Sigh...these reminiscences of foreign gustatory explorations:
Mountain top cafe in Greece - I noticed a man relishing dipping large chunks of bread into a bowl of what I presumed was melted cheese. "I'll try what he has", says I. I later was presented with my own loaf of bread and a bowl of warm curdled goat's milk.
Seedy out-of-the-eatery in Lisbon:
The local butcher shop had a small dining area where we took dinner. (I wish I had noticed that the "pepper corn" encrusted shank of beef hanging from a hook was actually covered in black flies.
While we (two other Naval Academy Midshipmen and I, in uniform) waited for our meal, I noticed a "colorful local" making like a mad chemist with pitchers and bowls and bottle at distant table. The waiter later brought us each a huge beverage mug which "had been made in our honor". It was white wine and milk sweetened with sugar.
Had I known that later that afternoon we would have been "further" honored by being led into the local bull ring to "give a try" at wrestling a young bull, I would have asked for seconds.
Under the Bull Ring stands, there were a multitude of ting vendor stalls selling glasses of Vino. After you drained the wine, the glass was left with lots of dregs - think a glass tumbler recently emptied of purple buttermilk
der Brucer
