Que recordarás las tardes de invierno por Madrid

I spent the majority of the past two afternoons in Madrid, which is quickly becoming a favorite pastime of mine. I went yesterday as an escape and it was definitely needed, and refreshing. To get away from the monotony and occasional annoyance of Alcalá. 

Armani and I went yesterday during the afternoon for such an escape, with no particular plans in mind, which is really the way to go when heading to Madrid -- no expectations, just wandering around, trying to get lost and discover something new, something hidden away -- a treasure of the city. And we did just that. 

For the first time in exactly two months I had a bagel. We were told of an international deli/market in Madrid by Fausto our cultural director that not only had bagels but also plenty of international foods. This was our first stop, our main mission of heading to Madrid.

I searched the relatively bare shelves encountering quite a few American goodies -- Betty Crocker cake mixes, Hersey's chocolate syrup, Southern Comfort -- and other foreign goods like Grey Goose (which is impossible to find elsewhere) and my favorite oddity, corned beef in a can from Brazil. So to answer my own question from long ago, yes, they do have corned beef in Spain and Madrid was the place to find it. Unfortunately it's canned and from Brazil, which might effect the taste of a reuben if I ever attempt to make one here. They had New York cheesecake and apple crumble pie or something and plenty of good old America foods. 

Anyways-- the bagels. Plain toasted with cream cheese. It didn't really have a hole in the middle but no matter the shape a bagel is a bagel if it's cooked right, and it was. Delicious, though it has nothing on Bagels Forever, of course. The guy behind the counter was incredibly nice. We got to talking and told him we were studying in Alcalá and all that jazz. He's from Kenya and moved to Madrid just four years ago, he started out studying then decided to stay. Says his favorite place to go in Spain is San Sebastian, so of course I got along with him. He didn't even charge us for the bagels, it was so cool. 

We headed onward to the giant Corte Inglés by Puerta del Sol in order to search out Moleskin notebooks (as I've almost finished one and only have one left, which will be filled quite quickly I believe, I needed backup). The bookstore didn't have any, which it odd for us Americans seeing as every Barnes and Noble and Borders are full of them, you'd think books and notebooks go hand in hand, those that read tend to like to write too. But no, there were no notebooks at all. They did have the smallest English language section I've seen, weird considering the very tiny book stores in Alcalá have a larger selection of English language books. Mostly it was full of American trash novels, Stephen King and the like, but they did have nearly every Hemingway about Spain and even the ones that weren't. I picked up "The Old Man and the Sea" as I've been dying to read it and it's a short breather before I get back into a Spanish book. 

At regular, migraine-inducing Corte Inglés (I actually took Excedrine in the store due to the sensory overload), they had a huge pile of Moleskin books but not a single normal sized, hard back, book style lined notebook. They had every possible variety of a 2009 planner--daily, weekly, big, small, soft cover and hard. They even had lined regular journals...but reporter style, which just doesn't fly with this kid over here. So I gave up and headed onwards to find some food. 

Walking around Puerta del Sol searching for a doner kebab I saw an alimentación with a wall of tiny one shot bottles of booze, and I immediately thought "Hey maybe they have a tiny bottle of absinthe as a cute little gift," so I searched the wall. Nothing. I walked around the corner, looked in the window and my heart skipped a few beats. There it was, or there they were. Four bottles of absinthe, a 70%, the 80% that we had in Asturias, another 80% called "Yellow Absinthe" and finally one labeled "Cannabis flavored Absinthe" with a weed leaf on it. They were reasonably priced, being about $22 a 750ml bottle, which is awesome considering the fake stuff in America costs about $75. You can guarantee I'll be picking one up shortly--but I decided to hold off yesterday.

From there to Starbucks at la Plaza de Neptuno and an odd thing that has been known to occur to us study abroad folks: forgetting we're in Spain for the briefest of moments. It seems hard when you're sitting en terraza right off a large plaza with a statue of Neptune and fountain and corrals of cars circling around at rapid speeds. The weather was perfectly cold and a bit windy. I looked up into the sky and remembered, wow, I'm in Spain, what is everyone in America doing right now? It's a crazy feeling to lose sense of yourself like that, even for a brief moment.

Sunday brought Maya, Monica, and myself to Madrid to see Guernica and la Reina Sofia. It's free admission to la Reina Sofia (the modern art museum) on Sundays so aprovechamos la oportunidad as did nearly everyone else. The place was packed, especially around Guernica, Picasso's immortal painting of the Spanish Civil War. The rest of the rooms paled in comparison, obviously, but there were plenty of paintings that caught my eye. One in particular was un mundo by Ángeles Santos . Such detail and imagination in that work. I could stare at it for a very long time. Another wasn't a painting but an installation by Nancy Spero, who has a temporary collection there. It was called "May Pole" and it was a room with a maypole and attached to the strings were severed heads of humans (not real ones of course), it was horrifying and humbling at the same time. I felt as if the heads were real. It was eerie.

Like the lunch at Llanes, the lunch I had Sunday in Madrid was perhaps one of the best lunches I've ever had. We went to Kaixo a very stylish and gourmety restaurant. The food was out of this world and a complete surprise from what we could have expected. I got croquetas, a pretty standard Spanish delish food. They came, five of them, on a small flat and black plate with a cut up tiny tomate in a flower shape and stacked like a pyramid. They contained jamón ibérico, and they were the best croquetas I've ever had. I knew these wouldn't suffice, so I got a toasted bread half sandwich thing. Brie cheese and caramelized onions. It was bliss in every bite. Oh, and a fine (if a bit small) glass of red wine on the side. 

Did I mention dessert? Tarta de higos. Fig deliciousness. It beats out apple pie. It beats out any type of pie/cake thing I've ever had. At first it was alright, but as I dug into it-- the sweet, sweety honeyness of figs overcame me. Add a café con leche and I am done.

What do you do after a lunch like that? How do you go on? Well, head to a historic café that was founded in 1888 and was frequented by artists and writers and poets during the Franco era. It's expensive, it's ritzy, but it's awesome and full of historic atmosphere. There were reserved tables when we came in. We sat in a corner and observed the people. An old, white haired, man came in and sat at the reserved table. The waiter brought his drink before he could even order. We immediately began speculating who he could be. We decided he is a famous artist as he was sketching away in a journal he had, and was showing it off to different waiters, and a lot of his friends came in probably had extremely intelligent and important conversations. [Side note: sorry if I'm not making much sense but I'm watching the live feed from MSNBC right now as I am far too anxious right now for the election (YOU BEST HAVE VOTED!) and am planning on staying up until we find out who won this thing (which might be til 6am or so here in Spain)]

From there we headed home, as it was the only sensible option. A dish of four flavors of ice cream from the café and the energy you get from sitting in such a monumental environment, you have no choice but to head home. One of the best lunches I've ever had then this enlightening café. What was next?

Don Juan en Alcalá. A once a year outdoor theatre spectacular. Rotating stages. Crowds of people running from stage to stage as the scenes changed. Thousands of alcalaínos huddled in the freezing cold watching this one of a kind celebration.

Then home, and sleep.

Final note. Vote. VOTE. VOOOOOTE. 

La aventura extremeña :: 3º parte :: Trujillo

Sunday morning brought us, the tired bunch we were from late night festivities on a long Saturday, on a short bus ride to Trujillo. What is in Trujillo? Well, an old town (shock!), a cathedral (surprise!), and a castle (¡no me digas!). An a pretty cool Plaza Mayor that is supposed to be traffic free but some ingenious tour bus driver decided to break free from the chains of signs stating "No entrar" and the like and just barged right into the center of the square and let off a busload of old people tourists-- the worst kind. 

We walked through the tiny streets of the old part of town, constantly uphill, stopping to have certain buildings pointed out to us. If I recall correctly and this was the right city (checking my photos, yes I'm right) Francisco Pizarro's house is still standing. That's right, the man that viciously conquered the Incas lived in Trujillo. Now he has two cats perching on his stoop outside.

We headed up, up, up! Up til we reached the absolute highest point in Trujillo, which reminded me a lot of Toledo in how the old part of the city, walled in and all, was built on a hill...so when you get to the top you have an absolutely stunning and majestic view of the city, town, and countryside surrounding for miles (or kilometers!). It also helps when at the top of this ice cream birthday cake of wonder is a castle piercing into the sky. A castle you can romp around in, running from wall to wall, from tower to tower and almost falling over the edge between the cracks in the stone walls. Be warned, afraid of heights? -- the castle at Trujillo is not for you. Oh heck, just go up there anyways, it's such a beautiful sight -- just hold on. There was no singular point where I could view everything at one point (and subsequently get a 360º panorama -- boo), so I ended up literally running around on top of the castle to all parts and sorts of towers trying to see as much as I could. On one side, the old town winding down to Plaza Mayor and the sprawling city behind it, from there the freeway leading us back to Madrid, and even further a mountain thrusting itself up in the horizon. 

The other side -- to the left -- a large field of solar panels soaking up the noon day sun, cattle on a ranch swaggering around a desolate field containing one, maybe two, trees. And sheep, and goats, and more. Vultures circling around a herd of cows further on in the horizon, perhaps there laid a dead one-- after all, after a while I didn't see the vultures in the sky anymore. And everywhere, billowy white clouds in the sky, casting their gigantic shadows over large sections of the land set out before my eyes. One of those rare moments where that shadow you always feel move over head when a cloud covers the sun -- you actually get to see what it looks like from afar and above. There is the cloud, there the sun high up in the blue sky and below them both a large mass of darkness. The cloud slowly blows past and the farmers tending their herd below bask again in the sunlight, looking up and seeing light and looking around and seeing golden fields -- never knowing if only they were covered up in that shadow cast by the clouds nor how far it reached nor who observed this minutiae of nature.

Then we had lunch. Not our normal menú del día, though we're sure that's what we wanted. The problem with such a smaller, largely tourist town is that eating anywhere is expensive. Expensive at least for us students on a budget. We headed down to the new town and found one of the few bars that was open. No menú but we'll suffice and sit down anyways, taking up their whole comedor. Remember, Extremadura -- best jamón in the world. Okay, now what should I order? A bocadillo de jamón ibérico? Bingo. Oh, kinda hungry, so toss in a boca de tortilla con atún. Never had it before, gotta try something new, right?

The jamón came first and I was beyond pleased and delighted. I was in floating off my chair from the ecstasy produced by this ethereal ham. Ham. Yes, the meat I absolutely hate and cannot eat in the States brings me to such great heights and states of being in Spain. What a wonderful world. The beautiful thing about jamón ibérico is that it is so damn good, sorry -- great, that it needs nothing else. It's not like the deli meat you get in America, it doesn't need mayonnaise, nor cheese, nor lettuce, nor mustard, nor pepper, nor oregano, nor butter. No, all you need with jamón ibérico is jamón ibérico. Place that on quality bread and you have one of the best sandwiches you could ever possibly have. That's what I had. Too bad I still had a boca de tortilla con atún coming. Should have eaten that one first. 

We hopped back on the bus and headed (home) to Alcalá. We arrived too early for me to justify going back home, still living off the high of the weekend. I hate those bus rides back home since they're always filled with uneasiness and anxiety. I don't want the journey to end. Even the ride I enjoy. I wish it took longer to get to Alcalá from Trujillo but it doesn't. So I get back, chilled for a while in the plaza and headed home. Defeated. The last CIEE group trip.

La aventura extremeña :: 1º parte :: Cáceres

Since it's still fresh in my mind I'll forgo the Día de Cervantes post and write about this past weekend in Extremadura. 

I remember way back in Mrs. Goecke's Surprising Spain class how, when we were learning about all of the comunidades autonomas, we more or less just skipped over Extremadura because even the people living there don't like it, or at least we were told. After all, extremadura means "extremely hard." It's a very dry and flat region, not lush and green like Asturias. There's not much for agriculture there save for ganadería (the English word is escaping me...but basically cows and pigs and animal farming). So on the very short bus ride there from Alcalá, most of the time spent looking out the window, instead of Los Picos as we saw in Asturias, our eyes were met with flat, flat lands, lots of dirt, sparse trees, and plenty of sheep, pigs, cows, and horses. And the occasional vineyard (Badajoz, a region of Extremadura, has a bit of wine fame too, though not quite like La Rioja or Ribera del Duero).

It was like driving through the American West. But I was entertained. I loved seeing fields of cows just sitting there with vultures circling overhead and the gorgeous clouds covering the sky. Oh, and lots of ganadería does mean one important thing for the Epicurean such as myself: some of the best meat in the world. The highest quality and most expensive jamón ibérico in Spain (which is the only place there is jamón ibérico produced) is from Extremadura. So score one for my meals, which consisted of anything that contained jamón. Cheese is also pretty famous around there, so considering the two trips we took this semester with CIEE, I got pretty lucky in going to regions famous for delicious foods (next semester, not so promising: Sevilla/Cordoba and León). 

So Friday we headed out to Extremadura and the bus ride was only about three and a half hours, much shorter than the Asturian adventure. We arrived in Cáceres about noon thirty to our formerly-a-palace-now-probably-haunted Hotel Ibería, right off of Plaza Mayor. We toured the old, walled-in section of town. I was very pleased-- I always love the old European towns where it's nearly impossible to drive a car anywhere and half the roads no one even bothers trying, so it's just pedestrians walking between all these historic and beautiful buildings (occasionally containing anti-Nazi or anti-government graffiti--how fun!). 

I don't know if I'm dumb or what, but it just took me til this past Friday to come upon a realization that I believe you'll all go "no shit Kyle" when I explain this. I was sitting there in what used to be a synagogue now turned church in the old Jewish quarter of Cáceres when it dawned on me -- how much of history, how much of humanity has been shaped by religion. Fausto (our guide) was talking about how the Muslims controlled Cáceres for a while, then the Jews were there in their own little quarter, then the Christians came in and kicked everyone else out. How there's these huge churches and cathedrals and what used to be mosques and synagogues now turned churches everywhere in Spain and throughout Europe. It's very intriguing to me how much religion has impacted every facet of the evolution of these cities in Europe. By looking at these buildings with their escudos (again, lacking the English word--it's like an emblem engraved on the side of a house) and the visible marks where this used to be Jewish, you can tell, but now there's a big cross there--religion has had a huge impact. Peoples were kicked out of town in the name of one god, they made others their slaves basically in the name of another, they killed and tortured, they built and built and built. Bishops created universities and built towns around them (like Alcalá de Henares) -- so much has been done out of belief in a god. And I never really noticed that until just this past weekend. It's crazy to think about it, how some of these towns might never have been built nor prospered without the church, mosque, or synagogue in the center. I know for sure they'd be completely different if those places didn't exist, but in what way, I wonder.

So the old town was pretty cool, I came upon a revelation that I still don't have an answer to, and got to see and touch things built 2,000 years ago --and of course take plenty of photos for all of you to see, later. We went back to the hotel, headed to the balcony in one of the girls' rooms, cracked open a bottle of wine as we watched the city get ready for the evening and the start of a music festival in Plaza Mayor. Maya pointed out something to me on the balcony that I suppose I had only thought of in passing before, as I was mentioning how much I loved that cars couldn't drive down a lot of the streets, especially by Plaza Mayor, and so there was foot traffic everywhere. She mentioned how cool it was to see everyone, of every age out around town -- young kids, high schoolers, college kids, couples in their 30's, 40's, 50's, and grandparents, old couples walking around, hand-in-hand, slowly creeping down the street with canes in hand. Dads wearing faded pink pants and navy blue sweaters walking with his two young daughters in hand. Teenagers with shopping bags full of cheap wine and Coke -- older men carrying plastic liter cups of beer. Twenty-something women, decked out in their oh-so-European leggings, scarves, boots, purses, hats, and coats. The streets were full of life -- full of something you don't really see in America -- people, together, of all ages and lifestyles enjoying the night air and atmosphere, chilling in the plaza -- not cooped up in their respective houses, enclosing themselves in, hiding from the rest of the world.

Dinner was a pleasant surprise to me. We found a menú del día and I went against my paella rule, instead opting for arroz a la cubana. Because as we all know by now, I need to try and later love anything Cuban. It is white rice, with a fried egg on top, surrounded by cold, ketchup-like tomato sauce. I mixed it all together and devoured it all in a matter of minutes. It was delicious, it was amazing, and I could not get enough of it. I am anticipating next semester when this can be my cheap and easy meal that I have everyday for lunch or dinner, or hell, even breakfast. The wine was alright but I was disappointed that it didn't include much more than a glass--something that just shouldn't happen with a menú del día.

Afterwards was a mini-botellón in the girls' room. We picked up some Fanta Limón and ice from a nearby alimentación and headed to our hotel. We were stopped by police who were guarding any street heading towards the plaza, because at this time the music was starting. They said the ice could be used as rocks to throw at the stage or something. Perhaps this was a common problem. We told them we were going to our hotel that was right off the plaza and one of them escorted us there. 

I ended up going out to the concert later briefly. Listened for about a minute, then Rebeca decided to head back in so I joined her, was pretty tired myself. First day in Extremadura -- count it as a success.

Jalapeños

As I sit here now, after dinner, my stomach is tearing itself apart. I can only imagine tomorrow's trip to the bathroom being a (quite literal) shit storm. 

I have been craving jalapeños ever since I got here. First night, we went to this Mexican restaurant called "Burrito." They didn't even have spicy food, I was fearing that jalapeños didn't exist in Spain (couldn't find them at Carrefour, my favorite close by super market). However, the other day after our visit to Carrefour, Marisa went to El Corte Inglés and found some jalapeños at Hipercor and, remembering how much I wanted some, bought a jar and gave them to me. For that, I am eternally grateful. The first spicy thing I've had since I left for Spain. I knew coming here I wouldn't be having any spicy food in Spain, so I guess I subconsciously ate as much spicy food as I could the weeks beforehand. Any time I'd got anywhere, I'd get whatever sounded hot and detrimental to my intestines. I was in the garden of earthly delights. 

And now, four weeks of not having spicy food, I'm presented with a jar of jalapeños and nothing really to put them on, so I had to be creative. For lunch, I just ate them raw, straight out of the jar. It was wonderful. My mouth burned a bit, and I even had to drink some water. Oh, the sensations were coming back to me, the fond flavor of food with a bite. My host mother tried the very corner of one (after just smelling the jar she exclaimed that she could smell the hotness), and I feared I was going to have to call the hospital. Now, living her whole life in Spain, without ever hearing of the word "jalapeño," I can understand her reaction. I'm just sad that she doesn't appreciate the wonder of jalapeños like I do. She immediately ran to the garbage to spit out the piece of pepper and I had to hand her my glass of water in fear of her having a heart attack. She downed the whole glass, something that usually takes her the whole meal. Her mouth was still burning afterwards for quite some time. To help with the mental image, for those that were around: think of the first time Mitch tried a jalapeños..yeah, it was kinda like that. At least she tried it. 

For dinner I actually tried mixing jalapeños with Spanish food. Host mother specifically made rice tonight because the previous night I was that jalapeños would go good with rice (I couldn't think of any other food we've had here that would--soup just doesn't cut it). Of course it was just plain white rice doused in olive oil, but I added some jalapeños and it turned out pretty good. Now if only they had sour cream lying around the house, we'd be getting somewhere. Mamá also had a plate of tortilla sitting out, and my least favorite bar bread (the styrofoam kind). Regardless, I quickly made a bocadillo and tossed some jalapeños on top. Now that was delicious. I don't see why this bocadillo isn't more widely available here, all the Americans and Mexicans would eat it, and the Spaniards would learn to love it.

Perhaps then instead of giving us nasty green olives to nibble on while having a drink, the waitstaff would bring out a plate of jalapeños. I can only hope...

Good news on the jamón front: Mamá told me that I can make the two bocadillos for the Asturias trip myself. One of tortilla and the other of whatever I want. She recommended chorizo. I'm going to Carrefour tomorrow and getting the best jamón ibérico and queso I can find. I was thinking of adding jalapeños but I don't want to ruin my first true jamón y queso bocadillo in Spain. My mouth is watering just thinking about it now. I can't wait for Friday when I devour this boca. 

Epicurean Diaries Vol. 3

After quite the wait, here is the next installment. Lots of food and drink since the last one.

Chorizo picante

My first experience with chorizo here in Spain wasn't a pleasant one. Host mother pulled out this moldly looking slab of sausage one night for dinner. It was all dark and full of fat. She sliced me off a piece--I did not enjoy it. However, I was talking one night about how much I love spicy food and how there is no spicy food in Spain. She mentioned some spicy chorizo that Jesús likes. So I had some, uncooked, but still delicious. She said it was "muy picante." Not entirely true but I guess for a Spaniard who has never heard of a jalapeño before, that would be true. It was good chorizo though, and it did have a bit of a bite to it (though not quite like Mexican chorizo). I had it a few days later cooked, was much better still. 

Vino tinto

I was going to have separate categories for all these different red wines I've been having, but then I realized that I'm not skilled enough, if you will, at discerning the differences and subtleties of wines. I've ordered house wines (vino tinto de la casa) at a Korean BBQ in Madrid, restaurante Candela, and two others from there, plus house wine from El Espejo (if you remember from la noche en blanco). They were all good to great. And before this I was never a huge fan of wine in general. Either I've grown accustomed to the taste, or the wine really is just better here. And so cheap too. In the stores, as I've said, you can get a bottle from .79€ -- in most restaurants the tinto de la casa is going to be about 10€, and quite good. So..if you come to Spain, get red wine, and you won't be disappointed.

Korean BBQ

My friends Monica and Kristine took me out to a Korean BBQ in Madrid last week since they were missing Korean food and I've never had it before. Started off with fried dumplings, which I could not tell the difference between Korean and Chinese fried dumplings -- nevertheless, they were quite good, if unfortunately in small portions (only four tiny ones! Really need to find a Chinese buffet around here). The girls had this spicy soup called Kim Chi, I had a taste it was very good -- but you know me, I already get enough soup at home here, that I refrained from having any more. Main course was the actual BBQ ribs, called Kalbi. If you've never been to a Korean grill before...the grill is actually in the middle of the table and either you or the server cooks the food right there on the table. Monica and Kristine knew how so they prepared out meal. I'm not quite sure what the sauce was, but it was amazing. Plus, meat! How often do I get that here? I was quite excited. It was fun actually cooking your meat to your liking then just tossing it on your plate -- a kitchen so close is useful, especially since I was starving. So I filled up on white rice and Kalbi and the fine vino tinto de la casa. Quite the good dinner.

La merienda a la terraza de El Espejo

Merienda is usually a snake during midday, after lunch, but before dinner, in order to hold oneself over until dinner. I'm applying it here to our 2am snack and drink in Madrid during la noche en blanco. Or, as Rebeca put it "You know what this is right here? Fourth meal." We ordered a plate of jamón ibérico and manchego, along with bread. I got a glass of the house wine (as I've said, you can't go wrong here in Spain with red wine). Normally I hate manchego, it's so saltly and strong and just plain foul (I'm starting to think that that's just the manchego that host mother gets) -- but this manchego was much more mild and delicious. That, or I'm just getting used to manchego. A slice of bread, a slice of manchego, and the coup de grâce: jamón ibérico. The best ham you can get in the world. The only thing coming from a pig that I like. Familiar faces should know that I do not like ham nor pork chops nor bacon...however, when in Spain, ham is about the greatest thing I can eat. And this jamón ibérico was fantastic. Cut fresh off the (dead and cured) pig's leg, in tiny little strips, perfect for making tiny bocadillos with the cheese. These bocadillitos and the wine were a perfect combination and an excellent mid-night snack to refuel our energy before we continued on for another four hours.

Camembert

For a while, I just referred to this as the "French cheese" because I didn't know how to pronounce it. As noted before, I was having troubles adjusting to manchego and even the Wisconsin cheddar I brought over (I don't like yellow cheddars...I know, from Wisconsin and don't like cheddar!), so I was determined to find an alternative cheese because I was going through cheese withdrawals (unfortunately they don't have pepper jack here...I may die). Searching through Carrefour for a suitable cheese, I found only two saving graces: Brie and Camembert. I wanted to eat it immediately, and only Camembert came in individually wrapped chunks, so I picked that up. While the mold on the outside was a turn off at first, I have quickly adapted and am now in love with Camembert. It is what keeps me alive and not withering away due to lack of cheese. It's so rich, so creamy...I have a chunk for nearly every meal. Goes great on bread but I can just as easily tear into it by itself. Oh the French, saving me once again. 

Common Fig

Or, in Spanish, higo. A friend of the family rang the doorbell one day and Candela opened the door to reveal Juan, a fast talking and very impassioned Spaniard, friend of Candela's kids Estrella and Antonio. He was carrying grocery bags full of food--and shoes-- and started pouring stuff on the kitchen table (where we had just been eating at--Candela was quite quick to clear the table when she found out he was coming up, never have seen her so excited or so fast). He pulled out this green fruit and basically shoved one in my face, peeling the skin down like a banana, to reveal this half strawberry, half sea coral looking interior. I was intrigued, and shoved my face into the fruit. Oh so sweet. He mumbled that it was "yigo" or something, I didn't picked up what it really was called until a few days later, when I was devouring one I asked Candela and she spelled it out for me (wrong, but Google can help with that). Found out it was the common fig. Makes sense, now that I think about it they do kinda taste like Fig Newtons. I think that if el higo was an animal and not a fruit, I wouldn't eat it. The insides would look disgusting coming from an animal. Weird, I know. It's so delicious, so sweet. It's coated in this gooey sweetness that remind me of honey. So, it's like eating a coral strawberry covered in honey. 

That's all for this installment, expect another one next week. I'm going to be heading out tonight to eat for dinner and possibly again Sunday -- in Madrid. I'm thinking either Casa Botín (Hemingway's favorite) or else something Middle Eastern. Weird that now that I'm in Spain I'm eating at non Spanish restaurants that I could just as easily find in Madison or Milwaukee.