Pablo tunes his guitar, each smooth string pluck interspersed with a strike of the church’s bell. Noon on a sunny day in January spent...

The joys of coffee in a small town in Northern Spain

It took three chomps to work my way through the bread, each bite starting with a crunch that sent a spray of crackled crust onto the...

We swam in the river this afternoon, or maybe I should say that we became part of the river for an hour. We were prodded to the cold...

I watch as sunlight spotlights a field on the other side of the small valley, turning it from grass and trees to liquid delight. If I...

Reflections on living in Spain and rationalizing eating churros

This Saturday, we saw a part of Andalucía that most tourists don’t get to see thanks to Paco, a colleague of my partner who offered to...

The lights dim, the audience slowly quiets, and then three men dressed in black take the stage. A talented guitarist, practically a kid...

Once settled in a place with a kitchen, it hardly takes long for me to make a pot of beans. I like beans because they are meant to be...

Migas: a dish I could't figure out. A tapa made of corn? flour? couscous? It turns out to be made of bread crumbs (migas means "crumbs"...