Thursday 24st November 2011
Ok, so the flat is full of empty take away pizza boxes, we’ve all got constipation & I couldn’t eat another thing that comes in a polypropylene molded tray.
It’s time to start blogging!
‘You should always judge a restaurant by its toilets.’ That & its bread, they say. Well, if the former was the case, you wouldn’t touch this place with a barge pole.
Can Paixano, or the Xampaneria as it is affectionately known, is the eatery where I first encountered this sandwich of all sandwiches. It’s a standing room only, hole in the wall place that has no sign over the door. We took Zephy there once when he was still in a buggy & it was so packed that people were spilling out into the street. We had to perch ourselves on the curb outside to scoff our warm rolls, which before the days of the smoking ban, was a blessing in disguise.
There are legs of Serrano ham hanging from the ceiling & yellow walls discolored by layers of nicotine & grease. One a busy lunchtime you may find yourself wading through a foot of crumpled & discarded paper napkins.
There are no airs & graces. The menu is above your head on a board. Anything you like, in a crusty white roll. The barman takes your order, shouts it out to the man on the grill & rewards you with an old fashioned, cut glass, champagne coupe of cava. It’s sold by the bottle & everybody drinks it. I’m not actually sure if they sell anything else.
It’s quite a sight to see. But for all its rotten floors & stinky toilets, it has the charm & character of a bygone era. The old Spain I grew up coming to for my holidays 40 odd years ago.
We haven’t been back for a while & after being inspired by finding these rolls that are almost identical to the ones they serve, I thought I’d try them out on Zeph.
To be honest, I handed this to Zeph with trepidation. But after a slow start he finish the lot.
“What d’ya think Zephy?” I asked as he brought his empty plate out to the kitchen.
“Yeah…” He replied. “Good.”
Once I had finished blogging my last post, I jumped from my usual place on the sofa where I had been slumped for the last 2 hours & did a victory dance in the middle of the room before congratulating myself & bending down to kiss my wife.
“Have you finished?” She asked. “Well done.”
“Yup.” I replied triumphantly.
“Wow, you even smell like you’ve been blogging for a year.” She told me as she kissed me.
Make of that, what you will.