Polbo á feira (Galician Octopus with Paprika)

Variations

• The name: in Galician it is polbo á feira — octopus of the fair. Elsewhere in Spain it is pulpo a la gallega, Galician-style octopus. It was sold at inland market fairs by women called pulpeiras who boiled it in copper cauldrons, which is where the fair in the name comes from.
• The copper pot: traditionally it is boiled in copper, which spreads heat evenly and cools slowly so the temperature never spikes. A heavy pot at home does the same job.
• Heat: pimentón dulce alone is mild; a mix with picante is closer to what the fairs serve. Half and half is a safe start.
• Without potatoes: plenty of places serve the octopus alone on the wooden plate, which is what the photograph on this page shows, with bread instead of cachelos.
• Against gambas al ajillo: two faces of Spanish seafood. That one heats the oil to carry the garlic; this one never heats the oil at all and simply pours it over at the end, because the paprika must not scorch.
• Against patatas bravas: the opposite use of pimentón. There it is cooked into a sauce for colour and depth; here it is scattered raw so only the aroma survives.
• Against takoyaki: the same animal, handled in opposite ways. That dish takes already-boiled octopus, dices it small and hides it inside batter; here the octopus is the entire dish and there is nothing to do but boil it well.

Tips

• Frozen octopus is better than fresh. With most seafood the rule runs the other way; not here. The ice crystals physically rupture the connective tissue between the muscle fibres, and that is the only thing tenderising the octopus in this recipe. Beating it on the rocks in Galicia was the same job done by hand. If you do find a fresh one, freeze it for two days first.
• The cork does nothing. The belief that a wine cork in the pot tenderises octopus is widespread and has no basis — it looks more like a habit of marking the pot that hardened into an explanation. It does no harm, so keep it as tradition if you like.
• Do not salt the water. Season at the end with coarse salt instead. Salt in the pot makes the skin more likely to come away, and salting the outside of a cooked octopus is more accurate anyway (salt and seasoning).
• Dip it three times. Asustar sounds like superstition but the job it does is clear: the surface sets quickly, so the skin stays attached and the arms curl. Where the skin comes off, the paprika and oil have nothing to cling to.
• Never let it boil hard. The surface should barely move. A rolling boil takes the skin off first (heat control).
• Test with a skewer, not a clock. Twenty-five to thirty minutes for a 1kg octopus, about forty for 2kg — but those are only starting points and individual animals vary a lot. When the skewer meets no resistance, it is done.
• This dish fails in both directions. Undercooked it is rubber; overcooked the skin lets go and the flesh turns to mush. If in doubt, pull it slightly early and let it rest in the water.
• Rest it in its own water. Lift it out to cool and it loses moisture. Fifteen minutes off the heat, still submerged, finishes the cooking and leaves it juicier.
• Keep the cooking water. Potatoes boiled in it are cachelos, and they are the other half of the dish.
• There is a reason for the wooden plate. A freshly boiled octopus keeps releasing water. The wood takes it up so the olive oil is not diluted; on china you get a puddle of water and oil sitting separately under the octopus.
• Do not heat the paprika. The oil in this dish is never heated — it is poured over at the end. Pimentón on hot oil scorches within seconds and turns bitter (blooming spices).
• Serve it warm. Cold, the oil congeals and the octopus firms up. This was food boiled and cut to order at a market stall (serving temperature).