I'm writing this today because I've spent the entire weekend in the same pair of boxers writing two papers, so it seems potent to reflect on a time when I had a least a little bit of class. This was the last thing I did in Barcelona before heading over to the bus station, and it was a pretty great memory to leave on.
We went to Formatgeria La Seuon the recommendation of the New York Times. We stumbled in and it was completely empty, and turned out to have one of those Bernard Black type owners who really didn't like having people in their shop--these are my favorite type of shop owners.
She sat us down ("Here, sit at this big table. This way people will think the shop is full and won't come in.") and after a few minutes of us stuttering through broken Spanish, she revealed her true Scottish self. She had been living in Barcelona for the past twenty years, and every time a customer came in, she was capable of speaking whatever language they spoke.
The first thing she did was bring out the wine, and taught us how to swirl it and smell it like true fancy people. We ordered three trays of the cheese samples to split between the six of us, and the owner labelled and explained each cheese before we started eating it. We also got limitless bread and crackers, and by the end of it all, we each ended up only paying about six euros for the whole thing.
Before we left she gave us some recommendations of places to visit in Edinburgh, including the name of an Indian tapas place, which, aside from being my now two favorite things combined into one, sounds pretty delicious after a weekend of eating only Nutella on bread.
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