becausefood00000

Mallorca really picked me. I went there because the flights were cheap and when flights are cheap to an Spanish island in the Mediterranean you say yes please and thank you. I had also booked coincide with a special friends birthday, which meant hoping a flight within 24 hours of my return to London. I had previously left London within 24 hours of MY birthday which had set the Spanish stage nicely with a tapas dinner at a local hole in the wall. This included herbed goats cheese smothered in honey, and two bowls (because we couldn’t get enough) of padron peppers. These are magical peppers, about the size of a jalepeno, all you need to release their culinary power is some sea salt and hot olive oil. As a special bonus, about one in every ten is hot as fuck, so each time someone pops one of these gems into their mouth, the rest watch excitedly with a raised eyebrow. But back to Mallorca. The first thing we ask our airbnb host, naturally, is a good place to eat local. and cheap. He directs us to a place called Don Caracol which at first glance looked a bit like a themed chain restaurant you would find at home, high ceilings, empty wood barrels, a slushy machine behind the bar. But no, this was a winner. Perhaps most importantly, the house wine was seven euro, AND it was good. like, really good. Then, before we even ordered, they set down enough free starters be our dinner. Long toasted slices of artisan bread, fresh tomatoes, garlic, olives, and aioli. Let me just take a minute to talk about aioli. I’ve have long been aware that aioli existed and that it was something to do with garlic and mayonnaise, and tasted like a McDonalds condiment. This was different. Someone had managed to open up the garlic with flavors of wood smoke, sea salt, and spanish herbs and mix it with a cumulus cloud that tasted only reminiscent of an animal product. Spain has given me the gift of aioli. Then, there was the food we actually ordered. Naturally, padron peppers. The waiter would not allow us to order two because, as we found out, for 3 euro you were given a thanksgiving platter of the goods, in stark comparison to the teacup for eight pounds in central London. Then there was cheese, patatas bravas, and the grilled fish my friend ordered, big enough to give you a fright on a snorkal, cooked to crispy perfection with grilled potatoes and salad, setting him back a grand 5 euro. We ordered another house wine to celebrate our success. We waddled out only 25 euro poorer and came back again….and again.