Dreaming of A Spanish Serenade at The Spanish Table, Richmond District

"...That all life is a dream to all

And that dreams themselves are a dream."

Eight years ago, my daughter and I visited Spain to celebrate her high school graduation and her eighteenth birthday. For me, it was also a culmination of a dream come true: to visit the land of many greats: Llorca, Cervantes, Calderon de la Barca. Everything about the places we toured also reminded me of my father, who was born in a small Spanish-colonized town in the Philippines. Raised by a cantor, who sang in a church built by Franciscan missionaries in 1670, my own pater, the pater de familia, would always belt the operatic version of Andalusia like Caruso. He would always recount Irvings' Tales of the Alhambra and many other literary and historical allusions to the greatness of Spain. He could not help himself; he was imbued with a culture derived from such a costly colonial burden and at the same time an undeniably extraordinary heritage.

To bask in this thought also means that all the gold adorning the altars of La Giralda in Sevilla confronted one in the face with the sad truth of the appurtenant post-colonial historical and social injustice Spain has committed to its many former impoverished dominions. With this caveat, however, and needless to say, I fell in love with every city we went to: Madrid, Seville, Cordoba, Granada, and Barcelona. I even traveled to Barcelona a second time with my son and husband. I was enchanted twice, in a sort of metaphorical Spanish serenade, with the mystique and singularity of the Iberian people's language, history, literature, music, dance, architecture and yes, food.

So when The Spanish Table opened in San Francisco, the enchantment continues. This specialty boutique store, which specializes in food, wine and cookware from Spain and Portugal, is a large expansive space filled with any chef's fantasy. From the essential paella ingredients like paella rice, saffron, pimenton ahumados, sliced jamones to the aged riojas and chocolates from Spain's former colonial outposts, this store is, indeed, what Calderon de la Barca's ironical dream poem is all about despite the materialist aspect of it.

On the other hand, displays of multicolored and vibrantly-designed tagines, handmade sangria pitchers, cups, plates, cocotes, cazuelas, and paella pans would impel anyone to mill around for hours. Recipe books, greeting cards, kitchen accoutrements are also for sale. And when hungry, skip over to the counter where you can order your warm bocadillos, cortado or cafe con leche to-go.

My husband, who loves to cook, would visit this store at least once a month to replenish his paella, tapas or pintxos recipe ingredients. The result is a spectacular taste of Spain that could humbly mimic the boquerias' and restaurantes' many offerings similar to a cavalier's meal after sallying forth in the orange-colored land of Don Quixote! Ole!