Milano/Malaga Part Two

Milano/Malaga Part Twobyxbee@mail.sdsu.edu

About a year ago we ended a cruise in Malaga and spent two days there.  We loved it so much that we decided to rent an apartment there for a week to really explore and enjoy this marvelous city.  We flew from Milano to Madrid, waited a bit and then on to Malaga, so it was a long travel day since we didn’t arrive in Malaga until after 7 pm.  Cindy had done a lot of research and found us a very inexpensive apartment right in the old town.  Our hostess was there to let us in, gave us a quick tour and the keys, and she was gone by 8 pm.

The apartment was fine for our one-week stay, although the kitchen was almost useless for cooking. It didn’t have an oven but did have an old microwave, which neither of us really knows how to use. I could stand in the middle of the very small kitchen and touch both walls.  Luckily we weren’t there to cook gourmet meals and the bed was comfortable and the apartment had lots of light and two little Juliette balconies.  We unpacked, killed a few ants, then killed a few more ants and then headed out to explore.  It being Spain, we were rather early for dinner at 9 pm.

We wandered about getting familiar with Malaga again and had a few tapas and glasses of wine at two different little hole-in-the-wall bars.  Mucho fun. Slept well until 3:30 am when the young men in the next apartment came home to continue partying.  Finally back to sleep at 5 or so and awake due to an alarm that had been set for 7:55 on the bedside clock in the apartment. I was in favor of throwing it across the room but Cindy elected to press some buttons and it stopped beeping.  We then set off for a morning run for Cindy, walk for me, arranging to meet at 9 am under the clock of the hotel we stayed in last year. Malaga has a magnificent harbor filled with grand yachts on one side and working ferries and freighters on the other.  There were a couple of cruise ships in port and it was a delight to just wander for an hour around the active and attractive harbor.

Coffee was in the Mercado, a huge covered market that was filled with fresh meat, fish, vegetables, pickled things, nuts and dried fruits and loud merchants beckoning shoppers to their stalls.  Our first Spanish cortados, short, strong espresso with warm milk, hit the spot and set the tone for the rest of the day.  We wandered about the market for a little while longer buying some fresh figs, tomatoes, garlic and nuts before heading back to the apartment.  It was now about 10 am and things were just starting to open up in the old town, which is a large pedestrian-only area.  In order to get the goods to the shops, they have to be transported from large trucks that park in an open plaza near the apartment. To accomplish this, hordes of men with various carts, hand trucks, and dollies must navigate the cobblestone street directly under our windows.  Not one of these devices seemed to have rubber wheels since the noise was absolutely deafening. This went on every day from 9:30 to 2 at which time there was a break for lunch until five when it started up again until about 8:30 pm.  Hadn’t expected that!

In going over Cindy’s notes I see a very definite pattern to our six days.  Up, exercise, meet for coffee, clean up, walk for a few hours, tapas, walk, nap, walk, tapas, walk, nightcap somewhere, walk, bed.  We found swell places to eat and drink and truly enjoyed the difference between Italian and Spanish cuisine.  There was one rather curious event that happened to me sometime between tapa hops one night. We were going to end the evening at a place we had sampled earlier that had really creative food and seemed to be run by a women’s coop.  We were sipping Cava and looking at the menu when Cindy began to stare at my head.  She reached over with a paper napkin and touched a spot that looked funny to her and sure enough I was bleeding. We don’t know if a meteorite came streaking out of the skies and hit me, or if someone had thrown something off a balcony but it was definitely bleeding, and it required a trip to the bathroom and lots of cold water to stop it.  Needless to say, I then needed to replenish the valuable bodily fluids I had just lost!

I must admit that neither of us can really adjust to the Spanish clock for dining.  We just don’t have it in us anymore to dine at 10:30, so we accepted the fact that most of the good folks of Malaga regarded us the way we regard the early birds of Florida.  It really didn’t matter much since we only had one real dinner in Malaga, a return to Meson Mariano.  If you are going to have only one meal in Malaga and you want the real Cocina Malagueña this is the spot.  It is fantastic and it is still a place for the locals, as opposed to the larger restaurants that cater to tourists. Mariano is always there and always a character, making sure that everyone is happy and everything is fresh and to his standards.  We were sitting at the very small bar enjoying glasses of wine while talking with the bartender/waiter. Mariano came over to say something to the barman and noticed that I was fishing out some cork from my now half empty glass of wine. He practically jumped over to me, whisked my glass away, got a clean glass and poured a very healthy ration of wine, all with apologies as if he had placed the cork in the glass himself.  A very nice touch and truly appreciated.

Proving the fact that locals frequent the restaurant was the appearance of our landlady with 3 of her friends.  We greeted with kisses and then I sent a bottle of sparkling Cava to their table.  They were most impressed and got two more glasses so that they could share it with us, and of course came over to our table for toasts. Always nice to feel like a local!

Dinner was spectacular, as we knew it would be. The tapas they had been giving us at the bar were more than enough to get our appetites working and since we knew the portions to come, we didn’t start with any appetizers even though we were sorely tempted.  We both had baby goat, the specialty of the house.  Cindy opted for the delicate little chops, while I went for the roasted shoulder. They were both tender, smothered in garlic with a bit of lemon and olive oil and served with mounds of garlic-roasted potatoes. We were in heaven!  We split an order of Leche Frita and Mariano came by with rather large glasses of a Spanish brandy named 1866, which was truly marvelous.  Luckily it was a lovely evening and still early, 10pm, so we took the long way home to work off the meal.

We were up the next morning at 7am, which seemed to come much earlier than expected, and off to the airport for our long trip home via Paris.  All and all it was a great trip that got off to a rocky start but finished with a culinary crescendo in Malaga.  Best to all, Cindy and Wm.