Estrella Galicia

In the northwest corner, Galicia is separated from the rest of Spain by a mountain range only the most hardy of travellers may pass.  This divide, over the centuries, has helped harbour sentiments of neglect, aliention and natural superiority of Gallegos  over the other Spaniards.  Like every other autonomous region of Spain, this is evident in the continuation of a unique language, special, delicious cuisine, constant, occasionally violent protests calling for a socialist sovereign nation and by the sheer and decisive lack of any beer other than their own shining star: la estrella Galicia.

There, as in every bar during the siesta, I sat among the other men at midday with my cana and tapa, reading the newspaper and watching Rafa Nadal destroy some pithy opponent on television.  Santiago de Compostela is one of the few spanish cities that exercises still the practice of delivering a tapa (a small plate of food place on top of the beer to keep the flies out) with the purchase of every alcoholic beverage).  I looked down the bar at a thick old man hunched deep on his stool, leaning on the bar with a beer in one hand and a piece of bread in the other, wiping the foam from his face like a napkin.  Down the other side of the bar was a younger man, cigarette in hand, leaning back legs crossed, gazing carefully at the tennis match, muttering softly vamos rafa vamos rafa at every return.

"Joder!" I heard, "Joder" with the dense thump of knuckles on the table as one old man behind me, with his cigar clenched tight in his teeth, swearing, slammed down his cards on the table.  His old man friend, bursting from his three piece suit smiled and kicked back in victory before the two raised their beers together, "Salud, no pasa nada."

I took a swig and wiped my face with my bread as is the local tradition.  I took a bite of the tapa, a hearty beer stew, swigged again, finished the tapa, paid my 1.20 euro, folded the paper and stepped out into the sunny day for a nap in the park, the star of galicia settling deep in my stomach, urging me to enjoy the day without rain, without boots, without pack.

joder, i say.  galicia non se vende!

rating: burger and brew.  although not consumed with the fanfare of a burger, this estrella galicia/tapa combo is certainly the european equivalent of that cherished american meal.