal resorts, there really isn't much development here but there are five tourist routes that you can drive to get to know most of the region. Canillas is the start of the Ruta Mudéjar - the route of the Moorish architecture. Either side of the main street, the town still has the basic lay-out dating from the Muslim old town.

The church was built in Gothic-Mudéjar style in the C16 on the site of the old mosque, and then reformed in the nineteenth century.

The church of Our Lady of the Rosary


Flower-filled street in the old town


One of the few Arabic remains - an old well

Incidentally this property has been for sale for years, but obviously no-one fancies an old Arab well in their house.

In the era of Muslim rule there was also a castle, but now all that remains is a square of the same name on the site.

Plaza de Castillo


A corner of the Plaza de Castillo


After the reconquest, its history included the establishment of a community of franciscan monks in the seventeenth century, a period of local banditry in the 1840s, years of hunger and a cholera epidemic from 1865-1878, followed by the commercial production of timber and the sale of ice from the mountains behind.

In the 20th century, the pueblo took a republican stance. In 1911, a group of republican workers declared a republic - resulting in a number of deaths and injuries (see New York times here). With the start of the Civil War in Spain, Canillas remained in the republican zone, although it was later occupied by Spanish Nationalist and Italian fascist troops.

The area supported the Spanish Maquis, who continued to oppose the Franco dictatorship, but by the 1960s many families were emigrating to escape from the political regime and to seek a better life.

It currently has a population of 2,336 (2007), less than half the number of inhabitants when the republic was declared in 1911. Of the population now, 364 are foreigners - with the main nationality being British. In 2006, there were 441 telephone lines, and only five ADSL lines.

People here are not rich though, with the average household income only up to 7,200€. Although this is an old figure (2003), it is unlikely to have gone up hugely. Agriculture still features in the economy of the area, with the main crops being tomatoes, avocados, and olives. Now, like elsewhere in Andalucía, the main industry in the area is in construction. But for how much longer, given the current slow-down in the building boom?

Anyway, enough of the history and geography lessons. Here are some more pictures of modern-day Canillas.

Approaching the centre of the pueblo on Avenida Andalucía

What is now Bar Sociedad was the venue for the creation of the Society of Friends of the Pueblo and of Culture, between 1912 and 1924.

Plaza de la Constitución -
even the main square is not immune from new-build


Picking acelgas for lunch


Enjoying the sun - the older ones


Enjoying the sun - the younger ones


Some of the last remaining plots of ground in the village - but for how long?



The houses on the right are new, and the big promotional sign for Pueblo Andaluz doesn't bode well.

Almond trees on the slopes outside the village


Sources: Ayuntamiento de Canillas de Aceituno, El Portal de la Axarquía, Instituto de Estadística de Andalucía, New York Times

Artichoke salad

When we're in Spain we tend to eat Spanish style, ie late lunch at 2-4pm which is our main meal of the day, and a light supper at 8-9pm.

The evening meal is normally a salad, even in winter. The odd exception is a clear soup. Of which more later - in another post.

Alcachofas, artichokes, artichauts, carciofi

Onto the salads. In La Axarquía, where we live, fresh artichokes are available almost all year round. They are a bit of a pain towards the end of the season, because the chokes are too furry, but normally they are great.

A few years ago, one of our neighbours - not an immediate neighbour but one who considers us a neighbour because we live in the old part of the village, or maybe because he has got used to us, anyway, whatever - Pepe walked up to us one day after he had been harvesting artichokes. And gave us nine. What the hell do you do with nine fresh artichokes?

So I promptly looked up some recipes in one of my old books. "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" by Simone Beck, Louisette Bertholle, and Julia Child, is one of my very favourite cook books. No glossy pictures to pay for, but great diagrams, and great explanations.

Under the vegetable section, there are appropriate sauces listed for each veg. And for cold artichokes, among others, it recommends Sauce Moutarde.

So, here is the sauce directly out of the book.

2tbl prepared French mustard - for me there is only one. Grey Poupon.
3tbl boiling water

Rinse a small mixing bowl in hot water. Add the mustard and beat with a wire whisk, adding the water by drops.

⅛ to ¼ pt olive oil or salad oil

Again, drop by drop, beat in the olive oil to make a thick, creamy sauce.

Salt and pepper
Lemon juice
1 to 2 tbl parsley or chopped fresh green herbs

Beat in salt, pepper, and lemon juice to taste. Then beat in the herbs.

These days I don't make the sauce quite like that. Mainly because when I don't have the book in front of me, I forget about the boiling water - BUT - it does give a good consistency.

I use a pestle and mortar to make the dressing because I can start by crushing rock salt and peppercorns, and if I want, I can also add garlic at the initial stage too, (say one clove) to turn it into a paste. Then add the mustard, and more or less follow the recipe. Adding the hot water just gives a different consistency. Instead, or as well as lemon juice, you can also add wine vinegar, or a more flavoured and stronger vinegar such as Vinagre de Jerez or balsamic vinegar (too sweet for our taste - but if you like it, fine). But not much as you will be putting some onto the cooked artichokes later. As for oil, I use a local extra virgin olive oil from Periana. I wouldn't use anything else, but if you like a milder taste, you might want to use sunflower oil.

There are some fancy ways to prepare artichokes but basically unless you have bought VERY FRESH artichokes they are all a waste of time. They need to smell oily, even when you pick them up. They need to look fresh and not remotely tired. They are great if they have that super purple tinge.



To prepare them, the essence is speed, so then they don't discolour. Chop off the stalk, leaving a small amount (it is quite tasty), and then take off the outer leaves quickly with a sharp knife. Just go round the vegetable almost like a spiral staircase.



When you have got rid of the tough ones, you are ready. Sometimes I think I take off more than I need to, but it saves getting chewy leaves later on. Then chop off the top third or so. If they are large, chop them in half. And - if the chokes are large and furry, take them out. If there is hardly any choke, it's not worth the effort. I have tried putting lemon juice or vinegar on the exposed edges of the raw veg but I don't think it makes any difference. But do not leave them sitting around.



Put them immediately in boiling (or nearly boiling if you aren't that organised) water with a load of vinegar or lemon juice. If you have chopped them in half, putting them face down saves them going black/grey.

They are ready when a knife goes through them, without them falling apart.

Take them out, say with a draining spoon and put them in a bowl to cool. Add more vinegar to preserve the colour. I forgot to say, you need to like vinegar (and mustard) for this recipe.

When they have cooled slice them thinly so they are easy to eat. Put them in a presentation dish, and add the Sauce Moutarde, mixing well in, but leaving some herbs on top for presentation.

No, this is not the presentation dish, because it was for us....


It has taken longer to write this than it does to make the salad. They keep in the fridge and can be added to casseroles or paella or whatever. As a salad it is just as good the next day.

We tend to eat it with a mixed green salad, tomato, cucumber, olives, fresh onions, and parsley from the garden. Sometimes fresh broad beans go well, and tonight I am adding some blanched cauliflower.

Ironically, although they are grown round here, we have never seen fresh ones on the menu at restaurants, you only ever get tinned artichokes in a salad or on a pizza. Similarly my neighbour also uses tinned ones in salad, and when she buys fresh ones (rarely) they end up in a bean casserole.

They are incredibly good for you. They contain minerals, especially phosphorus, potassium and iron. They are also great for fibre, citric and malic acid, and enzymes which help to break down protein. They are also, apparently good for your liver and gall bladder.

I forgot to mention what to drink with them. "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" says that 'most wine authorities agree that water should be served with them rather than wine, for wine changes its character when drunk with this vegetable. But, if you insist, serve a strong, dry, chilled white wine such as a Mâcon, or a chilled and characterful rosé such as a Tavel.'

My Spanish recipe book says - to cut the translation short - that artichokes make white wine taste bad. Instead you should serve cava with them. I tend to follow this recommendation.

Here endeth the lesson on alcachofas. An acquired taste, but worth the effort.