The Food

Okay, I know I'm supposed to tell you all how fabulous it is and how I've never tasted such wonderful things in my life and that is true for some of it. But I need to tell you about the rest.

Now I'm a picky eater. When I was born it was not fashionable to breast feed and I was allergic to cows milk, so I could only drink goats milk, a near impossible commodity to obtain in the Northern corners of North Dakota. My mother said it turned me into the picky eater I am today.

Now this does not mean I don't like unusual or foreign foods. I can eat snail, raw octopus and cow head right up there with the best of them. I just like to know and have those foods prepared in the way I like them. Or at least know how they are going to be prepared, so I can prepare myself. I start thinking about what I want hours before I plan on eating it and in the states know exactly where to go to obtain the object of my desires. Usually I'm satisfied, but I have been known to cry at a KFC because they were out of white meat (my thoughts are very specific), and substitutes are very upsetting to me.

Obviously in Spain, I no longer wake wanting a specific item, as I do not know where the day will take me. But it is the time between the order and the arrival of the plate that my disappointment becomes almost tragic.

So a few things I have learned during my travels. All cafes that post pictures of food outside their door were given the pictures by the same food vendors in the early 90's. The food will not resemble even closely the picture they display. If you see a cafe that has the same pictures of food as 1,000 other restaurants you've come across, do not go in. The picture in front of the pizzeria that has the mouth watering New York style pepperoni pizza on it, will not have any pizza with pepperoni, it will be York ham, with no sauce, there is no pepperoni in Spain, I must wait for Italy for that, and even then I'm still dubious. The delectable looking gazapacho with the bright red color, will be a strange yellow color etc.

If you are at the train station and you think a Bacon, tomato and cheese sandwich sounds good-and thoughts of crispy bacon enter your head- be careful- it will arrive and the bacon will be smoked, but not cooked. Now, it wasn' entirely evil, but I couldn't eat the fatty parts.

The sit down restaurants have not let me down on the taste and fabulousness of the food, but I get anxious not knowing exactly what I'm prepared for. Sauce may mean paste- baked may mean stewed, with tomato may mean tomato spread. You just don't know! Or the menus just say things like York Ham, Baked Sea Bass, Filet. You have no idea what will accompany it or what the flavors may be. To give them credit, most restaurants will go to the trouble of creating a menu in English for you, even if it is not the most detailed.

Of course this is my ignorance, not their fault by any means. As today, I passed this fabulous chocolate store that had incredible looking ice cream, almost gellato type when I first arrived and thought I must go back. After walking a mile up a hill to see a castle and back down I thought it would be the perfect treat. I found it again and waited for it to reopen. To finally choose my chocolate ice cream. I of course could not understand the labels and chose the most sumptious looking one I saw. My mouth watered with anticipation- but then it was orange and chocolate. I HATE orange and chocolate. (and no, they didn't have tasters like Baskin Robbins). Orange and chocolate would not be bad, if they used the orange and no the rind, but they never do, even in the states. The rind is disgusting. For those who like orange and chocolate, I am sure you would have loved it.

But I think the worst was last night when I ordered a bottle of wine from the hotel and a can of olives. (hey, I'm single- a half bottle of wine with olives is a perfectly acceptable stay at home dinner). Until I put one in my mouth. Oh my god, why would they do that, what is that taste, are these bad, as I'm running to the bathroom to spit it out. I went back to look at the can and very small over the picture of a bird, was the word, anchove. They were soaking in fish water! That is just not right. And why oh why, was there a picture of a bird, instead of a fish?

So that is my rant, thank you for listening, I feel slightly better.