This was going to be a great breakfast. After what seemed an eternal flight from Sydney via a day in the Forbidden City in Beijing, being served warm beer and cat food masquerading as beef with rice on the plane, any food short of dog turd iced in marzipan would instantly elicit a rousing cheer.
This place was just around the corner from our fab Madrid apartment. It looked like a cathedral of ham, what with dead legs of pig of varying ages and quality hanging proudly from the roof. We had the English breakfast, consisting of bacon, eggs, crusty bread, coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice.
The service from the bar was quick and efficient. We loved the buzz of Spanish people just hanging around (not unlike the ham in that regard). And the low cost of our meal, at just 4.50 EU a serve, made even my cheapskate partner, Patrick, smile. So began my usual 'why! why! why! can't we get places like this in Sydney?'
Where everything costs more than an arm and a leg. And the servers are generally so rude that even cracking the barest of smiles is well beyond them.
After an absence of seven years, our tasty kiss with Madrid had begun... read more