Yes, red wine and orange soda. A cube or two of ice. Surprisingly refreshing.
When this concoction was first served to me in Sevilla, I realized something had gone wrong with my attempt to order in Spanish. Seeing others enjoying this combination around me, out of curiosity, I paid the bartender the small price tag and sipped away with my evening tapas: a selection of small sandwiches (bocadillo) stuffed with chorizo, prawns, or smoked salmon with cream cheese. From my first sip, I was convinced of the worth of the combination. Drinkable and lacking alcoholic strength, this drink lengthened the possibilities of a rare evening in Sevilla.
Sevilla, Spain
There’s never a reason to go home early in Sevilla. An afternoon nap assisted me, and refreshed we would head out for tapas getting close to 10pm. Lingering at one restaurant, a large table of men broke out guitars and drums from beneath their feet and began to play, slow at first, but with increasing rhythm. A man abandoned his instrument and began to dance, prompting clapping from the remaining guests in the restaurant.
I was reminded of this trip to Sevilla in the kitchen in New Jersey with my mother, who had recently heard about this orange soda and red wine combination. When my sister returned home from Boston, she too had heard about the mixture, and an afternoon was spent over a glass talking about memories of Spain. As a traveler, I am often torn between the first mystique of a city, and a returning comfort. I only encountered the red wine-orange soda cocktail on my 2nd trip to Sevilla, when I knew where certain alleyways led, had observed restaurants that filled even during the week, and knew that the first week of December saw a celebration of the Immaculate Conception (and thus, reservations were needed in advance to stay anywhere close to the action.)
It is interesting to be a Catholic in a very Catholic country during one of these festivals. A procession through the center of town, past the soaring Gothic cathedral, brings spectators of all types. Early in December, the city is already decorated for Christmas, with poinsettias planted everywhere, a beautiful trap for the golden evening lights. Orange trees are still full of fruit, and whether I was listening to an impromptu band or gazing at what seemed like endless jamon hung from ceilings, this 2nd trip to Sevilla carried with it a sense of recognition I enjoyed.
Sevilla, Spain. By night.
My Grand Tour of Europe afforded me the knowledge of knowing what cities or destinations I wanted to spend more time with. What encounter had left me with a feeling of dissatisfaction. What thirst I was still hoping to quench, as time went on and other distractions captured my attention. My thirst for Italy is endless, with a desire to spend more time in both its cities and villages. I have a similar affection for Spain, with its boisterous tables of large families laughing and telling stories, and time made during the day to sit down to a meal and relax.
One of the most interesting accounts I’ve ever read on Spain is by British journalist Giles Tremlett. ‘Ghosts of Spain’ is a history book for people who don’t like history books, but have an interest in our modern times. Half travel memoir, half historical illuminations, Tremlett discusses why the Spanish don’t talk about what went on during the times of Franco, and how these ‘ghosts’ come back to haunt the country. An especially interesting chapter on Sevilla and authentic, living Flamenco brings readers into ghettos outside of the city that tourists would never want to actually visit, but make a compelling armchair visit. Read a review of the book in The Guardian by clicking here.
If you sit down with the book this summer, grab yourself a glass of red wine and orange soda to round out the experience. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.
