A glorious life with foie gras: three days in Barcelona

I fondly remember one Christmas about four years ago, when having a work team lunch before break. I was sat next to my boss (Sicilian), and opposite the company COO (also Sicilian). The mood of the lunch went a bit sour somewhere between the first and second courses, when asked my favourite cuisines. Without hesitation, I fired off “French — specifically Provencal,” no problem there. “English — we do game better than anyone else in the world.” Eyebrows were arching intensely by this point. “And then Spanish.” That was it. That was too much for my Sicilian friends. Spanish? Serving small plates of something? SPANISH?! While I do enjoying being the provocateur in many a situation — especially that one — I maintain that sentiment to this day. Spanish food will always hold a special place in my heart. Thanks mainly to family friends who live in rural Valenciano, I have visited Spain more than any other country. It is in Valenciano where my taste for seafood grew. It is there where I tasted saffron, salt cod and squid ink for the first time. And it is there where I finally discovered how dishes of rabbit and pork, chorizo and rice, and paella, should actually be done. <a href="https://joshlachkovic.medium.com/a-glorious-life-with-foie-gras-three-days-in-barcelona-22577322914f">Learn More</a>