The Boy and I stopped by Portugal and I got rather sick. My glands were so swollen that they could be seen with the naked eye, and I required my favorite Parisian remedy to feel better: lots of rum, lots of lemon, and some honey all heated up in a cup. Despite the miracle cure that my drink of choice is, nothing can beat the traditional medicine of sleep and rest. After two nights of consistently waking up hacking, we decided to lay low for another day in a small Portugese town called Aveiro, before taking of for Spain, in order to allow my body some time to recover.
Aveiro only has something like 17,000 people. It was small and dinky and not all that thrilling, but we stumbled upon an excellent restaurant nonetheless. In fact, the restaurant owner was so warm and inviting that we named the restaurant our favorite food joint yet (later to be beaten the next day in Salamanca, Spain).
The smiling, laid-back server/owner stopped by our table and said, "Spanish? English? German?" After establishing the relief of functional communication, he asked where we were from and the rest.
"France? Wow, you speak excellent English."
"So do you," I answered, "Although I�m American, so it�s really not that exciting that I do."
And so the night progressed. The restaurant allowed you to choose several tapas-like dishes as entrees and then a main course. The convivial and small-towny atmosphere was wonderful, and the owner kept smiling and telling us jokes. We chose our entrees and marvelled at their scrumptiousness. Then the waiter/owner came around and asked what we would like as our main course.
"Your choices are steak, mutton, or octopus."
Huh, I thought, and shook it off. See, I don�t eat read meat. And although I�ll snag a forkful of ham from time to time, there is no way I am ordering any mutton as a main course. However, enchanted by the situation and the kindness of the restaurant owner, I decided to take a leap.
"Octopus," I said, with more conviction than I really felt.
Fifteen minutes later I was staring at a healthy plate of octopus, something I have only eaten in small doses in salads. But, embracing the spirit of adventure and remaining open-minded, I spooned a forkful into my mouth.
Good God, it was absolutely disgusting.
"Do you like it?" asked The Boy.
I considered lying for a moment. But I realized that there would be no way of creatively placing the octopus around the plate so that it would look like I had eaten it. No way of eating just the tasty parts (there weren�t any). No way of getting out of it. The octopus was gross.
"Really?" he asked, after my explanation. "Let me try." He grabbed an overly ambitious mouthful and began chewing. He looked at me with horror and grabbed his napkin, stared at me as if I could provide the solution as to how to get rid of the filth in his mouth.
"There�s a bathroom right behind you." I said, hardly able to control my laughter. He jumped up and cleansed his mouth of the octopus taste. Coming back to the table, he laughed and said, "There was no way that was gonna get swallowed. Thank God nobody was in the bathroom."
Unfortunately, I had to hurt the nice waiter�s feelings and tell him I just couldn�t eat the stuff. I made up for it by picking out a few more tapas-like entrees. I still felt bad though.
The funny thing was that once the episode was over, The Boy and I took inventory of what was going on around us. EVERYBODY had ordered octopus and was scarfing it down like it was chocolate pudding. Literally, and entire restaraunt full of octopus fans. I don�t know how they managed to swallow it, honestly, but they were licking their plates clean by the end.
So much for my spirit of adventure, I guess.
I think mutton is lamb--or rather, sheep, sweetie. Not that "sheep" necessarily sounds all that more attractive than octopus.
Yeah, mutton is sheep. Still red meat though. I have a serious problem with eating any seafood...I'm scared of shrimps and I have a firm belief that crab tastes of seaweed. Yuck.
I don't mind a little calimari, but I don't think that I could handle a whole plate of octopus.
Mmmmm, sheep-meat.
On the last day of my home stay in Grenoble, they had fried octopus rings (like onion rings but smaller and scarier inside). It was the only time during the whole stay that I flat-out refused to try something. I figured it was my last day so I could stop being adventurous right there.
I do like escargots, though. Mostly just because they gross people out.
On one of my first dates with my now-husband, he absolutely blew my mind by ordering the escargot. See, he's farm-bred, small-town All-American, and doesn't mind saying so. But we went out for dinner and the first thing he said as we picked up the menus was, "My *favorite* thing at this restaurant is the escargot--I get it every time I come here!"
Oh, and the restaurant was Tomboy, a 'lesbian' restaurant.
I about fell out of my chair (how's that for blowing stereotypes! put me in my place, tell you what), and I resolved to definitely go on a few more dates with this guy.
Yeah, those small town farm breeder guys who love escargot are top notch! You've got a great one there! They're the best!! Especially when they resolve to learn another language, like French!
I didn't catch that last comment's secret author until today...what...a week later?