Day three - Eat on $30

Between my junior and senior year of college, I was fortunate to spend a summer in Spain. Two professors from my college organized the trip and chaperoned our hodgepodge group of students from Madrid through Northern Spain. We all stayed with host families as part of our cultural experience. When we arrived at the university in Santander there were lots of short, gray haired ladies in cardigan sweaters waiting patiently on the curb.

One by one, my fellow students’ names were called out, “are you so and so?” They would exchange pleasantries and the little Spanish mamas would help them with their bags and off they went. I kept looking around longing for my very own Spanish mama, but no one ever called my name. There was, however, this tall woman standing in the background with fire-engine red hair, tattooed eye makeup and enormous breasts. I paid her no attention and figured my senora was just delayed. She would be there. Dismayed that I was the last student to be picked up, I finally heard, “are you Hailey?” Hailey is difficult for Spanish speakers to pronounce – the H is tricky so usually my name comes out sounding guttural and totally unsexy.

“Yes, I’m Hailey.” Oh. My. God. The siren was my host mom.

To be brief, my host mom was wonderful, and I was so lucky have her. She raised two boys so to have a girl in her home was an experience she reveled in. I was the daughter she never had. We bonded on many levels; she borrowed my clothes, showed me her recent cosmetic surgery (she was newly divorced and hot to trot), we frequented the beaches together – she was always nude, and she also taught me to cook the following dish, tortilla Espanola.

The entire time I spent in her home, she never uttered a word of English to me. As I was boarding the bus to return home, she told my professors she was going to keep me as her own. She even threatened to call my parents and tell them I wasn’t coming back. Then she said something to one of my professors that still baffles me today, “Hailey is a very clever girl, and I’m going to miss her.” Huh, wha?! Clever? Apparently she spent several years studying at Oxford. In England. Where they speak English. There were many occasions when I could have used her English assistance so she must have gotten a kick out of what a moron I was. Some day I’ll make it back to Santander and be brave enough to take it all off on the beach with you, Sandra.

I have successfully made this recipe many times. Of course, when I want to post about it and when I’m on a budget, it fails. It's not just a little burned or the edge fell off. This is a failure of epic proportions. It doesn't even resemble tortilla Espanola. Normally I would just redo it, but this week I don’t have that luxury. I need eggs and potatoes for another dish. My pride hurt and my wrist burned, I’m still posting this meal malfunction. The challenge continues!

A few additional thoughts as the week progresses: I had to go to the grocery store this morning for a non-food item, and it was really hard to stay on task. I found myself staring at the floor just to avoid eye contact with Captain Crunch. But it was on sale!

Tonight’s festivities pose a challenge: beer. Boise State plays Tulsa at 6:00 and since our bunny ears unfortunately don’t pick up ESPN, we have to go to a bar, which usually means beer consumption. I’ll let you know how it goes. I may have to make some friends and drink some charity beer.

Because this was such a failure, I am not posting the recipe. I will redo and conquer at a later date. I blame lack of coffee for its demise :)

Oh yeah, yesterday I ate an apple and string cheese for breakfast, leftover pork and sauerkraut for lunch, and this mess above with some cherry tomatoes for dinner. I was fueled/distracted by several cups of green tea throughout the day.

I’m off to take my first midterm exam. Wish me luck!