22.11.16 - É o roto falando do esfarrapado

Halllooooo, and very nice it was to chat with you on Sunday... You're more or less up to speed, but for the benefit of my online readers, let me take you back to this time last week... Then take you forward a few days, since nothing much of note happened until Friday, which I spent juggling cats and baking cake, before heading into town for Gaby's birthday drinks, which were rather fun.  

On the way back we stopped off at an all-night padaria, for what turned out to be another impromptu mass date involving two of Gaby's friends and a gathering of suitors. All well and good, until two of them decided that a first date, with their suitee's highly judgemental friends in attendance, was the perfect setting for some seriously hardcore competitive eating. 

We watched on in amusement, then in amazement, then in abject horror as they systematically devoured two coxinhas the size of your head (pictured left, to scale), slathered in tabasco, in under ten minutes, thereby foregoing the bill but also losing our respect forever. Speaking as someone who used to routinely bring all-you-can-eat pizza places to the brink of bankruptcy, it was a bit much.  Apparently they followed it up by ordering a vat of açai for dessert, but we'd beaten a hasty retreat by that point...

The following day I laid on the charm with a homemade powdered milk cake (version 2.0, now with strawberry/MOUSSE filling) and a birthday song for Gaby, to the tune of Umbrella - it loses a lot in translation, or indeed to anyone who isn't Gaby, but suffice to say it was brilliant and incredibly witty in Portuguese - before heading to the in-laws for lasagna, different kinds of cake and heavy napping. Then in the evening we went to a trendy diner (which lists the "black power bombom" among its burgers, amusingly enough) to meet up with Dani, Andre and Andréia and relive the events of the night before down to the last obscene detail.

Then on Sunday we went to Vila Madalena for some empanadas and a sunny stroll round the block, before Gaby got down to some serious studying and, left to my own devices for the evening, I curated an ingenious double-bill of "Alien" and "Aliens" to round out the weekend in style. 

And that's all she wrote, except for my phrase of the week, which is the Portuguese equivalent of "the pot calling the kettle black", and translates rather poetically as "the shabby talking about the tattered".   I had a compilation all ready to go, but Spotify isn't letting me make it for some reason. 

Até mais, Minas Gerais.

A Fred of Americans

UPDATE, 22.11.16: Compilation is now up here.