13th
Chapitre 8: Donostia/San Sebastián
“A human being is primarily a bag for putting food into; the other functions and faculties may be more godlike, but in point of time, they come afterwards.”
- George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier
5-5-2008
Tough to believe it’s been about 5 weeks already. Tuesday morning I hopped in the car and drove south to San Sebastián (SS). The drive was a no-brainer, unless you like dudes with automatic machine guns waving you to move your car. Other than that, no issues. Not much to see on the ride down, some towns I definitely want to check out though but didn’t – St Jean, Biarritz, and Bayonne. Maybe on the way back.
Arrived in SS around 12:30 and quickly made my way to my accommodations for the night. I hooked up a room in a small, 12-room, hostel/hotel hybrid downtown called Arrizul. Tiny, but cheap and clean. I also have my own pisser – muy importante. Wi-fi also. I’m good.
Get my gear to the room and go out for a few hours to see what’s what. Beaches, classic architecture, and pintxos bars everywhere. Tapas, basically. They are just sitting on the bar, in all their culinary glory. I’m starving. You grab, you eat, you pay. Quite simple. The pintxos bars pretty much are rocking every day for lunch (12-3ish). Everyone is eating and drinking on their “lunchbreak.” They then shut down for an hour or two, clean up, and then go again starting at 5ish until whenever. Extraordinary concept.
My first rule on the solo mission is to dive in. Walk in and wing it. Point at someone else’s food if you need to. Rioja, and that, that, and that. So happy to shift my diet into another gear. In St. Andre, it’s farmland. The food is the food they have been eating for 100s of years. Japanese? Mexican? No chance. They vaguely know what that is. Pintxos are simply made food with local, fresh ingredients. Fried gambas, croquettes (imagine mashed potato fried goodness), baby octopus, etc. It’s quick, relatively cheap, and oh so good. I stopped at a local merchant and bought a Muga 2004 Rioja and some chorizo and some other crazy, sick, delicious ham for the room.
I think I’m gonna like it here – this town seems to anticipate and embrace the solo traveler. Werd.
6-5-2008 > 8-5-2008
The remainder of my stay in San Sebastian was a blast. A mixed bag if you will. Some exploring, some beach time, and gastronomic excess. I took a number of various shots from around town — the usual stuff. Peeps have requested more photos, so here are more photos.
The second night, I decide it was time for a real meal. Like, a sit down, many course dealio. Brad hooked me up with a number of choice spots, but I settled for one that didn’t involve driving up a mountain, or outside SS proper. One of the places was right across the street, so that worked out well. Somehow I cobbled together some “respectable” (I use that term loosely) attire and hit up Kursaal.
Memo to self > next time you decide to go to Europe, pack more than 1 collared shirt.
I went for the 6 course tasting (warning: link is PDF) –- and it delivered in a big way. With the amuse bouche and other gimmes, it probably ran about 9 courses. I paired it with a crisp Albarino (name escapes me), a split of Rioja (name again escapes me – sensing a pattern here?), and closed with a Pedro Jiminez sherry. Full, buzzed, and tired, I rolled home and racked.
Solo dining advice > bring a pad of paper and scribble shit down once in awhile. I think these people somehow thought I was some kind of food critic, and totally rocked the meal, service, etc. It could have been blurred judgment. But whatever, something was up.
Being SS is located adjacent to the water, today was all about seafood. More exploring, grazing in the Parta Vieja, and beach time left me truly satisfied. However, being that I was leaving the next day, I decided another solid meal was in order. Seafood, yo. I scouted the docks thinking that had to be the SOURCE. Hoump. It was on. I found a nice little spot by the fishing boats and proceeded to work my way through some white asparagus (yes, I am eating this as much as possible), fried octopus (best, non-greasy, non-chewy version this bouche has tasted), and the Sole. The sole was a whole fish, cooked masterfully with some vinaigrette and crispy shallots. Speechless. Possibly the best fish I have eaten. No exaggerations here. I was pretty much floored. Paired with a nice bottle of Albarino. Beyond full and content, I passed the remains of the bottle to a French couple next to me. Ironically, it was the best conversation in Spain I had with someone. Going from French > Spanish was a bit of a challenge. I actually know Spanish better, but kept mixing both languages together over the few days I was here.
A few parting notes/observations about ESPAGNE:
- Food was all that and more
- Extremely clean
- When ordering glasses of vino, the pours are noticeably small – I think because they go hard at lunchtime and need to keep it real for the evenings also
- Some serious mullets going on
- Some REALLY bad jeans-wearing decisions
- Don’t drink all day, or else
Unfortunately I had to head back up North to help out at La Gatte for the weekend. Barcelona will have to be another trip.
9-5-08 > 11-5-08 Cotes de Bourg
Heading back the weather was raining big time. I decided that the stop off will have to wait for another time and pushed on back to Bordeaux. I settled in and started to help Helene prepare for a two day wine tasting called Cotes de Bourg – Portes Ouvertes. Basically over 100 vineyards are open for stop by tastings. We cleaned up a bit and did some sign preparations for the road. You’ll be glad to know that I’ve been keep fresh with my advertising skill set. Seriously though, we set up some wines, made some signs, hung them on the roads and got ready for some visitors. First day brought great weather and a good amount of randoms who enjoyed the pours and the atmosphere. After a long day, we sat down for a BBQ – sea snails, charcuterie, petite crevettes, prawns, and the mack-daddy grilled sardines. Hey, you either like them or not. I dig the total salt overload. We paired it with a nice Rousseau Grenache from the Rhone. Money. Photos.
The second day was more of the same, Helene’s parents came by and I was happy to meet them finally. Again, we had a nice meal to cap off the weekend. Most memorable was the 1995 Poujeaux. Signing nicely, Carol, Helene and I concluded that there was something wrong with the bottle and that it should be returned – how else could it have disappeared in 13 minutes? Helene went for one of hers, 2004 Montalon which I enjoyed also. For 8 Euros here, it is an absolute steal. I’ll just say that Carol and Helen were “feeling it” - giggling and rambling between English and French for an hour or two. They then explained how La Gatte used to be a brothel up until like 1985 (They bought it in 2003). Quite interesting was the story and I‘ll leave it at that. Michael is back from the US tomorrow. It’ll be good to have a dude around methinks.
Status Report:
Literature – Been working my way through Heat, by Bill Buford. Pretty intense read. Basically about some successful NYC executive that quits his jobs and decides to go work as an intern for Batali at Babbo. He then makes a bunch more trips to Italy to learn how to make real pasta and then interns with some insane butcher in Tuscany. Some great insights into Batali and how he became the man. Sounds like a dude I could definitely hang with.
Cell phone – Nope.
Facial hair – Eight days unshaven. Solid.
That’s about it for this installment. Trying to plan a few more jaunts over the coming weeks. Looking like Burgundy, London, and Mallorca are on the radar. Amsterdam as well. May try and coincide with some MMJ shows happening over here. That would be nice. Live music withdrawal is certainly setting in.
My nephew is looking for gig, so if anyone is looking for someone to handle a few sets, that would be cool.
