January 6<\/a>\u2014Spain\u2019s version of Christmas Day\u2014and we\u2019ve just spent an hour in the warm living room, opening gifts and laughing, trying on clothes, flipping through new books, and buzzing around the room. Classical music (my father-in-law\u2019s go-to move) and a warm fire keep the room cozy. Sleepy-faced and pajama-clad, we\u2019re all happy\u2014but more importantly\u2014hungry. It\u2019s time for the meal I\u2019ve been waiting for all year.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\nMaybe it\u2019s all the cava from the night before, or that post-gift opening buzz, or the fact that we have nothing to do today but lounge around in pajamas. But as I sit down and look around, I\u2019m happy. There\u2019s freshly brewed coffee and a jug of warm, thick hot chocolate on the table. On one side of the table there\u2019s a<\/span> rosc\u00f3n de Reyes<\/span><\/i>, a yeasted cake filled with fresh whipped cream and topped with candied fruit. And on the other, Pablo\u2019s mom\u2019s famous <\/span>migas<\/span><\/i>\u2014bread crumbs, pork belly and whole garlic cloves fried in bright olive oil. She\u2019s made them the day before, for the big group of friends that come over every year on January 5, and who almost always overstay their welcome as they reach for one more bottle of cava, again and again. I had never seen <\/span>migas<\/span><\/i> dipped in hot chocolate before, but Pablo\u2019s mom, who\u2019s from Extremadura, grew up with it. I\u2019m happy she\u2019s passed it onto us.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\nWe\u2019re probably supposed to just choose one thing for breakfast, but I can\u2019t help but dig into both. The <\/span>rosc\u00f3n <\/span><\/i>is doughy and sweet, and goes perfectly with the coffee. The migas<\/em> are salty, pork-fat goodness, and Pablo passes all of his fried garlic cloves\u2014my favorite bit\u2014over to my plate. I scoop them up with my spoon and do just as the Spaniards do, dunking them into my warm mug of hot chocolate. We do this every year, without fail. Gifts, laughter, crackling fire, cake, <\/span>migas<\/span><\/i>, coffee & hot chocolate.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\nHave you ever seen such a gorgeous breakfast spread?<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\nAnd maybe that\u2019s why I\u2019m happy. This feels like home. I didn\u2019t grow up opening gifts with the people I now call family, and these aren\u2019t the traditions my parents showed me or the foods I\u2019ve always eaten. But they\u2019re mine now.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n \t","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"This post is part of our Love Letter series, first-person accounts of what we love about Seville. I’d like to tell you about my favorite meal in the entire year. That’s #1 out of 1,095 (if we’re going with a solid 3 meals a day, which as a born-and-raised Midwesterner, I am). But to let you into […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":18189,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_oasis_is_in_workflow":0,"_oasis_original":0,"_oasis_task_priority":"","inline_featured_image":false},"categories":[1856,81],"tags":[206,1994,281,326,1942],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n
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