The Wife is out of town for work/a family visit for five days and that means I have the run of the place for the first time since gettin’ hitched. Time to turn this condo into a bachelor pad. Problem is, I don’t think I was very good at being a bachelor when I was one. It’s basically going to equate more talking to the dog as though he is people, singing along to Bruce Springsteen at louder levels, more cereal for meals that aren’t breakfast, and all the History Channel’s Ancient Aliens I can handle.
Let me pause here and educate you peeps about this amazing television phenomenon for those of you who may not know. It’s basically guys like this:
laying out how aliens have come to Earth throughout history and done everything from collect DNA samples from all species (the real Noah’s Ark), to building the pyramids, to helping the Nazis build a time machine. Now here’s where it gets interesting. These are like hour and a half long episodes and I start off chuckling at the ridiculous speculations and exaggerations of these nut jobs, but I will be damned if by the end of each episode I’m not starting to think that maybe aliens have used ultra powerful lasers from satellites to manifest hurricanes in the ocean so large that they caused the ice age (actual segment of this show). Where was I? Oh yes, I catch some every now and then but The Wife can only stomach so much so I plan to get my fill of crazy this weekend.
The real question is what to do about food? See, I do
most all of the cooking in the house, and do a fine job of keeping us nice and “Midwest fit,” but I don’t really like cooking for one. Sure I would be happy just to alternate Chipotle and Five Guys every night, but I do have a little bit of self control. So I basically eat whatever is easiest and on hand. Tonight that means a bocadillo. See, when we were in Spain for our honeymoon, it seemed like everyone was always carrying around little sandwiches. On the trains, on the beach, on the street, everywhere. It only took a couple of days before we realized these were not sandwiches at all, but bocadillos. Essentially, they are a small sandwich filled with jamon, maybe cheese, and maybe some tomatoes or roasted red pepper if you want to get really fancy. It is pretty much the perfect meal for any time of day, especially for a country so enamored with ham, and by the end of our stay, we too could be found in the park with a couple bocadillos wrapped in foil shoved in our satchels. I guess this is a recipe so here you go:
What you need
*Baguette-ish bread, something with a crust to it.
*Cheese. Chevre goes beautifully, a manchego would be more traditional. Anything you have that isn’t Kraft singles will do.
*Jamon serrano, iberico, prosciutto, whatever you can find. Trader Joes prosciutto here. How much jamon, you ask? That depends how Spanish you are feeling. Today, I am feeling very Spanish.
What you do
Slice that bread and put it together, man, you never make a sandwich?.
“But, what about sides, ” you ask “Just the bocadillo?”
Sides? What does this look like to you? A diner? You want a side, you put some extra damn jamon on the plate and call it a side.
This, people, is one of many reasons why I believe Spain to be the best food country in the world. More on this later.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have a date with the pup and Ancient Aliens. Did you know that they came down and harvested most of our stores of gold to use in their own technology!?