Over the weekend here in Chicago, my dad and I turned our gazes towards my mom as we watched her in action. She was negotiating something in her polite but determined way. With admiration in his voice, my dad said, ”Your mom is fearless.”

“If I had my druthers…” She has her druthers. Druthers… she makes that improbable phrase move from the conditional to the declarative. These last two years have thrown numerous wrenches in her plans (to say the least), but still she rises.

There’s no place that she won’t explore. Drop her in a new city, in the woods, on a mountain or overboard, and she’ll look around and make a plan. We were in Barcelona, both having been there once before independently, and everything was possible. We had heard about a terrific seafood restaurant and we planned our entire day around our feast. She and I adore seafood, especially shellfish. We (and she in particular) are nooks-and-crannies people: the more poking, pulling, extracting, squeezing, and nibbling around a shell or bone, the better!

For Barcelona, Part One, click here.

In addition to assorted delights from the sea, we ordered their specialty, paella. Let me pause to say that paella is high on the list of special dishes that are made quite frequently at my house. It’s under the category of slow, rustic, communal cooking that’s made even better outside like barbecue, crab boils, and fish fries.

Unlike mine that is the color of marigolds, Botafumeiro’s was a brownish concoction reminiscent of roux for gumbo or shrimp and grits. And it was glorious! My mom’s first bite rendered the most dazzling smile that lasted the few hours we were there and our walk back to our hotel.

Every time the fearless one comes to Chicago (including a few days ago), we have some seafood. Here are a few Chicago paellas from the vaults.