Museo del Jamon
On a rare, grey gloomy day, with Cambalache in the air, we trotted in with our snouts held high.
If a group of cannibalistic pigs decided to set up a burlesque house-cum-Spanish tavern for cabaret and dining, it might look a little like this. There was no singing – thankfully, though it seemed like there should have been – just plenty of scoffing sounds, not quite oinking (they were too busy with the business of eating).
With its old world, wooden charm and varnish; and, at least partial, privacy from the prying eyes – of those waiting on, and waiting at other tables – a must for any piggish diner.
It was much more stylish than our pigsty, pig-stylish you could say – for posh pigs. Alas the same cannot be said of the clientele – it was full of foreigners feasting on all things fleshy; all that was missing was our communal trough.
When asked about their pork portions, they told us:
“9/10 greedy pigs prefer their pork from the Museo del Jamon.
This ham will have you squealing with delight, and will make you squeal with piggish pleasure.
We’re addicted to the piggy. Who said religion was the pork of the people – pork is our opium.
The best looking piece of pork I’ve seen since Miss Piggy; just don’t tell Kermit – he wasn’t on the menu; you’ll have to go to a French restaurant to eat him.”
Being pigs, we ate sea food, we’re not cannibals.
As for our meal – we’ll leave that description in the capable trotters of our preferred blind porkteno piggy poet, who wrote a poem about dining in this very restaurant:
The Old Restaurant and the Sea
Ravenous fish caught by fishermen’s bait,
Enormous cylinder shapes of pasta
Swimming around the oceanic plate.
Teeming with a pescados plethora
Aromatic seafood fresh from the deep;
Unusual herbs with flavours sublime.
Rare is this treat, as it’s not very cheap.
Artists created this seafood shoreline,
Nautical noshing and nausea free,
To fill your mouth with the taste of the sea.
J.L. Porkers
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/competitions/review/
On a rare, grey gloomy day, with Cambalache in the air, we trotted in with our snouts held high.
If a group of cannibalistic pigs decided to set up a burlesque house-cum-Spanish tavern for cabaret and dining, it might look a little like this. There was no singing – thankfully, though it seemed like there should have been – just plenty of scoffing sounds, not quite oinking (they were too busy with the business of eating).
With its old world, wooden charm and varnish; and, at least partial, privacy from the prying eyes – of those waiting on, and waiting at other tables – a must for any piggish diner.
It was much more stylish than our pigsty, pig-stylish you could say – for posh pigs. Alas the same cannot be said of the clientele – it was full of foreigners feasting on all things fleshy; all that was missing was our communal trough.
When asked about their pork portions, they told us:
“9/10 greedy pigs prefer their pork from the Museo del Jamon.
This ham will have you squealing with delight, and will make you squeal with piggish pleasure.
We’re addicted to the piggy. Who said religion was the pork of the people – pork is our opium.
The best looking piece of pork I’ve seen since Miss Piggy; just don’t tell Kermit – he wasn’t on the menu; you’ll have to go to a French restaurant to eat him.”
Being pigs, we ate sea food, we’re not cannibals.
As for our meal – we’ll leave that description in the capable trotters of our preferred blind porkteno piggy poet, who wrote a poem about dining in this very restaurant:
The Old Restaurant and the Sea
Ravenous fish caught by fishermen’s bait,
Enormous cylinder shapes of pasta
Swimming around the oceanic plate.
Teeming with a pescados plethora
Aromatic seafood fresh from the deep;
Unusual herbs with flavours sublime.
Rare is this treat, as it’s not very cheap.
Artists created this seafood shoreline,
Nautical noshing and nausea free,
To fill your mouth with the taste of the sea.
J.L. Porkers
http://www.lonelyplanet.com/competitions/review/
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