My wife and I arrived in Madrid almost at noon. The perfect time, on the other hand, to go to the Botín restaurant and enjoy a succulent meal. We had a table reserved. We arrived, sat down and mingled with the smells: it was another place, another world, streets where Galdós had walked and now they were with us. The traditional Madrid, the most forgotten corners, which now came back to our memory. As children, my wife and I played near the restaurant and we were intoxicated by the aromas. I promised myself that, if she ever became my wife, the first meal would be here. And we delivered. Afterwards, we found the restaurant again in the pages of Galdós and smiled. We kept coming back. Today, the Botín sirloin with mushroom melts in my mouth. The first meal, a soup, tasted like glory, like this one. Nieves, my wife, looks at me and smiles. She knows that, right now, we are in the same place, a Botín that has been over and over again our days.
