Paellas and prostates
December 3rd 2008 06:58
When we were in Spain last year, we had two different paellas. The first was in Barcelona, on the famous street called La Rambla, in a crowded restaurant (we were stuck up against the wall by the back stairs) where the air was heavy with the smell of burning paella and vino.
Did you notice that word ‘burning’? Even though this was restaurant was regarded as one of the top ones in Barcelona (so someone informed us), the paellas we received seemed to be more than a little overcooked.
The second place, in Valencia, was hardly more than a café. But what a difference. There the paella we partook of (ate, that is) was dished out of an enormous paella pan and dumped onto the plates. It was delicious, and reaffirmed our understanding that the paella really is one of Spain’s great dishes.
The place was just as busy as the previous one, but most of the many customers were sitting outside in the open square. We sat inside and watched the staff trying to keep up with the crowd, and read the amusing menu which claimed to teach you certain Spanish phrases by giving their (usually flippant) English translations. Much more fun than the super-serious restaurant in Barcelona.
My wife was keen to bring home a paella pan, which were sold all over the place. But paella pans are heavy, and large, and lumping one of those around the Continent wouldn’t have been much fun. Fortunately she changed her mind.
However, on the way home to New Zealand, we stopped off , for a couple of days in Seoul, Korea. And she was highly taken with a solid stone pan that was being sold in the fish market down the road from where we were staying. Against my inclination, she bought one; it’s a wonder we were allowed on the plane with it.
Apropos of nothing above, but for those who might have been reading about my prostate issues in recent days, here’s an update. My wife (the same one as what bought the pan) rang me today. She works in a health centre, and so has slightly more access to some of the hospital information than the man in the street (that is, her husband). She’d contacted them to see if there was any news of an appointment, and the receptionist at the urology department said they’d had a cancellation, and they’d been trying to contact me – at my old phone number (for the bookstore).
So I go for a biopsy tomorrow. Think I must be in denial, as I’m not really too fazed about it. We’ll see how I feel in the morning!
La Rambla - photo by Rainer Ebert (flickr.com)
The second place, in Valencia, was hardly more than a café. But what a difference. There the paella we partook of (ate, that is) was dished out of an enormous paella pan and dumped onto the plates. It was delicious, and reaffirmed our understanding that the paella really is one of Spain’s great dishes.
The place was just as busy as the previous one, but most of the many customers were sitting outside in the open square. We sat inside and watched the staff trying to keep up with the crowd, and read the amusing menu which claimed to teach you certain Spanish phrases by giving their (usually flippant) English translations. Much more fun than the super-serious restaurant in Barcelona.
Paella by mj*laflaca (flickr.com)
However, on the way home to New Zealand, we stopped off , for a couple of days in Seoul, Korea. And she was highly taken with a solid stone pan that was being sold in the fish market down the road from where we were staying. Against my inclination, she bought one; it’s a wonder we were allowed on the plane with it.
Apropos of nothing above, but for those who might have been reading about my prostate issues in recent days, here’s an update. My wife (the same one as what bought the pan) rang me today. She works in a health centre, and so has slightly more access to some of the hospital information than the man in the street (that is, her husband). She’d contacted them to see if there was any news of an appointment, and the receptionist at the urology department said they’d had a cancellation, and they’d been trying to contact me – at my old phone number (for the bookstore).
So I go for a biopsy tomorrow. Think I must be in denial, as I’m not really too fazed about it. We’ll see how I feel in the morning!
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