Violette's Blog

If you have cloven hooves, weight about 100 kilos, like to eat acorns, have a snot, like to run and play in the woods, and make grunting noises, don’t move to Spain! They will eat you. But if you have all of these qualities, and still decide to move there, be rest assured you will not be slaughtered in vain, you will be put to good use.

Iberian pork, my god the stuff is delightful, tasty and I am not just talking about the famous ham-Jamón ibérico, or pata negra. This is just one way in which to enjoy this delicious variety of pig, you can also get it served raw with various sauces depending on which restaurant you decide to try in Barcelona. I went to a lovely restaurant called PLA hidden down some twisty turny streets located close to Plaza St. Jaume. Once you know where you are going, it is easy. Plus I love late night cities, where you can make a reservation to go out yo dinner at 10:30, and still get served a delicious meal. We skipped the starter, because we had gouged ourselves earlier in the afternoon on some delicious tapas at Tapas24, now don’t ask me what I had, I just pointed to the coolest sounding thing on the menu and a dish appeared. One, I think was a crunchy fried pork trotter-de boned with a fried egg. YUMMY!

Anyway, so we were ushered in by a rather dishy looking waiter with serious bedhead, in fact it was so serious, it could only have be contrived, arms like a weight lifter, and the sweetest accent when he spoke English.

He told us what was on offer, and then gave us the menus. the standard bottle of cava was ordered, it was dry crisp and went down a treat. My friend ordered the special of the day, which was a lovely sticky rice-almost risotto like cooked in a fish stock with squid ink as garnish and pulpo fried on top. I had the BRAISED IBERIAN PORK sirloin! The tiny medallions melted in you mouth, and left behind a flavor you just don’t get in factory raised pigs. Half way through my friend and I switched and he too was melting with pleasure at how tasty the dish was. We followed with a pear tartin, cava, coffee for me, and a digestive which I think if there wasn’t food in my stomach to coat it, would have eaten right through. It was a wonderful Catalan blueberry liqueur.

So, upon my return to work in a few weeks, if you gentleman notice that my rather voluptuous bottom has filled out somewhat, you will know why, blame it on the delicious Iberian pigs.