Mussels at March 5th Street

I don't really know if you have ever been to Zaragoza or its surroundings, but there are plenty of old, small places where you can eat a sandwich made of ingredients which may be quite exotic for a foreigner. One of this is La Mejillonera, always located in a tiny street in the centre of the town, called Moneva. This small bar is specialized in mussels (mejillón in Spanish) and in squid sandwiches, as the one showed.
However, last week I was wandering around another central street from Zaragoza, called March 5th (remembering an old battle which took place in this town in the "Carlists" war; read a history book if you want to know more about it), and I found a pleasing surprise: another subsidiary of la Mejillonera had been opened. So a bit later, in order to avoid the nuisance of going starving to the cinema, I decided to go in and eat something.
All comparison is false, but anyway, there I go (I'm talking about the Moneva's one). The one at March 5th is newer, with much more space between the tables and the bar and, ofering the same, it seemed to me a more comfortable option. I chose a table and the waiter arrived immediatly, as if he had been waiting for me the whole evening. I asked for a squid sandwich, spicy, of course, a plate of mussels and a glass of red wine. The bread was gummy, and that was quite strange, because bread is one of the reasons I always come to this place. It was not so bad, but the new place started to seem less comfortable than before... Let's go on... I decided to change, so I decided to taste those nice mussels waiting for me. Everything was fine, what a tasty sauce,... but then I saw something shining in the mussel; the sauce was so good I decided to fake I hadn't notice anything. But then, that shine became in my mouth an unpleasant feeling, like sand among my teeth and I found myself chewing a piece of nacre. I swalowed some wine and bless; it was a bad wine, but I didn't really care. Meanwhile, the waiter was taking of the dishes like an uncontrolled robot, making me take my glass, still having some wine in, in case he took it out of me. Well, the film could still arrange the night (thanks, Woody).

I will definetly come back, but next time I'll go to the old one, although I will have to be squeezed among many other people close to the bar. Maybe I expected too much from this.