Tapas (or)
The Ingenious Gentleman
Owen Benson of Manchester
By Sam Scruton
Illustrations by Chloe Dootson-Graube
It’s a myth that Owen Benson makes better tapas than me. A myth started, most likely, by Owen Benson, or his friends. But most likely by Owen Benson, since his friends seem to prefer me to Owen. The tapas community should support each other, but Owen isn’t in the tapas community so you’ll be damned if you see me supporting him. Now don’t get me wrong, I liked Owen’s chorizo on bread, but he described it as, ‘a Tapas revolution.’ All he did was put supermarket salami on supermarket bread. We’ll have to seriously lower our standards as to what constitutes a revolution, if we’re going to accept that description of his tapas.
I’ll tell everyone I meet I make the better tapas. I go to pubs just to tell strangers that I make the best tapas in town. To be honest I have to tell strangers because all my friends have stopped going to the pub with me on the grounds that all I talk about is tapas. Owen Benson’s number comes up under favourites on my phone. This annoys me. Owen Benson is, by no stretch of the imagination, my favourite person to message. I just text him every night to tell him that his tapas are an insult to the community. The community which I so love. He’s set my nickname on his phone to, ‘The Spanish Inquisition.’ This annoys me too. The Spanish Inquisition had nothing to do with tapas, and I don’t give a damn whether Owen Benson thinks the Pope is infallible or not. All his nickname for me does, is highlight just how little he knows about Spanish culture. Something I already knew, when he told me that spaghetti Bolognese is his favourite type of tapas. The opening line of my CV is ‘I make good tapas, better than Owen Benson’s.’
Owen Benson doesn’t seem to have got the memo. His last tweet was a picture of a prawn under the caption ‘Who makes the best tapas in town? Owen Benson of course! #chef #Rome #moreisless’ More is less? That goes against the whole philosophy behind tapas. Rome? That’s not even in Spain. But the myth lives on. I’ve had people come up to me and say that the best thing about Owen Benson is his tapas. Either they genuinely think Owen Benson doesn’t have many good qualities, or they believe the myth that he makes the best tapas in town.
I realised the only way to end this falsehood was to invite Owen Benson over for tapas with me. I’d cook some and prove to him that he really doesn’t know what he’s doing when it comes to Spanish cuisine. So last Tuesday I opened the door to let Owen Benson into my house. I didn’t say hello, this was not an evening of pleasantries, since it served only to teach Owen Benson a lesson. He walked into my kitchen and I saw his nostrils flare, like those of a stallion, as he took in all the sweet odours from my cooking. Odours which, I have no doubt, he was unfamiliar with. I put my boquerones fritos into a small dish and turned round to face the table. I was horrified to see that Owen had placed boxes of Tupperware all over it. ‘I brought some of my own tapas so that we can share and so that you have the opportunity to try out the best tapas in town,’ he laughed. I wanted to punch him in his smug face, but I refrained myself, perhaps this was for the best. Now he would truly see how inferior his tapas were when consumed next to mine.
He also pulled out a bottle of Port. I bet he thought it was from Spain. We began to eat. Owen encouraged me to try some of his macaroni cheese tapas, I really didn’t want to, but agreed to anyway. I have to say it was pretty nice, by no means tapas, but by no means inedible.
‘That’s pretty good Owen,’ I admitted.
‘Hey, they’re not called the best tapas in town for nothing.’ Fuck you Owen.
‘You’re the only one who calls them that.’
‘Well I’ve got to think they are, otherwise no one else will.’ This was a good point and very honest of him. I consented to having some port. We swapped a few stories and had some more port. Owen asked if he could smoke a cigarette, I said yes. I had a tapas cigarette, which is a normal cigarette just you only smoke a fifth of it.
Soon we’d finished the port and our spirits were high. ‘You know Sam, I’ve got to admit, you do make some damn good tapas.’
I smiled at him, ‘I like yours too Owen, I mean they’re not authentic but they do taste nice.’
‘I try to make other cuisines into tapas so that more people are willing to try them. That way there’s something for everyone.’ I realised then that Owen Benson was not an enemy of the tapas community, he was trying to save it! I looked at him with a newfound warmth. ‘You’ve got some garlic sauce on your chin,’ he said, and, before I knew what was happening, he was wiping it off with his thumb. I was slightly taken aback by this, but my chin did also now feel very clean and it was tingling all over. I giggled. He giggled too and brushed the hair away from his eyes. My face suddenly felt very hot, like someone had lit a candle near it. That’s because someone had. Owen had placed a candle on the table and lit it. He got up and turned off the kitchen lights. I didn’t stop him and by the time he sat back down, I was a fit of nervous giggles. ‘Would you like to share this last gambas al ajillo with me?’ asked Owen. My heart was pounding in my chest now, as though it might burst out of my ribcage at any moment. I replied, ‘yes,’ but my voice was as quiet and high as that of a mouse. Owen put half the prawn in his mouth, allowing the garlic oil to dribble down his strong chin, and lent toward me. I bit into the other side of the prawn’s pink flesh and then did so again, pulling Owen closer to me with each mouthful. Finally, our lips touched.
The rest is history.
Thirty minutes later, we were both lying on my kitchen table, clumps of paella sticking to our sweaty, naked bodies. I was panting hard. I reached over to an upturned
Tupperware container and pulled a miniature Naan bread from underneath it. As I lay there, chewing on the naan, Owen’s muscular arm across my chest, I thought about how much I liked his tapas. Although, I would still have to disagree with someone if they said Owen’s tapas were the best thing about him. Hands down the best thing about Owen Benson is his lovemaking.
the end ❤