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Published: September 22nd 2008
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Cognac Maker
These are the oak barrels he ages the Brandy in This morning I woke up, and there was no water. Luckily, that awesome spring water abounds in jugs around the house, so I managed to wash my face and brush my teeth with that. Unluckily, jugs of spring water don´t make the toilet go flush. I have to pee so bad!!! My host is nowhere to be found. I´m pretty sure he mentioned something last night about being gone, and gone he is. He does have a way of disappearing.
Yesterday, he invited me to go into town for a sandwich with his girlfriend. All weekend they´d been inviting me places with them, and I felt it awkward (he made it very clear that impressing her was a big deal!), so I would decline. Eventually, I thought it would just be rude to turn them down again, and I thought it might be cool to see La Llacuna the town. So the three of us took the short drive into town for a sandwich.
In Spain, "
tortilla" does NOT mean "that thing you wrap around carne asada". No no. It´s more like an omelet. In fact, it´s exactly like an omelet. It can have potatos, or peppers. Like an omelet. Except
here, they come in a sandwich, and it´s delicious. The three of us were having a nice tortilla sandwich and an Estrella at a quaint little cafe, where all the waitresses looked like me: messy hair, pierced faces (yes, the nose ring is back, and I love it!). The girl, Isabelle, was freaking out, because she´s from Barcelona, and this town has about five shops and a restaurant. Unfortunately, her English is about as good as my Spanish, so we couldn´t communicate too well, but I did understand that she could never live here. Anthony, my host, kept going to talk to people he knows (everyone knows everyone here) and leaving the two of us to smile at each other, with nothing to say.
One time he came back, and pointed out the man he was speaking with as a maker of cognac. I started asking how, exactly, cognac is made, so Anthony set us up an immediate meeting to see just that.
After the sandwich, we walked to this man´s house, where his cellar has been turned into a factory. Oak barrels with taps are stacked in rows, all with white chalk numbers written on the sides. He would
Measurement
He uses this device to measure the alcohol level of the Brandy explain in Catalan the entire process, then look at me and laugh, mostly I think because I didn´t understand anything. Maybe my face is just funny looking. He was a wonderfully jovial man, though, and I didn´t begrudge him a chuckle at my expense. Then he found out I speak some French, so he would translate some into French for me, and I understood a surprising amount! Cognac is made from "wine alcohol", I think. Something about grapes, and then the vapor travels through a coil from one vat to another. Then, in the oak barrel, each year the percent of alcohol decreases one percent, until it´s around 39 or 40 percent. He had us smell a 78%, and it made me gag. Then a 38%, and it was perfect! He demonstrated the perfection by kissing his pursed fingertips, so cute. I have some pictures of the place I´ll load up soon. I wish I had one of him, but I thought he might not like it if I asked.
I did however, ask if I could buy a bottle off him. I want a present for those nice Irish fellas that took care of me in Barcelona. I thought a nice bottle of cognac would do the trick. But this man insisted on giving it to me as a present instead. This was extremely sweet of him, except the present he gave me was not cognac, but a bottle of sweet wine. He must have assumed, that since I´m a girl, I´d prefer this. And I´m sure it´s cheaper. I kind of would have rather paid for the cognac, since I´m sure Irish men don´t want dessert wine, but beggars can´t be choosers! I´ll have to figure something else out.
This morning, one of the builders came to the door to ask about the water being turned off. I almost didn´t answer, since I don´t speak Catalan, and I was nervous. But he kept ringing, so I figured I could just say, "
lo siento, no comprendo", and be done with it. I managed quite beautifully, it turns out! We had a whole conversation, about there being no water. He kept looking at me curiously, like, "what in the world is this Chinese girl doing here!" People in Spain are very interested in my heritage. I´ve heard people ask about my "
ojos" at least 4 times since I´ve come here. Then when I explain, they all follow up by saying that they´re "
muy guapa". Can´t complain about that!
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