be it, drink it

wonderful xocholata milk drink with chalky aftertaste, made on my street

pocos tintos con la playa

tinto de verrano is the drink of choice for the spanish in the summer.

its red wine mixed with lemon soda or la casera (like siete up) and ice.

fresca joven

this lunch is what my spanish suenos are made of,

so it gets its own post.

i sought out mariscos emilio with a mission to complete, oysters and manzanilla.

fresco y frio. the word on the calle was that this was the freshest in sevilla.

this was reason solo enough to come to this city.

the bar was seemingly full and i wandered back and fro from the dining room,

waiting for a seat.

a lovely japanese business man was finishing up, questioned me a bit and

offered up his place at the steel bar. barman totally scoffs at me and then i lay it down.

poneme una manzanilla y cuatro ostras (literally, you say put on me what you would like to order)

he stops the ridule and raises a brow, es la verdad senor, i'm no joke and i wanna eat the sea.

we then discuss my shrimp options and i decided on some raw mariscos con cabezas

with my oysters and old lady drink. vamos a comer!

the rest of this may become hazy and dreamlike, it was my sublime.

and i embark on a low tide high.

manzanilla is the speciality drink of andalucia, its a crisp dry sherry served iced cold.

its bloody wonderful with seafood and totally refreshing and

i plan on consuming much more after this lunch.

the mariscos arrive doused in a bit of rock salt. i feel like i just stepped foot on the shore.

i waste no time and peel, suck and indulge myself til i'm giddy,

discarding each decapitated specimen on a plate like a white moon.

ostras interrupt me. they are mucho mas grande than those i'm used to at my

brooklyn beloved marlow and son.

i order another glass and i'm well on my path to oblivion.

i'm meant to arrive at the seaside in a few days but these glossy half shells make

my mouth feel like it beat my body there.

this amigos, is why i chose spain.

i stop for a moment to look up and enjoy the chaos. cockles and calamari. canas and cracking.

these dudes behind the bar are making a swift dance pouring cerveza and knocking open shellfish.

sadly, i finish up my plate, want to order more.

watch the dance a bit longer and let senor know i'm ready to depart.

he seizes the moment again but nod with approval at my empty plates and glass,

'veintiuno, joven' (translation: 21, young one)

hit it.

mariscos emilio!

calle genova, 1

sevilla espana

colores y comidas

of course, my first off shore post had to be food related

it wouldn't be me writing if it wasn't

i arrived early in the dia and just walked around Madrid

i found all these city cleaning guys sporting these radical neon colour combinations

i dig the yellows/reds/blues with the reds/fuschias of the flores

it was brilliant to see shannon later that evening and hear her beautiful flawless spanish

she took me a couple of her visiting pals to txirimirla

this basque tapas bar

we started with this amazing dry white wine, txoli, which had me considering rerouting my

travel plans to include a stop in bilboa to grab a case of the stuff

i had four glassfuls. and a heap of great tapas.

we took a late night coche spin around the major sites in and around the ciudad.

a first noche to beat.

wine on the street after midnight

i brought with me a bottle of wine,

a token that came with my bearing news

good grand news of adventures and the boats that will take me to them

we opened the bottle, poured and then

with joie de viver i opened my map of plans

you were less than pleased

and wondered why i had to go do such a thing

and alone

wondered why i couldn't spend summer in

the front rows of your shows

existing as your ultimate encourager

solely for you

wasn't it obvious i was a raging wind and

i need to sail and flicker out some lights make others bright

see with new sight

when you slammed the door

it was me between that and the street

i walked on it didn't matter even if you had written a song for eyes like oceans

the bottle minus the contents of two glassfuls

took its swan dive and the liquid left stains on the pavement

was that entirely necessary

you thought so it seemed

i was on the verge because that was my good news in that drink

i thought about soaking it up with the white hem of my dress

just to defy you in another unexpected fashion

it was a fruity full bodied melbec

wild raspberry on the nose

and i hated to see it wasted

but it was late so i walked back to brooklyn

i knew it would be a long walk form long island city

but i felt no challenge nothing hindering

spring was near maybe i would meet her along the way

i had broken the bracelet of us and felt free

maybe i'd sing and skip

and alone it would be

as it was meant

this was a night i walked to walk forever

like a journey on a train that you never want to end

never want to reach the destination 

seems odd for some but i like those blurry images

from the window passing to never stop them

clear as day

claudio colucci's carafe un verre, 2001

inside out champagne glasses, alissia melka teichroew, 2004

le tomate

another pastis cocktail avec a splash of grenadine. 

oh, how i used to adore shirley temples.

friends of a feather

the other day, i met spiro. i was sure he was a french sailor, in his stripe shirt,

holding his parrot coloured drink. in from port, thinking of his only love, la mer.

he reminisced about marseille and told me that certain locale informed his

drink choice of the evening.

le perroquet (the parrot)

one ounce pastis

one splash of creme de menthe

four ounces of cool water

stir and serve, its a sin to add ice cubes, they would say in marseille.

petit jaune.

my drink of choice on bastille day. vive la france!

le rouge du maroc

back in april, when my mum visited, we dined at wd-50 and 

enjoyed this brilliant syrah from morocco.

never pass up a layer cake.

my roommate jacked a bottle of this from a party he worked a few weeks back.

its splendid.