As if the first two were not enough of a blackout blurr, third time was bound to be a charm. I decided this time, however, I would be completely and entirely sober. For those of you that don’t have the …. Privilege we’ll call it, of knowing me live and in color, aren’t aware that I’m typically a bubbly ball of energy sober OR drunk. I thoroughly enjoy dancing and don’t need “liquid courage” to “shake what my mama gave me.” This particular Thursday night, I was still recovering from last night’s crawl, but knew this was the last night for the unforeseeable future I’d get to go party in Barcelona. I refused to let this opportunity pass me by so I met up with my soon-to-be travel buddy at his hostel’s club for the first part of the night in anticipation of the crawl that started at 1:30. Yes, a crawl that doesn’t begin until after 1 am. Anyone that says Spaniards don’t know how to party, don’t know anything. Instantly, I was introduced to an Argentinian (are you beginning to see a trend here?) traveling by himself on holiday for the party life. He said he needed a break from their summer, which is full-blown in February. We’ll call this young lad Alejandro. Side note: I hope that Lady Gaga song just popped into your head. You’re welcome. Alejandro and I instantly clicked and became buddies. Mr. Butterwall agreed that he was a cool dude, evident by him showering Alejandro with jager shots. As the two dudes did their thing, I meandered to the dance floor with reggaeton was blaring to make money moves (#partywithkardi). Dancing like I’ve been traveling most of Europe, I was solo, swerving and curving my hips to music I could only imagine what stories the lyrics were telling. Several songs in, a tall, thin man from Nigeria approached me and mirrored my moves. For a couple songs we laughed and maintained the beat, but then I moved to the side and returned to my single stance. A circle of guys with blonde to light brown hair and one girl were dancing and occasionally throwing glances my way. From lightest to darkest hair, each one of the guys approached me to steal a dance. The first was really awkward and couldn’t find the beat and the second was really cute, but didn’t stay long. The third, we’ll call Mr. Ray Bando because I had noticed his glasses and smooth skin as his first friend approached me to dance. Cute and my type (If I even have one at this point), he approached me and instantly got low with me, since that’s the direction I was swaying when he walked my way. Leading me to his circle of friends, I became part of their dance circle. “Where are y’all from?” “Argentina,” they sang. Of fucking course you are, I thought, smiling. The next few songs that played were group favorites because the three guys that danced with me from the circle began belting the words. Continuing with my wanna-be-Shakira-moves, I smiled as Mr. Ray Bando began serenading me with the words foreign to me. “Do you know what they’re saying?” he said, reading my face. “Not a clue,” I laughed. “She’s saying we’re going home tonight without pajamas.” “Oh,” I laughed. Averting my eyes, I saw Alejandro to my left. “Hey!!!” I screamed! Smiling, he danced next to me for the rest of the song. “Do you like him?” he shouted to me over the music, gesturing to Mr. Ray Bando. “He’s nice. He keeps trying to kiss me though.” Nodding, he sipped another glass of Jager. “Hey! They’re from Argentina too!” Alejandro smiled and spoke probably two sentences worth of spanish to Mr. Ray Bando and then was beckoned by Mr. Butterwall for another drink. “Another water for you, Steph?” “You know it!” I smirked. Feeling a hand slide on my waste, Mr. Ray Bando was back with a vengeance. “Hey, I think that guy likes you.” “Naw, Alejandro and I are buddies. Why? What did he say to you?” “That you don’t like me and I should probably leave you alone.” Laughing I said, “I think he’s looking out for me since you keep trying to kiss me and I keep turning away.” Chuckling, his eyes narrowed on my hips as he wound up his. Before we knew it, the crawl leader waved her arms and bounced her tiny body proclaiming, “Crawl leaving in 1 minute.” Way for a notice, I thought. Searching frantically for my crew: butterwall and Alejandro, I found butterball engaging with a tattooed punk-rocker and Alejandro speaking with other Argentinians. “Guys, we’re heading out.” I was certain they heard me, but neither made a big indicator of it. Just then, the girl in the group of Argentinians that adopted me into their dance circle waved me over. “Hey!” “Hi,” I smiled. “Can you do me a favor?” Yeah… cause I always do favors for people I’ve danced across from. “Uhh… what?” I said with a half smile. “Kiss my friend?” “Lol why?” Yes. I actually said lol out loud. I have no excuse; I was sober. It just kind of happened. “Please? He really likes you.” Rolling my eyes that someone who rubs their body against you could like you, I playfully declined. Then, it hit me. I’m in fucking Barcelona on a Thursday. BOATS AND HOES. So, I spun around to face the cute Ray Bano, grabbed the back of his neck, just below his backwards hat and kissed him. Then, I strutted. It. out. Of. there. A loud “ohhhhhhhhhhh!” faded as I approached the bar’s front swinging door. My two crawl buddies did NOT follow me, but I was still a boss (shh! Don’t tell me otherwise). Meeting the other group members outside, it was a sausage fest. I was blatantly the only girl there aside from the leader. Night keeps getting better, I thought. Alejandro joined the group, but no sign of Mr. Butterwall. After waiting five minutes, the crawl leader asked if I could grab him. “If he’s still talking to that girl, I have no power in that equation.” “Just get him, hurry!” He didn’t budge when I informed him of our immediate departure for the crawl. “Dude, you’re holding up the whole crawl..” Boy might as well have been a gargoyle, because he was stone standing next to her. Returning to the group, I saw the crawl leader ushering drunks into cabs. “Where is he? We need to get to the club.” “I told you! I have no power over him when there’s a girl in the mix.” Annoyed, she screamed in his general direction since he had submerged from the bar, a Russian girl’s hand in his. He had no urgency and Alejandro began to get visibly annoyed too. Him and I began talking when backwards hat Mr. Ray Bando ran up and announced he was joining the club too, while throwing a drunken smile my way. Practically pushing him into a cab, the crawl leader had successfully put every crawl member in route except Butterball, Alejandro, and me. “Butterwall!” I screamed In a dreamy daze, he crossed the street alone as Alejandro and I entered the backseat of a yellow cab. Our driver had turned the cab into a furnace and once Alejandro rolled down the window, the driver snapped at him. From Alejandro’s tone, I felt he was fussing at him back in Spanish, but let’s be honest, he could be talking to him about the royal wedding for all I know. After and awkward patch of silence, Butterwall relinquished little details about the Russian and we made the quick trip to a club I’d been before. The one on the beach from crawl number one checked our wristbands at the door. Once inside, drunk Alejandro couldn’t hang. I went to buy us 3 waters… wanna guess how much they were? Don’t forget, add 15% for dollars for conversion sake. 15 euros. For 3 baby-ass bottles. Bisquick! I distributed the bottles and Alejandro made a run for the bathroom. Been there. Yesterday actually. Less than 24 hours ago, to be frank. Butterwall disappeared on the dance floor and I danced with backwards hat bando for quite a few songs. He tried to kiss me again, but he was sloppy, so I ceased that. Texting Alejandro, he had been gone for almost an hour at this point. He responded that he’s too drunk-- well, we knew that. My patience ran out for trying to babysit a drunk stranger and I returned to the dance floor. Butterwall found me and danced something fierce with me for about a song. “Hey, I have to work tomorrow and catch a bus. It’s 3 now; you wanna head out?” “Yeah, dude. I’m done. Where’s--” “I’ve been waiting on him all night!” “Okay, let me try,” he said, while unlocking his phone. After several attempts, we headed out. 30 minutes later I received texts saying: “This isn’t because I’m drunk but I like you. You’re really beautiful, Stephanie.” Laughing as a I showed the message to butterwall, he said, “damn, get it!” Still smiling, I made my way to my bus. “Alright dude, see you Saturday morning for our flight to infinity and beyond!’ “Absolutely. See ya!” Two Argentinians fighting for your attention? This calls for ALFAJORES (ARGENTINIAN DULCE DE LECHE COOKIES)!These cultural cookies reach consumption level, the day AFTER they're made. So, one could argue, a drunkard could make them before a wild night out and partake in their sweet succulence the morning after. If caramel-like stuffed cookies don't nurse you through your hangover, I don't know what will! ...Possibly coconut water, ginger tea, advil, good ole aqua... if you wanna be technical.... But hey! I was sober, so let's get to baking! These cookies are symbolic of my third bar crawl in Barcelona. The two cookies are the sweet Argentina men paying me attention and I am the sweet caramel stuck in the middle. Sober or not, I didn't mind ;)Argentinean Boys aka the Cookies:
3 Tbsp butter, unsalted 2 Tbsp sugar 1 egg yolk 1/8 tsp lemon zest ½ Tbsp brandy ½ c cornstarch ¼ c+ 2 Tbsp unbleached all purpose flour ½ tsp baking powder 8 oz Dulce de Leche* Dulce de Leche aka Stephanie: Place one can of sweetened condensed milk (with the label removed) in a large pot of water (be sure the water comes at least 1 inch above the can. Gently boil the water for 2-3 hours (2 hours gives a lighter Dulce de Leche, 3 hours gives a deeper colored Dulce de Leche). After the time is up, remove the can from the water with a pair of tongs and place on a wire rack to cool before opening. Any leftover Dulce de Leche can be stored in the refrigerator for 1-2 weeks....but, I have a hunch you won't have any leftovers ;) Back to the BOYS In a medium bowl, cream butter and sugar with an electric hand mixer. Add the egg yolk, lemon zest, and brandy. Beat until smooth and fluffy. In a separate bowl, mix cornstarch, flour, and baking powder. Sift the dry mixture into the butter mixture and beat over low speed until the mixture looks like even, wet crumbs. Using your hands, knead the mixture just until it forms a dough that will hold together. Shape the dough into a ball and wrap it in plastic wrap. Place the dough in the refrigerator for at least one hour, up to 3 days, to let the flavor develop. When you are ready to bake your cookies, preheat your oven to 350F. Roll the dough ¼ inch thick and cut it into circles using a 1 ¾ inch cookie cutter (or the mouth of a shot glass), Re-roll any dough scraps and cut additional cookies. You should have roughly 2 dozen cookie dough rounds. Place the cut dough onto a baking sheet, ½ inch apart. Bake the cookies for 12-13 minutes, until they are firm, but just before they start to turn a light golden brown. HAYYYYYYY! Mama likes a little cream in her coffee. When the cookies are fini-to, remove them from oven to cool and transfer to a wire rack (by 3am, we were down to the wire). STOP! Stephie Time! 1 tsp of Dulce de Leche (aka Stephanie) on one cookie and top it with a second cookie. Press down gently as not to crumble under pressure. Store in an air-tight container for the cookies to absorb some flavor and moisture from the Dulce de Leche. SOURCE: https://www.curiouscuisiniere.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/Alfajores-Dulce-de-Leche-Cookies-1352.5pin22.jpg
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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