Eating in Espana

Chocolate con churros - that was what we were hooked on in Spain. Churros are like slimmer, crunchier versions of yu char kway. And you dip them into the thick dark chocolate soup. We had them when we could find them. The best, so it's said, are from the chocolateria by San Gines church. We went there every night we were in Madrid. Decadent! And it opens late into the night, so we needn't break from touristing or shopping!

One thing we observed about the Spanish when they eat out is that they go in droves. At every restaurant we patronised, there was at least one table reserved for a large party. In one small village, a party reserved TWO tables - a big one for adults and a separate table for kids.

Wish there was a T-shirt that says, "You ain't seen Spain till you've tasted tapas". We only got into the swing of tapping the tapas bars after several days in the country. But once we did, we were sold. They're a cheap, yummy and quick way to fill your tummy. We did stop at a tapas bar in Madrid, our first stop, but only because it was drizzling and the bar was the nearest shelter where we could rest our tired legs. Then, we didn't make a tapas stop till about 4-5 days later, in Carmona, on our way to Sevilla. That splotchy black thing in the red sea in the middle photo is cod (bacalao) with squid ink. Quite yummy. It's sold at a genteel tapas bar (bottom left) in Sevilla. Further up the street, another bar was so packed we had trouble even squeezing one hand through the crowds onto the bar counter (top right photo).


We wanted to bite into something solid when we landed in Madrid and so made our way to a recommended restaurant that was near the San Gines chocolateria. We liked the rustic presentation - unglazed clay jars or water, wooden bowls and ribs served on a chopping block. A bit greasy, though, but hey, we were on a holiday!

And we couldn't wait to get to Segovia. Not for the aqueduct - we saw a really nice one at Pont du Gard in Provence that we could walk along. It was for the suckling pig - Beng had returned from Segovia raving about the dish. Once we got off the train, we quickly zeroed in on the restaurant we wanted to try - the oldest in town. Naturally, it wasn't open for business yet. So we went sightseeing first. And saw a man offloading carcasses of baby pigs from a van outside Meson de Candido, the other big resto, which Beng et al patronised.

And yes, the suckling pig we had at Duque Restaurante was something else! It wasn't served with the fanfare of Candido, but who cares. It was like eating pork wrapped with popiah skin and deep-fried - the crackling lived up to its name. Garlic soup, though, was bland and the whole egg swimming in the bowl put us off (cholesterol-laden yolk, lah). The giant beans were a nice accompaniment. And we liked the light sweet cava we ordered. Check out recipes on the website. We were given recipe cards too.

The Spaniards start their day late. Lunch at restaurants is not served till 1.30pm at the earliest, dinner starts from 8pm. And by noon in Toledo, we were starving after spending the morning running around the town. But La Abadia (sorry, in Spanish only) doesn't serve lunch till 1.30pm. To quell our grumbling tums, HB ordered beer and albondigas (meatballs) in the bar area. More people started streaming in and I was fretting that we might not get a table for lunch. Unfounded fear, or course.

When the time came, we were led into the basement restaurant. Really nice place with vaulted ceilings. And we liked the food presentation. Our grilled eggplant was a tad too oily though (yes, we still hadn't gotten over our eat-healthy mindset). The best course? The three-tapas appetiser, which included pate, something we couldn't resist ordering in other restaurants later.

I think the best pate we had was at Restaurante el Escudero (in Spanish, lah) in Ronda. It's the sister to the more uppity and critically acclaimed Tragabuches. It also has the better view - perched at the lip of the gorge. The pate here was drizzled with Pedro Ximenes sherry and sprinkled with crushed almonds. Yummmmmmms....

And we couldn't resist desserts either. I can't remember what we ended our lunch at La Abadia with but it looks pretty. So does the tiramisu we had at Azafran, a restaurant we chanced upon in Granada. It wasn't our first choice. We had wandered in the dark looking for the restaurant that Sarah visited that has a great view of Alhambra. When we finally found it, it was full (darn, we should have made reservations). But Azafran turned out to be a sleeper hit. It's a funky place at the foot of the hills, and when you look up, you also get to see Alhambra across the stream. Food here was modern Mediterranean and we liked the pomegranate (granada in Spanish!) sprinkled on the platter.

In Barcelona, while we could still get choc and churros, the regional dessert is crema catalan. It's like creme brulee. But that's not the only sweet stuff the Catalans seem to indulge in. In one cafe, we noticed staff hauling out a huuuuuge vat onto the counter and then smacking dollops of thick cream onto small plates. That's it! The cream wasn't a topping or side garnish for other desserts. It's the main dessert! The locals had it with - not in - their coffee.

Valencia was a necessary stop to break the long haul to Barcelona from Andalucia. And we were glad we did. Because we had a great time at the huge Ciudad de las Arte y Sciencias (City of Arts and Sciences). We spent the most time at L'Oceanografic because it's touted as the largest aquarium in Europe. After gawking at blubberous whales and smiley-faced rays, we naturally grew hungry. The Submarino is a bar and restaurant, with the dining area one level below and surrounded by tanks of fish. We made sure we didn't order seafood so as not to offend our "entertainers". The chef offered a different take on suckling pig (photo on the right) - served in chi-chi portions that didn't really fill us up (moreover, we shared!). We enjoyed the pate, which came with colourful spots of sauces to dip into. I think we had cava to wash down the food.

Albufera, on the outskirts of Valencia, is the birthplace of paella. As we drove towards the village, we passed by padi fields and boats moored in canals. But much of the town appeared closed for the day. We stopped by a cafe and the owner and a patron said we'd be hard pressed to find restaurants open. But we did! Rabbit paella? No thanks. Not seafood either. In the end, we asked if we could have chicken in the vegetarian. Lots of clanging and chattering in the kitchen after that. The waiter came out again to confirm our order. More chatter. Then the chef emerged to clarify the order. We told her what we wanted and she whipped it up. It was quite tasty with a hint of saffron but oily, lah. Satisfied,we drove back in the dark to Valencia, where we ended the night at a mall - to buy water at Carrefour and for a spot of shopping.

We had rabo de toro (oxtail stew) in several places but the one we voted the best was served at Pedro Romero in Ronda - right across the road from the bullring (yes, I guess that's where supplies come from!). We enjoyed gawking at the bullfighting posters and watched a waiter carve thin slices of jamon (ham). The head of a bull hovered over us on the wall as we slurped and burped through our meal.

In Barcelona, our last dinner was at Els Quatre Gats, the restaurant/bar for the Spanish literati and arty-farty at the turn of the century. (Read: Picasso was there). Four Brit women at the next table were there guzzling pre-dinner cocktails and later griped about the bill! We ordered appetisers and skipped mains.

But the best meal in Barcelona and probably throughout our entire trip was at Cata 1.81. Read about it and drool in vnchewie's blog.