Barcelona: Day 1

Another day, another blog post of a trip that took place two months ago!

Specifically, it was over the four-day Easter weekend that the boy and I headed to Barcelona. Note: four-day weekends are fabulous. Don't get me wrong, three-day weekends are pretty great too. But three days off still feels more weekendish than like a vacation, whereas four becomes plenty to shake my brain empty of all things work-related and focus properly on gallivanting.

We arrived on a warm evening and found our Airbnb on Las Ramblas. This is probably the equivalent of staying at Navy Pier in Chicago or Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. There were tourists everywhere. The Airbnb itself was fine enough but we quickly gathered our wits about us and ventured out for some tapas. We found an excellent spot in the Gothic Quarter, ordered a half dozen to share, washed it down with beer and called it a night.

View from our balcony

Gazillions of people on Las Ramblas, one of which is a Marilyn Monroe look-a-like outside the Erotic Museum.

The next morning was sunny and perfect for adventuring. After breakfast, we walked to our meeting point with Fat Tire Bike Tours. At first I thought this was related to the Fat Tire Brewing Company and I got really excited about the notion of seeing Barcelona and drinking Fat Tire beer at the same time. The boy burst my bubble when he enlightened me that fat tire was a type of bicycle and that both companies happened to be named after them.

I didn't have time to be bummed for long; our guide Adam's enthusiasm for Barcelona was infectious. After a brief explanation of the city's history (long story short: once independent, then became part of Spain, now want independence back) we took off through the winding old streets on our bicycles, marvelling at our surroundings whilst trying our hardest not to plow into unsuspecting tourists.

Hot wheels.

Barcelona Cathedral. Dedicated to young Eulalia, who was martyred at the tender age of 13.

Inside the cathedral.

Ooh, aah.

Easter Mass procession

Palace of Catalan Music. Often misattributed to Antoni Gaudi.

Supposedly the architects of the Eiffel Tower originally planned on building it here,
but the people of Barcelona rejected the idea and got their own Arc de Triomphe instead.

Ciutadella Park fountain, loosely based off Rome's Trevi fountain

A fun candid shot in the park.

Everywhere we went, we saw homages to the city's most famous artist, Antoni Gaudi. Gaudi was an intern on this project! Gaudi designed that house! Gaudi probably pooped there! In a city rife with art and beauty, I was rather surprised that one single artist was exalted to this extent.

Then we biked to La Sagrada Familia and I was like...ok, I guess I get what all this Gaudi fuss is all about.

I found it difficult to believe that construction on this building began in 1882 and is still far from complete. Then again, I suppose Gaudi had a point when he once famously commented that his client is not in a hurry.

Up until then I'd been contemplating whether or not Barcelona was the most beautiful city I'd ever seen. Such thoughts were confirmed when we ended our bike tour with a view of the city's sprawling beaches. Our tour guide told us about how in preparation for the 1992 summer Olympics, the city imported its sand from Egypt and its palm trees from Hawaii. And also how they attempted to build two great luxury skyscrapers overlooking it all...but didn't complete construction until after the games were long over. That's the outcome of result months and months of vacation for everyone yields, right? Just kidding please let me live in your country forever.

After biking all day in the glorious sun, we had worked up a great hunger and thirst. At Adam's recommendation, we headed over to Bar del Pla and relaxed with tapas and wine.

The weather was just too beautiful to stay inside for long. Bellies satiated, we strolled along the boardwalk and grabbed some gelato along the way as we watched the sun turn the sky into a cotton candy blanket.

W Hotel, known by the locals as 'Sail hotel'. Very reminiscent of Dubai's Burj Al Arab 

The evening concluded with a grand affair of wine and paella. Up until then we'd been dining in casual and trendy bar-like places. It was wonderful to sit down in a proper restaurant and treat ourselves to a classic local dish.

Perfection in a pan

The paella lived up to all our expectations and more. It was perfectly cooked and seasoned and was definitely worth the 40-minute cooking time. Whenever I reminisce about that meal, I do it with a twinge of nostalgia and a rapidly-forming pool of saliva.

Stay tuned for days two and three/four in Barcelona, coming very soon!

West End

I have fallen in love with a neighborhood here in Glasgow. It is called the West End.

West End is the love child of Lincoln Park and Wicker Park after you subtract all the yuppies and hipsters. What's left after: a huge public park and a gorgeous college campus, both surrounded by quirky restaurants, vintage shops, free museums and friendly folk - all in a quiet residential area.

It's posh but not pretentious. Trendy but not unwelcoming. Quirky without trying too hard.

It's also home to Big Licks, an ice cream shop that serves the most fucking delicious ice cream I've ever had in my life. Big Licks is the pièce de résistance that single-handedly elevates the West End out of "Oh, this neighborhood is neat!" status and into "I must go to there every weekend" territory. 

The boy and I have made many a trip already, the most recent of which was for my birthday this past weekend. We strolled around the park, walked through the university campus, dined at the Ubiquitous Chip, watched Grand Budapest Hotel on comfy couches in an indie theatre, and topped off the celebrations with scoops of honeycomb and strawberry ice cream from Big Licks.

Prancing about the University of Glasgow

I was looking forward to eating here for weeks!

Venison haggis

My rice and mushroom cake. Delicious but not very photogenic.

The boy's fish dish. Much better of a presentation.

We enjoyed some oatmeal apple ice cream for ice cream...mmm.

Side note: I may or may not be drooling on my keyboard right now after looking at all those food pictures.

Two weekends before the last one (you can tell how behind I'm getting with these weekend blog posts, gah) we had made another trip out to the West End. This time we strolled along the river through the botanical gardens and eventually into the Kelvingrove art gallery.

Goofing around in the park

I call this the "awkward hotdog"

Insert-flower-name-related-joke-here

I call this "mad cow disease"

We stumbled into a rather arbitrary drum performance by a group that was very diverse in age, ethnic composition, etc. The boy told me that they were a group of recovering alcoholics.
I believed him and was horrified as I gawked at the younger members of the group (who looked 10-12). This went on for a full five minutes before he told me he had been joking...

The Kelvingrove, at last!

Big smiles and weary feet (not pictured)

The architecture inside was just as beautiful as the outside

An interesting choice in lobby decoration

Of course, we capped that visit with some ice cream too. Thinking back, I wish I had taken some pictures at Big Licks. But I was too preoccupied with the task at hand of stuffing my face.

I'll conclude this post by answering the obvious: if the West End is so great, why haven't we moved there?

The easy reason is that it would double the commute that we currently take to work (which is 15 minutes). We're also relatively content with our current corporate apartment.

The less-obvious reason is that I think we both quite enjoy having the West End as a real local treat. It's nice to have it as a destination, something to savor and explore - ideally on peaceful, undisrupted Saturdays and Sundays. I think living there would spoil that magic a bit ;-) 

Healthy hotel dinner

On my weekdays here in Dallas I stay at a Residence Inn. I choose to stay here over much more luxurious accommodations because of one reason only: the kitchen. It's a humble kitchen - two stovetop burners, a microwave, a basic set of pots/pans/utensils, a sink, and a fridge - but it's trusty and it keeps me from stuffing my face with Chipotle every night.

Over the months I've been playing around with different recipes for dinner. But sooner or later I always come back to this one - it's definitely become my default and favorite meal. And if I can make it after a long day of work in my little kitchen, I bet you can too!

The players: egg, quinoa, chicken broth, kale, brussel sprouts, tilapia, s+p, evoo, sriracha, and sesame oil.

In an ideal world I'd get fresh veggies and fish every day, but frozen and bagged varieties are a bit more realistic for my schedule and also keep longer.

Start by thawing your tilapia - I leave mine in a bowl of cold water for about 15 minutes. Get the quinoa going in a saucepan. I use about 2 parts chicken broth and 1 part water for mine.

Now that your fish and your quinoa are heating up in their respective vessels, it's time to face the veggies. Chop up your sprouts and place them in a pan with some evoo. I like to have the bottoms of mine nice and crispy, so I arrange them "face" down. I give them about 5 minutes of alone time in the pan because they can take a while to cook through.

Next up: kale. The Cinderella of vegetables. Not really glamorous when left neglected and undressed. But give it some water, some sriracha, some fairy dust (ok, sesame oil) and throw it in the pan - and something magical happens: it becomes delicious.

At this point your fish should have de-thawed. Since both of my burners are occupied, I continue to use my veggie pan by making some space in the middle and placing my filet there.

Tilapia and her entourage of vegetables.

Some seasoning and nimble flipping and voila, a nicely cooked chunk of fish. By this time your quinoa should be looking pretty fluffy and ready for consumption too. At this point I plate the veggies, quinoa and fish, cover them, and rest the contraption on top of my steaming saucepan to keep it nice and warm while I tackle the last hurdle: one teeny egg. Time to whip out the teeny egg pan!

I should patent this strategy.

Hold me closer, teeny pans-a.

This thing is pretty awesome. I bought it on a whim at Kroger for $4.00 and it has revolutionized the way I cook eggs. Not only does it prevent them from running all over the place as they tend to in normal-sized pans, it also has a fabulously non-sticky coating, which means gone are the days when I'm the sucker left scraping egg remnants off my pans! I highly recommend getting one especially if you find yourself cooking foreveralone a lot of the time.

Let the pan do its heat-distribution magic while you give the egg some s+p love. Then, assemble it with the rest of your goodies, et voila. You are done my friend.

I love this meal because it's simple, filling, nutritious and offers plenty of opportunity to customize or change up the ingredients. The quinoa and veggies also keep well - I usually make extra to bring for lunch the next day or to repurpose for tomorrow's dinner, when I'll make the egg and fish anew.

So there you go - a classic recipe from ole Granny Rose's cookbook. I hope this post has sparked interest in trying this meal. Or at the very least made you want to get a teeny egg pan. Because if there's only one take away from this post, it's that you should invest in a teeny egg pan. Huzzah!