Kitchen Vixen

We came for lunch and decided to stay. I’d never heard of Getaria before nor could I remember the name until well past dessert. We’d been house hunting for several months in towns surrounding San Sebastian but nothing clicked. Row upon row of new and uninhabited apartment blocks in Orio gave me the creeps, Fuenterrabía was posh and out of the way, Zarautz homeowners sniffed and looked the other way at the mention of our dog, Astigarraga didn’t seem to have anything particularly for or against it, so when we finally sat down at Txoko restaurant in Getaria for beautifully grilled fish, in the shadow of an imposing Gothic cathedral and with a spectacular view of the quaint harbour, I turned to the señor and said ‘Why not here?’

Who wouldn't

When a week later I learnt that Getaria was number 41 on the New York Times list of 46 places to go in 2013, well, a rather extended visit seemed like a fine idea. Six months down the line, I feel blessed to be in this particular spot on earth and at the same time, am a little perplexed that it made the list. Not that it isn’t everything the New York Times said it would be. A gorgeous, centuries-old fishing village (of which there are many along the Basque coast) that serves excellent grilled fish (true, all restaurants have outdoor grills by special government concession) with ancient winding cobbled streets (standard stuff in Europe if you weren’t on a WW2 flight path) and despite its size (current population 2500) home to two famous sons: navigator Juan Sebastián Elcano, who was the first to circumnavigate the globe in the early 16th century, as well as 20th century haute couturist Cristóbal Balenciaga. Getaria has honoured its famous fashionista with a massive mirrored museum that clings to the hillside above the old town like a shiny armadillo. And, according to the New York Times, it is the museum that, since its opening in 2011, has drawn a more ‘sophisticated design set’ to Getaria. Of course, well-heeled French have long been trotting over the border for a good plate of food at better prices than their own restaurants can provide.

View from el Raton

I have my own idea of why Getaria has become such a hotspot. It includes the spectacular coastal drive, vine covered hilltops, ancient old city, beautiful harbour, historical statues and hi-tech museum, beaches and great fish, but more than that, Getaria offers all of this in a contained, easy to consume package. You can step off the bus, ride the escalator up to the Balenciaga museum, stroll down the cobbled main road, pass underneath the 12th century Gothic cathedral and step out into the sunshine on a high wall dotted with restaurants that overlook the harbour, hugged by the mouse-shaped el Raton mountain on the left and a sickle of beach to the right. It can all be consumed, including your three-course lunch with copious glasses of Txakoli, with enough time to spare for a siesta.

Sight-seeing is hard work. Rome in two days, London in five, half a country in a week. How exhausting. And the success of a trip is too often determined by how many of the must-see boxes are ticked. Even our downtime is infused with competitive objectives. If Paris is a sumptuous banquet and New York a multi-cultural buffet, then Getaria is one perfect little bite. A delicious and comforting morsel that pauses and replenishes. After just a few hours, visitors leave satisfied that they have ‘done Getaria’.  And that imparts a nice sense of accomplishment in a world so vast and multi-thinged that many of us sometimes feel somewhat sidelined.

On top of el Raton

We moved here when our son was six months old. To an apartment on the fourth floor of a casa in the old part of town. None of the old houses have elevators. Add a border collie with a dodgy bladder to the mix and suffice to say I found myself in a picturesque corner of hell. A pueblito also has less to offer in terms of amenities, shopping and wifi coverage. At times it felt as if I had stepped back in time to about 1948 without being in the mood for it. In short, I needed help. Which is how the beauty of Getaria unfolded. A fiesty little woman called Ana* helped us get settled in. A week later when our hound was at death’s door and the señor was stuck at work, her husband took Milly to a vet in the neighbouring town. Perfect strangers introduced themselves in the street, enquired how we were and insisted that I call whenever help was needed. I have never known such kindness. Soon everyone knew the South African with the friendly child and the gorgeous, goofy dog.

Winter dragged on forever. Dios mio. It was the worst winter the Basque country had seen in over 200 years. I walked the misty cobbled streets for hours while my baby slept snugly in his waterproof buggy. I once took shelter in a bar, glass of beer in hand, when the lights went out. What’s going on, I asked. A villager had died and as the procession moved through town towards the cathedral, lights were switched off in commiseration. People here grow very old. To reach 85 years of age is not unusual. Getaria nestles against a mountain. If you step out of your front door you are either going uphill, or down. It’s a workout any which way. Older gentleman take to scooters to zip around town but the ladies carry on walking. In many cases, people are born and die in the same house. Married to a childhood sweetheart. It is all so terribly not modern. Yet it is holding true for many of the younger generation.

If these walls could talk, I often think as I pass sandstone structures many hundreds of years old. A town this small must have its feuds, lingering resentments of old lovers’ quarrels, soured business partnerships and rotten eggs. If there is talk it would surely happen in Euskera (or Basque, as the ancient language is known in English) and never to an outsider. Children live close to their parents who care for the grandchildren while the kids get on with work. This sense of continuity provides a security that serves all generations. There are very wealthy people in this town but nothing is ever on display. The wife of the most successful restauranteer can be seen sweeping the forecourt of their restaurant in her sweats early in the morning. A wealthy retired businessman enjoys a pintxo with an old fisherman. Could it be that such a solid, rooted foundation negates the manic quest for materialist trappings?

Kids being kids

The Basque country is a wonderful pastiche of hi-tech and ancient. Details change to embrace progress but the underlying structure is, literally, cast in stone. Toddlers learn to walk on the same cobbled streets as did their great-grandparents. Grow up observing the workings of the harbour from the same window. Perhaps, unbeknown, experience the thrilling terror of a first kiss not far from where their parents shared a similar moment. This overlapping of lifelines may seem cloying to some but from what I’ve seen, it makes for a refreshing absence of existential angst.

So much of the fatalism, paranoia and anxiety of the modern world just does not arrive here. It’s hard not to live in fear of disaster given the sometimes horrific ways of the world, not to mention Hollywood’s obsession with annihilation. How often does New York not suffer celluloid destruction by aliens, cataclysmic disaster or some foul regime with too much firepower. I’m not saying a tidal wave can’t hit the Bay of Biscay. I’m probably just the only person who has ever considered it.

Getaria is growing into me, changing my patterns. Even in this quiet place with no real work to speak of, I hurry and stress too much. Pull and poke at the fabric of my life unnecessarily. I cloud my horizon with shadows from the past. Tranquila. We will help you, they say, as they laugh the rain away. There is music in the streets. Be it sardine season, a birthday, or just a jolly lone accordionist who drinks and jams his way through town, hitting keys above his head like a rock star.

Milly the muse (pictured here with a more sedate musician)

I don’t know how much time Sarah Wildman of the New York Times spent in Getaria. Whether she got to see past the museum and the pretty harbour. Not that it matters. Whatever their reasons, they chose well. They chose a mensch.

*Her real name. Recently she came to our rescue again by finding a wonderful casa for us. With spectacular views of the bay and only seven stairs. Life is good. If it carries on like this I may feel moved to pen a European romcom in the vein of Under A Tuscan Sun. The working title could be Under A Basque Cloud.

Sunrise from our new casa

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Spain is revered as the home of modernist gastronomy, having liberated fine dining from the clingy hold of French butter and cream with sultry oils and a fearless approach to technique. The thing about Spain is, they cook. Every city block has at least three restaurants, often feet apart. For every aspiring elBulli or Cellar de Can Roca out there, there are at least 1000 greasy tapas bars. You have to be selective. If, like me, you like fresh food or an element of freshness in your food, consider yourself slightly screwed. Oil and salt are constants in this flavour landscape. But let’s look at the good stuff, shall we?

From absolutely bloody brilliant to better than average

Tickets Bar: Ferran and Albert Adria’s brilliant take on tapas. I’ve tried other gastro tapas bars and nothing comes close to this. The Adria’s might be slumming it compared to the gravitas of elBulli but Tickets, for all it’s playfulness, serves little morsels of genius. The best tapas in the world. Reservations via their website only and they’re booked out three months in advance. Read my review of Tickets and 41 Degrees here. If you are intrigued by elBulli, do go to the elBulli exhibition at Palau Robert on paseo de Gracia.

41 Degrees: The disco sister of Tickets, also owned by the Adria brothers. Recently blinged-out with an installation of 20 000 crystals that manipulate light and sound,  41 Degrees is hailed as the ‘baby elBulli’. It’s a 16 seater that serves a mind-fluffing 41-course menu. The same tricky online reservation system applies. I’m going end of July and can’t wait to experience the sparkly new 41 Degrees. Watch this space.

Dos Pallilos: A sensual synergy of food savvy. Exquisite Japanese food served tapas-style. After 11 years as elBulli’s headchef Albert Raurich – inspired by his Japanese wife – opened this übercool eatery next to the trendy Camper Hotel in the Ramblas. Good luck getting a table at short notice. Read my review here.

Gresca: Creative, contemporary fine dining in an informal, chic space.One of the really good restaurants where you might get a table at short notice. Details here.

Alkimia: Modernist gastronomy with strong Catalan roots. Set menus offer a well curated overview of the best this area has to offer. Reserve online.

Dos Cielos: Comes highly recommended. The website gives a clear idea of what to expect and how to get a reservation for this sensory joy ride, engineered by handsome twin brothers Sergio and Javier Torres. I might have to go soon.

Rias de Galicia: For the best seafood in town. Enough said.

Of course, the most sought-after table to be had in all of Spain would be Celler de Can Roca. Rated second  in the world after Rene Redzepi’s Noma and just an hour’s drive from Barcelona in Girona, this would be well worth the effort if you’re serious about sampling the best.

La Boqueria: Barcelona and probably the world’s best fresh produce market. On las Ramblas, the city’s main tourist drag, the market offers freshly pressed juices popping with colour and flavour. Choose from guava and coconut, kiwi and pineapple – the list is near endless. I start every market visit with a different flavour. Buy fresh produce or wait your turn for a seat at one of the popular tapas bars in the market. Or just eat with your eyes. It’s a visual orgasm.

Las Ramblas has tourist trap written all over it but you have to see it. Eating there is perhaps not such a great idea. Except for Bar Lobo. As you wander down Las Ramblas, turn right on Pintor Fortuny and first left onto a charming  square. Surprisingly authentic and accessible considering the location. A clever menu that offers tapas but also heartier meals, catering to a global palate whilst retaining some Spanish flavour. Good value for money and no reservation required. With a bit of luck and patience, I’ve always managed an outdoor table after a few minutes’ wait.

El Born is a great barrio to stroll through. Ancient, bohemian, bustling. Get lost in the narrow lanes but keep an eye open for Cal Pep on Placa de les Olles. Tiny tapas bar, always jam-packed with desperadoes queuing at the door.

Everyone will confirm that Spain’s North is the holy food grail. Specifically San Sebastian. Famous for having more Michelin stars per square kilometer than anywhere else in the world, and for pintxos.  Basically tapas of the North. Generally served on a slice of baguette, impaled with a toothpick. If you’re not going North and want to experience pintxos, el Born is also home to Sagardi Euskal Taberna at Carrer de l’Argenteria, 62. Grab a plate, pile it high and hang on to those toothpicks. That’s how they keep track of how much you’ve eaten…

Sick of tapas and fancy a hamburger the size of a toddler’s head, made American style – because burgers here are often served without a roll, lettuce and tomato – with everything? Pim Pam burger on carrer del Sabaret is considered the best in town. Sadly I can’t say the same for their hot dogs.

If you think the Spanish like chili, think again. They managed to colonize most of South and central America for centuries without succumbing to the charms of this hot little fruit. In search of a fix, I suffered some bad Mexican until I found Tlaxcal, also in el Born at 27 Calle Comerc. Classic Mexican, cleanly presented. Best nachos ever and do try the taco soup.

Barcelona has a lot of beach and many beach bars. The best paella is to be had at El Xiringuito de Escriba, by the famous Escriba family. The paella from the sea and the mountain (rabbit and seafood) is the best. Check out the fabulous Escriba website for info on Xiringuito as well as their two pastry shops. A must if you love confectionery. Candy rings, fantastical chocolate sculptures and some of the best pastry Spain has to offer. There’s a small Escriba pastry shop a few meters down from la Boqueria. Enjoy…

Barceloneta is riddled with groovy beach bars. If the food isn’t that great at most of them, the cocktails, views and people-watching will more than make up for it. Lying on the beach, you can’t miss Hotel Bella to your right, which looks like it’s about to strut into the sea. Also home to Michelin-star chef Carles Abellan’s Bravo 24 terrace restaurant. Much of what we ate here arrived with smoky grill flavours. I absolutely loved the lettuce, drizzled with chicken stock and cooked on the grill. A suave elevated seaside option with spectacular Mediterranean views. Abellan also owns Tapas 24 in the city center, close to paseo de Gracia. The poor man’s Tickets and a great place to get to grips with tapas without burning up your pocket.

‘What do Spanish people REALLY eat, besides bread and tapas, what is real Catalan food?’ That was the question after my first few months here. Fancy restaurants are great but with all that reinvention you need a set of tweezers to separate the traditional from the showstopper. I’d say the jury is still out on that one. But I do like Casa Paloma for several reasons. The interior is an unfussy blend of old world and contemporary sophistication. Much like the menu. Good Catalan food for discerning locals. Their daily specials offer comfort classics. And brace yourself, the steaks can be overwhelming in size.

Fancy a Catalan barbeque? Head for the hills and get your hands dirty at Casa Juaco, a truly rustic Catalan grill restaurant. One of my very best food experiences here. You’re given large plastic gloves (thin versions of the type normally used for cow insemination…) and a bib because it gets messy. Old terracotta roof tiles are plonked down, piled high with leeks charred over an open grill. It’s dirty work releasing the sweet center but very rewarding. This was my favourite part of the meal. Tiles of charred seasonal veg with aioli and romesco dipping sauces. Jugs of sangria and beer served in spouted glass vessels encourage communal drinking. Followed by a main of grilled meat (sausage and chops) and traditional creme Catalan for dessert. Go for the view, the vibe and the charred vegetables. Totally off the beaten track, it doesn’t get more traditional than this.

Rambla de la Catalunya is a great street to stroll down. Parallel to paseo de Gracia (Barcelona’s highest of high streets) but with less traffic and more trees, ambient cafes and interesting little shops.  Close to the corner of Rambla de la Catalunya and Majorca you’ll find Cerveceria, an above average tapas bar. Also home to the best hot dogs I’ve had here, albeit in tapas form so you have to order about 8 portions to get your footlong in… whatever it takes, right?

Hotel Ohla offers a 1 star Michelin restaurant, gastro tapas bar, chic cocktail bar and roof terrace. Impressive tapas of the not-so-pedestrian kind on the edge of the Old City.

All Italian food is comfort food to me. And sometimes when you travel you just want a big bowl of pasta or a pizza that doesn’t talk back when you chew on it. Considering our proximity to Italy, this city is not inundated with great Italian fare. The only one that’s given me joy is La Bella Napoli. Try the pasta in a parmesan basket.

Spain doesn’t have much of a breakfast culture. Generally a baguette with cheese or ham and a coffee will do. It took five months to find eggs Benedict in this town but I did. At a charming French bistro Cafe Emma at 142 Paul Claris in the city center. Good value for money lunch and dinner set menus make it a popular choice, which is why the service is somewhat disappointing. Open all day, every day.

I’m in my fifth month in Barcelona and there is still so much to discover. Areas like el Born and Gracia are riddled with little neighbourhood bars and restaurants and my advice would be, if the locals are having a good time, give it a bash. Vegetarians tend to have a hard time here in the heart of ham country but this link might provide some relief. For the rest, bear these pointers in mind when choosing an eatery.

1. Don’t eat anywhere with picture boards. Especially if the photos are sun-faded to a generic pulp. Because the food very well may be too.

2. Eat at tapas bars owned by Spanish folk. By the same token, Chinese restaurants should be owned by Chinese. You follow.

3. This one is global. The Michelin Guide said it best on Twitter “Why is it that the dining rooms with the best views serve food that rarely matches the optics? Location, location, frustration.” Couldn’t agree more. Am actually starting to think tourism is detrimental to food quality. So if your feet can carry you further, don’t eat right next to that atmospheric Gothic cathedral.

4. Aaah… la vida tapas! The world has truly gone tapas berserk. Like repeating your own name fast, I hardly know what it means anymore. Here, portions can be ample so eating tapas on your own doesn’t really work. You’ll end up eating a hell of a lot of one thing. A few roasted padron peppers are nice but you don’t want three fists full. Most dishes are either deep-fried or perched in a puddle of oil. Order in waves to avoid bombing yourself with too much of the same thing. When tapas is good, it’s wonderful. Back in the seventies in the Eastern Cape, my mom used to call it pick-n-mix. The best way to eat.

5. Plato del dia or meal of the day, available from most restaurants at lunchtime. Generally a 3-course meal with a drink or coffee included for around 12 Euros. Great value but don’t expect to be blown away. It’s simply a feeding so you can carry on with the business of having a good time.

6. “Hablas Ingles?” Shocker. In a city riddled with tourists, you’re lucky to encounter a poco English from the hosts. Without Google translate I might have starved in my first months or suffered death-by-tortilla (though, when in doubt a slab of potato omelet is a good filler). The bitch about Barcelona is it has two languages. Spanish (Castillano) and Catalan. Restaurants in touristy areas usually have an English menu but not always. Ask for carta Ingles. I’ve had to rely on my cellphone a lot and it helps if you know whether you’re dealing with Spanish or Catalan. Look for the word ‘with’. Can’t write a menu without it. In Spanish it’s ‘con’ and in Catalan ‘amb’… so, now you know what language you’re dealing with, order forth! And let me know if you find the good stuff.

This post may be subjected to updates and revisions. Follow me @kitchenvixenish on Twitter for bite-by-bite updates.

And on a non-food note, don’t forget to always look up at all the gorgeous buildings. There’s much more to Barcelona than Gaudi… although he is the most crazy beautiful of the lot.

Seriously, Europeans eat a lot of bread. White bread. With every meal. They seem to live on permutations of cheese and ham sandwiches, mostly without tomato or lettuce or anything juicy. So that, dear friends, was my dough-weary battle cry one chilly morning as I stomped my foot on a pavement in Ibiza. No more bread! The señor just laughed because it was also my first unbridled attempt at Spanish after three weeks in the country.

BUT… then I had pan con tomate – bread with tomato – a Catalan classic that is greater than the sum of its parts. Plus it’s hands-on messy. Serve this at the beginning of a meal or with cold beers while the sausage sizzles on the grid. You’ll need good bread, toasted, a ripe squishy tomato, whole unpeeled garlic cloves, good olive oil and salt.

Humble stuff

Slice the garlic in half and scratch the bread with it. Do the same with the tomato. Really wreck it. Then drizzle with as much olive oil as the bread will hold and sprinkle with salt. Be liberal.

My new best friend

It’s the taste bud equivalent of a great family reunion and I urge you to try it. My buds have been battling the last few weeks. There are many many restaurants in Barcelona and most of them should be avoided. Food can be very oily and if you love fresh zingy flavours, winter food in this town will break you. Barcelona has incredible culinary aces up her sleeve but the likes of Tickets and Dos Palillos are a far cry from what the average Jose eats. I had this gem at a lovely tapas restaurant, Casa de tapas de Cañota, owned by the Iglesias brothers who also co-own Tickets with the famous Adrias. Casa de tapas serves traditional tapas, made well. At affordable prices. Patrons are invited to rate individual dishes and the results are displayed.

Tapas hit parade

Tapas isn’t really an option if you’re eating solo. The idea is to have one or two bites off each plate and not a whole plate of say, croquetas. But the tacos de cochinillo caught my eye and I mistakenly assumed ‘tacos’ meant, well, tacos. They way Mexican restaurants in South Africa do them. But in Spanish it also refers to little blocks of meat. Although the pork didn’t look the way I expected, it was delicious. Rich, succulent and crispy on top.

You say taco I say... block

Most of my food woes this time around are simply due to not knowing. Almost no Spanish and even less Catalan. When I visited Barcelona the first time as a tourist I took taxis and ate at some of the best restaurants. Now I live like a local, taking the metro and hunting for cheaper but good ways to feed myself. Everything’s different, of course. I have yet to see a loaf of rye bread. And Spanish supermarkets are a far cry from the Americanesque food cathedrals we have at home. There’s a lot less packaging in the veg section and meat is not as fussily clipped and stripped of all indication that it once was animal. It’s all pretty darn real. Sections of my local market are downright scary. And when I hit the fish aisle I’m ever so grateful I can block my nose from the inside.

I’ve also realised that my perception of Spanish food was just plain wrong. I’m holding back on any sweeping statements until I’ve eaten the North but at this point, suffice to say that not only is their food not spicy, they actually dislike it. Which is why I’m really excited about a little restaurant we’re going to on Friday. Mexican street food by real Mexicans. Come to think of it, it’ll be the first time I ever eat Mexican prepared by Mexicans.

Living and learning.

If anyone’s still reading, please hold thumbs that we find a really nice apartment soon – with an oven – because I’m craving bobotie! Although I suspect the señor won’t like it…

Chopsticks and toothpicks. Food-handling tools in two different cultures. At Dos Palillos in Barcelona, Japanese cuisine is presented tapas-style. It’s the fusion of one cuisine with another’s way of eating, rather than a confusion of two food cultures. Owned by Albert Raurich who cheffed at elBulli for 11 years, you know you’re in for something special when you slide behind the bar at this voyeur-friendly kitchen.

Precision poetry in motion

I was damn near hypnotized by the measured, calm fluidity with which the chefs worked. If I ever had to fall prey to insomnia, I’d watch footage of Takeshi Somekawa (pictured above) working because it can only be described as kitchen Tai Chi. Yet the dishes appear at a rapid rate. The chefs at Dos Palillos are also known for their interesting hairstyles. » Read the rest of this entry «

Expectation is the blow-up doll of idealist emotions but how can you approach the new restaurant of the past decade’s greatest chef without a few projections? I was nervous, excited and hungry when I walked through the door of Tickets in Barcelona. Tickets is the brain child of Ferran Adria’s younger brother Albert, owned by both, and with ex-elBulli chefs and staff in key positions.

Showtime menu and napkin holder

Located in the old theater district of Barcelona, Albert and his team went all out to create a vaudeville-style food fairground with witty detail and playful references to put you instantly at ease. So, there’s misconception number one cleared. You don’t have to get uptight about going to Tickets because they aren’t. After years of performing a tightrope act in the international culinary arena, Tickets is were the Adria brothers get to play.  With La Vida Tapas emblazoned on uniforms, they’re going back to their roots and honoring the gastronomical heritage of Spain. Tapas is a way of life, of caring, sharing and savouring each bite.

Albert Adria

There are several service stations, each decorated to a theme and responsible for  a different style of tapas. We sat in La Presumida that references the beach bars of Barcelonetta, the city’s beach front. » Read the rest of this entry «