Why don't I carry a notepad? I get inspired at completely unexpected moments, like now, so I guess I'll write on the back of this bus schedule. I remembered wanting to eat at this somewhat fancy outdoor restaurant at the top of the Albaicyn (gypsy quarter) named El Huerto de Juan Ranas. It was suggested by our school's jefe (the boss) on an excursion through the Albaicyn when we stopped at the "mirador" (lookout point) which overlooks Granada and the Alhambra (a palace built by the Moors). So, here I am, alone. I chose a table in the corner facing the Alhambra not noticing my dinner date would be a strategically placed cactus opposite me, he's a little prickley, but he'll do. As I sip on a galss of sangria I've been given an "aperitivo de la casa" which is a short glass with a home made potato chip, small slice of seared salmon and some tomato soaked barley drisled with olive oil. Delicious. I've ordered my meal and am curious to see what arrives. As I write, I wonder if the staff thinks I might be a food critic and suddenly commits to provide excellent service as I've yet to experience any since my arrival in Spain. Sunset will soon blanket the Alhambra, what a perfect view at a perfect moment in time. The sangria is the best I've tasted. It has a secret ingredient my tongue can't quite place, a sweet liqour of some sort not to mention a generous helping of fruit too. My salad arrives. Lambs lettuce and vinegar it said on the menu but what sits in front of me is much prettier. Baby lettuce, lingonberries, small red flower petals, walnuts and chunk tuna in olive oil, accompanied by a piping hot assortment of bread, yum! As I wait for my entree I listen to a mixture of birds chirping, mini buses full of tourists passing by, and the soft murmur of the family talking next to me. A small wave of loneliness approaches but I decide to jump over it and watch it difuse into soft bubbles. I order a glass of vino Quinta from Jerez, which I learned in culture class today makes some of the best wine in Spain. When it comes to the table I swirl the glass, take a sniff, check out the legs and sip. Sweet aroma, somewhat dry tasting white wine, I like it. The sun is almost down and the Sierra Nevadas have turned from brown to muted pinks and purples, up come the lights surrounding the Alhambra for the night tour. My entree, Bacalao confitado con manzana y cebolla carmelizada, is here. Perfectly cooked cod, seasoned just enough, some apple puree on the side accompanied by a bundle of green and purple sprouts and a swirl of green mustard/vinegar sauce. The fish rests on some carmelized onion and sweet red pepper. The plate is garnished with a towering green leaf with deep purple veins, looks like art, tastes like heaven.The city lights are twinkling, the Alhambra is glowing and my tummy is singing a happy tune. I guess I'll ask for the check now, I sense the restaurant is getting busy and I'm sure they'd like my table for more than just one. The sky deepens into indigo and I notice two stars just above me, one a bright enduring light , the other just a faint glimmer. I wonder how many other people are gazing at these very stars at this very moment and I have one wish for them all, buen provecho! (enjoy your meal!)
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