When I go to Barcelona, ​​I walk past La Carcoma Feliz, a shop on Calàbria Street dedicated to restoring furniture with undeniable and unrivaled skill. The drawing is a kind of worm—the woodworm—smiling happily, living up to the establishment's name. But I can't help thinking that the woodworm isn't happy, on the contrary, because the owners of the business are dedicated to exterminating it. I feel the same way when I order some delicious chickens from Glovo, of course. The company that supplies them is called Feliz Pollo Last. last written like this, as last in English, which must be a perversion of our "al ast" (that it survives is a miracle). In any case, the chicken isn't happy; it doesn't like being cooked. In Las Palmas de Gran Canaria, you'll find El Cerdito Feliz, a store specializing in sausages. My daughter had a book, The restless grapes, beautiful, by Elisenda Guiu, where a grape berry was impatient to be turned into wine. Since he had eyes and a face, it was hard to explain the grape harvest holocaust to him. It was pitiful. In the end, what I did was adapt. It was the vine that wanted to be pruned—an equivalent to us getting a haircut—so that grapes could be made from its fruit.

Fifteen years ago, Negro Riveros left his job as a lawyer to pursue his true passion: asado, a dish that is part of the identity of his country, Paraguay. "There's a grill in every house. Paraguayans are born with fire in their veins. Sundays are sacred. It's the day to get together with friends and family. These gatherings never fail to include asado, which for us is a symbol of friendship and unity. It's present in every celebration, whether it's a birth or a birthday. Any excuse is good for a barbecue."