Spanish drink really wasn’t my cup of tea

THE Costa del Sol area of Spain has long been a favourite of British tourists. Many of us have found it to be an easy fit, but before we came to understand and appreciate each other’s cultures and traditions it could be amusingly quirky.

Back in the 1970s my wife Chris and I decided to see what communities lay in the foothills above Marbella. We found one small market town, largely unknown to tourists apart from the inevitable and ubiquitous Irish bar. We split up and I found a small familyrun restaurant, where the person waiting tables was a shy young teenager. I assumed her to be the daughter of the proprietor. She spoke no English, so in my best mangled Spanish I requested té con leche, the Spanish themselves being far more familiar with té con limón. The girl looked uncertain for a couple of seconds, then the penny dropped and she hurried off for what seemed ages, considering I was the only customer there. I was even more perplexed when I saw her walk past the window at one stage to what I assumed would have been their back garden.

She returned some 20 minutes later and triumphantly placed on the table a half-litre-sized earthenware jug filled to the top with still-warm goat’s milk, with a single teabag floating on the top. She waited expectantly for me to show my delight with her initiative, so I sampled it. Fighting hard against a wave of nausea, and with watery eyes, I nodded my head as vigorously as I could.

As she had been so pleased with herself as she went away, I knew I couldn’t risk ruining her day, so I drank the lot, though I wouldn’t have if a flower pot had been unobtrusively handy. That was 50 years ago and I can still taste it to this day, bless her!