My trip to Barcelona with Aimee, Chuck, and Marcel was the final spice I needed to complete the simmering stew of "Time for My Next Life Adventure".

Of course, "food" is important to me - its flavors, colors, how it is cooked, where is it sourced...BUT, that is not the most important aspect. What has guided me as a chef, restaurant owner, instructor and mentor to cooks, students, meaning seekers is the relationship of food. Endless hours, days, weeks, months, years, a lifetime in fact, in the kitchen were sustained by a simple thought - I am cooking for someone I love. (I trained my team to cook this way).

At virtually every place we ate, the food was remarkable, varied, simple, fresh, delicious. (Thanks to new friends I met through my Airbnb - Marta & Anthony - we had a list of the best, authentic places to eat - Barcelona is now their home). The food, however, was only secondary.

First, traveling with Aimee, Chuck, and Marcel is a gas. In the true food-lover's manner, we are either talking about what we are eating, what we ate, or what we are going to eat next, passionately. Along the way from here to there, we could not help being diverted by ice cream, ham, pastries, candy, the markets. Our luck was amazing - places that had "no availability", miraculously found us a spot. And then there was the pure delight of diving in.

One of the amazing places we discovered (Marta's list!) is El Chigre (C/Sombrerers 7). Small, funky, in a place of stone, old, real.

From the very first moment, the place exuded "bienvenido". Authentic cooking, friendly staff, warm embracing environment. In a section of the city I love - the ancient place. I was led to understand the owner is from Asturias - a cider producing region in northern Spain (my daughter, Brenna spent time abroad there in college) - cider was a featured. I ate here four times, would have been five, but on our last night, it was the wise decision to chill and pack (I could only do so many "out till 3 am" nights - age I guess.)

On my third visit, I went alone, late. The place was packed. But being a "familiar" face, 3 visits in as many days, I got the last seat in the house. I was going to enjoy the anonymity, be a quiet observer, luxuriate in "the other place". This was not to be. Sitting down, I found myself a participant in clarification of a culinary flavor - the chef was trying to explain a particular herb. "Estragón" he said. "Dill, parsley, I don't know that one?"...diner replied. "Tarragon", the authority explained.

Thus an evening of tapas commenced.

To my right, and the yank trying to figure out the herb, sat Nathan. We chatted, wandered the alleyways and impressions of Barcelona - he was my motivation to make a visit to the synagogue a must. A music man, a New Yorker, a kindred soul. He taught me "Nathan's Laces" and "Nathan's Paper Fold" - a way to tie my shoes, so they do not loosen, and a marvelous way to fold and tear scrape paper for my daily notepad.

We shared bites. I met his wife, Liz. We will meet again, somewhere within the music of tapas.

I was aware, to my left, a couple that came and went, ostensibly to go out an smoke. When Liz and Nathan left, the gentleman encourage me to keep speaking Spanish, a thank you in a way. I am sure my conversation with Nathan floated over to the other side - a benefit of the closeness of a tiny bar. Marcelo and Titi are from Barcelona - he a wine maker - winner of "best wine maker" of Catalonia. Our conversation centered on the good life of the region, (He, and I agree, confirmed the authenticity of El Chigre), and my quest for "the other place, the next adventure". "This is the place to live", he was adamant. "Talk to my friend Bob, he is my neighbor, he'll tell you about the life here..." . Marcelo gave me Bob's number, we have spoken - a gateway to Spain is opened.

Well, the tapas have been amazing, delicious, fresh, simple, (did I say inexpensive? I was continually reminded that what I spent in four nights, would not have paid for one night at a tapas place in my home town), I am inspired to cook in this fashion.

On our final day, we met up with our (ostensible) hosts - Marta and Anthony for tapas. It was a really LOCAL bar. Tiny, 2 tables on the sidewalk and enough room in side for 20 sardines, uh, people. Bathrooms in Asheville restaurants are bigger. It was here, the final day, the final spot, that the savor of tapas finally revealed itself. It was not the food.

It was THIS!

Oh, did I mention "el azuto", la nuca?... well, it's another story!

On my way, to "the other place".

- Mark

Tapas

It is not just about cooking