Page 43 of It Takes Three To Tango

“Puta madre!”he exclaims, rescuing the empanadas, which are only a little burnt around the edges. “Look what you made me do.”

“Me?”

“Yes, distracting me with your good ideas.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t do anything.”

He eyes the empanadas cooling on the plate with a look of distaste, as if their presence offends him. I pick one up and take a bite, blowing over the filling to cool it enough to eat. It’s amazing... if I ignore the very slightly burnt bits.

“Noooo. You have to dip them.” He almost takes it out of my hand, but I whisk it out of his reach. He’s not taking my food from me. “Here in the chimichurri I made.”

I dutifully dip it in the herby sauce.

“Mmmmm, okay, that takes it to a whole new level.”

“Told you.” He looks smug.

“So, what was it you said when you burnt them? Put mad where?”

He laughs.“Puta madre.”

“Puta madre,”I repeat. “What does it mean?”

“Madreis mother, andputabasically means whore.”

“Oh, I’m definitely using that. I’ll remembermadreandputa... she puts out for money.” I laugh and Florencio giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Constantin enters carrying a box of beer, which he sets down near the fridge.

“Flo is teaching me swear words in Spanish.”

“Is he?” He comes over and leans down for a quick kiss before turning to Florencio for the same. I like this greeting much more than the traditional cheek kiss.

“Yes, today I’ve learntputa madre.”

Constantin snorts a laugh then spies the plate of empanadas and makes to grab one. He gets the spatula across the hand treatment as well.

“Get off, these are for lunch.”

“But I’m hungry now and it’s almost lunchtime,” Constantin grumbles.

“You know I’m starving,” I say and Florencio sighs.

“All right, give me ten minutes to cook the rest of them and we can have lunch.”

Whilst he finishes them off, I help Constantin put the beer in the fridge and ask him how the repairs to the bar are going.

“There’s been a delay. The builders have been let down for some of the materials so they are trying to get them from elsewhere. They hope it won’t take too long, but it’s frustrating and there’s nothing I can do about it,” he says glumly.

I guess he’s not used to having no control over all aspects of his bar. I hope I can take his mind off it with the diaries.

The second batch of empanadas didn’t get burnt and areeven tastier than the first—if that’s possible—and they all get eaten, even the blackened crispy ones.

Florencio eyes the empty plates with a mixture of pride and dismay.

“I was hoping to save some of those. How do you both eat so much?”

“I can’t resist your cooking.” Constantin sits back and pats his stomach.

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