At 6:00 pm, our friend, Javi, met us with a thumbs up because we were early. Spanish kisses on each cheek, hugs and we were off. A couple from Denmark brought the group number to five. Javi said he was happy to have a small group since it made it nearly like a private tour. Knowing him as our translator when he came to California with the filming crew for the recent documentary, it made us feel like we were being led around the city by a friend. We were all delighted to begin.
First stop, a shop that showed salted bacalao (fish) in the front window, a Spanish tradition that Steven remembers from his grandmother and a food he cooks back in his own kitchen. Javi was surprised to hear that we’d all heard of it. The shop had been in one family for fourteen generations until the last owner retired without children to carry it on. He asked that the name remain as well as the inclusion of his bacalao.
A bakery nearby is where he showed us the original type of bread that is used for a typical Spanish breakfast. The bread roll is about 8-9” long and toasted. When it is served for breakfast, you spread smashed tomato over it and drizzle olive oil over the top. I agreed it was food I enjoyed very much. The desserts behind the glass made everyone ohh and ahh. But we were off again.
Javi knew from our previous get together that I’d told the film crew I’d seen a YouTube video about the oldest bar in Madrid called Antigua Casa de Guardia. After several instances where our friends Tried to make it happen, the timing never worked out. When Javi said we were going there, I was grinning and when he heard I’d never made it there, he’d taken off down the street like a shot. The old bar was established in 1814 and when I saw all the wine barrels perched behind the very long bar, I was enchanted. He told us the history and a young man brought us a large shot glass filled to the brain in tandem with a small plate for each of us. Huge green stuffed olives were wrapped with a long, salty anchovy on a stick accompanied by a small white pickled onion and a slice of roasted red pepper, the anchovy was the only thing that went into the trash basket, which Steven helped remove for me. The wine tasted like a bit of sherry, one I liked okay but didn’t love.
Next stop Was walking through the narrow streets to an outdoor tapas bar. Here, we were given small plates of Serrano ham sliced thin as paper, salami sliced thin as well with white edges and two small wedges of cheese, 3/4 goat cheese combined with 1/4 sheep cheese that had been dipped in wine. The wine was a small glass of something dark that I didn’t like too well, but was an important local drink. I left most of it and so did Steven.
We followed Javi past the huge building that was a marketplace inside, with the entrance catching our attention. Having just left Córdoba, we thought it had a Moorish influence with its archways of stone and we were right. The end of the building where he led us was made of stained glass in pieces that showed the mosque, mountains, shipping, wine making, statuary and more. We followed Javi like ducks all in a row, across a huge courtyard area called Constitution Square and past dress shops where I saw beautiful feria (festival) costumes like the one that I wore in Seville last year. Ruffles, polka dots and fringe. Oh my.
We rounded the corner into a narrow alley where he pointed to a large ceramic tile piece of art that depicted the various types of coffee in Spain. I learned that cafe con leche was actually called media, which means half coffee and half milk. There were nine ways to order coffee depending on the ratio of espresso coffee to milk!
More narrow streets and my feet were saying that we should stop and sit. When Javi led us to an outdoor restaurant called El Chinitas, we were delighted to see a linen draped table, linen napkins and wine glasses just for us. Red wine or white? He preferred the white, both Ribero del Duero wines, which have become my favorites. I chose red and it was smooth and rich. Steven shared a sip of his white and it was delicious. Next time, I will listen to Javi and take his advice. The tapas were large plates of thinly sliced eggplant called berenjenas with molasses dribbled on top, which I’d eaten in Córdoba. These were different, but the crispy slices were delicious. Javi gave us a short lecture on the wine, the restaurant and the foods. Time to go!
The next stop was another outside wine bar. Candles burned on tables and the artwork on our table caught everyone’s attention. Each table was a piece of art done by the same artist. He’d embedded Spanish coins to create a bunch of grapes and entangled the vines beneath and around it. Beautiful. We snapped a few photos and then the wine began to flow again. Javi told us that the red here was best and this time I took him at his word. Again, delicious. Our first plate was a tiny elongated white dish that held two puffy, hot croquettes. He told us it was typical of Spain and the ingredients, but I was too busy laying into it to remember his words. Very good and sipping the red wine was perfect. When the server removed those plates, he replaced them with a meat and chips tapas. So good!
It was nearly 9:00 by then, more photos and more hugs and it was time to go home again. It felt like an enjoyable family evening as Javi thanked us again for allowing him to give us a piece of Spanish history with wine and tapas. It was a bittersweet goodbye to a lovely evening and he was gone.
Winding our way back through the myriad of interlacing narrow streets as we looked for Calle Larios again to return to the train station was a bit of a struggle. My feet were crying and we were all tied, but we found our way, got on the train and homeward bound by 10:00. We all agreed that it was a adventure and I’m so glad it was so much more than just wine and appetizers. Malaga at night with the lights shining through grills, stained glass, clock towers and across tiled walkways gave me another magical feeling. Another lovely day.
But, Friday we must rest, swim, lay a bit in the sun. I fear I’m running Steven ragged. Lyn keeps up a running commentary for us as she tells stories of the surrounding area and feeds us along the way.
Javi knew from our previous get together that I’d told the film crew I’d seen a YouTube video about the oldest bar in Madrid called Antigua Casa de Guardia. After several instances where our friends Tried to make it happen, the timing never worked out. When Javi said we were going there, I was grinning and when he heard I’d never made it there, he’d taken off down the street like a shot. The old bar was established in 1814 and when I saw all the wine barrels perched behind the very long bar, I was enchanted. He told us the history and a young man brought us a large shot glass filled to the brain in tandem with a small plate for each of us. Huge green stuffed olives were wrapped with a long, salty anchovy on a stick accompanied by a small white pickled onion and a slice of roasted red pepper, the anchovy was the only thing that went into the trash basket, which Steven helped remove for me. The wine tasted like a bit of sherry, one I liked okay but didn’t love.
Next stop Was walking through the narrow streets to an outdoor tapas bar. Here, we were given small plates of Serrano ham sliced thin as paper, salami sliced thin as well with white edges and two small wedges of cheese, 3/4 goat cheese combined with 1/4 sheep cheese that had been dipped in wine. The wine was a small glass of something dark that I didn’t like too well, but was an important local drink. I left most of it and so did Steven.
We followed Javi past the huge building that was a marketplace inside, with the entrance catching our attention. Having just left Córdoba, we thought it had a Moorish influence with its archways of stone and we were right. The end of the building where he led us was made of stained glass in pieces that showed the mosque, mountains, shipping, wine making, statuary and more. We followed Javi like ducks all in a row, across a huge courtyard area called Constitution Square and past dress shops where I saw beautiful feria (festival) costumes like the one that I wore in Seville last year. Ruffles, polka dots and fringe. Oh my.
We rounded the corner into a narrow alley where he pointed to a large ceramic tile piece of art that depicted the various types of coffee in Spain. I learned that cafe con leche was actually called media, which means half coffee and half milk. There were nine ways to order coffee depending on the ratio of espresso coffee to milk!
More narrow streets and my feet were saying that we should stop and sit. When Javi led us to an outdoor restaurant called El Chinitas, we were delighted to see a linen draped table, linen napkins and wine glasses just for us. Red wine or white? He preferred the white, both Ribero del Duero wines, which have become my favorites. I chose red and it was smooth and rich. Steven shared a sip of his white and it was delicious. Next time, I will listen to Javi and take his advice. The tapas were large plates of thinly sliced eggplant called berenjenas with molasses dribbled on top, which I’d eaten in Córdoba. These were different, but the crispy slices were delicious. Javi gave us a short lecture on the wine, the restaurant and the foods. Time to go!
The next stop was another outside wine bar. Candles burned on tables and the artwork on our table caught everyone’s attention. Each table was a piece of art done by the same artist. He’d embedded Spanish coins to create a bunch of grapes and entangled the vines beneath and around it. Beautiful. We snapped a few photos and then the wine began to flow again. Javi told us that the red here was best and this time I took him at his word. Again, delicious. Our first plate was a tiny elongated white dish that held two puffy, hot croquettes. He told us it was typical of Spain and the ingredients, but I was too busy laying into it to remember his words. Very good and sipping the red wine was perfect. When the server removed those plates, he replaced them with a meat and chips tapas. So good!
It was nearly 9:00 by then, more photos and more hugs and it was time to go home again. It felt like an enjoyable family evening as Javi thanked us again for allowing him to give us a piece of Spanish history with wine and tapas. It was a bittersweet goodbye to a lovely evening and he was gone.
Winding our way back through the myriad of interlacing narrow streets as we looked for Calle Larios again to return to the train station was a bit of a struggle. My feet were crying and we were all tied, but we found our way, got on the train and homeward bound by 10:00. We all agreed that it was a adventure and I’m so glad it was so much more than just wine and appetizers. Malaga at night with the lights shining through grills, stained glass, clock towers and across tiled walkways gave me another magical feeling. Another lovely day.
But, Friday we must rest, swim, lay a bit in the sun. I fear I’m running Steven ragged. Lyn keeps up a running commentary for us as she tells stories of the surrounding area and feeds us along the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment