mmmmm market

Some people come to Barcelona and marvel at the architecture, visit the art galleries, hang out in the nightclubs. Some people get a kick out of the human statues along La Rambla, or the Gaudi buildings, or the Picasso Museum. Me, I like all that stuff, too. But I really get a kick out of the food.

La Boqueria market might be the best food market I've been to, anywhere. It is huge - much bigger than the Mercato Centrale in Florence, and quite a bit more interesting. It's a living market (as well as being something of a tourist destination) where you can eat and drink as well as stock up on fruit, veg, fish and meat. For sure, there are things there that shock tourists, especially sensitive or vegetarian ones (who should look away now). There are whole baby piglets, sheep heads, fresh and fluffy rabbits, snouts, edible insects and all manner of tripe and offal. There are some truly gruesome-looking fishes, lots of live and crawling crabs and lobsters, still-slithering snails and teeny tiny unidentified sea creatures. To me, these are the things that make the market fabulous. Along with, of course, all the other great stuff. Every fruit and vegetable you can think of, for example. Gorgeous dried fruits and funghi. And oodles of the cured hams and sausages the Spanish are so proud of. Oh how I wished I had a kitchen to cook in! The fish section in particular was fabulous. When you walk through dozens of fish and seafood stalls in an enclosed space and all you can smell is a fresh sea smell, you know the seafood is really fresh. We watched a large, smiling lady enthusiastically dissecting - with a terrifyingly large cleaver - the head of some strange, giant fish. We loved the many, multi-coloured varieties of prawns, and the succulent razor clams.

Since we couldn't buy, we had to make do, instead, with eating lunch at one of the counters in amongst the other stalls. What a fascinating experience. We chose Kiosko Universal, on the edge of the market, because it looked busy and buzzy, and also because the things the smug-looking people seated at the counter were eating looked and smelled excellent. At first it was tricky to figure out what was going on, and how to get a seat, since every one of the 50 or so places was occupied. After observing for a few minutes, we saw that there was one guy, a maestro behind the counter, who was in control. Get his attention, and you'd be added to the queue, whose order seemed to exist only in his head. After that it was simply a matter of waiting patiently until you got the nod. BUT - try to jump the queue, or subvert the system, and you'd be ousted. He was like the "soup nazi" on that Seinfeld episode. Get in good with this man, and you were set.

We didn't have to wait too long at all, really, until we got the thumbs up. A shout came down from the other end of the counter, the gesture was made, and we were on our way. "Senor Blanco", Sandy was called, on account of his white shirt, we assumed. At our allotted seats, two people were finishing up. As soon as they stood, we were in. At this end, the counter was run by a junior soup nazi character, who was clearly having a whale of a time as he looked after his covers. Tall and thin, he was constantly in motion in the narrow galley kitchen: pouring drinks, taking orders (nothing at all written down), plating up, keeping an eye on proceedings. At this end, too, people who tried to sneak in and take a seat when they weren't in the system were told to get up and move on. One poor guy was told to get up twice after making his move too soon. He waited for most of the time it took us to eat our meal before finally getting seated and served. It was a fascinating little human drama.

On the recommendation of our guy (who was actually pretty friendly underneath), we ate a plate of mixed seafood: prawns, sweet teeny tiny clams, juicy razor clams, squid, and delicious fresh sardines. It was cooked very simply in garlic, parsley and olive oil, and was super fresh, as you'd expect. We broke the newly-established "no wine at lunch" rule since it seemed like a special occasion, and had a glass of a zingy local white (very generously poured, I must say). Also a plate of grilled vegetables: peppers, asparagus, artichokes, mushrooms and carrots, drowned in olive oil. Eating
this great fresh food, surrounded by market stalls full of wonderful stuff, watching the buzz of people shopping for dinner, bewildered tourists, traders all around.... well, I got a bit of a food high again. Which hasn't actually happened in a while. When the elements come together: great food, great setting, unique experience; I honestly do get a bit of a drug-like rush, I think. It was NOT just the wine.

It's a big day in Brcelona today: All Saint's Day, which is a festival, and also there's a big football game on tonight: Barcelona vs. Chelsea. There is a happy, festive mood in the air on the streets, which matched my festive air as I contemplated what joy there is to be had in sharing something delicious, in a delicious place, with a delicious man, in a delicious city.