When the Spanish series The Cook of Castamar was released on Netflix in 2021, I was probably too busy watching Bridgerton and since both are period shows, the former sat tight in my watch list. As more Bridgerton seasons and offshoot series followed, the Spanish series nearly got forgotten until I recently pulled it out like an old, forgotten tee in my closet. The tee makes a good reference, because in a strange way, it is a comfort show, maybe because most of the scenes are in a bustling kitchen, one that seems warm on a dreadfully cold night, and filled with aromas of mushrooms, saffron and cinnamon.
Set apart from the fast pace of modern day communication and IT compulsions in our lives today, the world of Castamar, like all period shows, has no mobile phones and artificial intelligence. There is no electricity and the night life runs on candles, people travel long distances by horse-carriages and on horses, social events are grand and dramatic, heroes more chivalrous, gallant and heroic, heroines more feminine, vamps and villains more sadistic and dagger-friendly, the plots thicker, and the attention to detail intricate.
As I began watching this adaptation of a book of the same name by Fernando Múñez, I was amused to see that the series has a storyline that those belonging to the subcontinent are so familiar with. It is a simple story. Set in 1720 Spain, the story is about an agoraphobic cook who starts working in a widower duke’s home … and, of course, things get complicated as the two fall for each other [in circumstances that make it so inevitable for them to do so] despite a glaring age difference of 20 years, and a huge and scandalous difference in their social status. It reminded me of several TV plays, Pakistani films, Bollywood’s Sir (2018) where the master of the house falls for a servant, and ofcourse Mughal-e-Azam, with the story of disastrous love between the prince and the maidservant. Thankfully, the cook of Castamar didn’t end up like Anarkali!
The series was shot in outdoor locations in Madrid, Segovia and Cuenca, while the Palacio del Infante Don Luis in Boadilla del Monte was used to recreate the fictional Palace of Castamar. The historical accuracy of the show is on point, taking place during King’s Philip V reign and all the political struggles of that period of time. It seems we can't escape the trope of the 'mad king' in historical dramas. After the antics of George III in Bridgerton and Queen Charlotte, here we have Philip V of Spain. It's interesting how these mental health conditions have become a recurring theme in European historical series, offering a stark contrast to the commonly used narratives of colonialism and white supremacy.
It is 1720 in Madrid, and life is blissful for the duke and duchess of Castamar, until Alba, the duchess, is killed in a horse-riding accident, in the duke’s arms. Deigo, the duke is devastated and becomes a recluse. Around the same time, a young woman named Clara Belmonte (Michelle Jenner) is sent by the local priest to Castamar to fill a job on the kitchen staff. The mean looking house manager, Úrsula Berenguer (Mónica López in a layered character) is angry that the majordomo hired her without her knowledge. Nevertheless, Clara is hired on trial.
Fortunately for Clara, when Úrsula catches the cook in flagrante delicto with a male staff member, and throws her out, who else but Clara is engaged to help with a gala and dinner at the palace for the duke’s return to aristocratic society. Clara is not only a magically good cook, she is educated and can hence read cookbooks [from the duke’s book shelves], is morally upright, unbelievably calm and saintly for someone who manages a huge kitchen. Everyone loves her except for the duke’s new fiancé. Eventually, the duke and the cook’s path cross and they develop a relationship, where their social status comes into play.
Diego’s mother, Doña Mercedes (Fiorella Faltoyano) teams up with the family friend, the evil Enrique de Arcona (Hugo Silva) in a quest to find Diego a wife, and Enrique plants a seemingly innocent Amelia Castro (María Hervás), an orphan of a bankrupted aristocrat in the palace as a resident guest. Enrique knows Amelia’s secrets, manipulates her and wants to marry her to Diego to fulfil his own agenda.
Amelia Castro, dressed in fashionable French gowns seemed uncomfortable throughout the series, not sure if the reason was her victimised character, the costume or a combination of both but it won Hervás a best support actor award for her role as Amelia. Lady Sol Montijos (Marina Gatell), a visitor to Castamar, sees through Enrique’s plan, but doesn’t do much about it yet, as she is busy in an extramarital affair with Francisco Marlango, the Count of Armiño (Maxi Iglesias). Enrique and Sol manage all the villainy in the 12 episodes of the series, quite efficiently.
More engaging than the relationships between the main characters and the family drama were the relationships between different groups of people, with a strict hierarchy and sometimes opposite stakes and aspirations, but showing that in the end regardless of social classes, everyone is still a human being as depicted in the vastly different characters of Rosalia, Sol, Amelia and Beatriz. Like Downton Abbey, The Cook of Castamar’s portrayal of the organisation of the duke’s palace — the day-to-day 18th century-lives of the people in the palace — the nobles living ‘upstairs’ and the servants working hard in the kitchen.
There is plenty of blood and violence — gaping wounds that ooze blood and animals’ heads being hacked off as the cook diligently prepares hares and capons for the duke’s dinners. The culinary side of the show is a captivating portrayal of what the nobles ate in those days, and how meticulously it was prepared by a battalion of servants in the kitchen. The hardbound cookbooks with classic fonts and sketches, and everything done by hand from scratch is fascinating to watch. The writers beautifully compare culinary perils and accomplishments to triumphs and defeats in life through voiceovers that are supposed to be Clara’s reflections at the end of each episode.
Unlike the standard period show, the hero here wasn’t that heroic, neither was the heroine a damsel in distress, but depicted as a little bit imperfect and more real. Roberto Enrique as Deigo, while being a good actor who actually won an award for best leading actor for the Spanish mini-series, fell short of the eye candy standard we expect in a series full of Mills & Boon and Barbara Cartland moments. Diego looked more like Clara’s father than the chiselled, roguish, brooding, dashing, and debonair duke [Jonathan Bailey as Anthony Bridgerton] this show starkly missed. Fingers crossed for a recast in season 2, if there is one announced. If we can survive Alexis recast a few times in Dynasty, this one should work too.
Ever since she played Isabella of Castile in the TV show Isabel, Jenner seems to be the historical costume actress in Spanish cinema. But Clara was a milder role but of a resilient woman who becomes agoraphobic after a family tragedy. Jenner made sure that Clara’s strong personality shone through the simple pinner aprons that she wore through the series.
After all the hoo-haa around the fashionable costumes in Bridgerton, one cannot help dwelling on who wore what. The Cook Castamar depicted fashion of the nobles in the 18th century as well as what the working classes wore. The series’ costumes were designed by Bubi Escobar, whose team used suits and dresses, most of which had skintight corsets with the inevitable ribbons to achieve the narrow waist and flat chested look that was in fashion then. Apparently the actresses confessed to not being able to eat or drink even four hours after shoots. No wonder they took delicate bites of the tiny cakes fastidiously prepared by Clara. Escobar researched on the fashions of that era through paintings and they referenced the famous “chocolate girl” portrait, from 1744 – 1745, at the Old Masters Picture Gallery in Dresden, Germany, for Clara.
The series commendably dealt with racism, slavery, the turbulence of the times, the political manipulations of the powerful, the conniving and treachery of the characters, the horror of injustices but you have to wait more than seven episodes until something romantic or dramatic happens. The writers did take a long time to build the story and you feel that two much happens in the second half of the series, and the last episode was a bit rushed and could have made into two episodes to flesh out detail. The English translation and subtitles were a little lacking, so Spanish-speaking audiences must definitely have enjoyed the show much more.
So, while The Cook of Castamar may not have the dashing duke you were craving, it offers a delicious feast of history, romance, and intrigue. As Clara would say, love and life often take unexpected turns, just like a well-seasoned dish.