MADRID FOOD

A TASTE OF TAPAS

AS I stand in the corner of the bar clutching a sweet vermouth, wraiths of cigarette smoke swirling around me and drinks being passed over my head, I’ve lost track of how many tapas have gone round. It’s late Saturday afternoon and here in this Madrid drinking den, everyone’s too busy drinking cañas (beers), shelling prawns and talking ten to the dozen. It’s the weekend and madrileños like to milk all the fun out of it they can, which means eating and drinking. A lot.

I suggest to my friend Frank, or Francisco Romero Sánchez, as he is known in Spanish circles, that we visit the Retiro – Madrid’s elegant urban park – to walk off some calories. Cramming dripping gambas a la gabardina into his mouth, Frank replies: “Why don’t we go somewhere else and eat and drink more instead?” The bill comes to an astonishingly cheap €10 each.

You can’t come to Madrid without eating a serious number of tapas. Although the idea originated in Andalucia in the 19th century, this way of eating took off in the 1940s, when thousands of bars (many of which are still going today) popped up all over Spain. Madrid traditionally specialises in patatas bravas (potatoes in spicy tomato sauce) and offal dishes, but the variety is infinite. The rule is eat often, eat a lot and share everything. If you’re with a big group, the best thing is to order raciones (the largest portion; the smallest being a pincho – just a mouthful – while a tapa is a small plate).

Part of the reason the food is so good here is that supermarket culture is yet to take root; even in Madrid, most people buy quality seasonal ingredients from their local market.

And it’s one of the only places I’ve lived that you can go out on Sunday evening at 11pm and see lots of people tucking into a slap-up meal, not worrying about whether they’ll have time to digest it properly and be able to sleep that night.

Traditional Spanish food is hearty peasant fare, and although things are changing rapidly, however many Thai, Middle Eastern, Argentinian, Japanese places pop up around town, every madrileño remains committed to the earthy, villagey casa de comida or méson.

We leave Frank’s local and ride on his motorbike to the central residential district of San Bernardo. Inside the Taberna de San Bernardo, young madrileños are puffing away on filterless cigarettes (Madrid is a smoker’s paradise), drinking vermouth and waiting for their papas con huevos (eggs poached in olive oil plonked on crisps). We devour berenjenas con miel (aubergines pan-fried with honey) and albondigas (meatballs).

Sated but still downing vermouth and sodas, Frank reminds me we are due at the Atlético Madrid football match. Atlético, Frank tells me at the Vicente Calderón stadium, is the football team for the working classes, whereas Real Madrid is for the more pijo supporters (think checked shirts and jumpers draped around the shoulders). There are lots of gold chains, swearing that would make your grandmother blush and heightened emotions. The fans are crunching through pipas (toasted sunflower seeds) at an alarming rate and we are drinking rioja from a leather satchel made from a pig’s bladder. Atlético are playing Osasuna, who knocked them out of the Copa del Rey three days before. Skirmishes abound and by the end of the match, which Atlético win 1-0, four players have been red-carded.

Afterwards at Alcaravea restaurant in studenty Moncloa (Calle de Cea Bermúdez 38, tel: +34 91 533 6932), our rich Ribero del Duero red wine comes with delicious salmorejo, a thick gazpacho with serrano ham and boiled egg from Córdoba, cheese croquetas and habitas con jamón (broad beans with Spanish cured ham). Before heading home we finish ourselves off with secreto ibérico, pork fillets slathered with Torta del Casar cheese from the Extremadura region.

Following a long Sunday morning lie-in, the tapas bars of Salamanca beckon. The first, La Monteria (Calle Lope de Rueda 35, tel: +34 91 574 1812, www.lamonteria.es) is run by a jovial Andalucian, and it’s pandemonium. Everyone is concerned that I should taste everything – whether it’s venado (veal, in a deliciously rich wine sauce), solomillo al foie (rare steak with potatoes, and fried foie gras), or tigres (gratin mussels), bacalao ahumado (smoked cod with tomato) and tomato gazpacho.

“Hey blondie!” someone shouts behind me. I turn around and a swarthy man is brandishing a doughball two inches from my face. I am powerless to resist. It explodes chocolate in my mouth. By now I’ve had lashings of food and my stomach is being warmed by a startlingly green licor de herbas, a powerful alcoholic concoction from northern Spain infused with herbs.

Across the street at El Capricho (Calle Doctor Castelo 14, tel: +34 91 504 6179), there’s more drinking of vermut, and out comes the ensalada de queso de cabra (goat’s cheese salad), chorizo, manchego cheese, serrano ham and croquetas de pollo (chicken croquettes). The pièce de résistance is a plate of fried foie gras.

I decline. I don’t like it. I object to it ethically. No, they say. You’re here to write about food. You must try everything. You must feel like the food-fattened goose yourself.

At 9pm, some bright spark of Asturian origin says there’s a traditional Asturian restaurant just round the corner, which we should visit. Asturia was the only region not conquered by the Moors, retaining what it likes to think of as a pure Spanish flavour. Its local song, Asturias Patria Querida, is sung by drunks Spain-wide. At the Sidreria Carlos Tartiere (Calle de Menorca 35 tel: +34 91 574 5761) we have chipirones (pan-fried squid), pastel de cabracho (a fish mousse) and finish off with arroz con leche (a rice pudding made with orange rind and cinnamon, with a caramelised sugar topping). All the while, sober-looking waiters pour sidra (cider) into our glasses from a great height. I suddenly think of something that will stop Frank, a devout Catholic, from making me eat so much – I’ll play the religion card. “Isn’t gluttony one of the seven deadly sins?” “Yes,” he admits. “It’s probably time to go home.”

CLUB 31

This retro classic joint has been drawing a classier kind of madrileño for over half a decade. You can enjoy old favourites such as special paella, solomillo and foie gras lasagne, with modern additions such as tartar tuna. The environs have been jazzed up with modern accoutrements such as moody hanging lamps and Philippe Starck chairs.Calle de Alcala 58

Tel: +34 91 531 0092 www.club31.net

EL BOGAVANTE DEL ALMIRANTE
Devour your arroz con bogavante (lobster paella) in fantastical surroundings. The restaurant’s name translates as “the Lobster”, hence the lone claw dangling from the cavernous ceiling. Calle Almirante 11

Tel: +34 91 532 1850

EL CHAFLAN
Sick of molecular gastronomy? In this elegant, light-filled space, enjoy Juan Pablo Felipe’s take on modern Mediterranean classics. Avenida Pio XII 34

Tel: +34 91 350 6193 www.elchaflan.com

LA BROCHE
This haven of minimalism and nueva cocina is where Sergi Arola, a graduate of the Ferran Adrià school of cookery, works his magic with edible foams and unusual flavours. Hotel Miguel Angel, Calle Miguel Angel 29

Tel: +34 91 339 3437 www.labroche.com

LA TERRAZA DEL CASINO
Paco Roncero, another Ferran Adrià acolyte, runs the kitchen here and Adrià himself oversees the menu, which is an exercise in gastronomic imagination à la El Bulli. The interiors, unlike the food, are opulently traditional and romantic, and views from the terrace are divine. Alcalá 15

Tel: +34 91 532 1275, www.casinodemadrid.com

MONTANA
An offering of Ignacio González and Erika Feldmann, the ethos here is simple: quality, simple ingredients exquisitely presented in a sleek modern setting just north of the elegant Retiro park.

Calle de Lagasca 5 Tel: +34 91 435 9901

SANTCELONI
The restaurant boasts that its produce arrives from ports and markets around Spain “at the first light of day”, and the emphasis is on fusing the best of regional Iberian cuisines. What about “little cuttlefish infused with the oil of black Catalan sausage”? Paseo de la Castellana 57

Tel: +34 91 210 8840

The reign of Spain

Spanish chefs are being hailed worldwide as the new culinary avant garde

Ten years ago, you’d be hard pushed to find a decent international meal in Madrid. But the winds of change are blowing from the surrealist kitchens of Catalonia. This new kind of Spanish cooking, “la nueva cocina”, is spearheaded by Ferran Adrià, the fantastical chef of El Bulli fame who, like Heston Blumenthal in Britain, is a fan of unlikely flavours and unusual textures.

Adrià has earned his name by beavering away at El Bulli in the Catalan region for 20 years (in fact, El Bulli knocked Heston Blumenthal’s Fat Duck off its perch as best restaurant in Restaurant Magazine’s World’s Top 50 last year). His experimental cooking involves weird flavours, textures and temperatures. On paper, the food sounds downright weird: vegetable-flavoured jelly cubes, for example. Nevertheless, gourmands the world over flock to El Bulli in Roses, Catalonia (www.elbulli.com). The latest concept Adrià has brought to Spain is fast food. His Fast Good chain is based on the principle of cooking simple, quality ingredients swiftly, and is surprisingly taking Madrid, the city of the long, lingering lunch, by storm (Calle Padre Damián 23, tel: +34 91 343 0655, www.fast-good.com) with its gorgonzola burgers, posh paninis and French fries cooked in olive oil.

Second in line to the throne of nueva cocina is Sergi Arola, an former acolyte of Adrià. Following his mentor’s principles, he presides over La Broche, a shrine to minimalism in Madrid. The most important thing in his kitchen is his Thermomix, a kitchen tool that’s indispensable in the creation of his peach confit with amaretto and leeks.

In San Sebastian in the Basque country, Elena Arzak runs restaurant Arzak (Calle Alto de Miracruz 21, tel: 943 285593). Her menu mixes flavours from around the world: tamarind with hibiscus, rhubarb and mango skin with smoked chocolate and molasses.

Pedro Subijana is another Basque sensation, whose dishes combine traditional ingredients with exotic flavours, like caramel caviar, gin and tonic on a plate and pepper-flavoured ice cream. His restaurant is Akelare in San Sebastian (Calle Padre Orcolaga 56, tel: 943 311209).

Carme Ruscalleda is Spain’s most famous woman chef. Her seaside restaurant, San Pau, in the coastal village of San Pol del Mar (+34 93 760 0662), is known for its bread cones with olive-oil sorbet and the most eccentric cheese course you’ll ever taste.