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It's been a week since our last cheese in Morocco, but the third is only about fifty miles away. We drive to the state capital of Extremedura, a bustling city called Caceres that seems to rise up suddenly from the farmlands.
Caceres is a bustling agricultural city, more modern than Badajoz, but with an old heart - a world heritage site - and packed with people and pigeons. We find a tapas bar and order a drink, and a handful of dishes. A greasy spoon. Bewildered by our heavy meals, we find the small selection of ‘ensaladas’ at the bottom of the tapas menu. Salads, perfect. We order both dishes. When the waiter pushes these dishes at us, we peer down at pieces of gray animal fat in a soupy brown liquid. Jane pokes at the dishes with a toothpick and begins verbalizing her dreams of avocados and her mother’s cooking.
The local cheese store was closed, so we found a Jamóneria and the third cheese of our itinerary. It's called Queso Ibores; its crimson colored rind is washed in paprika.
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