Sometimes not only vaccines are the remedy that can save you from the havoc in your head wreaked by a year of seclusion, dying like a sparrow in a cage. Sometimes the cure, the mental relief, comes with the satisfaction of the animal in us, our primeval instincts. No, I do not mean sex. Don't be so basic! It's the food that kindles your soul, like a sun ray breaking through your prison cell.
And so, being a refined animal with a taste and on a spring parole in the way of lockdown break, I set sail for promising quarters in the city of Barcelona where nourishment abounds, the oasis of tapas known as the Sant Andreu neighborhood. Behold above its renown narrow streets dressed in bitter orange groves more typical of the sacred gardens of paradise than from a working class enclave. Nothing like some peace and quiet to go and sin for a while.
As you can see my mind is obscured after so much confinement and is hard to hit the bar that explains the tasty tapa of morcilla de Burgos and the cheek pads hamburger (mollete de carrilleras) on the menu at Bar Torrente of Carrer de Parellada, 28, 08030 Barcelona.
I never said it was easy to share the secret troves of a Barcelonian but believe me, everything has been so lonely lately that the city misses the usual buzz (not the noise!) and bar owners well deserve to get their lives back so the more we are the merrier.
Thanks to Bar Torrente for the marvelous sinful day!
