This post is from back in December when I was in Madrid visiting my cousin. I’m in Florida.
After we returned from El Escorial I think we took naps. Napping is essential when you stay out way past midnight. Especially when you’re 48. Before we went out I took a few shots from her balcony.
We woke up in time for a dinner snack. In the square across the street from her apartment, we got a bag of six roasted chestnuts and a couple baked sweet potatoes wrapped in foil.
After we sang “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire” in four part harmony, we ate the potatoes, except there was no singing. Jen had never had chestnuts. It had been years since I remembered having them on the street in NYC. They were pretty good. We thought that six between us was quite enough, and I think we shared them with one of her friends.
We walked down the street trying to decide which tapas place to try. There was a cool-looking wine bar with an extensive charcuterie menu populated by people my age and a good looking leg out front. It looked promising. We went in, but deciding how to order was more than I could handle, so we moved on. We decided to go back down the street to a place that served buckets of beer.
It seemed easy enough to figure out how to order there. They had a list of tapas. I chose two at random. It wasn’t an actual random sample as it was filtered by things that I was pretty sure I could pronounce.
It turned out that ordering was more complicated than I had anticipated, as it required taking the ticket to another counter in the back of the restaurant where the food came out. Picking up the food was further complicated because I had no idea what it was I had ordered. I was presented with a plate of sliced pork and a bag of fried fish nuggets. I was asked a question that, I think, had to do with what sauce I might like with the fish, but I was not able to discern what it was he was asking, so I went away unsauced.
I was delighted with the fried fish. If I had understood that was on the menu I definitely would have ordered it. The sliced pork stuff was also delectable. Jen and I snagged a table in the corner and people-watched. At some point I go the idea that we might offer to share some of our delectable treats with folks nearby as a means of interacting with locals, but that never happened. I don’t know what that sliced pork product was, but it was amazing. It still comes to mind like the memory of a lost love.
With our bellies full, we went back to the apartment, probably to take another nap. People in Madrid don’t go out until midnight, so a bit more rest was in order. At 11:00 we went back out and went international brewery. Though it was just across the street from the apartment, Jen had never been.
After we had been there for what seemed like long enough, we headed out. It was after midnight, after all. So we could go to Jen’s favorite ex-pat bar, Dubliner’s. Somehow, perhaps because of the napping, I managed to catch a second wind and we stayed out talking about our family until the wee hours.