As we were leaving Chiringuito Bahía Beach, the English-speaking person at the table in front of us hissed at her dining companion as they stood up to leave: "That was the worst food..."
Well, what we had wasn't "the worst food", but it was not one of the more-satisfying meals I've had in Spain. My tuna was just kind of dumped in a plate with a cut onion and some tomatoes. I mean: unsurprisingly great tuna, but I could've purchased and opened the tuna jar and cut the onion myself for about €7 less. DJ Potato's gambas pil-pil wasn't as good as the one from Bodega San Francisco two nights ago and was twice as expensive. It's kind of bad when you're at a seafood restaurant and the best thing at the table is the vegetarian person's not-on-the-menu pasta with cream sauce.
But hey I'm not moaning! Really: the wine was crisp and dry, the company was predictably incomparable, and we were still at the beach. In Spain.
This is an often-NSFW, mostly gluten-free kitchen notebook that also occasionally threatens to turn into something else and fails, thus remaining its same old cryptic and superficial self. These posts begin to fail to explain (start at the bottom).