Basque Country gets a taste of peace.

By Tracy Wilkinson SAN SEBASTIAN, Spain--Chef Martin Berasategui inhales the aroma of a stewing pot of squab and beef marrow. Around him, his kitchen is a whir. One assistant dips a ladle into large tubs of crE me fraiche. Another uses a tiny ruler to cut pieces of melon just so. Still another is stirring 40 gallons of monkfish. The telephone is ringing, coffee machines are grinding, steam is rising from a dozen stove tops. These are promising moments in Basque Country, where palates are as adventuresome as politics are contentious. After nearly four decades of armed conflict between Basque separatists and the Spanish government, the region is closer to lasting peace than any time in its history. Western Europe's last war is, it seems, over. That is good news for Berasategui and others who crave normalcy--not to mention a renewed influx of Spanish tourists and foreign visitors who might sample the dishes, such as caramelized smoked eel or squid in pepper foam, that make Basque cooking legendary. The Basque Country was an incongruous place for revolution. Its gentle rolling hills, quaint fishing villages and spectacular sea views belie deep-seated political and ethnic anger. It is one of Spain's most prosperous areas, but one where the intelligentsia has needed bodyguards, where bombs have gone off at universities, and where outlawed rebel partisans have given news conferences in fashionable hotels. These days, checking under the car for explosives is no longer an unavoidable routine. The ETA separatist group, whose decades long campaign of bombings, assassinations and terrorism claimed more than 800 lives, declared a permanent cease-fire nearly six months ago. The group is not believed to have killed anyone in three years. Berasategui, a stocky man dressed in chef's whites, yearns for a peace that is not as ephemeral as his red cabbage gelatin with liquefied chard. "Let's hope there is no turning back," he said at the three-star restaurant that bears his name, tucked into the green hills outside San Sebastian. "This is like a tasting menu, and everyone has to do his share of the cooking." Berasategui's reservations come from bitter experience. He and three other world-renowned chefs were dragged through one of the more unsavory chapters of the Basque conflict: ETA's alleged extortion of thousands of local businesspeople. Law-enforcement authorities contend that, long after the killing ceased, demands for and payments of protection money continued. A new criminal inquiry in recent weeks has ensnared major Basque politicians and entrepreneurs. Berasategui and the other chefs were questioned in late 2004 by judicial officials in Madrid investigating whether they paid off ETA to leave their restaurants alone. Spanish authorities maintain that extortion was ETA's most lucrative source of income, along with kidnap ransoms. Up to a billion dollars may have been collected over the years, used to finance attacks, support fugitives and aid prisoners. Berasategui vehemently denies the allegation, saying he never paid protection money, nor did anyone ever demand it of him. The Madrid authorities "simply went after famous people from the Basque Country," Berasategui says dismissively. "They questioned me because I was born here. It was very unjust." No charges were filed against the chefs, and the whole episode might have been put aside if not for the new investigation. Berasategui says authorities are making a mistake in dredging up such cases. "We are a land that has suffered a lot," the chef said. "There were victims on both sides. No one is free of sin." Negotiations between ETA and the Socialist government of Prime Minister Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero will focus initially on disarming the guerrillas and on the condition of ETA prisoners in Spanish jails. ETA, which stands for Euskadi Ta Askatasuna in the Basque language, or Basque Homeland and Freedom, has long complained about the Spanish government's policy of dispersing prisoners to jails far from their hometowns and families. After that, the parties will have to decide whether, and how, to dig into other complicated, fundamental issues, any one of which could scupper the entire process. These include determining the political role of ETA sympathizers, how to overcome lingering mistrust and the very vision of what a Basque state will look like. Basques enjoy a good amount of autonomy; they have their own police force, teach Euskera in schools and are allowed to levy taxes. "We identify ourselves as Basques," said Txema Montero, a nationalist attorney in Bilbao who once served as an adviser to ETA but broke with the group over its insistence on violence. "But we also want to be part of Europe." Among young people who grew up on revolution and on the dream of achieving an independent homeland through armed struggle, integration into a peaceful society may be problematic. Older generations of ETA fighters underwent political and military training, but younger ones have learned only to use guns and bombs, analysts say. "It is one thing to paralyze the violence and another thing to change the mentality and the culture," said Jose Manuel Mata, dean of social sciences at the University of the Basque Country, near Bilbao. Pro-ETA youths "are used to acting as though pressure on the street counts above all institutions," Mata said. "This is a serious problem of socialization that cannot change overnight." Few Basques hold out much hope for absolute reconciliation--the differences too great and the proximity too intimate. In this relatively small corner of the world, people know one another, and they remember slights and injustices. They remember who was killed where and when. Still, changes are brewing. The tough bars in San Sebastian's Old Quarter, where money is openly raised for ETA, still display pictures of prisoners. But they are friendlier places, on a recent evening full of families and crowds who shared drinks and watched a World Cup soccer semifinals match. Berasategui and his staff are preparing for a bumper year. Authorities say tourism is up substantially, after the truce was announced, and there are plans to expand San Sebastian's airport. Berasategui is placing a couple new items on his menu: A grilled foie gras and a dessert of coffee ice cream with whiskey ice. "In the Basque Country, before we learn to walk, we learn to cook," he said. "We are a country with spark, living historic moments--if all sides would just leave us alone." nLATWP News ServiceBasque Country gets a taste of peace

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