Stage 1: Barcelona

KLM trip to Barcelona was uneventful except that for the first time in a long time, I took a late flight: 22.20 departure, arriving at 10 something in the morning in Amsterdam. I had the middle seat between a designer from Vancouver who was also taking a leave from her life and a young kid from India on his way to Abu Dhabi. I would have been able to sleep more except for the dude behind the designer who started to snore pretty quickly after dinner. This was not cartoon, feather floating down only to be gently propelled aloft again snoring -- no, this was sleep apnia, pug dog belaboured breathing snoring that makes you want to gag because you can't help but become more aware of your own respiration... The poor designer was very anglo and was suffering it all in silence. Once I had finished watching tv (episodes of 30 Rock [not 3rd Rock... thanks Jen, my bad]) , a show which I had never seen before) and wanted to sleep as well, I decided to intervene and shook the guy's leg... when he startled awake and looked at me angrily, I simply threw him a compassionate face and asked if he was choking... heh heh heh...

The connecting flight to Barcelona was fine but we arrived at the same time as a flight from Casablanca and the baggage area was quite chaotic. With my bag eventually in hand, I caught a taxi and made my way to the flat that I rent from Elisa Gisbert. I was happy to see that she had spoiled me with the best room (en suite bath) and close to the wireless router so I don't have to leave to use the internet. Initial grocery shopping was quick and for dinner I fixed myself a nice aperitif of fuet, chips and olives and then had my Spain comfort food: tortellinis with a tonne of black pepper and olive oil. To drink, it was just a can of Bitter Kas, another taste of Spain for me.

This morning I went downtown to meet Olga and have a coffee at the CCCB cafe, located right behind the MACBA. Silvia popped out of work just long enough to say hi, which was nice. After that, back to the greatest market in the world, the Boqueria. I love that place. It just makes me so happy to wander around there and purchase things at different stalls (something more tourists should do, rather than simply taking pictures and then wasting their money at a "restaurant" on the Ramblas)... Unfortunately, my normal vegetable and fruit stand is closed for holidays so I wasn't able to flirt with the lady there... oh well, another day. ; )



So I found my lettuce (enciam), cucumber (pepino), pimientos de padrón, garlic (all) and onion (ceba), elsewhere. And on my way past a butcher's stall, some amazingly tempting veal steaks stopped me in my tracks -- so I bought two filets as well as some blood sausage made with rice (the Burgos style).

I had never prepared the pimientos at home but how hard could it be? Not very, it turns out:

Heat a couple of tbsp of oil in a frying pan.

Fry the peppers until they burn, stirring regularly but not too regularly.

Remove from heat (they deflate instantly) and add Maldon.

Cover for a couple of minutes to let the steam work on them a bit and then serve hot.

Now, I had never gotten a really spicy one before today. Let me explain: the fun of ordering these in a bar is that apparently 1 in 10 of these sweet tasting salty treats is fucking picante (so you get a Russian Roulette thing going with your friends). Today I learned that this is, indeed, the truth. One of the last ones that I ate along with my steak got me hiccuping immediately (those who have seen me eat hot things have laughed at this). By an amazing stroke of luck, there was some cold cava at hand: a nice bottle of Agustí Torelló Mata. And to kill any lingering burn, I had a Magnum Frac for dessert. Mmmm!