Here I will account for everything we ate in Europe, well, most everything, well, at least the interesting things.

This installment takes Carol and I through Barcelona on our way from England to France. We hadn’t yet joined up with “the gang.”

Tuesday Dinner
Subway
Sports Bar
Barcelona

Our EasyJet flight arrived in Barcelona well after 9 in the night. By the time we had checked into the Hotel de Quatro Nacionales at #44 Las Ramblas, it was after 11. Carol and I were tired and hungry. Las Ramblas, the sprawling tourist street of Barcelona, was dark and relatively unpopulated and a brief rainstorm was blowing by. We saw no welcoming lights, other than the lights of a SUBWAY sandwich place and a sports bar across the street. Imagine that, our first meal in Barcelona was Subway sandwiches and vodka tonics. They did the job.

Las Ramblas

Wednesday Breakfast
Hotel de Quatro Nacionales
Barcelona

A continental breakfast was served on the Principal Floor of the hotel. We learned that in Spain, the Principal Floor is the floor above the Ground Floor and below the First Floor. The breakfast room featured one of those coffee machines that spout forth when you push the button for one of 8 coffee or hot chocolate concoctions. None of them are French Press, but the coffee wasn’t bad. Croissants (real ones), rolls, toast, butter, jam, and fruit are available. Life is good. Continue reading →

Los Caracoles, Barcelona

My eye was drawn to this place on my after-lunch walk, as workers were cleaning the spit where chickens twirl before flames during service.

Los Caracoles = snails. I first ate snails while on a Navy cruise in 1964, in Barcelona, prepared in tomato sauce. Could have been here.

I looked it up in my Lonely Planet guidebook: “Started life as a tavern in the 1890’s and is one of Barcelona’s best-known restaurants.” Probably was here. Sounds like a candidate for dinner.

We needed to pass by a bank machine, and did on our way at eight o’clock, stylishly early for dinner. We passed a line reaching around the corner for La Fondeau, on Calle Escudellers. In the next block, in front of   Los Caracoles about seven folks were hanging outside the door. Inside, a line was formed alongside the right wall, while the crowded bar occupied the left side of the space.

One was meant to go to the end of the bar and down a few steps to the Maitre d’ stand, but who knew? It seems that there were a number of large groups of footballers — there’s a big match coming up — and when I worked my way to the Maitre d’ and said, “dos, por favor,” we were waved right in. I collected Carol and we followed his wake through the kitchen with a room-size coal-burning stove in the center, meats and stews and sauces bubbling and roasting away on top. Up some steps and around a bend we found a fine table for two.

The room, and indeed the entire entry procedure screamed ambiance. Leather bound menus were on our table and soon a waiter came by for questions.

I was there for the caracoles in a tomato sauce — specialty of the house. Anything else would be a bonus. It was listed as an appetizer, so I felt compelled to order salted cod in a tomato sauce as an entrée. Carol ordered the Gazpacho and a half chicken, spit-roasted.

The waiter rather insisted that we have a certain Spanish Chardonnay and it turned out to be the highlight of the evening. Everything was good, except the gazpacho, which was very good. The chicken was a little too salty, the caracoles a little too muddy rich, the cod a bit tough, the rice not quite cooked enough.

The room seated about 30. Stone walls with a wood wainscot were arrayed with hundreds of signed, framed photographs of the rich and famous. The room felt fabulous.

Groups passed through, going to and from the back, guys carrying stacks of plates came one way, guys carrying huge paella pans came another, everything moving, changing in a great dance of food. What a place! It’s okay that the food is just good and the prices are over the top. I came for memories and theater and I left with a bellyful.

Lets see, 2007 — 1964, in 43 years I’ll come back again and it will be the same and I will love it all over again.

Eatsforone is going to Europe, so I won’t be posting again until early November. But I will be eating, and maybe even do a little cooking, and I will be writing about those experiences.

Starting with Virgin Atlantic Airways, the food should be worth commentary at every step of the way. A few Google Blog searches hinted at good food for all of our stops.

The major news about Virgin Atlantic food is that,

“Virgin Atlantic is pleased to announce that it’s now offering Fairtrade tea and coffee to all passengers. The airline served nearly seven million cups of coffee and over five million cups of tea onboard flights in 2006 so a switch to these products will be a significant boost for farmers who are supplying the Fairtrade market.”

Well, not exactly mouth watering news, but it’s not bad news.

Our first night will be spent at Chimneys Inn in Stansted Mountfitchet a few kilometers from London’s Stansted Airport. Probably not the quaint British town, but I’m sure we can find a pub.

Following the British experience we’re flying to Barcelona for much anticipated eats. Barcelona is where I ate my first caracoles. That would be snails in English, escargots, a more recognizable term, in French. They were steeped in a rich tomato sauce, returned to their shells, and went down good and easy. I don’t remember the restaurant or district, but it was on a Med Cruise when I was in the Navy. Carol and two other of the wives followed our ship around Europe from port to port. Continue reading →