Half Blog. Half Biscuit. Borders, Blunders and Bourbons.

Half Blog. Half Biscuit. Borders, Blunders and Bourbons.

It´s 8.07am. and dawn is breaking here over Birmingham to the sound of rain hammering on the flat roof of our living room extension. Good to be back. 

It was raining when we abandoned Álora again last Saturday at about the same hour. In June we left nursing fractured limbs - this time we left behind a complete corte de luz (power cut). ElectroDavid bravely struggled to rescue us on Friday night but he gave up looking for the fault after 2 hours of pulling wires, ripping off 'junction box' covers (I never knew we had so many) and shaking his head. All by torch and candlelight.

'The problem is that the cables (wires) go under the marble floors and inside the walls. The fault could be anywhere and there's no macaroni'. he pronounced. 'You will need all the cables replaced.'
 

                       


 no macaroni but lots of spaghetti.


                                                       


'Could cost between 500€ and 2000€. I'll send you an e-mail.' 

I could swear we had the place rewired about 10 years ago!.




macaroni.








And so it was with heavy hearts and in heavy rain  that we set off down Calle Benito Suarez 'rumbo a Santander'.

Two days and 1000 kilometres later we joined the queue for the Santander to Portsmouth ferry only to be told at the check-in booth that Tommy's pet passport was invalid. The vet in back Álora had made a mistake on the passport.

'This passport is no good'.

The Pet Passport Scheme has allowed us to go back and forth from England to Spain for the last 13 years without having to put Tommy or Monty into quarantine for 6 months when we entered the UK. More than 100,000 journeys a year are currently made by dogs, cats, rabbits and ferrets under the scheme. 
In order to travel back with our dogs we have to make sure that their vaccinations against rabies are kept up to date, they are microchipped and they have to see an approved Spanish vet for a worming tablet five days before we go back.
Any error or omission in the passport will result in refusal to board a plane or a boat until a vet has sorted it out which, could take days......or 6 months quarantine. It happened to us a few years ago when Juan the vet altered a date and Brittany Ferries had a purge on pet  passports. Trying to bribe a border official is always  a bit risky  so now I always check everything is kosher. I can't believe I missed the error. He'd put the wrong year for the vaccination to become effective. The word for 'wanker' in Spanish is 'gilipollas' in case you're wondering.

We were told to get out of the queue and try to contact our vet 1000 km. away at 8.00pm on a Saturday night. 
Meanwhile cars continued being loaded on to the only ferry for days and dog accommodation on the ferries is as rare as hens' teeth at this time of the year. Ernesto the vet (not his real name) answered his mobile (Grácias a Díos) and agreed to fill in a form with the correct dates on it and e-mail it to the checkpoint. The rest is all a blank to me. 

There is no agreement yet about what will happen after March 29th. 2019 when Britain leaves the European Union. If there's 'no deal'- sí que estaremos jodidos (we'll be up shit creek without a paddle).

Will we ever see Álora again?

I've just been to the Audiology Centre at Queen Elizabeth Hospital because my hearing aids have packed up. It's a nightmare trying to park there so after driving round and round for the best part of half an hour I only just made it before the 'drop in' clinic closed.

Grateful for a change of scenery I plonked myself down on an empty seat in the warm, cosy waiting room expecting to be there for enough time to run up a hefty charge in the tower of extortion known as Car Park A.
Imagine my surprise when I recognised the patient in the next seat as G****n from Álora.
What are the chances of that happening, eh?

For many years G****n's short, stooped figure haunted the streets of our fine town in search of a property to buy. The owner of Alora Properties in La Plaza de la Fuente Arriba (The Top Square) will remember him well. 

During dozens of visits over several years G****n must have viewed every available property in the town at least once. In between viewings he liked nothing better than to report his lack of progress to anyone not quick enough to see him coming. I never met his wife who, apparently, lived and still does live in Australia from where she was able to prolong his house viewing and visits to Spain long enough for some of his refusals to bought, renovated, lived in and put back on the market. It was an arrangement that seemed to please all parties except perhaps the very patient estate agent.
We were all surprised when he finally bought a house in the highest part of town and (less surprisingly) immediately started having problems with his Spanish neighbours.
 G****n has  just returned from Australia to Birmingham '..where I live when I'm here'  and is now trying to sell his house in Álora. The hills are a bit much for him.

After a few minutes chat his name was called. Apparently he's not called G****n at all, but Walter!
What a dark horse!

Diligent readers of this classic journal may remember that this picture of my good friend Antonio holding a poster appeared at the head of my last post. The photo was taken at midday on Monday under the town hall clock. As regular as clockwork, too, a group of Perote pensioners has held a peaceful demonstration in the top square (which is actually a triangle) for over a year at the same time and day. They are protesting against the very low annual increase in their state pension.
During the summer they moved across the square and demonstrated outside Paco's Bar Alegría even though he has little or no influence with the government in Madrid - it's just that it was shady over there.
'¡No vale ganar más dinero y morir de una insolacíón!'
('No point in trying to get better pensions if we die of sunstroke!')
The numbers have dwindled over the last year. The average age of the demonstrators is about 85, so some losses are to be expected.
The sign says:
'Where is the money for our pensions?
'They've got it. The Bankers,the Church and the Bourbons'.


Demonstrations are very popular these days. It's as if they are making up for almost 40 years of Francoism when anybody daring to protest would have been arrested and given a severe biffing at the Cuartel. (Guardia Civil Headquarters) ...or worse, and these chaps are old enough to remember those days well. 
It's easy to understand why they blame the bankers and the Church but ...

a biscuit?

or the Royal Family

(spot the one currently doing 5 years in the nick)


 

The Bourbon family have ruled Spain on and off since 1700. 
In the War of the Spanish Succession they lost Gibraltar to Britain (1713). Watch this space.
Even after being kicked out by Napoleon and a couple of dictators they bounced back, bore a big bunch of baby Bourbons and bagged billions (of pesetas).
A lot of Spaniards don't like the Bourbons, mainly because they are French.
Interesting fact: The Bourbon biscuit (Peak Freans) is named after this family. The holes are to let steam out during cooking. Bourbon buscuits are the fifth most popular biscuits for 'dunking'.

 The Bothers Cids' Barbería

 Just before we left Álora I went for a haircut at  Hermanos Cid (The Cid Brothers). It's run by two brothers Paco and Pepe Cid. That's either Paco or Pepe leaning in the doorway. After having my hair cut there for 18 years I still don't know which is which and it´s too late to ask now. Their 'salon' is right next to where there used to be an old fountain that gave its name to the top square and was the main scource of water for the town.

                   La Fuente de Arriba before The Cids

When it´s not raining this little space is full of mainly elderly men chewing the fat. Some of them sit inside as if they are waiting for a haircut, which can be very confusing. They carry on animated conversations with Paco and Pepe while they go about their barbery business. I watch them through the mirror. The box on the bench is a cage with little birds in it which are for sale (going cheap).

A haircut there is a very thorough job and takes, on average, twenty minutes. It would be quicker if Paco/Pepe didn't keep breaking off to join the conversations. I sometimes wonder if they are concentrating enough on what they are doing, especially when they get out the cutthroat razor to shave my neck.

Here's Antonio Gil who seems to be happy in his new premises on Calle Vera Cruz just up from Hermanos Cid. He's taken over La Jamonería which used to be a carnicería (butcher's) run by Andrés. 
It's a much smaller place than his previous bar on La Rampa, he doesn't open at night and he plays rock music a bit quieter than he did there. Antonio now specialises in Pata Negra jamon (the best hams - there are 14 hanging up there), very good cheese and other tasty cold tapas. There's no door so it's very easy to slip in there when you're on your way 'uptown'.







Pie news- the continuing hunt for a proper Spanish pie

Great news. On recent visit to Granada I spotted this little belter in a shop on Reyes Catolicos  not far from El Corral del Carbón.

It's a circular pie, not a pasty and it's stuffed with jamon serrano, chorizo and something else I couldn't identify. (€2.50 a slice) It's definitely a pie though. Just my luck that we had just put away a big menú del día at La Chantarella.

Olive news.

Olivar Caicunes has just finished bottling this year's raw unfiltered olive oil. It's smooth and strong and has the peppery taste you get with Hojiblanca and Picual olives. 
The harvests were down on last year around Casarabonela but we managed to pick 1767 kilos before the weather took a turn for the worse and bottled 187 litres of oil.

                                      Liquid Gold.


Juanito Sánchez December 5th. 2018.

Where's my pension gone?

Where's my pension gone?

A few days ago, before it started raining and raining, I was striding purposefully down our street to buy a barra de pan at Antonio and Flores's delightful little corner shop 'Lo Más Natural' when I spotted Antonio 'Zapatero' the cobbler in an unusually jolly mood. Antonio is rather small and has a physical disability that has left him with a 'rolling gait' which can best be described as similar to that of Quasimodo, played by Charles Laughton, in the 1939 film 'The Hunchback of Notre Dame.'
Between demonic cackles he was able to point out one of our vecinos (neighbours) lying across the usually dog turd festooned road chucking oranges under a parked car. A small crowd was gathering to watch the fun.

-¿Es un gato? - I enquired,
-No. Una rata-

Towns and villages like Álora all have customs and traditions (Is there a difference?) which are sometimes charming and fascinating and sometimes bizarre and perplexing.I'm particularly fond of el día de la meceero (annual day of the swing and rude songs) when a wooden bench is suspended from two high balconies and young women of all ages get the chance to show off their underwear while capullos (dirty old men of all ages) sing  meceeros (rude songs) and shout insults at them. Great fun.

                   Mrs. Sánchez on the columpio (swing)

'The day of the rat hunt with oranges'. is a new one on me and I can see its appeal. Unlike the day of the meceeros no food or drink is involved. It will never catch on. There used to be a similar event in Llareggub, North Wales but it was banned after the passing of The Hunting Act of. 2004.

Hardly a year goes by without Calle Cervantes being torn up and resurfaced again. Everyone in town looks forward to the new and interesting road diversions that come into force. You get to see streets that you never knew existed and meet new friends as you find yourself driving the wrong way up a newly designated one-way street. Takings at the Repsol garage down on Calle Constitution have shot up too. It took me 14 minutes to take Mrs. Sánchez to her yoga class last week instead of the usual 4 minutes 50 seconds.
The stylish block paving was a big success at first but after a few showers all the sand was washed away  from between the bricks and the heavy traffic through town did the rest.
I expect the work will all be finished when we return to Álora in March.

Now that all the olives have been gathered in from Olivar Caicunes we can think about our return to pre-Brexit Britain for the 'festive season'. The problem we have is that our cruise back on the good ship Pont Aven is booked for the 31st. March 2019, two days after  Britain takes back control of its affairs and a new golden age begins on the 'sceptered isle'. So far there is no agreement about Tommy's and Monty's  'Pet Passports' in the brave new post Brexit world. They only work across EU countries so we might be turned away at Plymouth or Santander. Nobody seems to know what's going to happen.

It wasn't good olive picking weather this year. Lots of rain and cold winds took a lot of the fun out of it.

                          A windy day on the olives

Fortunately 'The Fractured Three' plus other valiant volunteers managed to pick 1757 kg. of olives which we took to the mill to be 'pressed'.
In actual fact olives are not 'pressed' at all these days unless you take them to a traditional mill which is hard to find.
The old method of extracting oil from olives went like this.

The olives were first crushed by massive heavy stones, usually cone shaped in Spain. All the olive got crushed including the 'nut' in the middle. and the skins.

                Olive millstone

All the mushy paste fell through holes in the flat stones. The paste was then put on big circular esparto mats in layers on the 'olive press'.

 The pile of olive paste was then squashed or 'pressed' between the  esparto mats and the liquid dropped down into a tank below. This would be a mixture of oil, watery juice and skins.
That was the 'first press' that you read on olive oil labels.
Then the oil had to separated from the water and the 'solid waste'. This happened in a tall  tank with a tap at the bottom and one nearer the top for the oil. Oil has a lower 'specific gravity' than water so it rises up above the water and is drained out by a tap.

           Olive oil processing (in the old days).

The best olive oil was the oil from the first pressing. Later all the waste and the residue on the mats could be pressed again, sometimes using hot water (not 'cold pressed'). This gave inferior oil.

These days the olives are washed and then crushed in an electric grinder, kneaded in a big tank and then the water and oil are separated in a centrifuge.

                                  The final product

There is no 'second pressing'. 'Cold pressed' these days means that the temperature of the water used must not be above 80°F.
....      As I was writing this all the lights and power went off so I had to stop. It looks like a total rewiring job. Mrs. S and I leave Álora once again on a sad note.
Before I go I thought the pie enthusiasts among my many readers might be interested in this curious object which came into my possession this morning.

It's a  lemon pasty!

See you when the lights go back on.

Juanito Sánchez November 22nd 2018

Why there are no pies in Spain.

Why there are no pies in Spain.

Our annual Día de las Sopas Perotas was a big success last Saturday. Thousands of hungry visitors poured through the narrow and picturesque streets of Álora for a free bowl of our tasty and nourishing signature dish, las sopas perotas.
This year Susana Díaz, President of the Andalucían Junta came along  for a bowlful. This was such an important event that it was mentioned in the popular ex-pat weekly Sur in English. Here she is with our alcalde whose name you will know by now. I don't know who the bloke on her right is but he was obviously expecting something better. He was probably expecting a bowl of soup made from perotas (female Aloraneans). He's going, ´WTF?´. No wonder. Even the Sur newspaper doesn´t know the difference between sopa and sopas. Look at it. Does it look like soup to you?

sopas; feminine plural. pieces of bread (plural) soaked in soup, coffee etc.
Oxford English-Spanish Dictionary

Here they are later, passing our front door. The poor chap looks ready to throw up, doesn´t he?

Why there are no pies in Spain.

Apart from in Mallorca, I have not yet come across a genuine Spanish pie. You sometimes see those little pasties filled with tuna or sweet potato and you can get the Brit version in Iceland in Fuenguirola. But they don't go for the meat pie here even though I did bring a few down to Álora once, hoping they might catch on. Even Manolo, the enigmatic owner of Cafe -Bar El Madrugón wasn´t impressed.

      Manolo not being impressed by a Melton Mowbray.

Why does a population that consumes millions of tons of pork a year and loves pastry not go for a pork pie? 
I have, at last, found the answer and it goes deep into Spain´s history and religious life so if you´re not interested in History or religion you´d better skip the next bit and go to Bar News.

              Tariq ibn ziyad on a Gibraltar £5.00 note

In 711 AD Spain was being ruled by King Roderick and the Visigoths who used to go about in black clothes with their faces painted and looking fed up all the time. 

                                                                    Goths

 They could never live up to the reputation of the Romans who had built aqueducts, roads and wore long cool white robes. They never really wanted to rule Spain or anywhere else and found the summers too hot and the food greasy. They soon started falling out with each other, forming armies and fighting wars. Even that wasn't enough to cheer them up.
The governor of Ceuta, Julian, just across the  water in North Africa, had a rift with Roderick and wanted to give him a good hiding for messing with his daughter so he asked his pal Tariq ibn Ziyad to go over into Spain with an army to give Roderick a biffing.
Tariq didn't need asking twice. He sailed across the Straits of Gibraltar which were named after him (jabal Tariq), killed Roderick and set off to conquer all of Spain, Portugal and some of France. He called the new country Al-Andalus.
Roderick was a Catholic but Tariq was a Muslim so he started building Mosques everywhere and making everyone speak Arabic and wear arabic clothes. Everyone got on really well for 800 years. Catholics, Jews and Muslims prospered and Spain, particularly Córdoba and Toledo, became famous centres of learning. The 'moors' (a word used then and now to describe north African muslims) were responsible for nearly everything beginning with 'al' - algebra, alcantarillas (drains) alcachofas (artichokes) albondigas (meatballs), aluminium, albatrosses and alcohol even though their religion prohibited them from drinking it. Jerez was named after the Shiraz grape from Shiraz in Persia (now Iran).

.

                Moorish alembic for distilling alcohol

All good things come to an end and the Northern European Catholics, egged on by the Pope, kept trying to 'recapture' Spain. After about 800 years they finally beat the moors at Granada. Fernando and Isabela became the Reyes Catolicos (King and Queen of Spain). This happened just as Columbus was 'discovering' a new sea route to India via Jamaica. (1492).

         Ferdinand and Isabella (Los Reyes Catolicos)

Ferdinand and Isabella were fundamentalist Catholics and immediately began a programme of ethnic cleansing. They told all the Muslims and Jews to get out of Spain or convert to Christianity. The trouble was that the Jews and Muslims knew everything about everything. 
Thousands of Muslims converted to Christianity and were called 'Moriscos'. Many Jews left Spain but many stayed as 'Conversos'.

 Moriscos and Conversos

Casarabonela , just up the road from here was a town made up almost entirely of moriscos. They have a festival there ever year where an Inquisitor Trial is enacted.

The Catholic Church suspected that some conversos and moriscos were still practising their religion and customs secretly
so they set up the 'Holy Office of the Inquisition' to catch out transgressors. The Inquisition usually turned up without warning, hoping to catch people out doing un-Christian things.
An accusation would lead to interrogation, torture and confiscation of property. Conviction could result in being burnt at the stake at an 'auto da fe'.

                                    An Auto da Fe

Moriscos and Conversos took to eating pork ostentatiously to 'prove' that they were true converts. Lamb was avoided because it was used widely in Arabic cooking. Converso Jews were often caught out by not showing chimney smoke on Saturdays, having white tablecloths and candles on Friday evenings and making dishes on Fridays that could be eaten cold on Saturdays when cooking is forbidden in the Jewish faith.

'Other typical Sabbath dishes included aubergine fritters, fritadas (omelettes with  vegetables) and empanadas and empanadilla (pies filled with minced meat or fish). Jews were known for their frequent use of minced meat - to make meatballs and as stuffing for pies)'

'The Food of Spain'
Claudia Roden

The use of olive oil was associated with Jewish cooking too, so pork fat was used by everyone, just to be on the safe side.
And eating pies could get you into serious trouble, especially on Saturdays, even if it was a pork pie!

So that's why you still don't see pies in Spain.
Well, that's my theory anyway.


Bar News.

It's always a pleasure to announce the opening of a new bar in Álora. Bar El Tapeo has reopened under new management on Calle Cervantes next to La Casa de Cultura. 

If you're prepared to make the journey to Casarabonela try the menú at Tomate Algo.

       Mrs. Sánchez perusing the menu at Tomate Algo

 Juanito Sánchez.
14th. October 2018


 

A Little Quince Summer and War Without the Shooting Breaks Out in Álora. (warning: may contain explicit images).

A Little Quince Summer and War Without the Shooting Breaks Out in Álora. (warning: may contain explicit images).

                              Membrillos (quinces)

Tomorrow will be the first day of October and it looks like we'll be having a 'veranillo de membrillo' (a little quince summer) again with temperatures touching 30 degrees C. It's also called 'el veranillo de San Miguel' in Spain because St. Michael the Archangel's Special Day is September 29th and not just because a lot of Spain's most famous beer is drunk during the hot weather.

In England and the USA it's called an 'Indian Summer' but nobody knows why, including people from India and 'Native Americans'. Quinces are usually ripe about this time of year so Veranillo de Membrillo makes sense even though nobody knows what to do with them when they're ripe except for making carne de membrillo (membrillo meat) which is not meat at all but a hard sweet jelly that you only ever eat with cheese. They sell it in the shops as 'dulce de membrillo'. 

                            carne/dulce de membrillo

A little of it goes a long way and we are often given a bowl of it by one of our lovely neighbours.
We had a quince bush in our garden in Birmingham a few years ago and made some wine from the fruit. It was drinkable.

The popular British breakfast conserve Marmalade used to be made from quinces before oranges were invented. 'Marmelada' is Portuguese for 'quince preparation'. Some well-intentioned people will tell you that the word 'marmalade' comes from the French 'Marie Malade' (sick Mary) along with some load of old cobblers about Queen Mary the something eating it when she was poorly. Honestly, the things they tell you in school!
Also, don't let anyone tell you they don't sell marmalade in Mercadona. It's with all the other mermeladas (jams) with an orange on the label.

Anyway, Indian or San Miguel, everybody here has had enough summer for one year except, of course, people on holiday. Our olives are shrivelling and the reservoirs are starting to look dangerously empty again.

Napoleon Bonaparte famously stated, 'England is a nation of shopkeepers' and if Álora is anything to go by, Spain is a nation of shop closers. Shops and bars here seem to be opening and closing faster than bedroom doors in a Whitehall farce (weren't they hilarious?). If you go away for a few weeks, as we do, you never know where anything is when you get back. The pescadería (fish shop) has just moved across the top square, our favourite frutería (greengrocer) has shut down and three more have opened down Calle Cervantes. The charity shop run by Cudeca (care of cancer patients) has closed down along with Lola Decoración next door (which had a vending machine selling sex toys and chewing gum).The two shops will be replaced by a Día % supermercado.
Unlike in England where high street businesses close down and are replaced by charity shops, the reverse is true here. Where are we going to take all our junk, buy paperbacks, DVDs and 'Sur in English' now?  Supertodo which even opened on saints' days and sold everything from pan scrubs to panceta has closed its doors too....but the biggest shock of all  is the demise of Comercial Rebollo- Alorá's only 'department store' 'por jubilación' (owing to retirement).

Where is anybody going to buy televisions, mattresses, computers, washing machines, furniture, hair driers, mobile phones etc. now? On the internet, of course. I can't think whose retirement has triggered this bombshell. Sra.Rebollo lived in the flats opposite on Calle Veracuz and used to go across the road now and then to sit in the shop and do a bit of knitting but she must have retired years ago and all the staff there were quite young. There must be another reason. The shop was always busy and operated a curious retail arrangement by which all the staff sat behind a big L-shaped desk full of catalogues and you were invited to sit down, when a chair became available, and state your business.

There's a rumour going round that they've been bought out by Selfridges or MacDonald's. My theory is that the heir to the Rebollo fortune, Miguel Angél Rebollo, poet, economist and disciple of the Iberian 19th. century philosopher Chivas Regal, who was rarely seen before mid afternoon and hardly ever went in his shop, has decided to extend his studies  and develop his role as resident 'philosopher/economist' in Bar Chismo which will be very demanding. Come to think of it I haven't seen him around for ages. Man in Álora will investigate.
........and apparently it wasn't Napoleon who coined the phrase 'nation of shopkeepers' after all, but Adam Smith, another philosopher/economist whose Institute is largely responsible for the British Conservative Party. 

 Adam Smith being pursued by angry young 'Corbynistas'

Good news..... a new tienda de comestibles (grocery shop) is opening at the top of Calle Algarrobo.  

                                                Sport is war without the shooting                                George Orwell

On the wall outside Bar Alegría, just above the poster announcing the opening of the new Tienda de Comestibles there has appeared an announcement of the annual football match between the Ayuntamiento (the town council) and the Guardia Civil (the national paramilitary police force some times know as 'La Benemérita' which has its cuartel (barracks) on the outskirts of town on the road to El Chorro).

The match is held  to celebrate 'El Día de la Virgen del Pilar' (The day of the Virgin of the Pillar) who is the patrona of the Guardía Civil and so it´s only fair that they should win the game, especially as they carry loaded guns. This year the Festival of Pilar is on October 12th. so all the shops will be shut, except for the Moroccan and Chinese Bazaars.

                             Guardia Civil 1st. XI

The idea of a footy match between town hall personel and the 'Civiles' brings to mind a (this time accurate) quotation from George Orwell's essay 'The Sporting Spirit (1945) 

'Sport is war without the shooting'.

In Andalucía the the role of the Guardia Civil during and after the Spanish Civil War lends this 'annual event' a touch of irony.
When the war kicked off in 1936 with a rebellion against the Spanish Government led by a group of Army generals the majority of Guardia Civil contingents stayed loyal to the republican Government. 
In Andalucía they already had a history of brutal repression of dissent, particularly in rural areas, which means  pretty well everywhere. They weren't popular.
When the 'Nationalistas' captured Andalucía early in the war many towns and villages had town councils made up largely of republicans. The Guardia Civil, and the local 'Falangists' (fascists) would often put a team together to take on the local  'ayuntamiento team'. 
After the whistle was blown the game usually kicked off with the Guardia rounding up the mayor and corporation and shooting them. Game over. They never lost a match. They had all the guns after all.

This happened not far away from here in Mijas. The mayor there, Manuel Cortéz avoided arrest and summary execution by hiding for 30 years in his own house. ('The Life of Manuel Cortés' by Ronald Fraser, Verso 1972)
And he lived to tell the tale. The 'Civiles' regularly searched the house but never found him.

                                    Manuel Cortés

These days it's more of a 'friendly' game and I shall be reporting on it in the next Man in Álora blog.

The day after the footy match Álora will put on its 15th. annual Día de las Sopas Perotas (It's NOT soup).

                Álora will provide the sopas, you the spoon'.
Mmmmm. Save some for me.

Pie news.

One of my readers in Liverpool, England clearly shares my affection and afición for pies to such a degree that he is producing 'images' which take the pie from its humble status as a 'hand-held gourmet savoury food item' to an art form. It's easy to see the influence of Magritte in the above image which uses a controversial  juxtaposition of two quite distinct images of pies; one a Holland's classic meat pie and the other a rustic cheese and onion pie. The incipient grin detectable on the 'face' of the the C&O also references a  classic Klee image and brashly symbolises the fusion between humanity and earth.

                      Paul Klee 'Death and Fire' 1940

If you send in more of these I am happy to introduce a new feature which we'll call:
'Pie Pictures'

See you on Saturday in Álora. Don't forget your spoon.

Juanito Sánchez 30th.September 2018.