La versión español está después de la versión inglés.
IT WAS OUR third annual Halloween dinner at Mesón Salvador, so, yeah, we knew what to expect. We knew the place would be festive (and macabre) and we knew the food would be creative, beautiful, unusual, and dangerously delicious. Still, our wonderful family here in Los Boliches had some surprises up their tattoo sleeves.
ERA NUESTRA TERCERA cena anual de Halloween en Mesón Salvador, así que, sí, sabíamos qué esperar. Sabíamos que el lugar sería festivo (y macabro) y sabíamos que la comida sería creativa, hermosa, inusual, y peligrosamente deliciosa. Aún así, nuestra maravillosa familia aquí en Los Boliches tuvo algunas sorpresas en sus mangas de tatuajes.
Andalusians often drop consonants, especially “d” and “s” (and n) when they appear mid-word or at the end of a word, which means Andalusians drop a lot of consonants. They also regularly drop vowels, which often doesn’t leave much “word.”
Buenos días (good day) sounds something like “buen dia.” Our neighborhood, Los Boliches, is more like Lo Bo-LEESCHeh (and to an untrained ear even sounds like Lo Bo-LEE). The city of Cádiz (which should sound kind of like CAH-deeth) sounds more like CAH-ee. Consonants are dropped. Letters are changed. Sometimes, entire words disappear. I’m oversimplifying, but you get the idea.
Our ears have adjusted in these five years. San Geraldo, whose Spanish is already quite “interesting” has even begun to speak Andalusian. Buena NO-shay, he says, instead of Buenas Noches when he goes to bed at night.
One of our friends has his own creative way of speaking both Spanish and English (different from San Geraldo’s creative way).
This all leads me to the challenge of expressing a desire to go to Abrevaero, a great little tapas bar and restaurant just a few minutes from home (we’ve got just about everything within a few minutes of home).
Abrevaero, although the actual name of the restaurant, isn’t even a word. It’s the way a local would pronounce the Spanish word “abrevadero,” which translates to “drinking trough” (a place to water the horses and get refreshed).
San Geraldo has called it Abrevaduci, Arevada, and I can’t remember what else. Our local friend (who shall remain nameless) calls it something like Arivadabra, or maybe it’s Abradaba… or Abree-air-a I’m not quite sure. At least it doesn’t stop us from enjoying the food, service, and atmosphere.
(Click the images, taken during two different visits, and maybe you’ll remember the name.)
ALCOCHOFA (ARTICHOKE) WITH TUNA, CRAB MEAT, KIWI, ETC.)
TRADITIONAL SPANISH TORTILLA.
THEIR VERSION IS MOIST, EGGY, AND DELICIOUS.
TORTILLA RELLENA (A STUFFED SPANISH TORTILLA).
SETAS Y JAMON (MUSHROOMS AND HAM).
ABREVAERO’S INTERPRETATION OF TIRAMISU.
Maybe we should just call it “Abracadabra.” It’s magic.