Thanksgiving: Spanish Edition

This was my first Thanksgiving away from home, and I must say that I had no idea how much I was going to miss pie. Turkey I can live without, although my señora did make chicken on Thursday, which she noted was “almost like turkey, but better.” But more than anything, Thanksgiving is about being with family, and it was definitely weird that it was such a non-event this year. Fortunately, I’ll get plenty of time with the cousins and grandparents during Chanukkah.

But, true to the abroad experience, I still managed to have a memorable, if not traditional, Thanksgiving. Friday, my program took a day trip to Segovia, where the main sites are remarkably well-preserved Roman aqueducts and the castle that inspired Walt Disney and actually does bear a strong resemblance to the logo. However, these paled in comparison to the main event: lunch at José María, the most famous restaurant in Segovia.

We piled into the quaint yet sophisticated dining room, sat around big circular tables, and passed around a variety of appetizers and side dishes. Several students’ families had flown out to be with their kids on Thanksgiving, so our program director made a little speech about family and being grateful for our experience here. For a second, the scene resembled a traditional Thanksgiving meal. But then they started brining out the cochinillo.

Cochinillo means “little pig” in Spanish and is the José María specialty. Having been forewarned, we had our cameras ready and minds open for what was coming to our table. When the waiters brought out the little roasted pigs, they set them on a center table and gave us a little background on a tradition that began in the Middle Ages. Kings used to invite a pretty girl to the head of the table to cut the pig, and they would use only the side of a plate to demonstrate how tender it was. When they were done, they would throw the plates on the floor to show that there weren’t any blades lodged in the plates. In the spirit of tradition, they invited the girl who had the most recent birthday to join in cutting up the first pigs—and of course she had to prove her plate wasn’t full of metal. It was quite a spectacle.

The pig, by the way, was absolutely delicious. My friend Nisha gobbled hers up and was in the process of picking it clean when she flipped over a big bone and saw teeth! Turns out she had been eating the face, as had our friend Sebastian, who had the other half of the jaw. I had a leg, which was pretty safe, although some did have hooves on the end. But that’s how good this meat was: people ate around hooves and teeth and even the occasional mystery organ, literally picking the bones clean, and had no qualms about doing so because it was just so tasty.

Dessert also came with a bit of spectacle. The chef made a chocolate sauce concoction by heating up chocolate with various herbs and some alcohol that he lit on fire, while all of the November and December birthday people stood around the table staring at the flaming pot and eagerly anticipating the first taste. The sauce was poured over a plate with two flavors of ice cream, a brownie, and some sort of hard, crepe-like pastry. Once again, I licked my plate clean. And then wanted to vomit after such a huge meal. I guess that’s one thing this meal had in common with my normal Thanksgiving experience.