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The other day he appeared in the gale-accented blond guy out, he spoke spanish pretty well, but it showed. I asked, thinking it would be German, when she said she was Italian, South, but lived in Rome. He told me that the South had many blond ... inheritance of the "visits" German ...

I started talking with him, and emerged not know how I said he worked as a chef in Rome, juaaaaaaaas, and we started talking, I had a lot of people in the bar, but I'm much more interested in talking with him cooking to put alcoholic drinks a potential future.

There is a kind of camaraderie between us, although I imagine it will be between all professions, but as I likethe kitchen, I say that our IS BETTER. If you're a cook, and so are you, like you're forced to teach and show your arms burns, cuts, scars and infected nails. Like soldiers or something.

always said that ours is a society paramilitary, and that betrayal is paid for life.


also the other day - well, this was other day while drinking some beers in the Franco Compostela we started to tell silly stories of cooking, which won was:


- One day Chega Miña Irma house all children studied in Compostela alporizada and tell me, "Alexis! Teno a pretty good trick that I stick to non omelet!"

and Alexis, curious as é, ocurreselle preguntarlle: - Cal é? E

Irma, proud to something o seu ensinarlle Irmao Diller:

- Pois moi sinxelo, tees than botarlle unha na pinga oil pan before you dump ovos, e x is! Ahi



is iso, aperta!