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Take part and let us get to know you better

What is your favorite beach? Where do you go to unwind? We will regularly invite you to tell us about the things you like, what motivates you, etc. Share with us and you could be in with a chance of winning exceptional experiences linked to culture, leisure, or gastronomy, designed to suit your tastes. Make sure to take part!

Which route would you recommend to a pilgrim and why?

One of our shareholders won a free weekend at a Parador hotel for taking part in this contest.

The food that takes you back

Mi obra de teatro preferida
These are the meals that take our two winning shareholders back to their childhood. Both have won a Club del Gourmet basket from Corte Inglés. Thanks to everybody for taking part!

Esther Rufo Gil

Spanish “bellota” ham, the perfect food

I chomped down on a slice of ham, cut from the hard bit of a Jabugo ham leg. It’s not like my father had plenty of cash left over at the end of the month, since I was born before he turned 24, but he was a foodie and was convinced that a kid needed two things: good quality food and a good education to face the future with confidence. He made sure I had both and so much more, that’s for sure. It’s thanks to him that my favorite food is Spanish ham. I’ll never forget that taste of ham from my childhood, and as time’s gone by, whenever I taste it in a 5J, a Joselito, or any other of the big hams that we have in Spain, I remember my father and that I never had to use a retainer when my milk teeth were coming through. And now, as an adult, I’ve found that ham is the perfect solution to my iron deficiency and an excellent weapon against bad cholesterol as well as a great ally to good cholesterol. In short, it’s tasty, with exceptional organoleptic qualities and fantastic therapeutic uses. The perfect food.

Víctor Romera

The Russian salad I couldn’t stand

Those Sundays I’ll never see again, when I would repeat the same story. We’d arrive in the village at about twelve, my grandad would give a cheeky smile at having us there for another Sunday. My grandma, stressed because there were so many of us, and because of the food and other stuff that couldn’t wait. And, as always, there I was asking the same question, “Grandma, what’s for lunch?” And almost always I got the same response, “Ahh Mr. Questions, Russian salad because you take so long to get here from the bar that the paella goes bad. Now get out the way, there’s stuff to do.” And I went sulking to the living room, because it was the meal I hated again. I didn’t stay angry for long because I’d find something else to do. But she’d repeat “That’s the last time I make soup, this kid’s too spoiled.” And more of the same until the following Sunday. A long time has passed, and with life’s paradoxes, now I do like that meal, but it’s not made by her anymore. I’d give so much to be that sulky kid again and have her there. This time I wouldn’t go and find something else to do. And we’d live the summers again when everybody was around. Because you want to grow up, but then you do and nothing’s the same. And suddenly Russian salad becomes your favorite meal.