APH: The Paella's Recipe Pt.1

  Spring has finally arrived at this town. The birds from the trees nearby chirped their sweet, melodic music; the flowers bloomed beautifully with their fragrance drifting in the air; and the cool, fresh air rushed along with the blazing rays of the sun. Around the neighbourhood streets, a young Spaniard hummed as he walked back home, carrying a bagful of grocery shopping. Spain was in his usual good mood.

  Every step he took he made a little leap of joy, enjoying his carefree life. He swung the entrance gates open, showing his usual bright smile as he shoved the key into the keyhole of the door.

“¡Ah, que emoción! I cannot wait till I work on it,” said Spain gleefully. It seemed that Spain was eager on something exciting. He walked straight ahead to the kitchen, laid the groceries on the counter, and opened the windows wide, letting the fresh breeze rushing in. While Spain observed the landscape, he placed his hands on his waist, smiling at the wonders and tranquility of spring.

  However, the peace didn’t last very long. Somewhere nearby, he could hear an angry screeching of profanities.

“Maledetto a quella brutta e grossa patata! Farò a pezzi a lui e a suoi muscoli schifosi!”

  Romano came Storming at Spain’s front door with a dangerous glare on his face. He banged against the door many times, waiting for Antonio to open it.

“Spaaaain! You bastaard! Open this stupid door!”

  Spain sighed, knowing already who his guest was. He went for the door and opened it. He greeted his usual sunny smile.

“¡Hola Romano! ¿Que pasa?”

“Don’t play dumb with me Spain. You know exactly what’s going on. My fratellino is still with that darn potato-brain bastard! God I hate him!”

  Romano intruded into Antonio’s house without much of needing his permission to enter. He kept grunting with anger as he threw himself onto the couch, with his feet on the table.

  Antonio heaved a huge sigh as he shut the door. He sat on the sofa facing opposite to where Romano was sitting.

“Santos cielos Lovino. What did Ludwig have done this time?”

“I’ll tell you what he has done. He’s still hanging with Feliciano and manipulating him!”

  Spain let out a nervous laugh. He never understood why Romano gets over-reacted with Germany, even though he has no ill intensions with Italy.

Guess it is normal for Romano to concern about Italy. They ARE both brothers after all, thought Spain.

  Romano continued on his ranting on how Germany was a sly bastard into tricking his brother and etcetera. It may not be the most exciting topic to be constantly talking about but Romano didn’t really have anyone else to talk about these things except Spain. Antonio would always listen his ranting and not get bored from him. He would always go back to Spain whenever he gets upset or felt he was being targeted at.

  Spain restlessly looked at the wall clock. Romano stopped his conversation when he noticed Spain wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Oi, bastard Spain! Pay attention to me, dammit! I had one hell of a day and you got the balls to ignore me!”

  Spain turned his head quickly. He said in an apologetic tone, “S-sorry Romano! It’s just I had to do something that’s really important.”

Romano raised his eyebrow curiously. “Something important?”

“Sí. There’ll be a cooking paella competition in this town and I just bought some ingredients for making the best paella ever!” Spain’s eyes glowed with happiness and excitement for competing on the upcoming cooking event. Romano couldn’t have cared less.

“Eeh? You’re making your traditional food?”

“Yup. The problem is that I’m not sure if it’s delicious enough to be considered the best paella and I haven’t even made it yet.”

  Spain was giving an impression in hinting something to Romano. Romano stood up straight and crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently.

“So? What’s your point?”

“Well, I need a food taster to evaluate how good it is and since you’re here, you could be the food taster.”

  Spain looked at Romano with his pleading, twinkling emerald eyes. Romano responded with a disgusted look.

“Fine, fine. I’ll taste your dumb paella.”

“¡Ah! ¡Gracias Romano! You will not regret it!”

Antonio got overly agitated; he grabbed on Romano’s arm and pulled his arm hard out from the couch.

“Aiya! Watch it, cretino!”

  Both of them entered the kitchen; Spain has set up the cooking tools and ingredients out, wore a white apron on him and began to make himself busy. Romano just laid his head on the other side of the kitchen counter, observing Antonio’s passionate cooking spree.

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   The rich spices and food soon filled the room with its exotic aroma. Just one swift smell of it was enough to make your mouth watering. Romano cannot handle under the pressure of his hunger anymore.

“Gaaah! Damn it Spain! When will the food be ready?!” He banged his fists furiously on the dining table. He swore he could hear Spain laughing at his childish behaviour in the kitchen.

“It’s actually done. Just wait a sec,” said Spain. As he turned off the fire stove, he brought out a wooden board and placed it on the dining table and went back for the paella pan. Romano could see the steam rising from the rice food as Spain set the pan on the board.

“Finally! Ho una fame da lupi.” Without considering his table manners, Romano scooped onto his plate a bountiful of paella rice and savagely shoved the spoon in his mouth.

   Just one bite was enough for Romano’s insides going wild with explosion. The fiery taste of the sweet spices melted on his taste buds, the fried calamaris were cooked to a golden-colour and had a wonderful crispy texture, and bits of other vegetables, seafood, and chicken were done nicely. Romano hadn’t taste anything like this in his entire life.

“Holy crap Spain!  This is AMAZING! I’m quite surprise it tasted differently from the others you made for the past years. Just what did you put in this one?”

Spain gave a smirked look. “That’s because I used a special ingredient that I bought.”

  Romano looked at Antonio from his plate, raising his eyebrow suspiciously.

“Special? The hell you mean by that, you idiot.”

   Spain didn’t take much offense to Romano’s insults. He just happily grabbed on a chair next to Romano and sat on it, telling his story.

“Well. At first, I went to the wet market to buy some fresh meat and seafood since it would be much better if I serve my paella nicely done and fresh without buying those industrialized, chemical supermarket goods because you know they—“

“Can you stop side tracking and get onto the topic you idiot?!”

   Spain realized his side-tracking of the story; he gave an apologetic smile to Romano. He has the tendency to be excited on telling a story and get side-tracked to another event that happened that has nothing to do with the main point of the story. Romano must give credit to Spain that he can be the most foolish and clueless bastard he ever meant in the planet (well okay, same goes to Feliciano).

“Haha. Sorry. Got a little excited over here. Anyways... I just came from the wet market and thought to take a visit to the farmers’ market to grab some vegetables and spices. I was just roaming around when this Gypsy woman was calling onto me to her market stand.”

   Romano suddenly gave a smirk chuckle. “Eeh? A Gypsy woman? Never knew you’re suddenly becoming popular with the ladies, Antonio.” Hoping to see a hint of embarrassment from his teasing, he leaned over to Spain’s face, looking at it.

   Spain was taken by surprise, blushing furiously. “N-no! She wanted to sell some things to me. That was all.” Spain felt himself awkward as he spattered out his words. Romano can’t help himself to laugh inside his head. Spain took his time to compose himself.

“Well, she showed me her market sell on vegetables and spices she was selling. Then all of the sudden, she showed me this.”

   A small thud came out as he placed out an object on the table. Romano stared at it blankly. It was a small, cream-coloured curved bottle with writings on it.

“Che cavolo? The hell is this thing?”

“It’s this new spice recipe she made it uniquely.”

“Uniquely? What nonsense are you sprouting about, you tomato-freak? Explain it.”

“Well, she said it’s not like the other spice brands. Guess you can say it’s special. “

  Special, thought Romano. How in the world would a spice be so damn special? The way Spain described it sounds as if it was from a fantasy world where England would go about with his mythical friends.

Maybe I’m just imagining things.

“She even said she only made these in VERY special occasions and were very limited. She only made five of them and hadn’t sold them to anyone but me. Must be lucky to be to catch these babies, no? And like you said, the paella I just made tasted WAY better than the others I made!”

“Well, yeah I did. I’m sure you’ll win that competition Spain. If not, then I’ll be pissed for real at the judges for not choosing you and kick them in their culi!”

   Even though his tone sounded stubborn and tough, underneath him he was just a pitiful coward like his brother. Spain laughed uncontrollably out loud to his remark.

“Heh. I appreciate your support very much. It means a lot to me. Now, let’s feast on this deliciosa paella before it gets cold.”

   Romano nodded in agreement and continued to eat his plate. Spain began to fill up his plate and ate up the rice. The two men continued to enjoy their lunchtime peacefully.


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  The clock hanging from the wall ticked every second it went by. It was 15:00 pm and the two nations were done with their best feast they ever had.

“Damn Spain. The paella is seriously good! And those fried, black squids that you served as appetizer... what is called again?”

“Ah! You mean the Arañitas.”

“No wonder you called them like that. They DO look like little spiders.”

   Romano laid back on the chair, stretching out his legs and arms. He suddenly felt his body feeling clumsy. He gave out a big yawn as he slumped back on the table.

“Feeling tired?” Spain leaned forward to make sure Romano was feeling okay.

“Yeah, somehow I am. I felt as if I could collapse and fall asleep any moment.”

“Ahah. Guess that’s what good food does to you. I’m feeling tired as well.”

He stopped and thought for awhile, trying to compromise something.

“If you want to sleep now, you are welcome to stay here. I still have the guest room.”

He lifted his head at Spain, his eyes dragging him to sleep. “If you say so,” said Romano drowsily.

  Spain watched him as he brought himself up from the chair. “You’re not coming? Thought you said you’re tired?”

   Antonio replied back with his smile. “I will. Just thought I should clean up the plates and store the leftovers and the ingredients before they gone bad.”

“Fine, if that’s what you want to do. I’ll just head back to bed.”

   He left Spain with his cleaning duty and took the stairs. If I remember correctly, the bedroom room should be upstairs on the far corner. His hand moved upwards on the handle as he climbed to the second floor. Once he finally reached the floor, he walked along the corridor leading to the bedroom. Even though Spain’s house remained the same for over the centuries, he noticed the Spaniard has changed drastically the decorations and furniture inside. He noticed he kept some antiques as household decorations.

    On the wall, he saw paintings of Spain’s conquistadors, his kings and queens, and his latest country leaders. He stopped on his steps when he caught a glimpse of one painting.

   It was Spain on this one. But something about him looked different on the portrait from the usual Antonio he used to know. This Spain was wearing in his conquistador clothing, holding his sword on his hand. Next to him was his national flag pierced onto the ground. The landscape had a river flowing by with forest tress scattered all over. This must have been Spain’s Conquistador Age while he was guiding with his Spanish rulers into the American continent.

   His usual, bright smile wasn’t shown on this portrait. He looked serious, determined, and had a dark-look on his face. This wasn’t the Spain that Romano used to know.

   But what the heck, it’s not like he wanted for Spain to tell him about his colonization era. It was just Spain never mentioned him on what he did every time he travelled to the outside seas or his journeys through the lands of the New World or the thought of Spain fighting the natives of the American Empire...

   His thoughts suddenly snapped; he brought his senses back to reality. His body suddenly became heavier and heavier every minute. He better move faster to the bedroom if he didn’t want to fall asleep on the floor.

Why should I bother thinking over pointless things? I should better go to the bedroom.

The Italian finally reached to the bedroom door and entered as soon as he turned the doorknob open.

  There was a sense of familiar atmosphere hanging in the room. The room actually had a bedchamber in it; an exquisite Persian carpet from the Islamic period; the colour of the wallpaper was stained with a bloody maroon texture; and finally the ceiling engraved with golden spiral shapes decorated on its white, soft marble.

   It’s been awhile since he visited his old room. It may not be long ago since he was been here but it felt like an eternity.

   Romano went to the window and opened wide the two doors wide. The fresh, cool breeze blew gently into the room, making the room temperature pleasant. He then closed the curtain drapes to block the sunray shining through the window. He might as well enjoy his sleep in a dim room.

   He hoped under the warm covers of the double-sized bed, cuddled under its sheets, and he dozed off in his sleep. The distant noises of chirping birds and the grasshoppers sang in harmony as the young Italian fell deeply into his unconscious mind, silencing all his senses from the outside world.