We stumbled out of a costume store, the Basque and I, gripping shiny cellophane packages and an orange balloon he had snatched from the counter “sinpa”. It was Halloween in Barcelona and I was ready to play, as I do each year regardless of where I happen to find myself. In the past 5 years…
On weekends we used to go town-hopping; poking around the Priorat, lookin’ for trouble. Sometimes we’d climb the rock walls of mountains near the medieval town Siurana. Other times we’d walk through Poboleda, Cornudella, Prades, looking for cultural events with which to breathe life into our barren social calendar. When there was a dance, a festival, a bar opening we’d…
Floro also happens to be quite the wiseass. One time my colleague (rhetorically) asked him how he is capable of baking such consistently delicious breads without anyone’s help and he responded, “Well, how do you put your underwear on in the morning without anyone’s help?” I’m still not sure I understand what that means. Maybe his riddles take time to untangle.
In the Priorat comarca of Catalunya, “Spain” there’s a town called Ulldemolins in which there’s a bakery run by a woman named Pepi, who makes these things called bunyols de vent. Yesterday was my last day in the Priorat and I woke up thinking about them. Bunyols. Bunyols de vent from Pepi’s in Ulldemollins, 20 minutes from Cornudella,…
“And where did you have lunch?” I asked a visiting chef one time, a talented boy from London known for his quick skill with the butcher knife. “The place around the corner, that white one. Grandma food to the max, I love it!” was his answer. For my first few weeks in the Priorat it was “the…
That Best Bite 