Cúrate Bar de Tapas (When I was hungry…)
When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink. When I was in distress, you helped me. Despite being a part of the food supply chain, these are not testimonials we typically hear about the upper echelon of the culinary world. Cúrate is anything but typical, and Katie Button is not your conventional chef and restaurateur.
It was mere days after Hurricane Helene had devastated Southern Appalachia. I was working on cleanup at a home a few miles from my own in East Tennessee. I was feeling a sense of futility. Moving piles of debris from one point to another, trying to sort items of usefulness out of the mud for the family who used to reside there.
It was about 1:30 in the afternoon, and a truck pulled over on the side of the road. A man and woman got out and approached us. “Hi! We have warm food and water! Please let everyone know!” The woman said as I approached. “Thanks! Where are you from?” I replied. As others gathered, she explained that she was from World Central Kitchen. They had made their way over the mountains from Asheville and somehow made it to Greene County, Tennessee. We knew the passage to be a hellscape of mangled trees and landslides riddled with animal remains and the bodies of our neighbors. We had been loading anything we had into helicopters and mule caravans to send up into the mountains they had just passed through. We were astounded and grateful.
In the aftermath of Helene, Katie had a choice: get out or lean in. She chose to lean in. Collaborating with her mentor José Andrés, she had turned her high-end Asheville restaurant into HQ for emergency food distribution to the surrounding area. Now these two volunteers were sitting here with us in an area cut off by the Nolichucky River, bringing food from a city that had all its major arteries severed, through mountains that had been designated impassable. But here they sat, with meals for us.
Months passed, and roads reopened. I ventured into Asheville to see how the city was coming back, and hopefully to have an early lunch at the restaurant that had become a symbol to me of the very best of humanity.
I was pleased to see diverse groups of people milling about in the eclectic streets and corridors of the iconic town. Having parked, I meandered to South Lexington, then to Biltmore Avenue. After locating Cúrate, I wandered for a bit, waiting for them to open.
I returned at about five past eleven and entered the elegant tapas bar. I turned to my far right, where the hostess greeted me from a standing desk in a small alcove adjacent to the entrance. “It’s just me today,” I informed her. She led me up a short flight of stairs to a small three-top also perched in a small alcove next to one of the two large bars.
My server came promptly, and I inquired about a mild Spanish red. She directed me toward a selection she enjoyed, and I got a glass, along with some olives. They arrived as I continued to review the listing of small plates (tapas). The olives were small, non-pitted, and came accompanied with papas fritas (chips). This brought me back to my brief time in Andalucía. I spent a few weeks with a friend stationed in Rota, and I can remember moving from bodega to café, indulging in tapas, cool wine, and coffee from late afternoon until early morning the next day. Olives were everywhere, in the trees, littering the streets and sidewalks, and were included as tapas exactly as they were sitting before me now in Asheville. The wine was served chilled, just as it is in Spain.
I browsed their jamón ibérico selection and decided on the back of leg cut (bellota). As a reference, this is the ham equivalent to Kobe beef. I had not experienced it in years, and it was beyond amazing. There simply isn’t anything like it.
Asparagus is a big deal in Spain, and the warm climate also means chilled items are especially delectable. A white asparagus soup was next. Cool and refreshing, it mellowed the bold flavors of the olive and jamón. As I savored this mild delight, guests began to fill the bar for a Saturday lunch.
Salad was next. Gem lettuce in a pistachio vinaigrette, idiazabal cheese, and hints of citrus, topped with fried shrimp. Muy delicioso! Excellente! This ensalada was exquisite. The shrimp were perfectly prepared and oversized. The portion size on this salad was anything but small.
I finished off the salad and wine and was ready to move to the sweeter side of the menu. Deshielo would crown my culinary adventure for the day; tonic snow, chemist gin-soaked mixed berries, sweet yogurt mousse, and toasted meringue chips comprised this dessert. A house strawberry soda would pair well with this chilly item. It was cold. It was delicious. It was brain-freezing, tooth-popping cold. A dish that demands a bit of respect, it was a highly complex litany of flavors that morphed with every bite.
Feeling refreshed and reinvigorated, it was time for me to continue on my way. I think it is self-evident from the contents of this article that my highest praise that I could have for any culinary establishment goes out to the people of Cúrate. They not only drive excellence in the pursuit of the purest Spanish cuisine, but their commitment to reaching out with meaningful assistance and warm meals in the hardest of times reveals an exemplary character. When I was hungry, you fed me. When I was thirsty, you gave me something to drink. When I was in need, you crossed mountains to find me. I will never forget it.
