Posted by: Team McSlade | March 4, 2010

Here in Spain, I am a Spaniard

Here in Spain, I am a Spaniard…except for the fact that I still struggle with Hablo espanol.

Now, let it be known I give it the good old college try – rah, rah, zigga, zigga, pow (I’m sure I heard that once in a Rodney Dangerfield film and he wouldn’t make fun of college spirit) – by smashing together small phrases and words I have gleaned from a year’s study, a pocket dictionary and random pieces I have read or picked up along the way. However, it still is fairly ordinary.

This brings us to the point that yesterday (Marzo 3) was a blog-free day, courtesy of Jo and I celebrating our third year of wedded bliss. We had plans of spending a day or four in a Parador, a Spanish Government-owned hotel which was previously a medieval castle (do you see a theme here?). Two kids, no baby-sitter and expensive rooms put this idea in the can.
So we went to our local pub, Bar Corrales, to strap on the celebratory feed bags.

Having stitched Ben up while he was here (sorry, we thought they were open for tea, turns out they do that on weekends and are open all week for lunch desde a la uno y media hasta a las tres y media) we charged in at 2.30pm and sat in the Comedor . The bar keep came along and cranked out some rapid fire Spanish, we (read Jo) looked stunned; he said he had un poco ingles, I reciprocated with hablo un poco espanol and with that our dining experience began.

He mentioned a soup (sopa) of beef, pork and potatoes (?), then the main of chicken or beef or pork. There may have been mention of seafood, but I can’t be sure. We accepted the notion of sopa and I ordered in Spanish “A mí me gusta el pollo y a mí esposa le gusta el cerdo, por favor” – in ‘Outback Oz speak’ – ‘givva us a chook and the missus’ll have some pig, hey? (please)’.
Drinks orders were also taken.

With the speed of greased lightning, out came the soup, a hearty broth filled with meat, chickpeas, potato and more; a tankard of cerveza and sangria were served to this dining duo and a salad that had half a veggie patch and olive grove on a plate brought to share. Oh, and half a loaf of bread brought out too – just in case we were hungry.
Like pigs at a trough, we devoured these potions of food, Jo found the olive oil and bread combo to her liking, I ate raw onion like it was going out of style (Jo questions the validity of raw onions ever being in style, but I assure you, they are in vogue) and we scooped up the soup with great delight.

Then, as if my grandmother’s soul had been implanted into a Spaniard, the bowls were whipped away and the mains of chicken and pork were laid out in front of us. Never to shy away from a gastronomic challenge, I squeezed lemon onto my chicken and commenced the eating process. Jo was not so enamoured with this next round of eating, as the prior courses were similar to three of our regular meals (she left a spud or two behind in the soup bowl). Still, we ploughed on (I gave Jo a hand with her pig slices) and feeling good and full, our Spanish bar keep returned – “¿Postres? “– good Lord…dessert.

Yet, here in Spain, I am a Spaniard, so I took el flan, Jo went for the helado almendra (almond ice cream) and we were then in need of forklifts to get us out of the place. Por ultimo, I had un café solo and we punched our time cards.

To complete this tale I must mention the price for El menu del día. We headed to the bar, I asked for the bill and the grand total of 16€ (about 25 Aussie bucks) was rung up. So just a rundown of what was consumed for this price to sink-in:

  • An imperial pint of both beer and sangria
  • A massive shared salad
  • A bread basket the size of Uluru
  • Two soups
  • Two mains
  • A flan
  • Almond ice cream, and
  • An espresso coffee.

Perhaps having a morning tea of coffee and a chocolate topped vanilla custard wafer cake wasn’t necessary.

P.S. Jo actually required the siesta when we waddled home, a couple of hours kip and she was still struggling.



  1. Congrats guys – can’t believe I failed to send you a message – tutt tutt tutt!

    Keep livin la vida loca!


  2. Bonjour amigo’s
    Many happy returns for your day of celebration of wedded bliss.

  3. Happy anniversary McSlades ! Will toast you with a Fat Snag ! Tim, Max & Stella Bean send lots of love, too.
    The meal sounds awesome. Almost worth the airfare to go & dine in that restaurant.
    x x x

  4. […] to do, somewhere to go. Since gorging ourselves on the pub fare (see Here in Spain, I am a Spaniard), we have kept ourselves fairly low. Figuratively, due to our centre’s of gravity being brought […]

  5. […] even a Frenchman’s beret In Spain, I may be a Spaniard, but here in France, I am not a Frenchman. Now for all my French friends, I am not hanging a sign […]

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