At Giseno, Lago di Como.

What happens when you forget dough during secondary fermentation and then bake it without beating it down.

Assuming RW’s liver survives the test.

A British soldier’s hazy recollections of civil war in Portugal.

Carles Miró wonders why more people are not similarly affected.

The cases of Spain and Holland.

It’s no longer a swinging safari now the nature-lovers have got guns too.

Stallholders in Vilafranca del Penedès are slashing prices, but don’t let greed get the better of you.

A special offer on meat balls with cuttlefish will have to do until the wheel of fortune creaks in their direction.

I kind of thought there’d be some Italian. How disappointing, but still good for killing baby rabbits to. This is an excellent resource, even if they seem to have some vague something against George W.

Linguistic evidence for Japanese domination, with several field reports of a more general nature.

When they were detained by the Médoc gendarmes, Georges and Frédéric had the grave misfortune to have in their possession a sack containing ten succulent little bundles of spines. Turning its face from all that the British cherish in France, the criminal court in Bordeaux put animal protection above lavish family meals and fined these [...]

It would be Švankmajer-nice to think that the wide-scale conversion of Spanish country restaurants into brothels is the logical, albeit unexpected consequence of a social craze for abandoning what is feared to be cultural in favour of what is assumed to be natural. However, the replacement of cooks by pimps means that we have not [...]

For a long time I’ve avoided the centre of town, where the keywords are minuscule and mediocre, but even in quieter districts it’s difficult to find a decent traditional menu for a sensible price. Ca la Flor (Secretari Coloma 10, metro Joanic) is just the job: €8.50 for three generous home-cooked courses with free-flowing booze, [...]

This isn’t about who invented bar snacks, or about why one particular gibber of Catalan nationalism should want to deny having invented them.
Someone speculated drunkenly last night that, since tapas appears in English from the 1950s (C Salter in OED, “In Spain, when you order a drink in a bar.., you will always be [...]

Debating at lunch how long it would be before we’re all eating grass soup (sopa de golf on the costas), we progressed to the devil’s cookbook, and someone mentioned the 16th century colonial chronicler, Bernardino de Sahagún.
Back when Bernardino was booking the cooks Mictlan was where dead Aztecs lived–way up north, probably in New [...]

And, judging by the envious comments on Facebook, possibly the first in Southeast Asia:

One of the mysteries of globalisation is that I spend quite a lot of time at the moment writing for Chinese exporters. The first foreign I learnt as a kid was fragments of Cantonese. Maybe I’ll get a chance to check out [...]

Ah! “Oranges, golden oranges of Spain, the daughters of the sun!” on a promo disc intermediated by David Noades.
The campaign was, according to this auction site, actually late 1960s and featured some revolting children and serving suggestions on the inside cover and some rather alarming dwarves on the outside:

… but here anyway is Arturo Barea, [...]

Some old photos over at the NOAA library, some new ones here. Not much of that any more. Farmed tuna doesn’t sound particularly attractive. I suppose we could always keep one in the bath.

Processing is underway into diverse preserves of the considerable quantities of blackberries and figs gathered this afternoon with la Primitiva Hermandad de la Primera Sueca on a variant of this walk. Some of the blackberries are being turned into liquor, and I found this whilst fishing around for a more unsuitable recipe:
A very laughable story [...]