Only one tapas dish in Barcelona, Spain, offers a powerful, some might say fiery, narrative of life. Only la bomba -- yes, read that as "the bomb" -- can be served up with a cold beer, a few cigarettes and a side of political history.
To the uninitiated, la bomba appears to be a mere potato croquette dabbed with thick homemade aioli and hot salsa. But in the dark recesses of La Cova Fumada, the tiny bar where la bomba was arguably born, an order of these urban tapas means chewing over a storied European past.
Xavier Theros is a writer, sometime poet and self-styled historian on the wonders of la bomba. Downing a plate of the freshly fried concoction one day, Theros laid out its culinary adventure with gusto.
Tapas were less of an early Barcelona delight -- the wine and chunks of bread, cheese and chorizo nibbled every afternoon in other parts of Spain were not regular fare in the Catalonia region. Instead, independent-minded Catalonians had their own convivial tradition: a glass of vermouth and a plate of olives shared at local bars after church on Sunday.
But Theros remembers eating la bomba as a child, long before Barcelona was a tourist mecca. La bomba was a thrifty, stick-to-your-ribs snack with a wink. For generations, la bomba represented the wit and anachronistic spirit of a particular neighborhood in Barcelona, the hardscrabble streets known as Barceloneta.
Anarchy was a serious means of political outcry in early 20th-century Europe. Italian anarchists favored a bomb -- a small, round, iron ball with a fuse on top -- that proved to be a portable and effective means of violent disruption. Barcelona's combustible political movement of anarchists soon began smuggling and copying this weapon.
Where "the bomb" was born
Barceloneta, where warrens of fishermen, laborers and political upstarts lived, was a haven for bombs and bombmakers. At one point, all of Barcelona was referred to as la rosa de fuego, or the rose of fire.
