I was walking around after eating a pretty great pizza at Pizzeria Brandi, when I saw a huge crowd lining up for what appeared to be some kind of food. A bit of investigation revealed it to a place called Zia Esterina that’s actually really famous for their fried pizza.
If you’ve read my post about Las Fritas in Barcelona, then you’ll know I’m pretty much entirely powerless to resist a line for food. What’s at the end of that line? How delicious is it? I must know.
Pizzeria Brandi claims to have invented the margherita pizza back in 1890 (though Wikipedia disputes that fact); true or not, a lot of people want to check the place out. It’s tourist overload. When I went, it was the most Asian people I’ve seen concentrated in one spot since coming to Europe.
Still, as jammed with tourists as it was (and it was jammed), how could I not go here? They invented the margherita pizza. If you love pizza and you don’t pay this place a visit, you’re doing it wrong.
I have a thing about people lining up for food. If I see a line, I feel a very strong compulsion to stop whatever I’m doing and get in it. Because what do those people know that I don’t know? Following the mob isn’t always the wisest of choices, but seriously, what’s at the front of that line and how do I eat it?
So when I saw a line for a place that specializes in fries called Las Fritas when I was walking around in Barcelona, I was in that line almost instantly. I had never heard of this place, and French fries don’t exactly scream authentic Spanish food, but look at that line. It must be good!
Note: Thanks to a bunch of terrorist douchebags, the chronology of this blog is a bit messed up. This and the next few posts were actually written before that whole fiasco, which is why this is written as though I’m still in Zaragoza.
I wound up in Zaragoza pretty much at random; the initial plan was to go to San Sebastian between Madrid and Barcelona. It turns out I’m a cheapo and can’t afford San Sebastian, so plan B it is: spending a few nights in Zaragoza, a medium-sized city about halfway between Madrid and Barcelona.
It’s not exactly the first place place you think of when you visit Spain (I hadn’t even heard of it until recently), but I’m actually quite enjoying my time here.
This wasn’t something that I thought would be particularly blog-worthy; just a quick (and unhealthy) breakfast thanks to a random recommendation on the internet. “Hey,” the internet told me, “the napolitana de chocolate at La Mallorquina is actually pretty good!” Okay, internet, I’ll give it a shot.
The bakery turned out to be in a super touristy part of town, so my expectations weren’t very high, to put it kindly.
Then I took a bite and my whole life changed.
Since I began my travels, I’ve gone to a few movies. Now, I know what you’re thinking: you traveled halfway around the world just to go to the movies?? Well:
There are certain things that you just know are going to taste great; you don’t even need to try them. One of those things? A dish that’s actually really popular here in Madrid called chocolate con churros (which is churros with a cup of thick, rich hot chocolate for dipping).
So here’s a thing that happens a bunch in Portugal. You’ll head to a restaurant, all excited to try whatever dish they’re known for; you’ve walked a few kilometres to get there, and oh, what’s this? Yeah, they’re closed for the next three weeks. Apparently Portuguese chefs love to shut down for the month of August.
This recently happened to me (for the third or fourth time), and so I was wandering around looking for something to eat. I very quickly (and fortuitously) stumbled on a park that just happened to be hosting the Porto Food Festival.
There are certain drinking-related things you have to do when you go to a country: if you’re in Scotland, you have to drink some Scotch; if you’re in Ireland, you have to drink some Guinness; and when you’re in Porto, you have to have to drink some port wine.
So here’s a weird thing about the subway system here in Porto: it seems to be run on the honour system. There are no gates anywhere; there are machines to load up your swipe card with the fare for a ride, and there’s these little card scanners around each station that (I think) you’re supposed to swipe before you get on a train and when you transfer, but that’s it. I’ve never actually seen anyone confirming that passengers have paid their fare. It’s weird.