We left the rincón gastronómico area of the Mercado Central de Abastos satisfied but sure that the snacking portion of our culinary journey had come to an end. It was time to find a nice plaza and a restaurant terrace to sit in, with proper wine service and more substantial plates to share. It was, after all,…
On a recent excursion to Priorat wine country I acted the tour guide for my mother and my man. I lead them to the little cottage in the mountains of Montsant, which I had called home for close to six months. We walked through the town of Poboleda and had a beer on the terrace of ye olde La Venta. I…
We arrived in Cádiz after a 3-hour train ride from Córdoba, our heads still spinning from the rum garrafones of the night before and both of us hungry, especially hungry for something salty and fried. It was already 12:30 in the afternoon and all we had eaten that day (at the train station in Córdoba) was a…
We arrived in the super-Catholic Spanish city of Córdoba at 3 p.m. on Good Friday, the last day of the very somber Semana Santa (Holy Week), and braced ourselves for a long night of religious processions. The streets were packed with terrifying Nazarenos, anonymous under their cone-shaped head gear, carrying large candles, people everywhere declaring their…
It was our first getaway together from Barcelona; a two-hour drive up the coast to the border and an hour more upward and inward into France. He had kept our destination a secret until we rolled into the quaint town of Carcassonne, passing the beautifully lit Château Comtal en route to our inn. As I peered through the…
“You know what I like. I like a late night counter packed with locals, where I can get some meat. And maybe a little grease or fat. And some cheese, preferably melted cheese. And maybe some other stuff, in between some good bread. That’s what I like.” I was following in Bourdain’s footsteps when I…
It’s gotten cold up in the mountains of the Priorat as of late. While I sit in my brightly lit and climate-controlled Barcelona apartment my colleagues gather dry wood in early afternoon darkness, twigs with which to make a fire, not recreationally. There’s no marshmallows or campsite stories going around. It’s just a part of the routine. I…
That best bite of Vienna… That Käsekrainer sausage with hot mustard and beer at a random Würstelstand near Stephansplatz after walking around, desperately trying to take in all of the sites the city has to offer in the single hour we had between our return from Semmering ski station and our dinner with friends in another part…
Ask me about Bar Cañete and I’ll give you two thumbs up. Yes. Go there. Why? Because the food is local and traditional, yet playful and fun. The ingredients are fresh and proudly representative of the region, with a notable prominence of sardines, anchovies and acorn-fed Iberian piggy parts splattered all over the menu. There’s classic laid-back pica-pica favorites like croquetas…
When I think of Santo Domingo I think of a colmado bar. I picture a brightly lit corner-shop with a long counter, and behind it shelves stacked with cans, bottles, boxes. Ketchup spelled “catsup,” sweet and sticky Carnation®, economy-sized packs of sanitary pads and toilet paper, cheap vodka, cheap rum. In the middle there’s a Presidente beer cooler…
That Best Bite 