Our so-called “holiday rental” on the 8th floor of our building is a dump. Broken windows taped over, splintering door frames, awful smells from the kitchen, “sliding” windows and doors that don’t slide, showers that only dribble. The beds are so unbelievably old and awful that there’s no hope of getting any sleep. Besides, god only knows what lurks inside the mattresses. But, after hearing our tale of woe-is-us, Santi has made a point of getting our master bedroom back in order every afternoon, so we have been able to sleep at home — with the cats.
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| SUNRISE FROM THE EIGHTH FLOOR. |
Anyway, the view from higher up is fun for a change. The neighbors kindly let us connect to their WiFi. The work downstairs is nearly done. Dudo knows where to hide and when to emerge. Moose hasn’t completely figured out the routine, but he’s still adorable. And The Goddess Elena made another batch of Torrijas before Semana Santa ended (see previous post).
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| MY SECOND ROUND OF TORRIJAS FROM THE GODDESS ELENA. (SAN GERALDO HAD ALREADY EATEN HIS AT SIX A.M.) |
A bit more detail on the recipe:
Elena adds a lemon rind, a cinnamon stick, and a lot of sugar to the milk she slowly simmers on the stove. She uses special bread for torrijas, but I haven’t been able to find a description of that specific bread, as most recipes simply call for “stale” bread. I would guess Jewish challah (egg bread) would make for great torrijas.
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| AT MY BAR MITZVAH RECEPTION, JUNE 1967. MY FATHER AND I WATCH AS MY MATERNAL GRANDFATHER CUTS THE CHALLAH AND BLESSES THE MEAL. (DON’T YOU WISH YOU HAD A BLUE PAISLEY BROCADE TUXEDO?!?) |
