Spain, Final Night Dining Disaster

Generally speaking we have been fortunate to have fine weather on our travels but the rain now was relentless so we had to find something to do for the afternoon. Fortunately it doesn’t rain in bars so we agreed that the best thing to do was to return to Le Bodega de San Segundo, where we were practically regulars now, and spend the afternoon chatting over a drink or two. It seemed that most of the citizens of Ávila had the same idea this afternoon because the place was full to overflowing as local people were enjoying Sunday tapas lunch whilst watching the final round of the 2010 formula 1 motor racing championship and keeping their fingers crossed for the Spanish driver Fernando Alonso.

The place was buzzing with sociable chatter and family lunches and it took a while before we could claim our favourite seat in one corner of the room and after Mark Webber won the title and denied Alonso we stayed long enough for the crowds of people to quieten down as disappointment set in and begin one by one to slip away and after an hour or so we practically had the place to ourselves. Each round of drinks produced a new plate of tapas and by late afternoon we decided that we would have to stop or else we would be too full to enjoy the evening meal.

It was getting gloomy and dark when we returned to the hotel but we had grown accustomed to the rain by now and we didn’t mind because this was our final evening and we were certain that we had another grand meal to look forward to later.

After a short rest I joined Micky in the lobby and we went to the underground bar to wait for the girls. Unfortunately the waitress with the short skirt wasn’t on duty tonight, which was a shame but we had a drink anyway and another plate of tapas and eventually Kim and Sue joined us but there was no sign of Christine so tonight the travel club was reduced to only four for evening meal so after a final drink in the bar we returned to the rain sodden streets and went back to our favourite bodega where we were shown to exactly the same table as the previous night.

We explained again that we wanted them to select the food and that we were quite happy with this arrangement but if possible we would prefer pork to beef because we thought Sue might prefer this. Sue, you see, is quite a fussy eater and we have had some gastronomic disasters along the way on our travels through Europe, the most spectacular being the sea food dining experience in Peso Da Regua in Portugal where she thought that a seafood salad looked more like a serving of demons from the deep! The waiter explained that last night we had had a typical Castilian menu which consisted mainly of meat and tonight he planned a more generally typical Spanish meal and we had no reason to doubt his judgment.

He opened an excellent bottle of Rioja and brought to the table a simple tapas starter and there was no problem with this at all but the next course was razor clams that Sue wasn’t going to touch with a barge pole and this was followed by a plate of regular clams that didn’t excite her very much either. Actually both selections were delicious and we were certain that things would improve for her with the pork main dish.

Not a chance! When it arrived it was little slivers of tiny deep fried cuts of meat sitting on a strong garlic sauce which we knew instinctively wouldn’t appeal to her. Micky is a butcher and knew exactly what part of the pig the meat had come from and I’m not but even I could identify bits of ear and nostril and quartered trotters. It was all rather tasty but forty-five minutes into the meal Sue hadn’t touched a single thing so Micky called over the waiter and ordered some beef – well done.

In Spain of course they consider it sacrilege to overcook a nice piece of Avileña-Negra Ibérica and when it arrived it was predictably pink and it had to go back for a nuclear blasting. Sue prefers her beef completely black and even when it came back a second time it was still not to her liking so it went back again and the staff looked on completely bemused. When it returned for the third time it was still pinkish in the middle but there was no point sending it back again so Sue nibbled around the edges and then started to push it around her plate trying to hide it under the salad leaves and I knew that it was time for drastic action and a reprisal of my role of mussel disposal man (Galicia, 2008) and the meat was discreetly wrapped in a tissue and I took it to the lavatory to get rid of it in a waste bin under the sink.

The food had been delicious but it had been a disaster for Sue so it was a relief when the sweet course arrived and she was able finally to tuck in and enjoy the chocolate coated strawberries, the filo pastry fancies and the delicious pastries and the night was partially saved. After the meal we congratulated them on a fabulous meal, said goodbye and returned to our hotel for a final drink before going to bed for the last time at the Palacio de Los Velada.

Spain, Le Bodega de San Segundo, Ávila

The sun was still shining so we returned to the walls and climbed them again to visit the shorter southern section which in the late afternoon autumn sunshine gave marvellous views of the barren boulder strewn plain west of the city and the mountains beyond. It didn’t take long to walk around this part of the walls and when we had completed the short route we returned to the cathedral square where the tall building was changing colour from granite grey to crimson red as the sun began to dip and bathed it in an warm rosy glow.

It looked as though there might be a sunset opportunity in a short while, which we calculated to be about an hour so while we waited we returned to the hotel and had a drink in a subterranean bar with an attractive waitress with the tightest shortest skirt in Ávila. I wasn’t paying a lot of attention of course but it was black and leather with decorative stitching around the hem and zigzag patterns around the waistband and sides and dainty silver buttons down the front and … then I was caught glegging so I’m afraid can’t go into any real further detail about the design.

We were right about the sunset but our calculations were not completely accurate because we had failed to take into account the effect of the mountains of the Sierra de la Paramera y Serrota that snatched the sun away sooner than we had really anticipated and we had to be quick to get to the elevated western side of the old city to get a good vantage point to enable Kim to take some pictures of the spectacle with her magic sunset camera and once the show was over we returned to the Palacio de Los Velada and our thoughts turned to evening meal.

After a short rest and a change of clothes we reassembled in the underground bar with the waitress with the short skirt and had a drink before moving on and returning to Le Bodega de San Segundo for our evening meal where a table was prepared and waiting for us. I think the staff were a bit perplexed by our insistence that they select the food and the wine and checked for a final time that we really meant it so we assured them that we did and the food began to arrive. First a creamy mushroom tapas dish and then a selection of ham, a plate of mushrooms and a mixed salad and by the time the speciality of the region and the house arrived we were on our second bottle of house rioja.

The speciality is Chuletón de Ávila, which is a large T-bone steak cooked to perfection and made from Avileña-Negra Ibérica, the indigenous black cow of central Spain and famous for the quality of its meat. Actually it was a bit too rare for Sue and Christine and Sue declined to eat it but Christine barely noticed because she was starting her fourth glass of red wine. If the main course wasn’t completely to their liking this was certainly not the case with the tray of shared sweets which completed the meal and the plate of pastries and local delicacies didn’t take very long at all to clear. It had been a good idea and an excellent meal so as we paid up we arranged a repeat performance for the following night and left replete and contented.

It was a dark night and we walked back the short distance through the city gates and the towering wall of the cathedral guarded by a row of stone lions illuminated by yellow street lights which gave an atmospheric waxy glow to the buildings and the cobbled streets. It was the end of a good day in Ávila and over a final beer and another red wine for Christine we made our plans for visiting nearby Segovia on the next day and I promised to set the alarm clock.