Ode To Spain, Pt. 1

Shit. How is it already 2K12? (A Ass Pocket Of Whiskey is pushing "2K12" because--let's face it--the "K" is WAY cooler than a zero.) As the vast readership of AAPOW well knows, The Libertine ventured to Spain this past November, and he has been working on his memoir about the trip since. What follows is an excerpt of his account, the entirety of which will no doubt soon be published in Vanity Fair.

BOOZING Y CERVECERIAS


Cervezeria San Bruno in Madrid. Right hurr's the spot.

The good news is that the Spaniards love them some booze. I had them pegged as beer lovers, but it appears that there are only three or four varieties of beer commonly available, and they all taste like Olympia. This is not a bad thing, but it got boring. A man needs variety.

Liquor is far less available. Only a handful of the drinking establishments we patronized carried whiskey, and it was expensive as shit (we're talking $10/drink for regular stuff). The cool thing was that when you did order it, they poured you a glass of whiskey roughly the size of a glass of wine. None of that one-finger bullshit you sometimes get here in The States.

Wine is the Spaniards' main jam, and it is fantastic. Shit is cheap, too. If you see a Spanish bottle of wine anywhere outside of Whole Foods in The States, it's probably their equivalent of $5 grapey Vendange that they sell to us for $15. The stuff in Spain is the Real Deal Holyfield for sure. The only problem is that it was impossible to find a corkscrew there. We went to at least six stores in search of one, and in our desperation we ended up having to buy a novelty "España" corkscrew from a crappy gift shop. Naturally, it broke before we got the first bottle open. It wasn't even worth the substantial embarrassment incurred shamefully walking into the gift shop to buy it. The UN should seriously look into the Spanish corkscrew situation--it is a violation of human rights on a massive scale.

Patatas bravas

There are a few "American-style" bars around, but most of them are of the more Spanish "cerveceria" style, which rules. They're often unpretentiously but tackily decorated, fluorescent-lit, and cheap. Better yet, they give you free food with your drinks. This food was not the typical stale popcorn and/or pretzels that you get at honest bars in The States; it was legit stuff like bread and manchego or patatas bravas (awesome home fries with a spicy tomato-based sauce). It was hearty fare--one could seriously live off cerveceria food alone.

IN CONCLUSION: The Libertine would totally live in a cerveceria.

PIGS

As history will attest, Spaniards love the heck out of Jesus. The only thing they may love more than That Old Hippy? Pork. It is everywhere, and it is delicioso. Of our many Spanish pork encounters, I most enjoyed a delicacy called "cochinillo," which is Spaniardish for "roast suckling pig." It sounds nasty, but once you have your first bite, any unsavory thoughts you may have about eating a baby pig snatched unborn out of a mama pig's womb fly out the window, and you suddenly find yourself living almost excessively high on the culinary hog.


Jamón feel the noise.

Cochinillo was my favorite Spanish pork experience, but jamón was everywhere. There were these "Museo del Jamón" ("museum of the ham") chain stores that sold pork haunches all over the place, the grocery stores had literal walls of ham haunches for sale, and all of the restaurants had these weird pork-haunch clamp thingees (above) that presumably allowed for easy carving. Although it was plenty tasty, jamón has this weird feet-like odor, and all of the haunches you saw all over the place still had vestiges of the pig's hair/fur/whatever on them.

IN CONCLUSION: It is awesome seeing pork haunches all over the place.

Stay tuned for Part 2!!!!.....!