Spanish Cuisine: Hot Dogs?

Living with a host family has many great benefits, one of them being that you’re given three meals a day. My host mother is a wonderful cook. Over the course of the past month we’ve enjoyed many typical Spanish dishes such as paella, jamon cocinado, and potato tortilla. Our “senora” makes it a point to incorporate protein, fruit and vegetables into every plate.

Before coming here I was pretty closed-minded about food. It was difficult for me to try something new and I’d always revert back to the old standbys. Here, in Spain, I’ve branched out and I’m finding that there’s a lot more out there than buffalo wings and tuna sandwiches. Most Spanish dishes are made with a few key ingredients like onions, potatoes, and eggs. Eggs are a major part of the typical Spanish meal. Ever since I was young, I could never stomach an egg by itself. Never in my life has this been an issue for me…until now.

Here in Valencia I’m living with a wonderful host mother from Argentina. She’s great. She laughs at my lame Spanish jokes and serves us wine with every dinner. She prepares us three meals a day and usually these meals are well balanced and delicious. But whether it’s for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, there’s usually an egg or two present on the plate. I would always push the egg aside and eat around it, sometimes feeling that this was rude of me. Not only did this mean that a good amount of eggs were going to waste due to my distaste, but also my senora might have begun to think that her eggs were poorly made. Rather than ignoring the eggs that lurked on many a dish of mine, I made the tragic mistake of telling my host mother that I really just don’t enjoy eating eggs. That’s when it all began.

Don’t get me wrong, I can definitely enjoy a hot dog. Whether it’s at a Sox game or at a barbeque over the summer, hot dogs are great. This situation is something altogether different. On every plate where there would usually be eggs, I now find hot dogs. Not just one hot dog, but rather three or four. There is never a bun or ketchup or mustard present. It’s just the boiled hot dogs, lined neatly on a side dish.  For breakfast yesterday I was given four hot dogs. I’m guessing these hot dogs are meant to replace the nutritional value I’m losing by not consuming the lovely eggs. Two nights ago, for dinner, I had three hot dogs mixed into my lentil soup. Three days ago, for lunch, I was given four hot dogs with my macaroni. Regardless, I’ve started counting. Just this week alone I’ve been given a total of 18 hot dogs while my housemates sat down to eat eggs and cereal.

I don’t want to come off as ungrateful, because I’m not. The intentions behind the hot dogs are entirely good but the effects of the hot dogs, having now become a major part of my daily diet, are taking a toll on me physically and mentally. Not only do I now have to join a Spanish gym, but I also have to scheme up some way of telling this wonderful host mother that I dislike hot dogs as well. I can only imagine what they will be replaced with.

This is not meant to deter potential study abroad students from living with a host family. It’s merely a warning. Voice your likes and dislikes upon arrival as to avoid any awkward situations that may arise. I didn’t see this coming, I doubt I could have. Luckily, I feel comfortable enough to tell my host mother that the hot dogs just really aren’t working out for me and my diet.

It’s all a part of the process, assimilating into a new culture. There are going to be ups and downs, awkward situations and comfortable ones. But after being here for a month, I feel at home.  It’s alright if I have to eat a few more hot dogs than expected.