How many consecutive days of eating plates of tapas (Spanish for snack) for dinner would a person need before he or she became tired of it?

A week of it? A month of it? Ten years of it?

We have had tapas on consecutive nights here in the Valencia region of Spain, buying seven or eight little plates of food and making it dinner for three, and it’s hard to imagine getting bored with it. Maybe ever.

The first night, we went to a traditional tapas place in the main plaza of the old city of Altea. Tonight, we tried a place just down the street, a tapas bar known for “experimental” offerings.

And we could live with this for a very long time, I am pretty sure.

The first place has a simple name — Tapas Gastro-Bar — and is located near the church in the old part of the city.

Excellent service. Excellent food.

We ordered some of the old familiars, like patatas bravas, tortilla espanola and veal meatballs. And some bocadillos with melted brie with Iberian ham, and one goofy bit, the Tiger Woods salad –chicken cooked with soy sauce and a raspberry vinaigrette.

The memorable dish, heuvos rotos, was broken eggs (lightly cooked) with little red (spicy) Spanish sausages, atop potatoes.

And a pitcher of very nice sangria, a bit sweeter than usual: perhaps brandy had been added?

Tonight, we tried a neighborhood place known for interesting/bizarre “fusion” tapas — Xef Pirata or Pirate Chef.

It has almost no “pirate” theme, thankfully. (Don’t need Spanish waiters talking like pirates.)

But it had some very unusual tapas combinations, including:

–Olive-oil cracker layered with sardines, sliced Granny Smith apple and duck liver.

–Mini burgers with a layer of foie gras. (below)

–Pork cheeks with potato cream.

–Mushroom croquettes.

–Fried ricotta ravioli — like tiny egg rolls.

–Mushrooms with poached egg.

–Octopus with violet potato.

–Marinated tuna with eggplant.

And for dessert, a lime creme. Plus, management sent out little glasses of white dessert wine.

Lots of interesting combinations there, especially the cracker/sardine/apple/duck liver.

The traditionalists among the group preferred the first night’s offerings. The more adventurous loved the Pirata, while conceding several of the dishes were quite rich.

Altea, the city we are in, has something like two-dozen tapas bars, so it’s not as if the options are limited. And within every tapas bar you can count on a dozen (or two) tapas choices, and at least one or two specialties of the house.

What would keep a person from eating tapas seven days a week is the expense (even though the first place cost only $50 for three, with the pitcher of sangria costing about $12) and the need to get to one of the tapas bars on a daily basis.

Which no one would do; have to eat at home once in a while. (Plus, you would not want to drink a liter of sangria every time out.)

Anyway, for these tourists, the idea of getting tired of tapas seems ridiculous.