Proust and Churros

The moment I bit into the toasted pan con tomate piled high with jamon and dripping in olive oil, I was transported back to lazy days spent in Sitges, long walks in Llafranc and family lunches on the terrace in Barcelona.

Morcilla de Burgos sent me back to my first taste when I was 7 or 8 at the "Captain" bar where my parents used to spend hours on a Sunday morning reading the paper, while I sat there staring into space and getting fidgety. I remember complaining, bored as usual, and my mother looking over her paper and saying dryly "the wall has come down in Berlin - and you're bored...."

The paella, the rice perfectly a punto, took me back to many summer lunches had in Llafranc at our favorite restaurant - until they told us never to come back after mum complained that the muscles weren't fresh and the crema catalana was too burnt. Dad then had to swoop in and talk to the restaurant owner, who was a grumpy tight lipped granny with a red beehive. She said that he was always welcome. Just not with her.

Finally, the churros con chocolate. Delicately sprinkled with sugar. Have only been enjoyed out of a truck at 6am by yours truly. Daylight eating was quite delightful.

So to all who love Spain. Here's to FOFO.

Catalan Kitsch (the penguins..not me)

Churros in something more presentable than a paper cone