Razor clams and Toilet Bowls.

On the 15^th of November we drove to Barcelona, Spain.  On day one we ate a meal that I thought was going to be up there with one of our best. One of a long list suggested to us by our hosts, we picked it because it was the closest to our apartment. Simply decorated, the decor reminded me of a 1970’s doctor’s surgery waiting room (or what I imagine one would look like). Though it lacked a certain style, the table settings (crisp white cloth napkins, a selection of glassware) hinted at something a little more refined.

As it was lunchtime (Paella o’clock) and it was our first meal in Spain (The Zombies didn’t really count) we ordered Paella Mixta for two, Pimientos de Padron and a starter of grilled baby squid. I was actually leaning towards fried baby octopus, but the waiter insisted we get the squid (with a wink and a knowing smile).

The squid was oh-so-tender, tiny (the size of a squished brussel sprout (new season)) and the best I’ve ever eaten. Slightly smoky from the grill, it was dressed with olive oil, lemon juice, flaky salt and finely chopped parsley. I could see Mick’s eyes widen with revelation at each bite. I’m not exaggerating. I'm sure that if every farmers market in Victoria traded their Dutch pancake stall for a stand that sold these by the plate, they would do a roaring trade. Who eats those little pancakes anyway? I’d much rather baby squids on the ends of my toothpick.

Pimientos de Padrón are small green peppers from Padrón, a small green town in Galicia, North Western Spain. To prepare them, you cook them with a little olive oil in a hot pan until blistered, garnish with salt and serve. To eat them, you hold them by the stalk and bite off the flesh and seeds. They are sweet fleshed, delicious and are known as the Russian Roulette of the pepper world. Although for the most part they are not hot (not even a hint of spice) occasionally you’ll come upon a killer. The Galician saying goes "Os pementos de Padrón, uns pican e outros non". The translation is something like the “Hot & Not” column in your favourite glossy.

I might interject for a second (can you interject yourself?) and mention how proud Mick is of me; I haven’t gloated on any form of social media about my absence from retail Christmas preparation. Don’t worry my gloating is equally balanced with jealousy over missing summer and Christmas with friends and family.  Paul Kelly’s “Who’s gonna make the gravy” made me tear up today, even though I haven’t made gravy for my family, in, like forever. And I’m not in prison...

I digress; we washed this all down with one of my favourite crowd pleasers- Torres Sangre del Torro Blanco “Vina Sol” €6, or twelvish dollars at your local bottle shop (wink). The paella wasn’t really what we expected. As yet, we haven’t had another in Spain to compare it to. Maybe the Australian incarnations are nothing like their traditional ancestors. Or maybe we haven’t had a control “authentic” Paella in Australia. This one was, rich, smoky and had a colour that we can only describe as HP brown. Chicken, pippies, langoustines and calamari (could have been razor clams, but us novices wouldn’t know the difference) were peppered through the aromatic rice mix. Moreish as it was, it was certainly not the saffron bright, tomato flavoured and zesty dish we were expecting.

JW, I implore you, please point out my grammatical errors. I know they’re there.

This meal, potentially top of the list... Sadly, gave us food poisoning.

We had a Jerry and George moment as we argued the pros and cons. Did the deliciousness outweigh the illness? I am inclined to say it did. It was totally worth it. I’d eat there again without hesitation and if anybody questions me, I’ll tell them it was just a coincidence. Bad sushi or somthin’. Cross my heart.

Love youz.