Not Mercadona. Merendero

I wish I could insert a sound clip of the Mercadona song. Mercadona is a grocery store close to my house and I really like it. I usually leave singing “mer-ka-dooonaaa, mer-ka-dona.” The words are really easy, clearly.

This photo is not of the one that I go too.

Imagine my luck that almost everything in the world is available on YouTube. feel free to have it stuck in your head forever as well.

This post is actually meant to be about how I spent my Thanksgiving. On Thursday, I went out and ate patatas bravas, and did a video chat with my family for the first time ever! Geeked out! I also failed to mention anything cultural about Thanksgiving at my school’s. Big fail as a language and culture assistant.

Saturday was the belated feast. I kept telling people I was having it at a merendona, or a mercadona? No that’s the supermarket….ehhhh. The word is MERENDERO. It’s a place that is separate from your house/ apartment just for eating and cooking basically. I can’t think of any equivalent, unless your family has a restaurant that only you eat at, and don’t make any money from it.

The merendero we ate at belongs to a friend of our group in the village of Albelda. We had to figure out a carpool, so if you were going to attend you had to make yourself useful and cook something. SHIIZZZZ. It’s not that I can’t cook, It’s just a life choice not to. I jumped in on the conversation when they needed someone to make stuffing.

When I looked up the recipe it seemed easy. I just ripped up some bread like I was at the park feeding pigeons, chopped up some celery and dried apricot like an eight year old using scissors for the first time, sprinkled in herbs of provence for luck, and then poured too much chicken stock over some parts, and zero over others. Here is what happened….

Basically crumbs with herbs of provence. Burnt and soggy live harmoniously.

Let me tell you that I also contributed three loaves of bread, and those got eaten. Boom. Let me also preface the photos by saying that I used to have a stereotype of the word village. I thought if you lived in a “village” you lived in a quaint little hut made of mud and stones. I’m kidding! But I didn’t expect it to be so amazingly beautiful.

The table set for 20

I spy the turkey

looks like my hand was shaking with excitement from looking at all the food.

In front of the fully stocked bar, with coffee/espresso machine. So dope

I should also mention that this dinner started around 11 p.m. It’s not the ideal hour to stuff yourself, but when in Spain! The Spaniards of the group definitely had smaller portions on their plates. I had a great time because I got to eat a lot, and feel American,  and sort of Spanish at the same time.

In other news, I will be taking over a class of 5 adults who are studying English for the first time ever. I met them the other day and I think my Monday nights are going to be a highlight of the week. Just straight hilarity.

We have a holiday coming up here in Spain. The 5th or 6th is off because of the Constitution and the other days have to do with religion or virgins or who knows? Not anybody that I asked.



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