My alarm is going off at 6:30AM. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s the alarm, or just the bells ringing in my head accompanying my hangover. In fact, I might still be drunk.
They do Polish food, in particular, Pierogies. So I offend the lovely waitress who spent a minute or two describing the different pierogie they have by not ordering any.
I don’t care, and I start munching on it, getting chocolate all over my face and beard. I’m like a kid again. A kid with first, and possibly second degree burns in his mouth.
Now say it with me: “cheeeeeeeeeeeeese”
Also, holy crap, there about 5 litres of Sangria to go through. Courtesy of Jenny’s Dad. As well as rows and rows of San Miguel, and Mahou beer.
-photo taken from Wikipedia I am still trying to process what has happened. As is much, I expect, much of the culinary world. We watched Bourdain, march across the world, dragging us along as he ate… well ate near enough anything that looked remotely interesting (raw seal eyes anyone?) Programmes, such as the Layover, and…
Like cheesecake, with a beer, and sparkling water. How rock and roll!