Barcelona Breakfast #2

It is fair to say that our estimations of Spanish breakfasts had been greatly improved by the first days excitement. We thought nothing would match it. In search of the best food Barcelona has to offer, we returned to the Boqueria market, conveniently a small hop (no  need for a skip or jump) away from the hotel. It was Saturday morning and the market was packed. In a good way. Locals doing their shopping, sipping on coffee, cava, cerveza, tourists gazing at the sweets as if they've never seen sweets before, and turning their noses up at the endless stalls selling what Locatelli would call the fifth-quarter: tripe and offal. We grabbed some fruit (distinct lack of the 5-a-day in this here Spanish diet) and meandered up every aisle, B obligingly holding all my belongings as I snapped away. Lots of snaps.

When we thought we'd done our fare share of offal gazing, we grabbed two fought-over seats at Bar Pinotxo. The locals sat with coffee and not a lot a to eat, the tourists were gobbling their way through plates of chickpeas, ham, shellfish, croquettes - whatever they could lay their hands on. Two cortados ordered from the wonderful man who works here (from looking around the internet it seems he's rather a permanent feature), and two xuixos. He seemed surprised. Dos? He raised two fingers in disbelief. Surely this silly little English girl just can't count in Spanish. This little English girl can count in Spanish. Quite well. And she knows she wants a whole xuixo to herself. I soon realised that everyone else was sharing, the pastry perfectly cut into two or four. Not so for me. Or B.

A xuixo, it turns out, is a Catalan speciality. A ball of deliciousness. Flaky puff pastry, deep fried, sugar coated, and filled with crema catalana. Bye bye healthy porridge Hannah, hello xuixo addicted Hannah. Where can I get this in London? I will be eternally grateful to anyone who provides me with an answer. Needless to say, it was amazing. And kept me smiling all day. The only upset it caused was that the whole market was shut on Sunday, which led to a breakfast disaster, a story I won't be telling.