The Shoelace

The meal began with a nice old man bringing a giant pig leg over to our table on a roller cart. We watched as he painstakingly hand carved the world famous jamon Iberico – placing each small delictable bite on the plate with artful precision.

This gorgeous plate of ham, along with two glasses of crisp cold Cava, was our first course.

Nearly three hours later our fifth (or ninth?) course was delivered. I don’t remember what it was because, at that point, who gives a shit. My wife and I lifted our weary heads off of the white tablecloth and looked up at the waiter. It was a look that said, “why are you doing this too us.”

The waiter smiled and poured us two small glasses of Spanish sherry to accompany the dessert course.

Somehow the five course chef’s tasting menu came with eighteen glasses of wine or sherry, an English pint of beer, four shots of tequila, and one of those giant frozen margarita drinks with two Coronas placed upside down in the sixty-four ounce goblet.

With my head spinning and my stomach plotting it’s revenge on me, I turned to my wife and asked, “do we get like a free t-shirt or something if we eat all of this?”

She didn’t answer as she had passed out in her chair – her head tilted back, arms limp, with small gentle snores the only indication that she was still alive.

The name of the restaurant is Abades Triana Restaurante. A fine dining establishment with views of the Guadalquivir river and the famous Torre del Oro castle on the other side.

What a lovely setting to barf in.

Don’t get me wrong. The food was excellent. After the jamon we had the amuse bouche, a caviar course, then foie gras with lavash, soft boiled eggs with black truffle, crawfish two ways, a poached whitefish in a butter reduction, a perfectly prepared beef loin, fourteen buttered croquettes served in a deep fried chocolate cake, and what the hell a couple of twinkies.

Walking back to our rental after the meal, we noticed the bars and cafes closing up for the evening. You know you are out late in Spain when nearly every establishment is closing up shop.

Sleep came easy and I woke the next morning out of a coma. We had scheduled a train to the seaside town of Cadiz at 10:45am. It was just past 8am as I rolled over to check my phone. I heard my wife’s small voice whisper, “I’ll still go to Cadiz today if you really want to.” Every man knows this voice and phrasing is wife code for “I’ll blame you for all of eternity if you make me do this.”

No problem. Cadiz is centuries old and can wait for us. Back to sleep it is.