Boosing shed*

Some ill-advised going away shots of cheap tequila in a random dive bar in Barcelona.

Lineaments of gratified desire.*

What a lovely surprise! After trying a few Spanish rosados (Spanish rosé) that were less than delicious, I was beginning to give up hope on finding one that I would like. I was starting to think that perhaps the French, especially the winemakers in Provence, have a corner on the market. Every rosado I had tried was very heavy, thick to the point of being syrupy, and astringent while also somehow sweet. Perhaps lovely for sangria, but not for your casual rosé drinking.

So, today after leaving the hostel, I wandered in vain looking for a wine store recommended by a friend. I couldn’t find it (will ask and report back to you). Instead, I went to a little place in Gràcia that I would have adored in New York, but being in Spain, and especially in the very neighborhoody and Catalan area of Gràcia, it has intimidated me in the past. I have gone in a few times, looked at the very handsome selection of wines, cheeses, chocolates, etc., all very gourmet and seemingly exquisite, and squeaked that I was “solo mirando” and scooted out ASAP. However, today, I had a mission. The store owner was there (I am assuming he owns the store by his proprietary air and the fact that he has been there every time I have wandered by), and I asked him if he had any dry rosados. He quickly suggested quite a few, explaining their components and was very patient with my Spanish when I tried to explain my troubled history with rosados. I chose the wine he pointed out as his favorite. He asked me to report back to him, and I promised I would, and so I shall for this wine is (almost wrote ‘divine’ but held back, you’re welcome) quite wonderful.

Now, all of you who abhor wine-talk, bear with me, but I must describe it. The color is a bit unusual for a rosé, quite dark like rosados tend to be (none of the pale pink French hues for Spain), but also with a slight purple tone…a paler version of a cross between ruby and garnet. At first taste, it is a surprise, greeting your mouth with a rich, soft currant/plum flavor, not characteristic of a rosé at all. Quickly, the acidity kicks in, washing away the fruit, followed by a very balanced minerality. It is a fairly medium bodied wine for a rosé, but somehow still leaves the impression of being very light and refreshing. I’m in love, and now, after my second glass, slightly tipsy.

Details and other tasting notes:
Barbara Forés, Rosado 2008, D.O. Terra Alta
http://www.cellerbarbarafores.com
with cheese: the combination of dryness and very round mouth create a mellow answer to the cream, very compatible.
with olives: embraces the salt! Really quite fantastic, brings out the fruitier flavors of the olives, reminding me that they are technically fruit. A nice dryness in the wine gets along well with the brine in the olives, while the mineral flavors balance the fruit.
with water: even the water tastes sweeter!

The great store:
Bodega Bonavista
a review in Time Out Barcelona, if you can read Catalan….

I caught a cold in the park. The gate was open.*

I ran up to Parc Güell today for the first time in months. Okay, yes, I have been exceedingly lazy, but I have excuses! I haven’t been running much because my neighborhood isn’t very exercise friendly. Every time I run in Gràcia (more about my neighborhood in a future post), I elicit incredulous stares and comments. I know they are wondering how a tourist got up this far from Las Ramblas. I feel incredibly foreign and vulnerable, as if I were a giraffe loping down the street. It doesn’t help that now the weather is warmer, I wear shorts, exposing my shockingly white legs that are taller than many people here. Actually, I have a suspicion that not being tan is a crime in Spain.
Luckily, they can’t catch me.

Anyway, I made it through the eight plus minutes of steep uphill to the park, but the side entrance I usually use was closed. There were herds of tourists milling about in front of the barricade, looking hopelessly lost. I decided to forge on anyway and came upon a tall closed gate and a new looking fence. Further investigation revealed a section where a rock wall (embedded with pieces of broken glass to create an extra challenge) offered an easier climb. Once in the empty section of the park, I immediately discovered the cause of the closure: all the trees were gone. There were piles of trunks and branches hacked to bits all over the place, alongside stumps still seeping sap, and entire root systems wrenched from the ground. It was horrifying. In areas, it appeared that nearly 90% of the trees were gone, while other areas appeared untouched. I ran along my usual paths, finding them all ending in fences and realized that most of the park was closed off. What had caused this? Insane neighbors furious about the constant stream of tourists flowing past their doorways? A mob of deranged Catalan separatists? A drunken bunch of Texan fratboys? A tornado that secretly touched down in specific spots on a dark winter night? I think the exposed roots indicating that some trees were literally uprooted offers a clue. Perhaps some of the strong winds and heavy rains have caused massive erosion on the steep hills of the park, carrying trees downhill.

After trying to escape through other exits, I returned to carefully climb over my glass studded rock wall. Waiting on the other side as an Italian man asking how to get in. I answered in Spanish, he replied in Italian, I replied and he switched to English, so I switched to English and he then switched to Italian. Eventually, I think he understood my alternative directions for entering (after eschewing my suggestion to climb the wall).

My Spanish wasn’t that great during this conversation because I was distracted by one of the oddest things I have ever seen. I wish I had a camera with me. It was a parrigeon or a pigarrot, a mixture between a pigeon and a parrot. As I was approaching, at first it resembled a pigeon someone had cruelly dyed for Easter. Upon closer inspection, the pastel blues, pinks, and yellows appeared to be real. It looked like a normal pigeon from it’s head to mid-back. There, it morphed into a parrot with wings, lower back, and tail feathers all sorts of colors, magenta, bright green, along with the aforementioned pastels. It walked awkwardly (it was also larger than a normal pigeon), but when it flew away, it was surprisingly graceful, with a large wingspan and its bright colors even more vivid and striking in the sunlight against the blue sky.

These developments require some research…I will get back to you!

A black crack of noise in the street here, alack, bawled, back.*

It was another incredibly windy day here in Barcelona. Perhaps not as terrible as the wind a while ago that caused walls and buildings to collapse and kill people in the city and across Spain, but something to be reckoned with nonetheless. Spanish buildings just aren’t made for wind, as I write this, the lamp above me is swaying, even though all of our windows are closed…there is enough of a draft coming through somewhere to cause this heavy, ponderous globe to sway. I am afraid to take the elevator on days like this because the wind howls down the shaft, seemingly pushing the already scary old contraption downward. Our hot water heater in the kitchen has an exhaust pipe into which the wind blows and puts out the pilot light, causing gas to fill our kitchen every time I try to use hot water on windy days.

Today, I was walking back from taking the glass out (to the green vidre recycling kiosk), when the wind blew a chunk of soil from one of the planters on the plaza into my eye. I was about to bemoan this fact when I walked into the health food store on the corner and was cheered by taking candy from a stranger. Well, it was a customer purchasing his favorite thing in life, second only to music, eucalyptus and pine lozenges. He offered one to me and the shopkeeper while espousing the merits of Pastora, apparently the daughter of a famous Catalan musician is in this popular band. My eye stopped hurting after that.