Eating Out For One

With my pre-cooked meals for June running out on Saturday, I had a choice: either I could have gone shopping last week, or even Saturday, or I could put it off and treat myself to a meal out on Sunday. I chose the latter, not just because I’m lazy, but I also thought that I could go to the Sunday Farmers’ Market first to see what ultra fresh veggies were available, before planning my July batch cooking around them.

(There are a couple of June meals I haven’t covered and posts have been slow I know: blame computer problems, yet again, and other day trips out, amongst other things, for my absence during much of last month.)

The produce from our market is locally grown and virtually unspoiled by progress, but the problem with that is, you never quite know what is going to be available. I was disappointed that the only things that I could buy this week were some new potatoes, a handful of fresh spinach (which is rare here) and a small lettuce.

Those, unfortunately, are not enough upon which to base a month’s meals. They’re hardly enough for a couple of days even, but I did enjoy what I got and the chance for a day out, which included a LONG walk along the back roads through the valley, followed by a delightful lunch at a local restaurant.

How do you cope with eating out for one? Do you even do so? It occurred to me that I am fortunate because I’m already on friendly terms with the owner at this restaurant and, despite Spain still having a reputation as a “family orientated” country, there never is any awkwardness about people eating out alone.

This, I think, is because eating is the matter of the prime importance here. Social is good, but if one happens to be out and on one’s own, so be it. One must still ensure proper feeding at the proper times. It’s what’s expected.

Of course, this is never any problem mid-week, when one could be eating alone in one’s lunch break, nor is it a problem at any of the plethora of tapas bars, where one can eat casually at the bar. But I also don’t find any problems: never had anyone stare at me or make me feel awkward because I was seated alone in a proper sit-down restaurant either here.

Is it just me, but in the UK, I would have felt uncomfortable doing this, or felt obliged to take some distraction, like a book or newspaper.

Of course, it’s not a problem with fast food either, but that doesn’t count as food as far as I’m concerned and you certainly won’t find any around here! Maybe this is one of the reasons why people rely on it so much though?

Since this is about food …

I started with this grilled fresh goat cheese (made in the local area), served with mojo (sauce made with hot red pepper and garlic) and miel de palma (sweet honey, or sap, from the palm tree). The contrasts are stunning.

Vegetarians will want to skip this one …

On previous visits to this restaurant, I’ve had some of the more unusual things on offer and had not thought to order the “plain” chicken. While I was having a pre-lunch beer (I walked miles across that valley and up some very steep hills: I earned it), one of the men from the village told me that the chickens were reared out back. This, I confirmed with the server, to be correct. Yes, I ordered it (with silent apologies to the unfortunate bird).

All chickens that we eat must have lived and died somewhere, I know. On the one hand, I’m happy for it that it lived running around the countryside, instead of being sardine-packed into some ghastly battery prison. On the other hand, my level of guilt rises somewhat with the sense of proximity.

Of course the photo does it no justice whatsoever, but it’s cooked over wood - something which fills the air around the village making the place irresistible - and flavor! You forget what chicken “used to taste like”, until you have this, which also explains one of the reasons why I - and many other people around here - don’t bother to cook meat at home. As well as diners on Sunday’s, there is also always a queue of people there with empty cooking pots to have them filled to take out!

And one must not miss …

Their homemade fig ice cream. I didn’t know that July is National Ice Cream Month until later, but I’m proud to have “done my bit!”

Three more sizable pieces of chicken came home in a bag too. Those made a sandwich for supper, went with some of the fresh new potatoes from the market and a salad made with the garden fresh lettuce for lunch today and there’s still a leg left. Not bad value for one dinner!

The only drawback is that I shall now have to think about doing some shopping this week and, above all, suffering my own cooking, which will seriously pale into insignificance now I’ve been this spoiled!