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Archives for July 2010

Foodie Friday: Waffles and Chocolate

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Wedding gift registry’s are really popular in the United States. For the first week, our registry only had one item- a Belgian waffle maker. We really, really wanted it. Affectionately in Spanglish we call our waffle maker “casa de los waffles” (house of waffles), and place a dot on it every time we use it. Needless to say it has a lot of dots.

Belgium is known for its waffles and of course its chocolate. For research purposes we had to try both, individually and together. And with ice cream. And strawberries….Turns out our little casa de los waffles doesn’t do such a bad job: it makes practically perfect Belgian waffles, American sized of course, but just as delicious.

The chocolate of course is a different story. Belgian chocolate is delicious, and although we loved our Trader Joe’s Pound Plus Dark Chocolate Bar, nothing compares to fresh chocolate on the street. With a sense of humor, we strolled from chocolate shop to chocolate shop sampling little mannequin pis chocolates and other delicious goodies.

Brussels: Chocolate and a Tour…

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We were determined to prove two Belgian travelers wrong about their country: it is NOT possible to see Belgium in one day. In fact we spent 4 days in Belgium and only left Brussels once. So there.IMGP5355

More than any place on this entire trip, Brussels reminded us of home. No, it wasn’t the french accent, the chocolate, the strange little boy statue or the little-Africa neighborhood downtown. While these could all be said of DC, it was the vibe of “power” in the city. The political center of the European Union, we attended a birthday party where the attendees were from no less than a dozen nations.  (In fact, ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung in three different languages.)  It was the first time in a long time that we were really able to enjoy ourselves in a big group, not having to constantly wonder if the other person understood what we were saying.  English in fact, despite there being only three native English speakers at the party, was the language of choice.  Like DC, everyone it seemed directly or indirectly worked in European politics. Conversations swirled about current events, international politics and exotic travel. We felt at home.

Brussels of course is not like home. IMGP5381Chez Antoine is not cooking up fries on in a petite maison on 14th street in Washington and there is no way Ben’s Chili Bowl is going to start serving pomme frites with 20+ varieties of mayonnaise. We walked into the European Parliament building without showing a badge, doing the same in DC would have been a breach of national security! Buildings are much older and much taller, and there’s good Belgium chocolate is everywhere…not just at Trader Joe’s.  Yes, things are different, but not by too much.  And since we were there for the 4th of July, we still managed to enjoy a nice BBQ, some fireworks, and a trip to to Waterloo to celebrate the defeat of the French….clearly the next best option when in Europe with no other American’s around…

Besides eating ridiculous amounts of french fries, we spent our long weekend in Belgium visiting with friends, and dragging them to the Tour de France, which went through Brussels on its way from the starting point in Holland back to France.  Le Tour was the real reason we wanted to come to Brussels. If we were going to be in Europe in July, we were going to the Tour de France. That was the deal. So off we went, and when people asked why we were in Belgium we always replied in the best French accent we could muster, Le Tooouurrrrrr! The Tour did not disappoint, but you’ll have to wait for our next post to find out why…

Foodie Friday: Tortilla Espanola

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Before we left on this journey we hosted some couchsurfers from Malaga, Spain.  He was a chef, so when they told us they wanted to make tortilla espanola, I was all for it.

Also called tortilla de patata, its probably the most common dish throughout Spain.  Eaten as a light dinner or served between a baguette, for us it was a nice change from the constant ham and cheese options.   Simple & easy to make, our couchsurfing chef spiced his up with a delicious red pepper sauce.  Here’s his recipe for both the tortilla and the sauce:

Tortilla Ingredients:

  • 4 medium potatoes
  • 3 eggs
  • 1/2l olive oil
  • onion & green pepper as you like

Directions:

Peel, cut and fry potatoes on low heat.  Remove from heat. Whip eggs and mix with the potatoes and salt.  In another fry pan, put a little oil and pour in the egg and potato mixture.  Cook and serve.

Red Pepper Ingredients:

  • One large tablespoon of paprika
  • one spoonful of oregano
  • 1 crushed garlic clove
  • 1 tablespoon of vinegar
  • pinch of salt
  • one entire red pepper
  • 3 tablespoons of olive oil

Blend all ingredients together.  Serve.

Pamplona: Running with the Bulls

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For the weeks leading up to the running, everyone I met who knew anything about San Fermin had the exact same conversation with me:

Them: You’re going for San Fermin.

Me: Yes

Them: Are you running?

Me: Why else would I go?

Them: (not answering my question because clearly there was no answer) Be careful.

So we went. Flying first to Barcelona (that was the cheap flight) and spending a very brief night with an old friend we boarded a bus the next day for Pamplona. We arrived in the evening, after the opening festivities, and felt as though we’d missed the entire party. Everywhere we looked were people dressed in all white with only a red neck-scarf and belt. Many were covered in sangria and were already leaving town. We quickly purchased some overpriced apparel and were on our way.

Sitting down at the home of our host we were basically given a primer in running with the bulls; which parts of the course were more dangerous, which better for viewing, and which easier to survive for another day. We learned that last year someone died, but that death is actually quite rare for the event, and that it was important to be well-rested and sober. It was already midnight, one person in the house was filling an “exterminators” spray bucket with sangria and setting off for the night. Others were turning in so that they could wake up at 3am to get to a good viewing area. Only one of that foursome was planning to run.

In the end we woke up at 6am and within an hour I found myself in the ‘path of the bulls’ ….with time to spare. I set to walking around and trying to make myself comfortable in the cool morning air. Walking toward where the run began I found more space as this was the safer, and therefore less exciting area to be in. At this point in the run the bulls are mostly together and sprinting forward having not yet come to their first corner where they might lose the group, become disoriented, or slip while turning. Any of those situations can become dire rather quickly. I watched as bands played music, old men danced, young men performed stretches and other ‘primadonna’ type rituals, and women laughed and joked from the balconies.

Soon it was time to get excited. A noise came from the front and tons of people started running…..even though there was at least 10 minutes left before go-time. Same thing happened again at 5 minutes. People wanted to get further down the track for their chance to enter the bullring I suppose; or maybe they were just stupid and thought the bulls were running after them. Men at the front began to chant a song that I couldn’t understand while striking their rolled up newspapers in the air. There was a rocket blast, cheering, more running, a first glimpse of bulls, then pandemonium.

I stood waiting to see the bulls as people around me started running at all out sprints. Several knocked into me but I somehow managed to hold my ground despite my injured foot. When I finally saw the bulls running, I finally began to run, taking elbows from fellow runners as they bulled off ‘through me’ to the side with the bulls still 20 or 30 meters away. During this, I too began to make my way toward the side of the street to let the bulls run past me and I’m sure I probably threw and elbow or two as well. Then the bulls ran past, at a full gallop, far to fast for any man save Usain Bolt to keep up with. Below is a video of the run the day I participated:

With the bulls past already, it really did last only a mere instant, I didn’t really know what to do so I kept running/walking in a somewhat forward direction. Eventually I heard the now familiar sound of a cowbell and knew that some others were coming and indeed they were and did. This grouping of bulls seemed to miss the memo titled ‘Running with the Bulls’ as they were merely trotting yet still dangerous all the same. With them past people joined together in that same forward motion, looking over their shoulders the entire time, and began to sing ‘ole, ole, ole, ole, ole, ole.’ (It sounds better when you sing it, doesn’t it?) I made it all 850 meters to the bullring, which was already closed, and then left the street to go meet Jill at our meeting place.

It may have only lasted a matter of seconds, but I ran with the bulls.

Now enjoy this video from last year. The man who is absolutely destroyed by the bull not only lived, but ran again this year…he’s a local.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJig8fZkA2Y&feature=PlayList&p=5B2A626E549885F4&playnext_from=PL&playnext=1&index=5

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