Naked For Satan

11 Apr
If there’s one thing my mother taught me, it’s that you shouldn’t get naked for just anyone.*

Unfortunately she didn’t teach me how to pronounce the word PINTXOS.  It didn’t really matter at Naked for Satan last night because they don’t ask you how to say it, they just ask you to use the tongs when you pick them, please.

So you roll into the old Moran & Cato building on Brunswick Street, admire the red vintage posters, old copper boilers and water tanks (which the Naked crew would have you believe are vodka stills), order a boutique beer or fancy infused vodka and then pile up the plate with these pintxos things.

Pintxos are pretty much thick slices of baguette piled with tasty treats like cured meats, blue cheese and salmon, sour cream and crumbed eggplant, carrot dip and marinated field mushrooms, or – my favourite – a cold, eggy chunk of tortilla.  These are jabbed on with toothpicks which the good-looking waiter will count out at the end to calculate your bill.

At $2 per pinch (and 50 cents at lunch time) it’s scarily cheap.  But instead of feeling stingy you manage to feel quite suave. Must be all that polished oak.  And vodka.

*This isn’t even a little bit true.

Image: The Age 


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