I’ve a fond memory from my mid-teens of strolling back from the local shop on a family holiday in Spain, and my Dad handed me one of a handful of cans of San Miguel that he’d just bought. I can’t recall if this was my first ever beer, but I’m fairly certain it was the first time a Spanish one had ever passed my lips.
Maybe it was the situation – having a beer with your old man is always special – but I can still remember how good that can of San Miguel tasted.
Funnily enough, on a recent visit back to my folks’, I noticed a handful of San Miguel bottles in the fridge. I indulged in a couple of them – and although they tasted alright – that little bit of Spanish holiday magic was missing.
Those few San Miguels got me thinking about how few Spanish…
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