I don’t mean to brag, but I got the wild-haired, dreamy-eyed girl’s number. It wasn’t such a stupid pick-up line after all.
Today, for our first date, I bring her to La Plaza, a Spanish restaurant in BKK1 that I’ve heard a lot about. I can tell right away that the girl has class: she orders a glass of Manzanilla wine. I haven’t have this sherry wine, autochthonous of my province, for quite some time, so I follow in her footsteps and get myself a glass. It’s salty, tangy and very refreshing.
The restaurant is decorated like a Sevilian patio, with flowerpots hanging from the wall and fanciful ceramic illustrations. Except for a lone man in the corner reading a newspaper, we are alone. Romantic…
The tapas start flowing in. First to come is salmorejo, a thick tomato soup topped with sprinkles of Spanish cured ham and boiled egg ($4). I bring a spoonful to my mouth and go directly into Spanish heaven: it’s refreshingly pungent and delicious.
The ‘broken’ eggs with chorizo (huevos rotos con chorizo) ($4.50) don’t reach the level of culinary achievement of the salmorejo, but they’re still pretty darn good.
The dish comes in the traditional ceramic pot. It consists of a layer of very tender potatoes at the bottom covered by perfectly done fried eggs with fat pieces of chorizo scrambled everywhere. The chorizo is great; piquant and with a pleasant, penetrating aftertaste.
And then, the fish croquettes (croquetas de pescado, $3.50). They are creamy and chunky in the inside, just how they should be. Now, I’m usually intransigent with my croquetas. My mother makes the best croquetas in the word, so, no matter where I go, I’m always disappointed when I order this typical Spanish dish. But these ones are good; not as good as Mum’s, but definitely better than what you get in most restaurants out there. They would be good even if I were in Spain. I tip my hat to the chef.
Finally, the waiter brings the pan tumaca ($2.50). There’s not much to this dish: it’s just bread with tomato spread on it, a bit of garlic and olive oil. Couldn’t be simpler. In this case, as the old adage goes, less is definitely more. As we’re enjoying the last loaves of pan tumaca, I catch a glimpse of the man in the back. He lowers the newspaper to nose level and his eyes peek over the top of the pages. It can’t be. He’s back: my archenemy! I would recognise those little mean eyes, that shiny bald head and that stupid attempt at a goatee anywhere.
The man stands up and goes to the counter behind me. As he passes, I try to ignore him and focus on the conversation with my date. But it’s not going to be that easy: she’s starting to throw quick glances in the direction of the bar, adopting coquettish poses. I hear footsteps. The man approaches our table and looks at me with an evil squint and mischievous grin. Without taking his eyes off mine, he takes her hand, bends down and lands a kiss on it.
To be continued.
La Plaza, #22b Street 278; 012 415734