catalan menu del dia

My last day in magnificent Barcelona, and the highlight, around which all else would satellite was the “menu del dia” to pay homage to a month of pleasurable “being”. The “menu”, THE all inclusive lunch, is such an essence of Spain, long, leisurely, an elegant creation around an everyday, functional need, and one which surely created that other epitome of Spain, the siesta.

I located a small table and found myself next to a man, small but wiry, with a bronzed, outdoor, healthy looking bald head, below which was a round face, a small pair of glasses and a suggestion of mischief. The waitress took my order just as he was starting his very meaty mains, and I noted with approval the serious intent, the newspaper to one side, and at the helm, a bottle of red wine of which one glass was drained.

As my starter, an aesthetically pleasing ensalada nicoise, arrived, his plate was removed and his dessert order taken. An attractive plate of sliced oranges with syrup and a walnut centrepiece, arrived. His coffee was then ordered; however, slightly fierce beneath his mischieviously wrinkled laughter eyes, he also requested a cognac, and a very specific mark of cognac. He returned to his paper, a world of quiet contemplation.

My fish arrived as his waitress arrived with the cognac bottle. She questioned, he nodded, she poured, it emptied, she went away, she came back with another bottle, she poured some more, he looked up from his paper briefly and smiled. Wrapped in appropriate serene enjoyment, he sat back and took out a large cigar. He leaned over and enquired if the smoke would bother me. “No not at all”; enjoyment was uppermost as I sipped on my second glass of wine and mopped up the juices and oil with bread. I turned to say that pleasure was clearly his, and a cigar an integral part. “Yes” he responded, “I am a Catalan!” and walked off happily. I continued with the same sweet, paid and went home for a siesta and to savour “being” in Barcelona.