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Beating the Basque blues with food

A bland, breezy day at the Grand Plage in Biarritz
A bland, breezy day at the Grand Plage in Biarritz A bland, breezy day at the Grand Plage in Biarritz

Go mbeannaí Dia daoibh agus bhur gcéad fáilte isteach chuig The Bluffer’s Guide to Irish, cabidil a gazillion.

The Bluffer is just back from Tír na mBascach - the Basque Country - yes, he had a lovely time, thanks for asking. He and his compánaigh - companions were welcomed to Biarritz in iardeisceart na Fraince - in the south-west of France by a cith fearthainne - a shower of rain. This was not part of the plan.

However, over a demi of local beer, the three amigos discussed, er, the weather.

The rain pitter pattering outside was a cith gealáin - a sunny shower. If it were heavier, it would have been a bailc - a heavy shower. A sudden shower is called wither a sprais or a ráig while a light shower is called a barrchith.

After a hearty meal at Brasserie le Napoleon, it was back to the bar as bhí turadh ann - the rain had stopped. From the bar, we watched one of the most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen.

The next day, we were off on the 70-minute bus journey to Donostia as the Basques call San Sebastián - to be greeted by the aforementioned bailc! However, it’s amazing how good food and a bottle of txakoli, the local wine can defeat the worst of weather.

It is little wonder that Donostia is considered one of the finest holiday destinations for foodies in Europe. Food is a fealsúnacht - a philosophy as well as a necessity for living here and bar counters laden with food from early morning to late at night.

The idea of standing in a bar and just drinking seemed a little bit weird as all day long people crowded into San Sebastián’s tapas bars for the most beautifully produced morsels of food to go with your caife - coffee or your gloine fíona - glass of wine or your gloine beorach - glass of beer. And some of the taps bars were busy all day long.

The Bluffer kept the calories down by walking the beautiful streets of Donostia for hours at a time, including a trip up Mount Urgull to the 100 foot statue of Jesus at the top,

Now that he’s back home, it could be time that the Bluffer, never the world’s most enthusiastic cócaire - cook might venture into an chistín - the kitchen, to rustle up some anchovies and crab tapas or throw the beret on to hit St George’s in search of some halibut. The big question was would a tapas bar like the one’s in Spain succeed in Belfast? Would a chorizo and goat’s cheese amuse bouche go with a pint of double?

How would a plate of clams or a mini-Spanish omlette fare in a packed-out Bot during an Ireland against England rugby match? How do you pronounce Gambas al Ajillo after five pints of Harp and don’t we need sunny weather to enjoy finger food?

These important questions might not be answered in the Bluffer’s lifetime. It might be as short-lived as his enthusiasm for turning his home into a Basque tapas bar, but for now, where’s that acoustic guitar and the flamenco dress?