Liar, liar, pants on fire.
I’ve actually eaten tapas before but … in Toronto and Berlin.
Does that really count? In my eyes, not really. Not at all.
No matter how much you’d like to convince yourself, nothing is ever better than than the real thing. To truly experience regional cuisine at it’s very best, you need to go to the source. Food is just one of my many motivations to travel.
So in order to lose my “tapas virginity”, I needed to head to Spain. Along came September and my birthday so I made my way to Barcelona. I was looking forward to dining on internationally renowned Spanish cuisine and sipping glass after glass of Sangria.
When I arrived, the place was jammed packed and the hostess informed me that a wait for a table may be up to an hour. I shyly admitted that I was by myself. Ignoring the usual look of surprise, she said “Lucky you, we have a spot at the bar.”
I’ve been traveling solo long enough not to bothered by that look anymore. One of these days, I’ll write an instructional post about how to dine alone!
Settling in, my first order of business was to order a glass of sangria and decide what I was going to eat. To my delight, the menu items were written on this cute little chalk board.
Since my comprehension of the Spanish language doesn’t extend much beyond the basics (like hola and hasta mañana) to the slightly more sophisticated (una cerveza, por favor), I required the help of my waiter in translating the details of the menu.
What did I end up ordering? A strange combination of food to say in the least. But if you’ve been reading this blog long enough, you’re already aware that I’m weird.
My only vegetarian dish (fourth item listed on the above menu) was aubergines dipped in honey and lemon. Absolutely freaking delicious!
Awesome was the fact that the bones had already been removed. I could eat chicken wings like a lady, using my knife and fork.
The wings were disappointing, as I expected them to be much spicier.
Lastly was deep fried rabbit. Yep, I went there. You do know I’ve ate horse meat before right?
Gnawing on piece after piece of rabbit wasn’t easy. Unlike the chicken wings, there was no way to be dainty or elegant. I was a trooper and made it through, much like as if I were eating a messy döner kebab in front of guy! I’m not afraid to get a little messy for the sake of food.
The rabbit was also bland, saved only by the slightly more tasty dipping sauce.
For the amount of money I paid to eat there, the food should have tasted much much better.
If anything, I now have another excuse to return to Spain in order to make-up for this bad first time encounter with tapas. I should have known better right? The first time is never good.
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