Interimmer Summer: BuenBlogging

23 07 2011

Whilst con tomates stays put, I roam.

03/07/11: Ossipee: From Sabbaday Falls to Sardinas Picatonas

“Dawn breaks soft and gray on the lake, stretching its warm fingers through skylights to wake even the laziest of dreamers. Good morning, you’re in America.”

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07/07/11: Boston: Beantown Blitz!

” We go wild over the texture of the octopus, which has clearly been grilled but bears zero resemblance to my rubbery Rocky Point attempt several years back. We guess at a pre-boil, which is later confirmed by our waitress; she explains that it’s also raked over a Spanish-style washboard such that the flesh is even further tenderized before hitting the coals.”

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11/07/11: This is a post about eating in New York City.

Dough‘s blood orange doughnut dotted with candied peel opens our appetites. Oh my god. How long has it been since I’ve had a doughnut? And have I ever had one this good? We pair it with magnificent iced coffees laced with chicory from the mini-café stall just to the side.”

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Temporary Relocation for the Holidays

25 12 2010

con tomates is still alive and kicking – but its tireless author has been temporarily roped into the family blog cycle on Buen Camino. You voracious readers, you!

23/12/10: Segovia, Pedraza, Sepúlveda: Semipleno!!!!!

“The road to Pedraza is markedly less salty. We moderate our velocity accordingly, paying special attention not to plow into the swarms of crossing deer. After all, we wouldn’t want to be tardy to our most pressing order of business…”

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27/12/10: From Bale-ncia to Sevilla: Paella and Whyanair

We attack the beast, snails and all – which, as it turns out, you eat with the aid of a toothpick, spearing the flesh in order that you might wrest it from its coiled shelly home.”

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31/12/10: Sevilla Stereotypical: Cathedral and Flamenco (and Happy New Year!)

The haunting, warbling vocals, casting what sounds like eerie laments into the dark cool of the night, combined with frenetic guitar strums and picks just on the brink of discordant setting the aural scene; add to this superhuman clapping and stomping coordination and here enters the dancer, all tassels and snapping, hard heels insistent upon the echoing wood of the stage, savage fingers curling and cutting through the notes and the rhythm.

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