The Last Six Months…

These aren’t part of my #The100DaysProject, but I realized that they give a pretty good summary of what I’ve been up to lately. (Of course, by ‘lately’ I do mean ‘the last six months that I haven’t been blogging’. Whoops!) My roommate adopted a cat about three weeks after I moved in and while we’ve had to childproof half the cupboards, he’s the apple of our eyes and one handsome, spoiled feline. 

Seville: A Food Post

I don’t remember eating a lot in Seville. Maybe because it was so hot or I just wasn’t hungry, but I only went to three restaurants while I was there. But the food I did eat. The food. I’ve already talked about how much I love salmorejo, right? (I have to have done so.) And Andalucia is the home of this dish, meaning it’s in every restaurant and it’s homemade. Heaven. Actual heaven.

A Weekend in Madrid

Last weekend was spent in Madrid and I was so very, very close to hugging a building. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this city until we were driving into it and there were signs for Conde de Casal and Mendez Alvaro and it felt like coming home, which was both terrifying and wonderful at the same time because it’s not, not anymore. In less than a month, I’ll be flying from Madrid, with pitstops in Reykjavik and New York, Montreal and Calgary before finally, finally landing home in Regina. But ah, Madrid.

Fish Food & Salty Seas

When you live next to the ocean, a lot of seafood ends up on your plate. Bought fresh that day from the man at the market with the thick hands and warm smile who carefully wraps them up and seals the paper shut with tape. Deep fried sardines that are picked apart with clumsy fingers that stop being so clumsy after they get used to the small bodies and tiny spines in the middle. A pile of discarded heads and tails growing along the edge of the plate, salt and olive oil coating fingers that get unapologetically stuck in your mouth because this is fun eating and napkins just slow the process down.

Naif

My favourite restaurant in Madrid was, hands down, Naif. There was just something about it. The exposed brick walls, the light fixtures, the low, stuffed sofas. And then there was the food. The food.  There was always trying and sharing and making sure nothing was left over as we spent the afternoon eating and talking, drinking coffee as we checked our watches to see how much time we had left before we absolutely had to leave.