Codorniu
Sant Sadurni, Penedes
9 miles of caves! The golf cart ride! Delicious buttery flaky Ritz crackers! The noisy Germans!
Pla des Angels
El Raval, Barcelona
Gnocchi with Parmesan and Peaches
Salad with Hazelnuts and
Spaghetti with Hot Mussels, although I am convinced that I had some kind of red pepper sauce
and poor Kai's busted ankle.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
Barcelona Day 3
Cafe de L'Academia
The portions are enormous. But how could they have overcooked the gorgeous lamb shanks? Do they just not care? Does everyone in this country overcook the shanks and eat tough gamy charry meat?
Boadas
The bastard tried to rip us off. The oldest game in the book - the tourists can't count change so short change him game.
There is something to be said about the old school jackets and the smoky bar with everyone (with dreadlocks, for whatever reason) holding these small martini glasses. I was waiting to see champagne coupes.
CDLC
I know. What were we thinking? But there is something to be said about the cheesy European nightclub.
The portions are enormous. But how could they have overcooked the gorgeous lamb shanks? Do they just not care? Does everyone in this country overcook the shanks and eat tough gamy charry meat?
Boadas
The bastard tried to rip us off. The oldest game in the book - the tourists can't count change so short change him game.
There is something to be said about the old school jackets and the smoky bar with everyone (with dreadlocks, for whatever reason) holding these small martini glasses. I was waiting to see champagne coupes.
CDLC
I know. What were we thinking? But there is something to be said about the cheesy European nightclub.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Breakfast at Bocqueria
Bocqueria Market
Ramblas, Barcelona.
I think I have died and gone to heaven. New York markets are so abundant and so expertly piled. The market in Paris was pretty good, but somewhat daunting. The market in Bali was amazing culturally, but really unsanitary. The market in Peru was all potatoes. But this is another thing all together.
We sat down at El Quim, and ordered a tortilla and bocadillos. The poor server had to put up with our first attempt at dealing with a no English menu. Do they expect us to point? Do they put up with this terrible half-English, half-Spanish, useless Catalan all the time? Why do they obscure part of the menu?
Why do I keep seeing people order things that I just do not see on the menu? Where did that gorgeous bowl of mussels come from? Does that mean they have razor clams too? If they sell it at the market, does that mean they have access to some, and will they cook it for me?
Cerveceria Catalunya
Barcelona
The hotel porter tipped us to this place. And I hadn't read about it in any of the guidebooks, so I decided that it was either going to be really good or really bad, nothing in between. First things first - it was not at all touristy, and filled with people who seemed to be on a lunch break. This because many of the men were in suits, and women were not wearing the sensible shoes that tourists wear.
The food was excellent. But I really should have pointed to the more exciting looking dishes, instead of adhering to the "if you don't know what it is, just order the thing a la plancha."
Stupid me.
Bar Moodern, Hotel Omm
L'Eixample, Barcelona
Noone should ever have to cross the velvet rope to get back into their hotel. Alas, it happened to us, and rather than just trudge wearily to our rooms, we should exercise our coolness and have a drink at the bar.
A glass of cava was EUR 5, but a proper cocktail mixed by one of these wingnuts in all black was EUR 11. Are you kidding me? It seemed outrageous, but I guess they (we) were all paying for a seat.
Dry Martini
L'Eixample, Barcelona
I am always obsessed with old-school bars, aged wood, comfy club chairs, serious cocktails. But this place didnt get hoppin' until 1:30 AM, on a Tuesday!
Ramblas, Barcelona.
I think I have died and gone to heaven. New York markets are so abundant and so expertly piled. The market in Paris was pretty good, but somewhat daunting. The market in Bali was amazing culturally, but really unsanitary. The market in Peru was all potatoes. But this is another thing all together.
We sat down at El Quim, and ordered a tortilla and bocadillos. The poor server had to put up with our first attempt at dealing with a no English menu. Do they expect us to point? Do they put up with this terrible half-English, half-Spanish, useless Catalan all the time? Why do they obscure part of the menu?
Why do I keep seeing people order things that I just do not see on the menu? Where did that gorgeous bowl of mussels come from? Does that mean they have razor clams too? If they sell it at the market, does that mean they have access to some, and will they cook it for me?
Cerveceria Catalunya
Barcelona
The hotel porter tipped us to this place. And I hadn't read about it in any of the guidebooks, so I decided that it was either going to be really good or really bad, nothing in between. First things first - it was not at all touristy, and filled with people who seemed to be on a lunch break. This because many of the men were in suits, and women were not wearing the sensible shoes that tourists wear.
The food was excellent. But I really should have pointed to the more exciting looking dishes, instead of adhering to the "if you don't know what it is, just order the thing a la plancha."
Stupid me.
Bar Moodern, Hotel Omm
L'Eixample, Barcelona
Noone should ever have to cross the velvet rope to get back into their hotel. Alas, it happened to us, and rather than just trudge wearily to our rooms, we should exercise our coolness and have a drink at the bar.
A glass of cava was EUR 5, but a proper cocktail mixed by one of these wingnuts in all black was EUR 11. Are you kidding me? It seemed outrageous, but I guess they (we) were all paying for a seat.
Dry Martini
L'Eixample, Barcelona
I am always obsessed with old-school bars, aged wood, comfy club chairs, serious cocktails. But this place didnt get hoppin' until 1:30 AM, on a Tuesday!
Monday, December 26, 2005
Cheese and Butter Sandwiches
Lufthansa Flight from Munich to Barcelona
I don't know why I find this so amusing. In France (or even at Ceci-Cela in New York), when they offer me ham & brie sandwiches on a buttered baguette, I don't even flinch, I just eat it. But when the German lady offers me a cheese or a salami sandwich, I choose salami, and am apalled to find that the bread is buttered for the salami sandwich. Kai chooses cheese. There's a part of me that wants to take the cheese from his (buttered bread, too) sandwich and tuck some into mine, but there is nothing that I can do to make these shrink wrapped sandwiches taste better. Modifications, in fact, may make them taste even worse.
El Quatre Gats
Gothic Quarter, Barcelona
I had to get it out of my system. He ordered lomo and I ordered pulpo. Gross. I think I ate more dirt than octopus. Kai did a very honorable thing and ate all the potatoes off my plate. The wine was inky and yucky. We had to move on.
Taller de Tapas
El Born, Barcelona
Had read about the tapas at Taller de Tapas. Bacalao for me, and lomo for Kai. The first thing I drink, is cava. We tried to go to Cal Pep, and to Commerc 24, but both are closed. We go to Vinyor Parellada, for more cava.
I don't know why I find this so amusing. In France (or even at Ceci-Cela in New York), when they offer me ham & brie sandwiches on a buttered baguette, I don't even flinch, I just eat it. But when the German lady offers me a cheese or a salami sandwich, I choose salami, and am apalled to find that the bread is buttered for the salami sandwich. Kai chooses cheese. There's a part of me that wants to take the cheese from his (buttered bread, too) sandwich and tuck some into mine, but there is nothing that I can do to make these shrink wrapped sandwiches taste better. Modifications, in fact, may make them taste even worse.
El Quatre Gats
Gothic Quarter, Barcelona
I had to get it out of my system. He ordered lomo and I ordered pulpo. Gross. I think I ate more dirt than octopus. Kai did a very honorable thing and ate all the potatoes off my plate. The wine was inky and yucky. We had to move on.
Taller de Tapas
El Born, Barcelona
Had read about the tapas at Taller de Tapas. Bacalao for me, and lomo for Kai. The first thing I drink, is cava. We tried to go to Cal Pep, and to Commerc 24, but both are closed. We go to Vinyor Parellada, for more cava.
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Dinner with Kartoffel
Kat & Pat's
Munich
Trockenbeerenauslese
Grilled Liver
Pink Pate
a decanted Chianti
Bavarian soup with perfect chewy meat
Chocolate mousse with a truffle and a sliver of orange
and she asked if we wanted a cheese course.
Munich
Trockenbeerenauslese
Grilled Liver
Pink Pate
a decanted Chianti
Bavarian soup with perfect chewy meat
Chocolate mousse with a truffle and a sliver of orange
and she asked if we wanted a cheese course.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
The Goose Dinner
Grafelfing
The traditional German Christmas dinner is served on Christmas eve. I don't know if what we ate was what they would have eaten if I wasn't there, or if they cooked the most traditional of dishes just because I was there. Who cares? It was delicious.
Detlev is one hell of a cook, he used to cook in Michelin-starred kitchens. The goose was gamy and served with a bearnaise like sauce. The green beans snappy and sauteed with a thick cut bacon or so, the spaetzle were buttery and pillowy, and the red cabbage kraut tart and sweet. It was a heavy meal, washed down with some Tuscan red.
It was the finest meal that I have ever tasted prepared by a man with no sense of taste or smell. Detlev had a bicycle accident some months ago, crashed into a tree and damaged some nerves. Needless to say, he is an intuitive cook. He told me that he eats by texture. Wine, because of its tannins, is off-putting, while beer is still drinkable, for its fizz.
He told me that the smell he misses most is his wife.
The traditional German Christmas dinner is served on Christmas eve. I don't know if what we ate was what they would have eaten if I wasn't there, or if they cooked the most traditional of dishes just because I was there. Who cares? It was delicious.
Detlev is one hell of a cook, he used to cook in Michelin-starred kitchens. The goose was gamy and served with a bearnaise like sauce. The green beans snappy and sauteed with a thick cut bacon or so, the spaetzle were buttery and pillowy, and the red cabbage kraut tart and sweet. It was a heavy meal, washed down with some Tuscan red.
It was the finest meal that I have ever tasted prepared by a man with no sense of taste or smell. Detlev had a bicycle accident some months ago, crashed into a tree and damaged some nerves. Needless to say, he is an intuitive cook. He told me that he eats by texture. Wine, because of its tannins, is off-putting, while beer is still drinkable, for its fizz.
He told me that the smell he misses most is his wife.
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