Bare Bones

This post will be short. I apologize but I desperately need a nap. I just experienced my first traditional Spanish lunch, or as they say here, Comida. Grandpa and Grandma were there too; it was magical.

The reason for the big feast is the second birthday of Cecelia, my senora’s granddaughter. Luckily, there will be another feast—the birthday feast—in a few hours but until then I will happily nap away my fullness.

The first plate was soup-like pasta with some stewed veggies and garbanzos. The second helping consisted of two monstrous plates of meat and sausage. Towards the end of the meal, my senora Reyes handed me a large cow bone. There were several bones in the cocido (stew) she had made, but the one she gave me had marrow in it, ripe for the eating. She instructed me to eat the gooey interior with some bread and I diligently complied.

It was delicious, absolutely delicious.

I’ve seen a video of Fergus Henderson, the British chef of St. John’s in England, smearing the buttery bone interior on some toast, but never imagined that I would be lucky enough to taste this beefy delight. I patted the marrow on some bread and quickly chomped it down. Think of the most tender steak you’ve even eaten, and then think of how good it would be if you didn’t have to chew it at all, it would melt in your mouth like butter. I could go into more detail about the texture and taste, but it is time for me to take siesta. I have more eating to do tonight.