(Have I been a sufficiently dilatory blogger today? Here is the cue for all those in the congregation to intone a communal aye.)
Although Spain is perhaps more amenable to jamon-lovers than happy-pig-petters, all chances of happy meal times are not lost. Granada’s El Piano is non-negotiable pit stop for any itinerant, particularly one perennially courting the flighty mistress that is tasty vegan eats.
Situated a few blocks away from my host’s piso, El Piano predictably became a regular haunt throughout my 100ish hours in sun-soaked Granada. On first visit I was fleeing 34° (Celsius) heat, thus necessitating a beverage and some sort of teeth-rotting pastry. The organic sparkling elderflower soda was particularly memorable, but be warned that the ginger version (purchased on a later visit) packs an astringent wallop. Ya-howza.
The above photo solely triggers memories of decadent why-can’t-there-be-more frosting; all other brownie gustatory particulars have evaded me.
El Piano is known for their take-out, evidenced by the handsome display case stuffed with a global rainbow of of entrées and pastries. The pictured employee congenially listened to my stumbling Spanish, midway through revealing his perfect English with a twitching smile instantly rebuffed by a nervous giggle of relief (mine). Granada locals largely snub the use of English, Ugly Americans take note.
In this spectacularly unappetizing photo, we have milky upchuck smeared on a veggie patty, leaning on two indiscriminate tiers of ball-y mush, moated by a dingy yellow, viscous goop. This photographic platitude may not riotously pique the senses, but beauty is oft’ a mendacious bastard in the culinary lens. I was voraciously lapping up every last sporkful of my tzatziki-smeared burger, chili sin carne, unidentified onion balls, and yellow daal. The onion balls of mysterious moniker were a popular item amongst fellow diners—a repeated order on my third visit, no less.
In an effort to sample (and maliciously photograph) as many El Piano picks as possible, I bought this sugar-free brownie for the road, or more specifically, a hot bench in a tree-lined plaza a few streets parallel. Moist, saccharine, and seed-speckled, the pastry likely employed dates and fruits as its primary source of sweetness.
The piano that started it all, I presume.
And now for the loathed wrap-up compendium, which I hereby transform into phrases lazily punctuated by exclamation marks:
Economical! All gluten-free! Gnarly beverage selection! Vegan groceries! Take-away! International vegan cuisine! …El Piano!
c/Gran Capitan, 7 Bajo
18002 Granada, Spain