What’s for Supper, Jerry? / ¿Que Hay Para Cenar, Jerry?

La versión español está después de la versión inglés.

San Geraldo walked into my office the other night and said, “I have chicken breasts in the refrigerator. I can make…”

“Pizza?!?”

“No…”

“Popcorn?!? Can you put the chicken in the microwave and press the popcorn button? I hav…”

“Mitchell…”

“I haven’t had popcorn in ages!”

“Here are the options. They all involve chicken.”

I think I sometimes exhaust San Geraldo. (We went out for pizza.)

.

LA OTRA NOCHE, San Geraldo entró en mi oficina y dijo: “Tengo pechugas de pollo en el refrigerador. Yo puedo hacer…”

“Pizza?!?”

“No…”

“¿¡¿Palomitas de maiz?!? ¿Puedes poner el pollo en el microondas y presionar el botón de palomitas de maíz? No he ten… ”

“Mitchell.”

“¡No he tenido palomitas de maíz en años!”

“Mitchell, aquí están las opciones. Todos incluyen pollo.”

Creo que a veces agoto a San Geraldo. (Salimos a comer pizza.)

“He finally settled on a finger. I’m pretty sure it was the wrong one.”

“Finalmente se estableció en un dedo. Estoy bastante seguro de que era el equivocado.”


Say My Name, Abrevaduci?

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).
CHORIZO.
SETAS Y JAMON (MUSHROOMS AND HAM).
TERNERA (BEEF).
ABREVAERO’S INTERPRETATION OF TIRAMISU.

Maybe we should just call it “Abracadabra.” It’s magic.