While I was doing an internship in Madrid back in summer 2008, grandpa came to visit, along with my parents and Sheila. On the first evening, I thought it would be nice to go out for a lovely bit of steak and so we made our way over to the chosen restaurant. Everyone was on fine form, having a nice old time picking out dinner and wine, until the bread arrived. Of course, having spent many a holiday in France over the years, we'd not even considered that the bread might not come with butter, but lo and behold, it arrived accompanied by a little dish of olive oil and another of balsamic vinegar. Grandpa was - we think - quietly fuming about it for the remainder of their visit!