I hope one day to write a full account of my trip to Spain to see my son Sam, who is spending a semester there — my first trip to Europe — that does justice to the amount of fun that I had. Sam is a great host, cheerful and adventurous, and it was an immense help to have someone who knew what they were doing. Because that was not me.
This isn’t that. I just want to get a few things written down before I forget them.
In this case, the food. In a later newsletter I’ll chronicle our various adventures and misadventures.
Like the paella Sam and I ate in Barcelona (where a few hours later my phone would be stolen on the subway). We’d had seafood paella a few nights before in Madrid. It was good, fine, tasty. But this was fantastic. We were eating at an outside table at a restaurant across the street from the pier; that probably had something to do with it. The mussels were so tender, so fresh. Whatever the sauce the rice was simmering in — sofrito? — was just spicy enough. For once I got the good out of the prawns, more easily able to extract the meat from the cracked shell. Best meal in Spain? Probably, although we certainly had more hits than misses.
My favorite place to eat overall was the Mercado de San Miguel in Madrid. It was wild — an absolute throng packed into the place, squeezing their way toward food stands that served small plates of just about everything. Tapas, I guess. You had to sort of fight your way to whatever stand you had your eye on, but it was all perfectly friendly, no pushing or shoving. Also several of the stands served beer and wine, which I guess could help or hurt, but in this case seemed to help.
About that: Lots of places have a menu of the day at lunch — a special with two courses and a dessert. And beer or wine. Always beer or wine. Who am I to question the wisdom of people who obviously know more about how to enjoy lunch than me?
Anyway, back to the Mercado, where I had a couple of great little sandwiches one day, I think maybe squid or octopus. Another day I had dumplings and a mini-version of a bocadillo, the ubiquitous sandwich that’s simply jamon served on a baguette. Sam and I also split a wrap version of the same thing.
Our trip wasn’t all food, though maybe here is a good time to point out that my friend Tim Goodman threatened me before I left by saying if I tried to low-carb it through Spain he’d beat me with a hammer. (After I returned he said, “Are you back? You must be enormous.” LOVE Goodman.)
Of course, sampling the local cuisine is important, as even an inexperienced traveler like me knows. Thus, this:
For the record, by whatever chemical dark magic they conjure, the Ruffles did indeed taste like what they claim to. That and salt. Lots and lots of salt.
On the more epicurean front, we had huevos rotos, or broken eggs — jamon (or some other meat) splayed over runny eggs and French fries. Everything is served over French fries. I’m not complaining, just noting. Anyway, the huevos rotos is as insane and as delicious as you might think. I love odd combinations that work.
Before.
During, more or less.
We also had several versions of patatas bravas, thickly diced potato chunks with salsa bravas and/or garlic aioli. The quality varied surprisingly; I liked it when it was served with lots of sauce, though I’m not sure that’s the most authentic version. All were good, just some better than others.
We didn’t limit ourselves to Spanish food. In fact we didn’t much limit ourselves at all, hahaha. One of my favorite meals was from a ramen place.
This was before a fair amount of it landed on my shirt. What made it to my mouth was delicious, though. Sam’s dinner looked pretty tasty, as well.
Not a bad trip on the food front. I’ll try most things, but Sam will try anything. For instance he really likes callos — a stew in which tripe is the main ingredient. No thanks. More for him.
What great food. What great fun. I’ll write more soon about the other things we did on the trip, hahaha, but for now, I should probably get some exercise.