Wine
I usually take a little hip flask of whisky on the walks, just for a drop at the summit and to share it around, for most of the group have only tried Johhny Walker or (shudder) Hundred Pipers (or even DYC: Spain’s very own whisky, only to be drunk when drunk, and even then, only with coke or something to cover the taste).
Andrés brings Orujo or other home made spirits, or home flavoured. These are usually sweet, but pleasant enough. He also bakes and cooks and brings along tortillas and tarts and cakes. You can’t refuse either, well, we can’t anyway.
A couple of others carry wine skins. Bernardo (the chap in his eighties) was scoffing at the amount the youngsters (Paco, in his mid fifties) carry. He pointed to his very small knapsack (the kind of cloth and leather, buckled job that was probably all the rage in the forties) and said he had his jacket, his hat, his umbrella and in his bag just a half litre of wine and some cheese, meat and bread and his knife and that was it. No water…
So we’ve had to try the skins, they keep the wine cool, but there’s a knack to it. We were told, you have to hold it like a woman, soft around the neck and squeeze the bottom hard (followed by quick ‘it’s a joke, it’s a joke’ comments, in case we hadn’t got that they weren’t being serious).
Of course we had faces full of wine in no time.
Tags: drink, food, grupo naranco, walking
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