Today we sort of passed up a great experience, but we’ll be going to another one soon, that is if they’ll tuck me in a basket as I suggested and get on with it. The weather looks stormy and then turned into a beautiful perfect day for eating sardines!
What kitty would not want to go to a sardinade???
Get it? SARDINE is in that word, right? And let me tell you, you haven’t SEEN sardines until you’ve seen a sardinade where hundreds and hundreds of sardines are laid out on big flat grills over coals that come from the old wood cut out of our vineyards around here…the ceps…not to be confused with cepes, the meaty mushrooms that grow in the woods after a rain.
Well, several times a year, mama and papa, if they are here, go to the big open market place where these huge grills have been set up in the morning for the lunchtime gathering. The grills are hot, hot and the fish cook really fast and get almost crispy but still moist inside and you get 12 on a plate with a peach or fruit of some kind and a little triangle of President brie and a glass of pink or red wine and then you go to long tables and find a seat and sit next to all sorts of interesting people who have come from all over the place and mama always takes lemons and cut up tomatoes with olive oil and basil and a big roll of paper towels for anyone who wants to clean the sardine off his fingers because you eat the grilled sardines WITH YOUR HANDS…up one side and down the other, as if you were eating from a comb, and you get sardine all over your face and everyone has a rolicking good time!
Plus you make friends.
Plus you get to hear a wonderful old singer belt out Catalan and French songs from the past and every now and then people get up and dance, sometimes little old ladies with other little old ladies and everyone gets a bit tipsy on the free flowing vino and then you go home a TAKE A BATH, full of sweet memories of those succulent sardines and the lovely people at your table that you didn’t know before and now you do.
So why am I NOT INVITED? I LOVE SARDINES!!!A fie on you, mama and papa for not taking me along. I’ll bet a lot of anthros brought their DOGS, right? Probably JRs…mince!
Which means damn in French.
Do NOT try to apologize. I don’t want to hear it.
LEFTOVERS!!
Oh Loulou, leftovers are not for cats! Whole, carefully selected and beautifully cooked little fishes are what those anthros of yours need to bring home to you. Time for an anthro training session methinks
Luff
Mungo
Mungo, you are right on, as usual. Next sardinade will be called Loulinade!!!
The proper place for little fishes is in the mouth of the cat.
YES, in the mouth of the cat. If only they would take me along to the one on Saturday….ANOTHER ONE!!! Maybe they’ll bring home the leftovers for me…
Now that sounds like a good place for a cat or dog. We’re drooling. Forget the paper towels. We’ll wash our own face and paws,thank you.
You guys would LOVE those little fried fishes…I promise you. And yes, paper towels, out the window….