Seville Snapshots: Quiosco El Gato Negro

When I first came to Spain, I loved how the tiled-lined abuelo bars would be full of octogenarians who would spend their pension’s pennies on the loud and brightly-lit slot machines in the bar while they sipped their morning cortados. The gambling and betting has been a part of Spanish culture since the mid-18th Century when the Lotería Nacional was formed, though its modern form didn’t roll around until the early 1800’s.

It’s common to see people lined up during big weekly draws, but especially when the Primitiva hits in September, and for El Gordo, the annual Christmas drawing that is one of the largest prizes in Spain. Even watching the children of Colegio San Ildefonso in Madrid sing out the numbers is like a national holidays. I was once on a train to Madrid during the drawing and the event was broadcast over the loudspeakers, and last year watched it in a bar near Plaza Santa Ana as the other patrons clutched their tickets, hoping for a win.

Colleagues and families often buy large blocks of tickets to have better odds, agreeing to split the money por si toca (if it happens). I’m not a big player, but I have to smile when I see the old men pulling coins out of their pockets to take their chances on a few numbers.

Just adjacent to the opposing cathedral is El Gato Negro, a small storefront where people queue up to buy lottery tickets and likely Seville’s most famous quiosco. There’s an A-4 sized tile of a black cat, the universal symbol of bad luck, that patrons reach up and pet when they’ve bought themselves a ticket for good luck. You can see where the tile has been worn during years of serving the public trying to strike it rich.

I didn’t get a shot of anyone petting the kitty, but in the three minutes I creeped around, nearly a dozen people walked in and out, trying their luck.

Seville Snapshots: Summer Nights at Plaza del Salvador

There was already a chill in the air this morning. I dragged the blanket from the end of the bed up to my chin, falling comfortably into the dreamy-morning doze again after a packed weekend.

Saturday was another one of those perfect sevillano days – my morning café con leche stretched into a stroll around the shops became a pre-lunch beer followed by tapas and copas and ending the night at Carlos Kiss, 17 hours after I left my house. Unwilling to let go of the summer time and its long, sunny days, it seemed like the entire city took to the streets.

As the song says, el sol duerme in Triana, y nace en Santa Cruz, and the salmon-colored church of San Salvador acts as Seville’s solar clock. According to the time of day, the temple is lit in a different color, but none as lovely as the setting sun over Triana. Since the facade faces west, it catches the last bit of sunshine every day.

On this last warm weekend before Autumn hits, I brought a scarf and cardigan, but didn’t need it midday as we toasted to the end of summer in Salvador and a day with no rain. Soon, the rain will hit, my ganas to be in the street will fade, and we’ll stop making gazpacho every other day. But for one afternoon, the streets were ours.

Tapa Thursdays: El Gallinero de Sandra

El Gallinero de Sandra – Sandra’s Chicken Coop – was what I expected to be an over-priced, chicken-heavy restaurant.

Always one to try a new place and follow my group of American chicks around, I went anyway. My girlfriends always know how to find the good places.

Housed on a pedestrian alleyway between Trajano and Amor de Dios streets, the joint is part of a recent surge in gastrobars, boutiques and trendy watering holes that has the Alameda neighborhood, once associated with junkies and the homeless, ranking as one of Seville’s top nightlife barrios.

Sandra herself greeted us and showed us to a table on a breezy terrace fashioned with fresh white linens, hanging lamps and red accents. We took advantage of one of the last balmy nights to dine al fresco, though the open concept bar and dining area reminded me of an upscale farm restaurant.

As Sandra rattled through what was available off the menu, I went into a temporary coma because everything sounded beyond delicious. L took care of the wine – Garum, a favorite of our group of friends – and we toasted to hatching new plans and a new friend.

The menu at El Gallinero changes constantly, and it had more than just chicken – baked fish dishes, revueltos with everything imaginable, a tempting presa ibérica, though few thoroughly vegetarian dishes. We settled on tuna tartar with vegetables, salad with shrimp and curry sauce, pork loin with creamy rice pilaf and the most decadent foie on top of a flatbread and a garden of caramelized onions. So good, in fact, that I stopped taking pictures and just ate. Dishes were reasonably priced, as well, between 8€ and 16€ for a ración.

Washed down with another French wine – El Gallinero has wines from around the world, as well as a few bottled microbrews and regional liquors – we bellied up for dessert. The lemon meringue was reminiscent of key lime pie, and the coulant and creme brûlée heavenly. Our bill came to roughly 28€ per person with a small tip included.

We agreed the place would be perfect for date night – cozy and intimate – though we were a group of four guiri hens clucking about our summers at lightning speed at a place named Chicken Coop.

What’s your favorite place to have a meal in the Alameda? I’ve got an exciting new food project coming up with the backing of Caser Expat Insurance, so stay tuned!

If you go: El Gallinero de Sandra is located on the pedestrian street Pasaje Esperanza Elena Caro near the Plaza del Duque. Expect to pay 8€ for an omelette or fritata, 9€ for a salad and 11€ for a meat or fish dish. Desserts are 5€ and worth every calorie. The restaurant is open from 13:45 a 16:45 y de 20:30 until close, though closed Sunday night and all day on Monday. Reservations are welcome at reservas@elgallinerodesandra.es.

 

Seville Snapshots: Verano de San Miguel

The streets hummed – literally, I mean: on one end of San Jacinto, a religious procession was led by a brass band playing melancholical music while a cover band rocked the steps at Capote. We could barely skirt around the throngs of people enjoying the early evening breeze near the Guadalquivir during Seville’s Golden Hour, though I was enamored with the colors and the sky (I have not touched this photo, save to put a border and a water mark!)

This is what the Spaniards call Verano de San Miguel: coinciding with the feast day of San Miguel, the summer makes one more valiant push before the days in Seville turn crisp and cool. Just when I thought I could sleep soundly at night, we were surprised by a heat wave and had to turn on the air again. But there are vegetable cream soups and comfy sweaters to look forward to (and hopefully some rain so that I can stop washing my car every damn week!).

Are you looking forward to welcoming fall? I’m already longing for next summer – the World Cup, a trip home and fried sardines!

Seville Snapshots: Who’s That Nazareno?

Smell that? It’s incense. Feel that? That’s some sevillano whose trying to push his way past you.

Yes, amiguitos, Holy Week is upon us, the stretch of time between Viernes de Dolores until Easter Sunday where sevillanos dress in their finest, women don enormous combs and black lace veils and pointy capirote hats dot the old part of town. The faithful spend all day on their feet, parading from church to Cathedral and back with enormous floats depicting the passion, death and resurrection of Christ.

I’m not much of a capillita, but ten days of religious floats means ten days of travel for me.

That said, I’m off to Dubrovnik, Croatia and the Bay of Kotor, Montenegro, country #30 on my 30×30 quest. Where will you be during Semana Santa? Do you like Holy Week, or would you rather get your fix in a Holy Week bar?

Seville Snapshots: Reflection of the San Fernando Statue of Plaza Nueva

I hastily jumped out of bed, cursing myself for forgetting to set my second alarm. I’d made early morning plans with Katie which included a hot coffee on a cold day and a bit of shopping for Feria dresses (her) and accessories (me). I pulled on dirty jeans, pulished a post and ran full speed out the door, hating to be late for our 9:30 a.m. breakfast date.

In the biting cold of an Andalusian winter morning, I raced towards the city center, dodging a bit of traffic on a long weekend where most where probably still in bed. I arrived and parked my bike right at 9:30 on the dot and had Plaza Nueva to myself. A pilgrim on his way to Santiago ambled slowly on, and I wished him Buen Camino, eager to start my own Camino in August.

I never quite understood why the streets in the city center get washed overnight, though I’d assume it’s from careless sevillanos who let their dogs crap all over the place without thinking to clean it up. Whatever the reason, the last bit of water that hadn’t been evaporated by the penetrating sun cast an eerie glimpse of Rey San Fernando on the marble ground of the Plaza.

Have photos of Seville or Spain to share? I gladly accept them and run them as part of my weekly photo feature! Send me an email to sunshineandsiestas @ gmail.com, or upload to my Facebook page.

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