Paella has turned into one of my father’s most beloved signature dishes. It’s the recipe with which he loves to return to his Spanish roots, the one he prepares with his paellera set out in the backyard, a glass of wine in hand, & plenty of guests. He makes an event out of it; slow cooking, good company, sunshine, stories…and that ritual is what turned paella into a perfect Sunday dish for me. A meal that gathers people, warms the house, & carries a little bit of family history in every bite.

Meat & Seafood:

• Pork ribs
• Bone-in chicken (used only for flavor; removed before serving)
• Boneless chicken
• Spanish chorizo
• Escargot
• Shrimp
• Mussels

Vegetables:

• Scallions
• Garlic
• Bell peppers (green, red, yellow)
• Onion
• Canned mixed vegetables
• Green peas (Petit Pois)
• Mushrooms

Seasonings:

• Olive oil
• Basil, finely chopped
• Chicken bouillon cubes (Maggi)
• Shrimp bouillon cubes (Maggi, ideally with paprika for extra flavor)
• Salt & pepper

And most importantly:

• 4 cups of paella rice, seasoned & prepared

My dad has his own rhythm when he makes paella, a quiet confidence that fills the ambience long before the pan hits the heat. He always begins with a generous swirl of olive oil & the unmistakable aroma of Spanish chorizo sizzling in the paellera. One by one, the meats follow: the pork ribs, the bone-in chicken, the boneless pieces, each cooked just enough to release their flavor before being set aside. It’s never rushed; he gives every ingredient its moment, as if he’s waking up the dish slowly.

Once the meats are ready, the base of the paella begins to build. Onions, scallions, garlic, & peppers soften together until the scent becomes warm & familiar, the kind of smell that gathers people before the food is even close to done. Little by little, the cooked meats return to the pan, deliciously layering flavor upon flavor.

Then comes the moment everything settles. The rice is added & spread gently across the pan, and the broth is poured in with care. Vegetables, peas, & mushrooms appear across the surface like little colors in a painting. From here on, there is no stirring…only patience! The pan gets covered, the world slows down, & my dad moves with that calm assurance that the paella now needs time more than anything.

As the rice cooks, the backyard fills with voices, stories, & the sound of someone opening another bottle of wine. My dad checks the paella the way a craftsman checks his work…attentive, but never intrusive. When the rice is almost ready, he adds the final touches: shrimp, mussels, bright strips of bell pepper, & a generous handful of basil that perfumes the whole pan. The paella finishes quietly under its foil, steaming gently until the rice relaxes and the flavors settle into place.

By the time he uncovers the pan, the entire dish feels alive! Fragrant, colorful, & ready to be gathered around, what a sight. It’s never just food. It’s a moment, a ritual, a memory being made in real time. And in our family, it’s always perfect.

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Paella comes from the region of Valencia, where farmers once cooked rice with whatever they had on hand; vegetables from the garden, rabbit or chicken from the field, sometimes snails, always saffron. The name actually comes from paellera, the wide shallow pan that gives the dish its signature texture. Traditionally, paella was cooked outdoors over an open flame, which explains why so many families (like mine) still make it a backyard event. Today, paella exists in countless versions across Spain, but its soul remains the same: a communal dish meant to gather everyone around the pan.

Fun fact: the famous socarrat, that crispy, golden, almost caramelized layer at the bottom of the pan, was never an accident. In traditional paella culture, it’s actually the most prized part of the dish. That little crackle happens when the rice settles and toasts gently against the metal, soaking up every bit of flavor from the broth and spices. Valencian cooks used to judge a paella by the quality of its socarrat, & families would playfully fight over who got the most of it. Getting that perfect crust is a badge of honor…a quiet signal that you respected the recipe, trusted the process, & let the paella finish the way it was meant to.

Spain has as many paella variations as it has landscapes. The original is Paella Valenciana, made with chicken, rabbit, green beans, & saffron. Along the coast, you’ll find Paella de Mariscos, a seafood version loaded with shrimp, mussels, clams, & sometimes calamari. In many homes like ours, people make Paella Mixta, a bit of land & sea together…not traditional, but beloved. In Catalonia, Fideuà swaps rice for short noodles and cooks almost exactly like paella, often with aioli on top. You’ll even see black paella, Arroz Negro, colored with squid ink & rich with deep ocean flavor. No matter the region, each version reflects the ingredients, traditions, & personality of the people making it.

Paella has become a global classic, inspiring chefs & food lovers far beyond Spain. In cities like New York, London, Tokyo, & Dubai, Michelin-starred restaurants serve their own interpretations, some rooted in tradition, others boldly creative with lobster, truffle, or local ingredients. Every year, the world’s best paelleros compete at international festivals, including the famous Concurs Internacional de Paella Valenciana de Sueca, considered the Olympics of paella. There’s even a World Paella Day, where countries celebrate Spain’s most iconic dish with awards, events, & friendly competition. No matter how far it travels, paella continues to gather people around the pan, reminding us why this simple rice dish became a global star.

This paella became the perfect farewell to our six-week summer in Honduras, one last gathering around the table, one more moment of stories, sunlight, and comfort before heading back to everyday life. There was something grounding about ending that trip with my father’s paella, a dish that feels like home no matter where we make it. It was slow, warm, delicious, and exactly the right note to close a beautiful summer chapter.