Barcelona Bravas

Even though they had their share, Shota and Amy missed out on las mejores Patatas Bravas de Barcelona, which I enjoyed during my day trip peregrinaje to the Vilar/Connil home site in the suburb of Sarria. Served with all i oli and salsa picante at the packed bar Tomas de Sarria, we ordered 6 portions to go, and I had eaten two of those portions (huge by European standards) in tie, hot, and walking, even before we had reached the family apartment for a roasted chicken lunch with Montse (Maria de Monteserrat, Maria's Aphrodite eyed mother), husband (Manolo), and wonderful children, Maria and Victor.

All i oli has always amazed me, and Catalunia truly challenges my ideas on the sauce, because good quality hyper thick spoonfuls of it are so easy to find. Good olive oil and good garlic (fresh?) should produce good all i oli, but every time I succeed in persuading the garlic to emulse as it dances with the oil, I find myself with small quantities of success and an overcautious fear of it returning, and leaving me with only the original ingredients. In Barcelona, the all i oli is strong, it is thick, it is white, and it is impossible to ligar after eating it, but it is worth it (as Spanish girls require excessive warming up anyway).

The salsa picante is secondary, and seems to be a cayenne paprika oil mixture identical to that drizzled on pulpo a la Gallega in Barcelona, but it has the benefits of both flavor and looks.

Tomas de Sarria has reached cult status, and the combination of huge turnover, great potatoes (Maria swears this is their secret), all i oli and salsa picante, made my toothpick attack of a plate of fried potatoes experience the perfect thread of a memorable afternoon.