Pointing, it should be noted, is not a fool proof system. Today it may have failed me.
I wandered through "the seven streets", Bilbao's original trading center occupying parallel streets between the church of San Anton and the city's estuary.
Perhaps it's my travel weary legs or the inadequacy of hotel maps but you would never imagine a small area of alleys lined with boutiques and bars and endless shops hanging full legs of jamon serrano ready to slice could be difficult to navigate. I always feel a sense of accomplishment when I wander out in a new city and actually get to where I am headed. Goal achieved. And so it was with a sense of pride I stopped in front of Xukela, an old quarter bar where the pintxos are considered (by Lonely Planet and Michelin alike) highly creative, especially tasty and reasonably priced.I wasn't hungry at all but to celebrate my accomplishment of finding the bar I sauntered in and vaguely pointed at what I thought were sautéed mushrooms on a slice of soft bread. One bite and I realized this was no mushroom. How had I not noticed that shape before? The rippled edge? Cockscomb. I think. It wasn't a taste or texture I recognized and honestly one I'd rather forget. It's still stuck in my throat.All in a day's food wandering I suppose. So many other choices. So many other places to try.