It was about that time when a good dose of pork was necessary. Some of you are already aware of the posts I have dedicated to my love for pork, and that I have become a regular smuggler of bacon, presunto, and various sausages when returning from a non-Muslim country. I will even shamelessly ask Pedro to carry some in as well, which he kindly does. So when in Spain, one must indulge in some jamón and assorted Spanish pork sandwiches. I realise now that the sandwiches in the foreground do not reveal a hint of the goodness inside, as I photographed them from above, but trust me when I say that the mysterious pork purée slathered inside was absolutely wonderful.
As usual, I was struck with food envy, and though I thoroughly enjoyed what I had ordered, I needed to try the sandwich with whisky sauce that also came to the table— so I ordered my own.
Oh my goodness.
As usual, I was struck with food envy, and though I thoroughly enjoyed what I had ordered, I needed to try the sandwich with whisky sauce that also came to the table— so I ordered my own.
Oh my goodness.
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