Tag: Spain

Shall we have cheesecake?

Madrid

I don’t wish to confirm that we might have a cheesecake problem, but Nat and I? We may have a cheesecake problem.

It started last Thursday night. We had dinner at Botin, the oldest restaurant in the world (confirmed by Guinness World Records). Even though we were full we ordered two desserts to share. The crème brûlée and la tarte de queso receta de la abuela – cheesecake, Grandma’s recipe.

It sounds so simple – cheesecake, Grandma’s recipe. But there was nothing simple about that cheesecake. It was the smoothest, most luscious cheesecake we have ever eaten. It was warm, it was velvety, it was creamy, the filling melting a little on the plate. There were moans and groans and multiple forks reaching for one more bite.

So now Nat and I have a cheesecake problem.

Friday morning ‘How far away is the cheesecake shop? I’m happy to walk there tonight to get cheesecake.’

Later that day at the Mercado de San Miguel ‘Should we have cheesecake? I’m pretty full but I could do cheesecake.’

Friday night after dinner ‘Goldie can take us to the cheesecake shop now and we can get cheesecake.’

Same night, two minutes later ‘Why would you wait until 10pm to tell us the cheesecake shop closes at 10pm??!!’

Saturday after breakfast ‘Hopefully there’s cheesecake in Córdoba.’

Later in Córdoba ‘Should we get cheesecake? I think we should get cheesecake.’

On the train on our way home from Córdoba ‘Shall we stop at the Mercado and buy dinner? We can get cheesecake.’

That night, staring at our cheesecakes ‘We really should wait for our dinner to settle before we eat cheesecake.’

Ten minutes later, on the couch having finished our cheesecake ‘Wish we’d bought more cheesecake.’

Sunday, before the sheep ‘Shall we get cheesecake while we wait for the sheep?’

Monday ‘Yes please Goldie I’ll try some of your cheesecake.’

Tuesday ‘I don’t think I can eat any more cheesecake.’

Also Tuesday ‘Peppa, can you swing past 99 Cheesecake and buy us some cheesecake?’

I guess it’s not that much of a problem. It’s cheesecake, it’s delicious and we’re on holidays.

When we get home to Brisbane and no longer have such easy access to cheesecake? That’s when we’ll have a problem.

All that plus a parade of sheep

Madrid

We are now in Madrid, flying in from Berlin last week. Here we’ve been joined by my brother-in-law Mat who’s been in London for a couple of days while we’ve been gallivanting around Europe. And in Madrid we’ve met up with Goldie, Nat’s second daughter, who is living and studying in Madrid.

It’s true I’m missing Don terribly – I’m not used to travelling without him – but it’s definitely special to be with my sister and her family who I’m incredibly close to.

Madrid has been a chance to stay in one place for a while. We have a lovely Airbnb with plenty of room for all of us. We’ve stocked the kitchen with essentials, checked out the local markets, restaurants and cafes and worked out the best walking routes to different parts of the city.

The weather has been beautifully warm and sunny, with crisp chilly mornings. We’ve walked Parque de El Retiro, the beautiful Madrid park, had dinner at the oldest restaurant in the world, sampled food at the Mercado de San Miguel and visited Córdoba for the day. Last night Mat, Peppa and Goldie went to see Atlético de Madrid play RC Deportivo de A Coruña at Metropolitano stadium.

Today we wandered Madrid’s massive outdoor markets, El Rastro. I’ve written before about how sometimes you end up at the right place at the right time. As we left the markets there were people lining the streets – lots of people. A quick google told us it was the annual Fiesta de la trashumancia, where shepherds and hundreds of sheep walk through the streets of Madrid to highlight Spain’s ancient free range grazing practices and the threat to the corridors the shepherds use.

Of course we stopped at a cafe for cheesecake and to wait for the sheep to come down the street.

And down the street they came – all 1,250 of them, shepherds throughout to guide the way. It was a beautiful spectacle and remarkably calm. Nobody pushed to see the sheep, there was no shouting or cheering, just happy conversation and appreciation from the locals and tourists watching. The shepherds were smiling and waving and taking extra care of their sheep. It was an unexpected highlight of the day.

What an extraordinary city Madrid is; we are loving every second of it!

Hola!

Barcelona

If there is one language that I’d love to learn, it’s Spanish.

I’m virtually fluent in it already. I mentioned this to Don.

“I think you mean fluid,” was his response. Ignore him, he’s just jealous of my uncanny ability to pick up words and phrases in a short space of time.

I already had a solid grounding in the language thanks to Sesame Street. I also have Feliz Navidad, despacito and macarena, as well as tapas and sangría.

I learnt queso (cheese) and jamón (ham) the first time we were in Spain in 2004, back in the days when I was a vegetarian. Worried that I would be served ham in the ham restaurant, I made Don walk the streets with me until we found cheese labelled cheese. Only then could we go to the ham restaurant for a ham sandwich and a cheese sandwich – queso, no jamón!

Now three days into our Barcelona visit, I’ve added potato, street, house, fountain and grilled. I’ve just forgotten fountain and grilled, but I’m sure if I see them written down I’ll be right.

My favourite word is hola (hello). I’ve hola-ed everybody – every staff member at our hotel, all shop assistants, the people working at the museums, Don, our room, the shower, dinner, wine, the elevator, sangria, the bed.

Obviously I look like I speak Spanish. I’ve been stopped in the street several times and asked in Spanish for directions somewhere. Ok once, I was stopped once, but it just proves I look like a local.

Yesterday we sat for lunch at a little tapas bar.

“Hola!” I said to the woman serving.

“Hola!” she replied, before bursting into a string of rapid Spanish. The thing is, the whole time she was speaking I felt like I knew what she was saying. I didn’t. But I nodded and smiled, said hola and sí and queso a few times, pointed to random items on the menu and sounded them out in near-perfect Spanish. Wine and beer and food soon appeared, so all good, sí?

Perhaps when I get home I’ll enrol in Spanish lessons. Anybody is welcome to join me, however you’ll need to get the basics under your belt first.

Far be it for me to upstage you.