Sada: Saturday Fiesta en la Casa
In the morning went to “Café Venezuela” coffee
shop, famous in my family for the super thick chocolate/cocoa drink and
churros. Reed did not seem as inspired by the chocolate as I am and the
minimized the excitement level. Also had something of an awkward exchange with
the waitress and I think this put her on something of the defensive. Well, now
I have a clear memory of where the café is, just off Barrie de la Maza by a few
feet.
Believe the Perez/Pena real estate office is just a
few feet further down the street from Venezuela. The real estate office was one
connection I did not make concerning prospective sale of the house—an unlikely
event in any case. Otherwise, good connections made—
The Sada Saturday night fiesta turned out to be an
enjoyable experience. One of my better decisions regarding the entire trip was
the suggestion we all get together at the Lopez house. I realized our 4 day
visit to Sada would pass quickly and took action to get the party rolling.
Marisol was at the house with Pily and Judit when the party plan got rolling. I
requested that Marisol order some seafood empanadas, turns out to be my favorite Sada
food item. She suggested-- tuna and raisin. That sounded good. I asked about
pulpo. Of course! Asking for pulpo in Sada is like asking for barbecue or
Mexican food in Texas; there’s plenty of it. Reed mentioned “grelos” (greens)
and the result was a third empanada of bacalao and grelos. And by empanada we
mean a large baking pan and an empanada the size of a sheet cake, though maybe
not so thick. The results were delicious. Cost was 62.50 €. That’s the euro sign! A good deal for so much
wonderful food!
On party night we had a huge Sada cheese, the soft
“teta” cheese, the cheese that normally comes in the shape of a breast or
“tit.” The teta cheese, I learned at Barlata's, a Spanish restaurant in Austin, comes from blonde cows! Turns out I fell in love with that cheese, perhaps a regression to
infancy. The cheese we had did not have the breast shape but I went crazy over
it over the following days as we had a huge serving in our refrigerator. I
wasn’t able to eat all that cheese and so it went back to Marisol when we left
town.
Amparito made one of her divine flans. Again the
size dwarfed your normal portion of flan—the filled an entire tin pot and made
a mega-flan when turned over on to a serving dish. Fernando had delicious plums
from a friend’s orchard. I found myself attracted to the plums because of my
mother Beatriz’s stories of her mother, Dolores Garcia Lopez, returning to Sada
from New York and being greeted by her pals with mounds of fruit. This would
have been 1934 with Bea about 8 years of age. The memory of the family history
added to the savor quality of the plums.
We got Bea on the phone during the party and the
result was a one-hour long distance phone call on my cellphone. I was happy
with the T-Mobile service for Europe. Somebody told me the company started in
Germany and maybe that explains the strong service and support I experienced.
Earlier in the day, Reed and I walked up the hill
on the street on the side of house all the way to Fontan. Seemed to be more
houses then I remembered out that way—progress no doubt since I last walked the
hill. We came upon an old Gallega lady. Say “old Gallega lady” and the emphasis
is on old. The baseline for old age must start at 80 years; anything less does
not approach old age in this part of the world. The lady was cutting her grass
with a scythe, a sight which amused Reed and won his admiration. She conversed
with us—and said Alejandro, an old and important relative, made it to NY and
another relative went to Argentina. She had a nice, well-kept house, a
box-shaped, 2-storey rock and mortar building like most of the structures, wbut
with a magnificent view of Sada Marina and the Rias Altas below.
We crossed the upper part of the town and into
Fontan and made our way down to the port. Our walk progressed and crossed the
new and improved Sada playa. Reed got to glimpse another topless Spanish woman
though the Sada gal rested on her stomach with sumptuous breasts only visible
from the side—the famous “side boob” for which we do not know the Spanish word.
I was unsuccessful in trying to secure cash at the
ATM machine, the bank alcove, across our side street. After I paid Marisol for
the 3 beautiful empanadas I had less cash than comfortable with, something to
worry about but a problem solved later on with a stop at ABanca. I come from
family of worriers, after all, and have learned my lessons well.
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