I was pretty set on my tastes when I came to Spain. Remembering my señora’s first meal in Valladolid (Niñas, this is pretty much whatever was in the fridge mixed with mayonnaise! Eat up!), I fantasized about walking so much and eating so little, I would shrivel away to nothing like any sevillana after a year in Spain.
Whoa, I was wrong. Besides cheap beer, I’ve come to love nearly every part of the pig, fatty guisos and anything that you can eat with a spoon, have adopted the afternoon snack and late meal times and have become a coffee addict.
Any time there’s a festival, I eat. And keep eating. Jeremy called me up to go to the Feria del Mosto and Aceituna Fina del Aljarafe in Umbrete. Just miles from Olivares, this town is famous for its grape juice wine and beautiful, perfect green olives.
As the Virgin del Rocio, the lushy one, looked on, we consumed bottle after bottle of the sweet wine in its principal stages of fermentation and popped olives in our mouths after every sip. I contemplated: What if I had missed out on this little morsel of goodness, available at every bar for free, the perfect aperitivo or snack?