You Say Goodbye, and I Say Hello – Hello – Hello, London!

After walking halfway to the metro station, I remembered the gifts for the hubby’s godfather were still in the fridge at Éric’s. Luckily, we had left far earlier than we needed to get to the airport, so we ran back to get the sliced chorizo and cheese. From the metro, we took the airport express bus for 5.30€ per person one way. It was a worry-free way to get to the airport.

Once we arrived at our gate, I now have time to write about the show last night! Maria, the hubby, and I met up with another friend to ride together to Razzmatazz 2 downtown. Éric came out to meet us with our backstage sticker passes. Once inside, we hear the other bands winding down their sound checks. We scuttle upstairs to Éric’s exclusive dressing room to find his backup band chilling and noshing on sandwiches, paté, and an assortment of junk food. The drink fridge is stocked with beer and mixers, and a row of full bottles of liquor sit on the fridge ledge. So THIS is how real rock stars are treated! It was a great performance, and the crowd went wild for Éric and his music.  It was a great sight to see because it was almost ten years to the day since I had met him when his former band The Unfinished Sympathy had opened for Jimmy Eat World in Madrid at the live music venue Arenas near Plaza de España. What was different about this performance was that it was for an official Communist Party fundraiser. Éric failed to mention this detail. Meh, whatever.  It was a really great show. The last act’s female lead singer was dressed in a flamenco dress but rocking out.  I do enjoy the juxtaposition of imagery.

When we got home from the concert, I hand shredded the chicken and made tacos for everyone. Éric and Maria each tried the tostones with the avocado pico de gallo. He asked if pico de gallo really meant beak of the rooster. No, it’s probably a misheard version of picadillo which means a chopped salad or mix of foodstuffs. Then, came the chicken tinga tacos with repollo. “What is ‘repollo’? Is it double chicken?” asked Éric. I laughed so much. Maria chimed in that it’s ‘col’ or cabbage in English like from the Spanish for Cabbage Patch Kids. He retorted that he never would have known that because he didn’t play with Cabbage Patch Kids growing up. Once they took that first bite, they looked super perplexed. I asked if they enjoyed the taco. They replied with a resounding yes. The look they shared was attributed to the fact that neither had ever had that particular taste combination in their mouths before. Chipotle was a completely new flavor, and the multi-faceted layers of flavors and textures were overwhelming but not unpleasant. I LOVE introducing new foods and flavors to people who whole-heartedly appreciate them.  Suffice it to say, the tacos and tostones were a hit. Maria kept telling friends that they have never and would never eat so well again . . . until I came back. They asked if I wanted to move to Barcelona and jokingly said that we could have free room and board as long as they got to eat at the restaurant. Oh, how would I LOVE to move back to Spain!

All of Gaudí in a Day

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Let me recap the morning and afternoon for you while I wait for the chicken for the tacos to simmer.

The hubby and I had a very ambitious day planned. We were going to see all of the outdoor sights of Barcelona all in one day. We woke up and were out of the house by 8:30AM unlike yesterday. The metro took us up to the bus which practically dropped us off at the front door of Castell Montjüic, a fort on a mountain overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. We climbed the shallow, stone stairs surrounded by fresh, wild rosemary and made it to the first cannon. The weather has been so cooperative this trip. The sun has been out all week, and the weather has been warm and dry . . . simply gorgeous. A nice American couple lent a hand and helped us snap a few couple photos, and we return the favor in kind. Once we have had enough of forts, cannons, cargo ships, and smog-ladened vistas, we scurried off the top of the fort to find a bus going back down the mountain waiting for us. Hooray!

The bus winds down the mountain and drops us off at the funicular station. Per the World English Dictionary, a funicular is “Also called: funicular railway; a railway up the side of a mountain, consisting of two counterbalanced cars at either end of a cable passing round a driving wheel at the summit.” Our funicular was taking us to the metro, and entire seating arrangement felt like stadium seating at a movie theater. Next stop: La Sagrada Familia.

As we came out of the metro station, the hubby was turned in the exact opposite direction of the cathedral, so he had a pained look on his face. Where was the Sagrada Familia? I turned him around, and if I’m not mistaken, his jaw hit the ground. The grotesque grandeur of the cathedral all but knocked my husband on his bum. So much of the cathedral had changed in the 10 years since last I had seen it. The juxtaposition of the weathered, stained façade of the original structure with the sharp, clean lines of the new expansions was hard for me to accept.  I think I need to look at the original plans again to be able to process what I saw. The lines to enter the cathedral were ridiculous, and there were people strewn everywhere unable to comprehend the structure before them, dumbfounded by spires that seemed to scrape at heaven.

Once I managed to scrape my husband off of the sidewalk, we decided to walk to the next stop: La Pedrera. We leisurely made our way to the building, grabbing a bite to eat on the way. I could see the undulating orifice of La Pedrera in the distance since I had sketched it a decade ago. The hubby still couldn’t see what I did. When we got in front of the building, there was quite a line to get in and up to the rooftop. I still have all of the photos I took atop that building with Ángel and the other students. I sat in the same spot where I covered a journal page with a pencil sketch of just one of the balconies of the building. I can’t believe it has been almost an entire decade since I last set foot in Barcelona. I just have to keep repeating . . . I’m young at heart. I’m young at heart. I’m young at heart . . .

We take a gamble on the bus system and head towards Parc Güell. The bus skips our stop completely, so we end up waiting for a neighborhood bus (looks kind of like the short buses from elementary school) to get us closer to the park. Winding through the narrow streets of this super hilly neighborhood on the outskirts of Barcelona proper, this bus driver completely missed our stop as well. It was easy to tell that we were missing our stop since all of the buses in Madrid and Barcelona provided an LED sign to tell you the next stop. NYC buses don’t even have up-to-date maps of the bus routes on the bus to help a girl out. We finally find the side entrance to the park, and we turn our eyes upward following the stacks upon stacks of stairs and escalators scaling the side of this neighborhood. It IS like San Francisco, Éric! It IS!

When we make it to the top of the escalators, we take a break and get a little gelato to help prepare ourselves for the next set of stairs. Once we make it into the park, the walkways are scarred with deep indentations from where the heavy rains of the past few weeks had left their mark. The rest of the afternoon was spent with hordes of tourists milling around all of the Gaudí structures. The view was the same as it ever was with the Sagrada Familia standing heads and shoulders above all else in the distance.

Now, I am back at the house with chicken that is just about ready to fall apart having simmered an hour and a half in a chipotle sauce diluted with chicken broth. Now, to get dressed for the show! Éric was kind enough to include us on the guest list to get backstage. I will report out tomorrow on the show.

La Boquería and Las Ramblas

Oh, what a late start! We got up quite late as we had stayed up quite late taking advantage of the really great wifi connection and looking up things to do. The most we could muster was a full day of market hopping and milling around Las Ramblas.

First, I showed the hubby the opera house, the Teatro Liceu as soon as we were above ground. As we start walking around Las Ramblas, we stop in a grocery store to grab a few prepared cold foods so that we can sit on benches, have breakfast, and people watch. Iberian ham flavored potato chips didn’t exist 10 years ago, but now, you can find them anywhere, and the Ruffles ham flavored chips are just right. It did save us some money having breakfast from the grocery store as opposed to the Café la Ópera, which is a very dear place for me, but I wanted to splurge at La Boquería, the huge fresh market just off Las Ramblas in what seems to be akin to an airplane hangar.We walk all the way up to Plaza Catalunya when we happen upon a poster for Éric’s show on Friday night for which we are on the guest list. On our way back, I decide that I want to find a side entrance to the market, so we slip into one of the small side streets. We actually pass a Día on the way as the road gets narrower and narrower. We double back and find the tiny entrance.  The first booth we saw was for ham.  I was so excited to find the market again. Stalls upon stalls for fresh produce, seafoods, and meats as far as the eye can see. There are at least a couple of bars and plenty of stands who will give you a taste of their products. While milling around and capturing some shots of the wares, I figure out the menu for the next two evenings as a thank you to our hosts. I find a well-stocked Latin American stall and pick up some tortillas, chipotle sauce, cilantro, onions, clementines, persimmons, plantains, tomatoes, avocadoes, and cabbage. Chicken tinga tacos with a repollo garnish and tostones with an avocado pico de gallo are on the menu for Friday night since the pico de gallo, a fresh chunky salsa, and the repollo, or Mexican cole slaw, needed to marinate overnight. What was I to make for tonight? Seeing the chicken in the cases, I decided on a simply Burmese style curry chicken for this evening’s menu. For a farmer’s market, it was a lot cheaper than the farmer’s markets back in the States.

We hop on the metro with all of the weight of our purchases and stop at the Chinese grocery store on the way home. If you are thinking that I managed to find a way to practice Mandarin while in Barcelona, you are correct. All I saw were industrial-sized tubs of spices in the aisles, so I had to ask where the regular-sized spices could be found. I bought Chinese five spice for our hosts to try, a small bag of curry, a small bottle of white pepper, long grain red rice, and a few other things. I was so excited to introduce all of these new flavor combinations to our friends.

When we finally got home, it was far too late to prepare the curry for lunch, so we have a quick bite, and the hubby takes advantage of siesta time.  I work unrelentingly on preparing all of the goodies we brought back from the markets. I minced and julienned like it was my mission in life. The repollo was complete – filled with minced cilantro, lovely thin shreds of cabbage, carrots, and red onion and dressed with sherry vinegar, lemon juice, olive oil, sugar, salt, and pepper. Into the fridge to marinate it went.  I put a pot of water on and made a bit of instant broth to start cooking the red rice.  First, I bring it to a boil for a few minutes.  Then, I turn the heat down to low and cover the pot to let the water get absorbed.  About 20 minutes later, I turn off the heat and leave it covered for 15 minutes. While I’m waiting, I start finely chopping the onion, tomatoes, and avocado. I gently mix everything together with some of the cilantro, lemon juice, salt, and pepper, and into the fridge it went. The secret for rice that doesn’t stick to the pot is waiting patiently for those 15 minutes to let the rice rest. I fold some five spice into the cooked rice as I am fluffing it. It smells wonderful.

I continue to make a complete mess of the kitchen as I clean the chicken and dice potatoes.  I slide in some of the leftover julienned carrots from the repollo as the curry is cooking on the stove. I garnish with cilantro, and it’s about time for dinner.  The hubby and I don’t wait for our hosts as they usually have mismatched schedules.  We have just put away our dishes from dinner, and I was finishing up my dessert of cuajada, a sort of fresh cheese, when our hosts arrive with groceries and snacks. We balance the packet of ham on the unplugged, portable electric radiator and wrapped slivers of ham around tiny breadsticks. It finally occurs to them that the curry is for them, so they put away the breadsticks and fill up plates. After the first bite, they can’t stop. The plated curry disappears, and they go for seconds.  It was a very satisfying feeling to have my cooking appreciated in such a delightful way. It is late again, so we retire to our room to only stay up to plan our Friday and work on this blog. Oh . . . so . . . tired!

Holiday in Madrid and ¡Bona tarda, Barcelona!

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Late night  = late morning. We wake up the next morning to a city that was almost completely shut down.  La virgen Almudena is the patron saint of Madrid, and so on this day, Madrid shuts down except for bars and restaurants, and the whole city celebrate its version of the Virgin Mary by eating out. I love holidays in Madrid.  For tourists, it may seem inconvenient, but it is such a boost for local restaurants, in my opinion. I thought the Línea Cero stall in the Sol metro station because it was in the middle of tourist central, but alas, it was also closed for the holiday, too.  These stalls sell jewelry, handbags, hats, clothes, and scarves – all of which are hip and cheap, so I always make a point in stopping by one while in Madrid.  I still have all of the pieces I’ve bought from there because I love it so much.

We go straight for the train station.  With beautiful foliage and clean benches, we park ourselves under a tree, and I go exploring. I found a great little shop called Natur. If you need something to compare this shop to, then imagine if Claire’s Accessories and Muji had a classy, eco-friendly child. Souvenirs – check! Off to the train!

After finding our seats and settling in, we had lunch on the train.  We had already pulled away from the platform, and we were well on our way to Barcelona at more than 220 km/hr, or approximately 137 mi/hr. The café car was fabulous. The menu was great as pictured above. I got the ciabatta with a large quantity of Iberian ham and a red wine. Hubby ordered a combo of a smoked pork loin with roasted green chilies, potato chips, and a beer. Oh, lunch was simple and glorious. Who knew train food could be so lush?

The metro in Barcelona still offers 2, 3, 5, and 7-day unlimited passes for the convenience of tourists, so that was a bonus.  We hop on and make our way to my friend Éric Fuentes’ home.  Éric is formerly of the well-toured band The Unfinished Sympathy and is now pursuing a solo career making quite the name for himself around Europe as El Mal (The Evil). Check out his latest album on . . . and catch him on tour.

After a lot of drinking and catching up, Amit and I decide we need to get dinner before all of the neighborhood bars close. Our host recommended Bar Versailles as it never disappointed him. We found it easily on the main drag in the neighborhood. This establishment only provides beer, cocktails, coffee, and water as libations, so both the husband and I got a beer while deciding on which tapas we would try out of the cold case on the counter. We finally make up our minds and choose some rather heavy dishes as we were quite hungry of boiled potatoes dressed in aioli (garlic mayonnaise), mini chorizos stewed in cider, and a mixed olive plate. We make our way back to the house and enjoy an evening of mocking the television programs and getting to know Éric’s companion Maria.  Off to bed!