Best I can recall, the first time I had paella was about ten years ago. I was in Barcelona on the front end of a three-week trip across Europe and stayed for a week with some friends in the Gothic Quarter on stipend of $90 per day. To a 23 y.o. on a state-sponsored boondoggle, whiling away the afternoons on the beach and nights spent hunting down seedy absinthe bars, it was all the money in the world (at least that's what I thought until I made it to Kazakhstan the following year, flush with $127/day - you can't give away $127/day in Kazakhstan, but that's another story entirely).
We spent this past Sunday afternoon at the Pearl for the 2nd Annual Paella Challenge. Fifty bucks all in and we were up to our ears in saffron and sangria. Chefs from around the country on-hand to compete and check out the newest CIA campus. I appreciated the liberties they took with (what I'm assuming to be) a more authentic preparation: lots of crawfish, buttery scallops, an interesting version with pesto... the difficulty seemed to be in finding the right consistency with the rice. Too saturated, pretty much all around. Broth measurement is key... hey I'm all for winging it in the kitchen but we've got to keep the measuring cup manufacturers in business somehow. 
After a while the cornucopia of flavors became a little overwhelming. This just isn't something you have all the time (like uni, or squirrel meat) so as much as I am categorically opposed to the practice of moderation, here it certainly had a role to play. Thus we all appreciated the Cajun transplant who was dishing up fried catfish and Modelo Especial; no prize awarded here but sometimes it's just best to stick with what you know, you know?
Top billing went to a local, the Valencia Hotel. Turns out they've got a daily Paella lunch for a whopping $8.95... Kazakhstan we ain't but I guess you'd be hard-pressed to give away $127 in San Antonio as well.
Dady...
Besh...
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