But, it's very spicy
Really, this is your last warning.
I’d been in the center of Spain and now found myself staring down the barrel of Los Monegros in Aragón.
Every time I’m here, it’s the same feeling and I’m here often. Where this barren desert sits in the middle of the region is exactly where the officials decided to run the main highways across Spain as well as the highspeed train.
The region isn’t a huge issue if on the train, as you’re flying along at 300kph making it but a 20 minute blip. In the car however is a different matter as it just goes on and on with small, rounded nothing hills followed by small, rounded nothing hills. While Los Monegros is officially just to the east of the city of Zaragoza, I consider everything around this capital city to be Monegrosville and there’s something like 200km of it which even runs a touch into Catalunya.
My apologies to Zaragoza as it’s a fine city, but as Spanish summer starts in the middle of May now, I just want to be through this place as fast as possible which means not stopping in Zaragoza. If you stop there for an hour or two, once you go to leave, you realize that you have another hour of Monegros to churn through.
The problem however is as I am human and also happen to enjoy food, I need to eat. This means I still need to stop somewhere for lunch and the first place outside of the void that is Los Monegros is, Lleida in Catalunya.
I doubt there are many people who consider Lleida to be much of anything, especially not a culinary destination. But, I’ve had many a fine meal there and one the finest bakeries in Catalunya calls this interior provincial capital home.
The problem on this particular day was that I was arriving at 16:00 which, even for Spain is a bit of a strange hour for lunch, especially outside of a city like Barcelona or Madrid. The only place I found open and seemingly appealing was an Asian(ish) restaurant rather presumptuously called, Udon.
Once seated, I glanced over the menu and decided that the namesake udon noodles would probably hold the most potential, but when I ordered them I emphasized to the server, “Can I please get some hot sauce with them?”
“But, you want an actual spicy sauce?” she replied.
“Yes, I’m not Spanish. I want spicy.”
“Well, okay, if you’re sure.”
She returned in due course with the plate of noodles and a dish that she held at arm’s link which I took to be the hot sauce. I tasted it and hot, it was not.
“This tastes like ketchup with maybe a touch of black pepper. Is there something actually spicy?”
“Well, yes, but it’s very spicy.”
“This is what I want, the ‘very spicy’.”
She nodded, went into the back and emerged with yet another dish which she held with half meter tongs and set upon the table with a tremendous amoung of worried care.
“Here you go, but it’s very spicy.”
I nodded, took a taste, looked at her, to which she seemed worried I was about to cry in pain.
“Okay, that has a small amount of spice, but you don’t have anything else?”
“Well… we have one more, but it’s really, really spicy. I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“I want this.”
“Are you sure?”
“What, do I need to sign a waiver?”
She looked at me with tremendous confusion as jokes about taking legal action don’t make sense in Spain like in the US.
“Okay, just bring it to me.”
She nodded again and disappeared for a bit longer. I started to nibble on my udon as they were getting cold as well as not at all spicier.
When she returned she had on a mask and protective gloves. It looked more like I was Patient Zero at the start of the Covid Pandemic than dining in a restaurant.
She set it on the table, said nothing, and then backed away, carefully.
I took a taste and, well, yes, it was actually a little spicy. Unsure if she could hear me in the PPE suit, I gave her a thumb’s up and she just kept backing away.
I finished my meal in peace as it seems they had cleared the entire restaurant, just to be sure, until I finished the “very, very spicy” sauce.
When it seemed I was done, she came back out.
“Um, are you okay?”
“Yeah, it was fine. Still not all that spicy, but okay.”
“I don’t know how you can eat that. Do you need anything else? More water?”
“Nope, just the bill, please.”
She brought it and charged me, all-the-while still keeping her distance, most likely for fear I would spontaneously combust. As I walked out of the restaurant, I swear I heard an audible sigh of relief from the staff inside and as there was no one on the street, I assumed that the local police had cordoned off the approach to my car.
It’s always hard to find anything with a bit of fire to it in Spain. But, what can you expect in a country where someone left a one-star review for a Thai restaurant which simply said, “Too spicy!”