Food in Madrid – part 2
Churros, chocolate you drink, ice cream, pastry… sugar coma.
Places to Eat
Our time in Spain would not have been nearly as enjoyable if our friend Crissa had not given us a list of must-eat foods. Also, Alicia’s friend Alicia (not a typo) recommended a great pastry shop, La Mallorquina, which ended up being only two blocks from our hostel and one we would return to almost daily. Here are some photos of places where we ate (and some places we just poked our heads into).
Santa María la Real de La Almudena is right next to Palacio Real, so it was an easy decision to take the time to visit. For a European cathedral, it’s brand-new (glasses on one of the figures in the relief sculpture on the main exterior doors is an easy giveaway). Construction began in 1879, and after a big gap in construction during and after the Spanish Civil War, it wasn’t finished until 1993. The facade was designed to match the palace.
Random passersby from our hostel window. People at Plaza Mayor. Dog walkers. Restaurateurs on their smoke break. Weird old dude throwing bits of meat to stray cats and pigeons. A random juxtaposition on a metro platform. And our favorite sight, neighborhood guys giving each other BS in the bar on their lunch break.
The mop was due for a mow by the time we got to Madrid, so I decided to check out this little place close to Plaza Mayor. The first chair that opened up was closest to the window and looked like it belonged to the patriarch of the crew. He was just tall enough to look me in the eye while I was sitting in the chair and he knew about as much English as I knew Spanish.
I rubbed my hand over the top of my head, showed him about a half-inch between my thumb and forefinger and said “un poco.” Then along the sides and back, reducing the visual measurement down to 1/16 of an inch and said “mucho poco.” He smiled and nodded, combed a bit to size up the situation, then started working a few choice snips with his right hand without any guidance from the comb in his left.
His wall was covered in photos of what I assume were locally famous guys, some looked like politicians and soccer players, all sitting in the same vintage chair I was in. He started in with the buzzers then immediately stopped, removed the attachment, showed it to me and said “tres“. I pointed at the bare buzzer, which received a concerned look, so I pointed to the hair behind my ear and said “Uno… dos… tres…” slowly dragging my finger up the side my head. He nodded giving a big smile of approval and got to work.
Back to studying the photos… There was a smaller one in an older frame that wasn’t grouped with the others. It didn’t quite have that vintage orange haze that you could replicate on Instagram, but was a little out of focus and maybe 40 years old. It showed three men all wearing white smocks, one quite a bit older between the other two, and the short one on the left looked a lot like a 25 year old version of the same peluquero who was just finishing up the tightest taper fade I’ve ever received.