In case you’re craving Mexican food in Madrid …

Margaritas! Por fin!

I think a lot of people come to Spain with the (grave) misconception that Spanish and Mexican foods are more or less one and the same. Not only is that untrue — have you ever seen me blog about a burrito? — it can also be pretty hard to find Mexican food in Madrid. Which, at times, is problematic.

Yesterday afternoon for instance, Meredith and I decided we’d go for margaritas after our phonetics exam. Our professor’s name is Margarita, and she’s fond of using this weird, self-referential speech mechanism wherein she’ll explain something and then pretend to be a student with a question, i.e. “blah blah blah — pero Margarita, ¿por quéeeee?”

So post-exam margaritas were obviously in order. After hauling out to Plaza de España, however, and discovering that our selected Mexican restaurant did not in fact exist, we were forced to improvise a little. And by improvise, I mean wander-into-the-most-cheesily-decorated-Latin-American-restaurant-within-a-five-mile-radius.

This, amigos, brings us to La Llama, perhaps the best lunch decision Meredith and I have ever made.

For starters, it’s called La Llama — please allow that comedy to sink in — and decorated with paper streamers and all kinds of knick-knacks from Peru. The waitress was perhaps the nicest lady ever. And the food was awesome: Meredith had some kind of baked chicken thing (you’ll recall she’s a vegetarian, so that didn’t go over very well) and I had pork chops with mango sauce.

Our food also came with a incredible (fattening?) array of carbohydrates: bread, rice, French fries, papas rellenas … all in all, a lot of stuff for less than 10 euros. AND it was my first time trying Peruvian food, which was definitely pretty cool.

Sadly, this did mean that Meredith and I had to put off our margaritas until around 10, when we accidentally chanced upon a Mexican restaurant in Chueca. Fifteen euro will buy you a pitcher of really good margaritas, which is enough to prompt a series of embarassing interactions with Spanish men in the metro.

Yeah, it’s definitely a good thing we couldn’t find margaritas at lunch time.

Spanish gelato as cure for the worst midterm ever

If that whole journalism gig doesn't work out, I might just work here full-time.

Based on the frequency of my bakery and heladería posts, it probably seems like I spend three-fourths of my time here eating desserts.

… there is, I’ll admit, at least a little truth to that.

But of all of the many, many postres I have sampled so far, one of my favorites was the gelatto at Nurielle, which I consumed in a fit on Monday after bombing my Spanish film exam.

Seriously, nothing cures post-test anxiety like a huge bowl of caramel gelatto. Especially if said bowl cost less than 4 euro.

Nurielle is a chain native to Madrid, with nine locations around the city. I can’t really testify to the locations outside of Chueca – or to the extensive pastry and sandwich menu – but the gelato is likely the best I’ve had.

In fact, I suffered a mild panic attack (my second of the day?!) just trying to pick a flavor. They had every fruit imaginable, elaborate varieties of chocolate and vanilla, mint, caramel, tiramisu … all arrayed in huge, brightly colored vats with elaborate twists of fruit and molded ice cream on top.

I eventually decided on caramel and tiramisu; my friends Scott and Sean had banana, triple chocolate and dulce de leche.

We also looked through the full restaurant menu before leaving, which kind of put me in the mood to fail another exam. Or maybe I’ll just persuade my roommate to go tonight …

We have to celebrate the end of exam week, right?

The quest for cupcakes in Madrid

A sign inside Cupcake Madrid hilariously calls cupcakes a "luxury within your reach!"

In the Caitlin school of culinary arts, which I suppose only I subscribe to, cupcakes are the great accomplishment of American cuisine. Forget hot dogs or hamburgers or quesadillas – all three of which, interestingly, you will find on the menus of Madrid’s “American restaurants” – cupcakes are America’s great gift to the world. They are delicious. They are adorable.

And as soon as I realized they’re not available in Spain, I desperately wanted one.

I began by describing my quandary to the ever-wise Luisa, hoping she would chime in with the name of a nearby pastelería known for its frosting-topped treats.

“Es un pastel pequeño,” I explained, making a gesture with my hands. “Como así.” (It’s a small cake – like this).

“Chocolate? Vainilla?” She replied.

I could tell that this was going nowhere.

Later, I tried to find the word for “cupcake” in a Spanish dictionary. Such a search is pretty fruitless: after checking two Web sites and an iPhone app, you will be left with the unsavory choice between “bizcocho moldeado en forma de taza” and “tortita individual” (“sponge cake molded in the shape of a cup” and “little individual cake,” respectively).

You will also find this hilarious Word Reference thread, in which Spanish speakers debate the differences between muffins and cupcakes. Highly recommended.

Anyway, in my desperation, I turned to Google for help and typed a lame “cupcakes Madrid” into the search. Lo and behold! Some on-trend, SEO-savvy baker decided to open up a place called “Cupcake Madrid” just 20 minutes from my school.

Considering this a small miracle and a sight to be seen at once, I persuaded a few friends to make the trek to Calle Velazquez during lunch yesterday. We all crammed into this tiny shop and huddled around the counter in amazement, seemingly bewildered by the limited selection of chocolate, vanilla and cinnamon cupcakes.

After making our choices, we sat and ate them on a bench outside, watching as literally every person who walked down the street stopped outside the bakery window to wrinkle their noses at the display case.

Incidentally, the cupcakes looked slightly better than they tasted. I had double chocolate, which was half good: the cake was pretty solid, the frosting pretty grainy (full disclosure: I’m not a buttercream frosting fan). As for price, we each dished out 2.50€, which translates to roughly $4 USD.

All in all well worth it, but not quite like home.

This leaves me little choice but to try the goods at Pan de Azúcar, the gourmet cupcake outfit in Madrid. I will rationalize the absurd price tag with this glowing write-up from Esquire Spain. Also, the fact that they have green tea, wasabi and pumpkin-flavored cupcakes (!!).

Could I persuade my friends to split a 30€ box of cupcakes? Do I even like cupcakes that much?

What am I saying! Of course I do.