(picture taken in Ronda, Spain)No matter how hard the cravings started to kick in throughout my week and a half in Spain, I had to fight the urge to go into a restaurant and order a burger (hamburguesa en Espanol).
It just didn’t feel right: no matter how much I could justify the idea on grounds of research, it didn’t feel right considering everything I did was already was being monitored closely. Can you imagine the fodder I would have provided for a table of locals, watching as a confused blond American boy stumbles through the door and mumbles “quiero una hamburguesa, por favor” in broken Spanglish? I’ll drink to that.
I do have to admit the pictures of burgers shown on the menus often looked like a decaying grey patty of who knows what source of meat, so the temptation wasn’t exactly strong.
It just didn’t feel right: no matter how much I could justify the idea on grounds of research, it didn’t feel right considering everything I did was already was being monitored closely. Can you imagine the fodder I would have provided for a table of locals, watching as a confused blond American boy stumbles through the door and mumbles “quiero una hamburguesa, por favor” in broken Spanglish? I’ll drink to that.
I do have to admit the pictures of burgers shown on the menus often looked like a decaying grey patty of who knows what source of meat, so the temptation wasn’t exactly strong.
Not to mention Spain is currently regarded as the hottest culinary landscape in the world (four resturants in top 10 on S. Pellegrino 50 best in world), so I had plenty of other amazing food (vegetarian Paella!!!) at my fingertips to discover.
Next time maybe.
Next time maybe.
Hasta Luego, Bay-bee.
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