Half a loaf, a boot with a pint of vintage wine, a wedge of goat cheese and, perhaps, a piece of rather dry cured chorizo.
It does not seem a great meal as well, at first sight and, Nevertheless, It all depends perhaps the moment that seeks, and which seeks, to our life.
Possibly, on the banks of the Segura or at the top of Mount Orihuela, they could know in another way how ya poet Miguel Hernández He often evokes those meals in Madrid alone in the countryside, in the lunch break and the flock, slowly tasting each bite, savoring it in the absolute empire of solitude with oneself, hunger body, and spirit.
Certainly cooked in the Lhardy of Madrid in the company of Cossío, Neruda, Aleixandre or Juan Ramon Jimenez himself provide him with some gastronomic delights, attached to the gathering, colmasen virtues his stomach as much as his hunger for knowledge and create, but the longing for the solitary taste of those onions from the dry fields was widely reflected in his memory and his poems.
"The onion is frost
closed and poor:
frost of your days
and my nights.
Hunger and onion:
black ice and frost
large round '.
Today we do not contemplate the kitchen or from hunger or from a solo act Y, safely, when the creator of the Asian restaurant chain Ichiran He was raised to create a concept divided into cubicles restaurants and recently opened in New York, in which human interaction became impossible for be able to concentrate on tasting food for the pure food and the pure pleasure of tasting it, did not know Miguel Hernández, but yes poetry.
Enjoy eating face
The truth is, in a civilization and society we live in today, get the enjoyment of something exclusive and secluded, specific and unique, with absolute concentration it is something that we face as impossible Y, Nevertheless, The idea seems great at first sight.
We do not need more memory than years to remember those very Castilian meals in which the men did not remove their berets and, for many people who had, nor eyes rose from the dish, nor it was heard beyond the flight of a fly.
The food was an act of hunger, of pleasure and rest. A time to isolate yourself and focus on the pots and dishes, in chop and chickpeas, and chew them slowly, like to get the butter out of them, in the brief repose of sweat and work.
"Whoever eats and sings a sense lacks", They sang parents. "Sheep that bullets a bite that loses", it was said in Asturias; sayings that were part of the Spanish culture and were used until very few years ago. maybe, in a world where we gobble up every day faster, it would not hurt to rethink the need for Back to make eating a more intimate act and less social.
The mystical experience of eating
Nevertheless, in this country where we live and coexist, the idea of the Asian chain should not surprise us so much.
Our territory is full of monasteries and hospices that open their doors to pilgrims turned into tourists, tourists converted into pilgrims, or callers and reserve, to share with them their customs, food and accommodation.
Silence in food, only interrupted in some orders by the reader brother, It is a common practice since contemplate food as one of the few pleasures permitted, a moment of tasting, reflection and gratitude, which leads to perfect communion with oneself.
Saint Teresa of Jesus herself, greatest exponent of mysticism with John of the Cross, something of it should know when he said that God had to be sought among pots and stoves.
Although the mystique of friend Sancho was quite different, and at Don Quixote's invitation to eat from his plate and at his side in the company of other knights of nobility, he expressed his preference for eating alone and standing, this time justified in that much better he knew what he ate in his corner without gimmicks or respect, even if it was bread and onions, that gallipavos from other tables where he was forced to chew slowly, drink little, cleaned much, not sneeze or cough, or do other things that loneliness and freedom contributed to him.
The only caution we have is no match on the day of the week when the Carthusian monks are forced to eat only bread and water, at the risk that our mystical experience turns into fasting.