We Had It Coming / Lo Merecíamos

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.

No one messes with “The Family.” They’ve got a crooked connection inside the FBI.
Nadie se mete con “La Familia”. Tienen una conexión corrupta en el FBI.
Pumpkin pie, anyone?
¿Tarta de calabaza, alguien?
I’m thinking: “We may be smiling, but Lolo still has that knife and I’m still a pumpkin.”
Estoy pensando: “Podemos estar sonriendo, pero Lolo todavía tiene ese cuchillo y yo soy todavía una calabaza”.
Paté de ciervo con vino Málaga y confitura de boletus.
Pate with Málaga wine and boletus jam.
Milhojas de berenjenas con queso de cabra y perlas de miel de caña.
Eggplant “strudel” with goat cheese and pearls of cane honey.
Crêpe negro de marisco con mahonesa de kimchi y salsa de crustáceos.
Black seafood crêpe (it was like a Mexican enchilada) with kimchi mayonnaise and crustacean sauce.
Carrilada de ternera a baja temperatua con hummus de zanahoria al carbón.
Veal cheek at low temperature with charcoal-grilled carrot hummus.
Ataúd de hojaldre relleno de chocolate y frutas con helado (con algodón de azúcar al lado).
Chocolate and fruit-filled puff pastry “casket” with ice cream (and a side of cotton candy/candy floss).
After-dinner shot.
Lolo showing off his Fuengirola style.
Lolo mostrando su estilo Fuengirola.
Sergio forced to hide that charming smile.
Sergio se vio obligado a ocultar esa sonrisa encantadora.
Adrían looked seriously tough, but not when he posed with Elena.
Adrían parecía seriamente duro, pero no cuando posó con Elena.

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…”



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


“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…”



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


“¡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.)


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