Throwing Sidra

Franco was a dick. From the 30s to the 70s, he murdered and jailed his own people, destroyed their art, outlawed their regional languages and banned their traditions all to reach his warped goal of a unified, singular identity, nationalistic Spain.  And in the case of the northern mountainous region of Asturias, where his regime was strongly opposed, he vindictively stripped the region of it's name and even banned the people's cider. As mentioned before, Franco was a dick.  But in the end, his death was celebrated as parents again began to teach their languages to their children, as uncensored  art flourished, and as people embraced their neglected defining traditions like dear old friends. 

our cute young escanciador, Miguel, raised his arm high above his head, tilted the bottle in his hand and poured a long stream of golden crisp sidra towards the glass held approximately a meter below, at crotch level, consequently splashing half of the sidra (cider) on the surrounding area and patrons.

We sat, our chairs unsteady, on a sticky, sidra drenched floor while wet glasses with about three ounces of slightly fizzy liquid were thrust into our hands to immediately be consumed.  All around us in the outside restaurant of Tierra Astur on a cobblestone Oviedo street, people had multiple green bottles of locally grown and fermented apple cider, lined up. Dating back to its first mention in 60 BC, sidra has long been produced in Asturias due to the perfection of the apple growing climate. The sidra ferments naturally without sugars or gas and is directly bottled. Due to the lack of bubbles, escanciadors "throw" the sidra in order to temporarily aerate it, thus explaining the need to pour messily with one arm extended above and a little glass held far below. However, one tiny gust of wind or unexpected jostle can send the whole ritual into chaos. 

Miguel served us with stunning efficiency while chatting away and asking questions about our hometown of Chicago. He poured countless glasses of the cloudy rustic sidra, he brought us a wooden cheese tray of regional creamy smooth cheeses and nuts, he served a crisp delicious salad of fresh vegetables and he gifted us with the most decadent flaky whitefish platter imaginable, complete with roasted potatoes and a delicious delicate mayonnaise. After eating enough for five days of walking. Ameya and I toddled chubbily from the beautiful restaurant, ready for bed before beginning our morning pilgrimage. After visiting the stunning cathedral, strolling through the art museum and eating ourselves through each street, our "Fat Tuesday" in the beautiful culturally rich Asturian city of Oviedo was over. There was walking to be done.