Las Conservas

IT WAS A FRIDAY NIGHT IN THE OLD TOWN OF CÁDIZ. THE ROUGH STONE BUILDINGS STILL PULSED HEAT OUT INTO THE TINY STREETS LONG AFTER THE SUN HAD GONE DOWN. AMONGST THE SMOKE AND THE SHOUTING I FOUND A SPACE AT THE BAR. I ORDERED A BEER AND LOOKED AT THE MENU. THERE WASN’T A PIECE OF FRESH FOOD TO BE SEEN — YET THIS BAR WAS PUMPING. A GREAT MIX OF YOUNG AND OLD, MEN AND WOMEN; THE LITTLE ROOM RINGING WITH LAUGHTER. A SHEET OF WAXED PAPER WAS PLACED ON THE MARBLE BAR IN FRONT OF ME AND A PACKET OF CRISPS WAS OPENED AND POURED ONTO THE PAPER: PERFECT SLIVERS OF POTATO COOKED IN FRESH SUNFLOWER OIL. NEXT CAME A BOWL OF LITTLE GREEN OLIVES. WONDERFUL. THEN A TIN OF MUSSELS: THE BARTENDER RIPPED OFF THE LID AND THE RED PIMENTÓN-INFUSED OIL DRIBBLED DOWN HIS HAND LIKE BLOOD. STUNNING. THE MEN WHO OWNED THE BAR LOVED GOOD FOOD BUT WERE NOT COOKS — SO THEY SIMPLY BOUGHT THE BEST PRESERVED FOOD FROM ALL AROUND SPAIN AND OPENED UP THE TINS, JARS OR BAGS. IT IS ONE OF THE BEST BARS IN ANDALUSIA.