Sink Me, If I ain't hungry.
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Notes from the Peninsula
by The Earl of Foulmouth
Jolly tasty
Once one has acquired the ability to put reality to one side, or abandon the truth if you will, the whole eating experience on the peninsula can be enormously satisfying.
Indeed I would go so far as to say that some of the more extravagant dishes here, wouldn't shame the tables of some of the finest fellows in England. Although I imagine his Lordship Shuteye may have something to say about that.
You see it's all just a matter of closing ones eyes and thinking of England to begin with. You have to trust the locals to a degree (although I must confess to never touching a damn thing, that I haven't actually seen previously consumed with gusto by another fellow).
What would seem folly to an English stomach is rather more common place here, and with the abundance of bizarre life in the Mediterranean, comes a rather simple but practical attitude to eating what one can get ones hands on.
So, pray tell, I hear you hark, may one find in the rich turquoise belly of the Mediterranean? And this is where a pinch of resolve is needed: Tentacles complete with suckers may initially trouble the eye somewhat; beasts that scour the seabed cleansing its very soul, generally come in the most un-pleasing form; whilst mysterious worm-like creatures served within the very shell they call home, generally resemble worms in shells.
The initial reaction to such an ugly array of dishes is to question what kind of wretch would touch such filth. And as a gentleman of the English Empire I must confess to being somewhat insulted at first, by the very suggestion that such rot was worthy of my palette. However one is in Spain, and the luxuries of life, that the greatness of a nation provides are a tad difficult to come by here. One has to adapt or get bored of chicken.
So, one adapts, and one attempts to forget that one is venturing into the murky world of eating slimy beasts from the bottom of the food chain. As I mentioned earlier, the secret is to put reality aside.
From here, it is only a small step, to turning ones attention to the body parts of other more noble creatures, previously considered, by this gentleman at least to be beyond edibility. Whilst we English have long since recognised the exquisite delight of bacon or the sumptuous luxury of belly pork, we have neglected the pig's cheek, trotters and snout. Lamb chops are fit to grace the finest tables in the land, but why ignore the poor creature's head?
While none of this may sound like food befitting an Englishman, let me assure you of the shear deliciousness of the damn lot. Of course I have neglected to mention, so far the extraordinary skills of the locals when it comes to preparing such fine delights. I have gorged I say, heartily since arriving on these remarkable shores.
And now I speak the unspeakable, but I even find myself coming round to being able to put up with the inconvenience of having to pay over the odds for English luxuries. Items we take for granted as being readily available on any table throughout the kingdom.
Believe me Sir, it stabs one in the heart, when one cannot lavish a dish with mint sauce, Branston pickle or malt vinegar. A world where apple pie and custard does not exist, is bang next door to hell itself. As for the impossible idea of failing to wash down a trusty stew with a pint of fine ale. My hands tremble as I type.
Of course I do not need, nor does any man need, to put up with such odious ideas, and one is more than happy to pay for the import of these items. If at times it’s a trifle inconvenient (and don't get me started on trifle). However having displayed the courage to venture forth and eat anything one may encounter, these matters become more trivial with every passing day. I am not suggesting that Butifarra with white beans for example is in any way a suitable replacement for bangers and mash (what foreign sausage based dish is?), however, it is jolly tasty. I may even go so far as to suggest that some of the dishes here, exceed, some of those back home!
My good friend Captain Birds Eye can rest assured however, that the good old English fish finger is in no immediate danger.
The mind of an Englishman is not so readily moved!
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Lord Arse, Baron Iron Face and The Laird of the Highlands enjoy an informal evening of light refreshments in the dining room at Treetops. They enjoyed a fine meal and a few choice wines.
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