Wilfrid

The show, in an old ballroom with a kind of red glow, was spectacular and the audience reaction the wildest I've yet seen. After the show, I got lucky. My friend and I went for refreshments to a craft beer bar nearby. We must have been there thirty or forty minutes and when we came out there was a gaggle of people outside a different bar. I just immediately saw drummer Maria's afro; which is quite distinctive. She was with bassist Paula so I went up and said hello, then I knew I had to say "Where is Ana? She knows me." And suddenly there she was and she did know who I was. Hugs, conversation, selfies. I said I wasn't very good at selfies, Ana said "I am" and grabbed my phone.

More to come but here's the important part.

Four hours to Hinds. Too early to start drinking but I think I've had enough cafe solos for one day.

Maybe not quite as funny as My Fucking Restaurant or Good Shit Vegan Kebabs, but I took note of the Sinatra-themed My Way.

After enjoying the ineffable peace of the upstairs galleries at Museu Frederic Mares, lunch at La Pineda. For once I ordered the half-size surtido des embutidos and I was glad I did because it was not burdened with stacks of chorizo. A glass of dark Catalan rose, Hereus. ETA: The colorful sausage in the middle row is Morcon, a fabulously bulbous sausage traditionally encased in a pig's bladder. I don't think I've had it here before.

Green Chartreuse. I wondered if they'd have it but spied it on the bottom shelf.

Oh more comps.

Bar Celta may be about the only old school tapas bar left anywhere near the center of the city (yes, there's a hole-in-the-wall here and there). Same food, same owner forever. The tapas are big. I usually order morcilla, but I'd had it for lunch. Bunuelos de bacalao, chipirrones. Only room for a plate of bacon (plus comps) at Bodega 8, where I also heard a lot of soccer stories from an English couple. Oh the bunuelo photo was last minute.

A gentleman never wears shorts except on the beach or in the desert. 🧐

Halfway through a Last Word at Boadas. Next three evenings are packed so might wander around some old tapas bars tonight. Bars in general are very quiet. The staff blame Dry January and the weather. The weather is dry too but I was finding it chilly even though it's in the 50s. Realized I am not dressed as I would be in New York.

Excellent two-floor show of Catalan artists in Paris (1900-1914) at Museu Picasso. Lunch a few steps away at Tapeo, opposite El Xampanyet. This is Tapeo by Daniel Rueda who apparently used to be at Commerc24. Very good pincho moruno with mint yogurt; a hunk of morcilla de Burgos with piri piri sauce and a scoop of housemade cream cheese; a plate of eggplants in honey and lime which was good, but too large and too rich for one person. With a glass of wine and mineral water, 26 euros. Walked it off at the Leger show at Palau Martorell. Last photo is Bodega 8 spied from a window of the Palau.

Last night's food was at Bodega 8 that I discovered last time I was here. It's an attractive room in an old building on Placa de Merce, sweeping modern bar, mainly locals and regulars and big cute dogs. The owner remembered me so comps followed. In addition to superb ham and fuet from the family carnisseria and cheese with walnuts she sent out pepper bacon and longaniza. Cava, Pla del Blages tinto and a chupito of cognac.

If Ana is not in a relationship, the world is mad.

Well this has been a long day but always worth it. Seven hours of sleepless squirming on a plane, but look what it gets you. It gets you here.

More detail about food later but again, smacked in the face by the prices. This lovely bar, huge plates of potato chips and crackers, the best charcuterie and cheese, more charcuterie comped, two glasses of the most expensive cava, a reserve red, a shot of good cognac = $40. That's it, no gratuity. I just retreated to a cozy bar behind my hotel for a digestif which will cost pennies and I get a bread/tomato/tortilla snack with it. The two high end cocktails at Boadas did reach $27, kind of NYC happy hour, but as always no tip on top of that. If I eat and drink enough I will pay for my flight.

Yes indeed. Why I do not know. Find them on YouTube. Very smooth trip that I am now celebrating with a Hanky Panky in Boadas.

SadIy Bobby Van's is shutting down. It has been my last post before the BCN flight for a while. Devoted readers will remember me drinking with a Finnish metal band called Cliff Barnes on my last trip. I remember anyway. In other minor annoyances, after considering my packing for several days, I forgot a travel adapter. And I have a bunch. Post-martini schlep around the terminal until I found one in a remote kiosk. Boy, does Ana owe me.

I expect that's the set. They are still selling the new album of course. It will be different seeing them addressing the audience in Spanish. Bobby Van's at Terminal 8. Last stop before the late flight

Good news.

This week is hard work. My (second) oldest friend is meeting me in Barcelona to see Hinds with my godson (his son) who lives there. He just told me his mother passed away, aged 100. I knew her from my childhood. I remain confident that Hinds and Barcelona can cast a warm glow over all this.

I will happily order that elk again. But I am confused. I thought I found it on D'Artagnan and they liked my instagram post. But the order was fulfilled by Wild Fork Farms who say they get it from their partners, Fossil Farms. I will track it down. About $29 for three filets and the best red meat I can remember buying in a while.

I don't want any Beatles CDs.

Seeing Nellie McKay at LPR together and bobbing along to her cover of "Hungry Freaks, Daddy." Followed by dinner at noreetuh to get a bottle of white and a bottle of red from that insanely well-priced vintage list. The tasting menu shared at Aska and both of us looking quizzically at the raw sprouts on the branch. He took me to dinner at Le Coq Rico to discuss ideas for what eventually became GoOut! A blind beer tasting at my apartment where he found it hilarious that my daughter (aged about 7?) was serving the unnamed beers and calling out the numbers ("Beer No. 3!"). I just remembered the first time I met him in person at Jimmy's Corner. Of all his contributions here, the titanic "Today I Played" thread.

@Jesikka A bottle of white followed by a bottle of red. That was the routine. A bottle each in other words. Barry was kind enough to attend my small NYC 25th anniversary get together at Sardi's. We had never been to Sardi's together before, but we had each been going for years and worshipped the great bartender Jose. I have so many happy memories of times with him. Trying to focus on that.