EL SECRETO IBÉRICO

we weren't supposed to talk about it, i know; but in the bath, as i was reading the beginning of the book that she said was about me, i remembered the erstwhile subhead of this blog and happened to think of that show. and in thinking of that show i happened to remember the preview for it that ifc was running on cartoon network during my christmas vomit vigil. apparently, the new thing for hate-lovers of portlandia to laugh about is flamenco. indeed. and so verily last year (if not really the year before). then we all take a moment to remember last year's vigil of choral dissipation, which, as we might have tried to forget, marched on through the epiphany, upon which we had our own revelation regarding the advisability of madrid. it was the spirit of the season, and of course we went back for subsequent drinks. this year, however, was conspicuously dry, as a result of -- and unfortunately in addition to -- the dehydration that followed all the puking. but then on boxing day -- the forgotten feast of a forgotten saint stephen in spain -- behold, yet, the angel of the lord is come upon us! and in the box it came to leave through the level one snow emergency, all of the sanctifying graces of the immaculate: under a tin of olive oil from jaén and a bag of artesenal picos from córdoba, two packages of the finest iberian ham. si estuviera aquí la angel, bailaría este tango con ella.