Pork, Pork, and More Pork - Barcelona

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Ryan Air is not my favorite airline. It has its purpose. It is generally a cheap airline to fly if you live in Europe and can travel for a trip with less than 10 kilograms in a small suitcase. We wanted to travel from Italy to Spain, across France, by train. I am getting tired of flying, particularly short distances. I wanted to spend my time in Europe on a train. But, any combination of trains from major cities in Italy to Barcelona, with any combination of stopovers in one of the three countries was outrageously expensive, generally involving an overnight train (which I have no problem with) for at least $300. When it came time to finally book, however, the price had increased to $600. No way Jose. Our Ryan Air flight from Bologna cost less than $150, including having to pay for our checked bags, and the flight itself was less than two hours. Problem was the flight was into Girona, not Barcelona. We booked a Ryan Air flight out of Girona a few years before, during our first trip to Barcelona, when we flew to Morocco. Irt is far from the city. This time, when we landed in Girona, we boarded a packed shuttle bus for an hour long ride into Barcelona. Once in the city, we jumped on the metro, and two lines later, we arrived in the heart of the Barcelona tourist area, Las Ramblas. I quickly got over my dislike of Ryan Air once we were in the city. It was nice to emerge from the metro and feel comfortable. We immediately began to recognize where we were - the restaurants and the shops. Now we just needed to find our accommodations, and because it was close to 9pm, we were looking for some food quickly after that.

24 Hours of Day in Barcelona

We booked a tiny apartment on www.hostelbookers.com. We paid a 10%!d(MISSING)eposit, with cash due on arrival for our three nights in Barcelona. We were confused because when we arrived at the address, down a dark and somewhat sketchy street perpendicular to Las Ramblas, it was a youth hostel. We were in the right spot, though. We paid our key deposit, and our three nights of rent, and went further down the dark and sketchy street to a dark and sketchy apartment building. The narrow stairwell was barely lit with motion sensor lights and we climbed almost to the top, at least five flights of stairs, to a cold and shabby apartment. It was supposed to be decorated, according to the website, like a page out of an Ikea catalog, with heat, a kitchen, internet, satellite TV, and a clothes washer. What we found was a freezing cold apartment with a dirty futon in the living room, drab military style blankets on the beds, concrete seeming pillows, a broken clothes washer, and the dirtiest walls ever. I wondered how many people had been murdered in this apartment before we arrived. We figured we would suck it up because we had stayed in worst places. We went out to eat, and arrived back to the apartment, putting the space heater in the bedroom. The space heater was like none we have ever used before (and we have certainly used them in Chicago and in our first condo in DC which did not really have heat the first winter). It was part space heater and part sun lamp. It was the brightest thing. We thought we could use it to heat up the room and then turn it off once asleep. It was impossible. So, for the first night, we slept in a still cold room with the light of the sun burning inside. I know the Spanish have the reputation for eating late and clubbing all night long, but we just are not like that. I actually enjoy my sleep at night. With the power of the sun and the 24 hours of day light in the apartment, we did not have the best night sleep. This was all for the bargain price of $80 a night. It was rivaling our $80 jail cell hostel in Rio.

In the morning, I was cranky, with little sleep. We used the unsecured network for internet in the building and realized we could book a room at the fancy local Starwood hotel for some points and $90 a night. Suddenly, a warm bed with down duvet and control over a heating system seemed like a good idea. As much as this apartment had a lot to be desired, the girl at the reception of the Youth Hostel was very nice, called her boss, and got us a refund for our last two nights, minus the 10% deposit we paid to the website. We jumped online to book the Le Meridien and found it was only available now for points, but I did not care. We booked it for two nights, now a free room, and relished the temperature of the room. We turned the heat on so high it became like a sauna and it was necessary to open the window. Thank goodness for Starwood points. But, as much as I love the Le Meridien, which we stayed in during our last visit, it was not the reason we were in Barcelona. We were there to eat. Let my love affair with pork begin.

Oink Oink My Little Friend

Thus far, this blog has been labeled and characterized as a travel blog, with tales about the countries we visit and the exploits of our travels to and from. I am noticing in Europe this has turned whole heartedly into a foodie blog. Between asados in Argentina, home cooking in Ireland, feasting in Italy, and now pork in Barcelona - I apologize to those who are looking more for cultural tales; this is not the blog for you (nor, if you are a vegetarian; Sonja, you have been on our minds). During our prior trip to Barcelona we had dinner at a fantastic restaurant with typical meat and potatoes cuisine, and this time, we sought out El Rincon de Aragon, for another round of feasting.

At first, in the afternoon, we just located the restaurant to ensure we remembered where it was. Then, that night we returned after some tapas but knew we could not explore the meal that we came for. The meal we wanted needed to be on an empty stomach. Instead, we settled for some patatas bravas (fried potatoes with a spicy sauce and a creamy mayo) and some sliced cured pork. The pork itself was amazing, melt in your mouth delicious cured meat. Phenomenal. That night we also started speaking with the very nice server, a woman from Ecuador. The last time we dined at El Rincon everyone was very pleasant, but without speaking much Spanish, it was hard to express to them how wonderful the food really was. This time, I spoke in detail, as best I could, with our server, who was very friendly. When we left the restaurant that night we stopped to talk with the owner’s son and we promised to return before we left the city.

We returned for lunch the following day, on a virtually empty stomach and set down for some serious eating. Our same server from the night before brought us a plate of fresh olives and some sliced cured jabon (ham). After, we ate what we came for - roast suckling pig. There was a tray of the little fellows on the front counter. It is what first drew us to the restaurant, and was a necessity for our visit. This time the pig was even better than I remember. The pork was tender and juicy with a crisp and almost sweet skin. It was served with a grilled potato, vegetables with tempura batter, and the staple of Spanish cooking - a grilled green pepper. As I ate, I just could not stop saying “mmmmm” after almost every bite.

We shared one order of suckling pig so that we could continue tasting after. Following the suckling pig, we ordered some fantastic roasted pork ribs, again served with tempura vegetables and a pepper. The entire meal took some time to eat, with us ordering in stages, but was worth the long time at the table. After singing the praises of the chef to the server, the owner’s wife came to our table. I told her as best I could how amazing her food was, and told her we were at her restaurant in 2007 and we had to return. I told her that I recommend her restaurant to anyone I know who visits Barcelona. While exiting, we spoke again with her son, who ordered us some tasty liquor to finish off our meal. It was an amazing eating experience, and I immediately needed a siesta. We went back to the hotel and crashed. Gracias El Rincon de Aragon.

Tapas Hopping

Our favorite thing about Spain is tapas. The traditional tapas tradition started because when a drink was ordered at a bar, the bartender would place a little piece of bread and a tidbit of food on the top with a coaster to cover the drink. The goal was to keep the flies out of the drink. In the US, tapas usually denote small plates eating. You sit at a table and order small plates of food. I love tapas, but Barcelona introduced us to something different. You can order tapas at many restaurants, but they also have pintxos, which are small bites, usually set out on the bar. Each piece of food has a wooden stake in it. You collect your stakes and you are charged for each stick you have at the end of your feast. Most people will hop from bar to bar, ordering one drink, a couple bites of food, and then move onto the next stop. During our last visit we fell in love with this concept and returned to our favorite pintxos stop, Bar Bilbao.

Bar Bilbao, close to the cathedral and near the Gothic quarter, has a long bar with two levels of food available on glass shelves - everything from smoked salmon and baby eels, to chorizo with quail eggs, to tuna stuffed marinated peppers and chocolaty desserts. During our return we were not disappointed. Eric’s favorite was simple - a grilled chorizo sausage on a sliced of bread. My favorite was a sliced chorizo on fresh bread with a pepper and a fried quail egg. With a glass of cava sparkling wine, it was dinner on its own. Usually, I would be happy with four or five bites; Eric usually ate more. Like our prior visit, it became a go to place for us. One night, while standing at the bar (another tradition for quick tapas hopping) a French woman was trying to ask the bartender what a particular food was. I overheard the conversation, as I was trying to keep practicing my Spanish. She spoke French and no Spanish or English. The bartender said he only spoke Spanish and English. Although I know virtually no French, for some reason I know the word for egg and was able to translate from Spanish to French. I was so proud of myself - good thing they did not need any real translating done.

We were recommended two very traditional tapas bars in the old Gothic Quarter. During our last visit we stopped in one of them, but for some reason was intimidated by the other - El Xampanyet because it was small and crowded and traditional looking. Instead, we stopped at the other one, which was our first tapas experience in Spain. This time, the other one was crazy smoky and we immediately left in favor of El Xampanet. From the inside it was just as we expected - busy, crowded, and traditional. They only had a few tapas on the bar and we needed to request from them the ones we wanted instead of helping ourselves as we did at Bar Bilbao. We had some sliced pork on bread and I had some tuna and peppers. Then, we looked around at what other people ordered and saw a plate of sliced ham. We tried a small plate and it was some of the best I have ever eaten - think melt in your mouth delicious. Quoting Cosmo Kramer - “see that’s all surface area. The taste has nowhere to hide.” We returned the following night for another round of meat. Fantastic.

La Boqueria

Aside from El Rincon and hopping from tapas bar to tapas bar, we just wandered the city. We had one beautiful day with warm sun and a slight breeze. We tried walking towards the beach, but the closer we came the more the wind blew, hard and strong. So, we kept a little more inland. We also wandered through one of the most famous spots in Barcelona, the market, La Boqueria. For the most part, we have started to bore of markets across the world (many are same same, but different), although we still wander through looking for the unique foods and to try to gain insight into the local cuisine. La Boqueria, however, remains my favorite. The colors of the fruits and vegetables are the brightest; the order and displays make the food look so tempting; the array of cured meats hung from the ceiling; and the cleanliness of the market, all combine to make a wonderfully approachable market experience. During this visit, we were drawn to one of the many restaurants sprinkled towards the back - Bar Boqueria. They take the fresh, local ingredients you see raw around the market and have it cooked fresh in front of you. Despite the cold air, we sat down on a bench at the counter and ordered grilled sausage, grilled red and green peppers, and razor clams. I am intrigued by the concept of razor claims, because I have never seen them in the US. I have had them in Singapore, and Eric and I shared some in Hong Kong. I am still unsure if I like them, but am more interested in continuing to explore them. They are long and thin, rather than the usual round clam, and I find them quirky. The meat is tender, but less squishy inside than a clam. These were good, simple, with some lemon and parsley, maybe a little garlic. I think my Asian razor clam experience was more flavorful with some spicy chilies thrown in, but these were certainly tasty and fresh. Washed down with a beer that I had to drink with my gloves, it was a good experience walking through La Boqueria.

Loving Spain

We had one other hiccup in the city that bears mentioning. Before leaving the US we picked up $500 of travelers’ checks, in case of an emergency. We also had $500 of US cash, although some of that was used and replenished as we went. At this point in the trip we figured it was time just to get rid of the stupid travelers’ checks. I hate the concept of them. I avoid them like the plague. I think they are annoying to buy and even more annoying to cash in. We have used ATM’s everywhere in the world we have been and aside from some tough spots have always had success. We have never been stuck in a country without money. I hate changing money, and travelers’ checks are even worse. At this point, we figured let’s just cash them in, to avoid having to do so back in the US. Our hotel suggested a particular bank across the street to get the best rate, but they did not cash the checks at that location. They suggested going to their office at Plaza Cataluyna, up the road. On the way, we saw a Citibank, and figuring we have our accounts with Citi, that would be a good place to go. After waiting in a short line we were told they do not cash the checks there. Okay. Back to square one. We stopped at a few check cashing kiosks but their exchange rate was not great plus there was a commission. Eventually, we ended up at the suggested bank, just up the road. I confirmed they cash the checks, but could not confirm the rate or commission until we waited on the line. We waited on a line with about 15 people in front of us. Finally, we arrived at the front of the line. Considering I have been cold the entire time we were in Europe I was sweating on line, especially with the woman in front of me wearing her fur coat and gloves for about 20 minutes. Was she cooking a roast in there? When we finally got to the top of the line, the teller confirmed that the rate was €8.50. Fine, let’s just get it done. Then, she proceeded to tell me, in Spanish, how it is so difficult to use travelers’ checks and that I should just use the ATM. Thank you for the lesson. I tried to explain to her that I am not an old fashioned idiot, and I understand, but we had them for an emergency, but I don’t think it translated. When she handed me the receipt to sign before she handed me the money, I realized the fee was €18, not €8, which was highway robbery, but we were getting a better exchange rate than at the kiosks. At that point, I just wanted the whole situation to be over with. We exchanged our money, and about an hour after starting our mission, we had Euros in pocket. Moral of the story - don’t even bother with traveler’s checks any more.

In the end, we enjoyed our time in Barcelona. We realized exactly how much we loved Spain (and pork), solely based on our two visits to Barcelona. We had not even scratched the surface of Spain and looked forward to exploring more. On our last morning in Barcelona, we picked up a rental car and quickly made our way out of the city to head into the heart of the country.

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Photos

Thin Shaved Ham
At Rincon de Aragon

Side View of the Pig
Can you see the tenderness and the crispy skin?

Rincon Staff
The jefe in the painting behind, his wife on the left, and our server on the right.

Proud of His Work
A platter of roast suckling pig

Eric Enjoys Tapas
At Bilbao

Bar Boqueria
Eagerly anticipating my fresh food at the market