Food for Thought

Sometimes size does matter. The risk of tapas tasting is that these tiny dishes are designed to amuse the appetite, to tempt but not to overindulge. It’s perfectly easy to order dish after dish because they’re small- and, after all, what damage could just one more tiny tapas really do? A fatal question, and one we’ve learned to ignore as we continue to follow the tapas trail. Here’s the second instalment of our little hunt for Salamanca’s best tapas bars: the highs, the lows, and the places to categorically avoid.

Recently, our taste buds have directed our tapas trail down an adventurous, if somewhat dodgy, route. Sure, eating the touchstone tapas dishes makes for a good evening, but we wanted to sample something a bit different. Tail of a bull, intestines, pig ear or pig face: you name it and I guarantee we’d prepared our (poor) palates to give it a go. It’s not necessarily a normal pastime of ours, this desire to indulge in speciality dishes, but as I always say: you cannot claim to dislike something until you’ve tried it once. Step up Bar Cilleros- a tapas bar recommended to us for its slightly unorthodox menu. Beforehand, I’d secretly lined my stomach with a sandwich, but turns out this was a futile effort: not only was the bar dark and dingy, but the tapas selection was extremely tame. The strangest dish on offer was ox tongue, which of course we promptly ordered. I didn’t mind the texture (yes, it was slightly chewy) but its sauce left a lot to be desired. Across the road, we investigated Felipe II, a bar packed with locals but not with decent tapas choice. Many of the dishes had already run out by 10pm- very disappointing, especially for Spain. In the end, we braved the intestines. How were they, you ask? Imagine something jellied and slightly crunchy, cover it in a questionable tomato-based sauce, and then make it lukewarm. No, I’m not entirely sure if I would order them again.

Still peckish, our tapas route continued down Paseo de Canelejas to La Meson de la Cocina Charra. Frequented by locals and students alike, this bar has a lovely welcoming atmosphere, and its choice of tapas is wonderful, too. The menu features a great selection of tostas (my favourite is with smoked salmon and cream cheese) and, if you’re particularly hungry, ask for the bocadillo with tortilla francesa- the best sandwich ever. We often eat here, and being good friends with the owner definitely helps. Ask Bobby to make you his special sangria, I promise it will lead to a good night. Next door, El Globo made a culinary impact for all the wrong reasons. Innocently sitting by the bar, the waiter suddenly gave us both a cup of caldo on-the-house. Traditionally a soup broth made from boiled jamon bones and vegetables, caldo is a speciality in Spain. This caldo, however, was essentially a cup of fat- made even worse when the waiter poured in white wine. Verdict: not a place we’d visit again, and if we did, we’re definitely not sitting anywhere near the bar.

Heading towards Plaza Mayor, Casa de las Morcillas is good for those who like (surprise, surprise) morcilla. We had an enormous platter of various different types: deliciously rich but incredibly filling, and definitely one to share. Our favourite was the morcilla de Burgos, made with rice and onions. Meanwhile, Van Dyck appears to have gone out of style with the Salamantinos; instead, Casa Paca’s tapas bar on Calle San Justo appears to be the locals’ new favourite haunt. It pays to get here early (by early, I mean around 9pm): we went on a Friday night and it was standing room only. The range of tapas here is fantastic, and the kitchen just kept churning out delectable dishes. Our favourites include the creamy paella, the crispy calamari, and the tosta with morcilla, foie gras and jamón iberico- each an epicurean masterpiece. Next door, Casa Paca also has an elegant restaurant for proper, sit-down dinners. The soups here are particularly worth a mention, as was the full-bodied cuchinillo asado (roast pork). A word of warning, though: steer clear of the fish, especially the grilled seabass. Mine smelt like it had walked to the restaurant.  

The sheer amount of discarded napkins on the floor of Casa Paca's bar suggests I am not alone when I highly recommend it. This little city is full to the brim with great tapas bars, but you really can’t beat this one for its sublime flavours and authentic ambience. A true taste of Spain, our verdict is make this your stomach’s first stop if you’re ever in Salamanca.

http://www.casapaca.com/

Treading the Tapas Trail

Living in Spain can hardly be called the real deal if you have not participated in at least one night of tapas crawling. After all, what could be better than the odd evening of itinerant gluttony, richly accompanied by good conversation and (just a few) glasses of wine? With that in mind, we have decided to investigate the tapas circuit in Salamanca, visiting numerous tapas bars to discover every secret speciality, the culinary forte each proudly has to offer. It’s taxing, this marathon tapas fest around the city, but somebody has to do it, and we’re only too happy to nominate ourselves for the challenge. Here’s the opening instalment of our self-invented tapas journey.

To begin- Calle Van Dyck. Once the popular street for tapas in Salamanca, frequented by locals and tourists alike, now it seems that the quality has sadly travelled elsewhere. Many of the recommended tapas bars didn’t merit another visit- cafeteria types with little atmosphere and even less choice on the menu. However, if you do head here, La Goleta should definitely be your first stop. A cosy yet classy tapas bar, I would recommend its generous tosta menu- particularly with morcilla (black pudding chorizo), and with gambas (prawns lighly tossed in garlic and olive oil). You couldn’t possibly go wrong when each tosta is served with a free glass of their crisp house white. The service, too, is warm and welcoming- and we were even given a few tostas on-the-house (most probably because we showed an embarrassing enthusiasm for the menu...I highly recommend giving it a go). Still hungry, our next discovery was La Degustación- another gem amongst Calle Van Dyck’s abundant tapas bars. With old wine barrels serving as tables, this place was delightful, and the tapas was good too. Given the bar’s name, it was no surprise that the menu offered a huge range of pinchos to taste- and at 1.50 per dish, it exhausted our willpower not to sample everything. Lastly, you should make Van Dyck itself your final stop of the night- a bar dedicated to Mexican dishes such as enchiladas, tacos and quesadillas- and serving potent cocktails to boot.

Next up: Plaza Mayor, the heart of the city with plenty of tapas bars on its doorstep. Overlooking the Plaza itself, there are two impressive tapas bars, both owned by the same family, which we would visit again. El Reloj has its charm, with its antique wooden door and majestic chandelier, buzzing with customers of all ages (on Calle Van Dyck, they bizarrely often seem to be old men). Come here and order the huevo revuelto- a simple gastronomic delight. Its sister bar, Plaza 23, is just a mere few steps away- perfect to maximise on eating time. Just trust me and ask for their tosta with morcilla, chèvre and caramelised onion: two mouthfuls of heaven. We’d go back just for that one dish. Upstairs is a chic restaurant that boasts a beautiful view of Plaza Mayor, especially at night- perfect for a special dinner (although vegetarians should perhaps steer clear: the menu is essentially just meat). Both the tapas and the restaurant are more expensive than the average Salamancan restaurant, but it's definitely worth it for both the location and the quality.

Venturing beyond Plaza Mayor, another day we decided to brave a few discreetly-located tapas bars. We’d heard good things about La Galatea, an undiscerning bar that I otherwise would probably have walked straight past. At lunchtime, it was completely empty- but luckily we ignored this warning sign, as the delicious jamón iberico and manchego cheese were both sliced to perfection. However, the exotic tapas menu somewhat betrayed the bar’s authenticity. Kangaroo with rose petals and ostrich in a poppy and grape sauce (yes, I thought my Spanish had failed me too) may be aimed at those with a more daring taste, but they hardly count as true Spanish tapas. Just opposite on Calle Doctrinos, we hit upon Doctrinos, a wonderful tapas bar that I would highly recommend. Although poorly located, the owner here really knows his stuff. With legs of jamon iberico suspended from the ceiling, numerous red wines on display and regulars enjoying quiet conversations at the bar, Doctrinos had a lovely ambience- and the tapas was perhaps the best we had tried. Ridiculously cheap, too- at merely 80 cents per tosta, you can forgive us for going a little bit overboard when we ordered. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly manage another bite, a tosta with beautifully sliced lomo arrived. And I managed two bites. Clearly, this tapas circuit should always be complemented by frequent exercise (and I don’t just mean walking between each bar).

One way of judging the popularity of Spanish tapas bars is by scanning the floor- more discarded napkins under the bar (as tapas etiquette begs) endorses the bar’s reputation. Of all the tapas bars I’ve mentioned here, Doctrinos was the most dirty, and therefore (illogically) the one I would most highly recommend. For now, a well-deserved break before we continue eating our way around Salamanca. After all, there’s a reason why Spain is also known for the siesta... 

Shedding the Skin I Live In

In the cinema, we always hope to be creatively engaged in some way- to be pushed beyond the limits of our imagination, to see things afresh and, most of all, to be entertained. Of course, the measure of a good film is entirely subjective- even my criteria for cinema’s purpose itself is wide open to interpretation. Yet ever since first seeing Tacones Lejanos and Hable con Ella, I have been fixated by Spanish director Pedro Almodóvar’s ability to open our eyes- to expose the madness behind love, the anxiety of identity, the silence behind loneliness. Masterpieces in Spanish cinema, these films are startlingly human, revealing a director with a keenly tender eye. His latest outing, La Piel Que Habito (The Skin I Live In), marks a return to this human lyricism, only this time disguised as a haunting story of revenge- a horror film without the gore, blood or the screams yet no less disturbing. Loosely based on Thierry Jonquet’s Kafkaesque novel Tarantula, the film tells the story of manic Doctor Ledgard’s obsession with revenge. Creating a synthetic second skin for Vera, a mysterious woman imprisoned on his estate, he redefines her identity- one that holds her captive against her will. As the film shifts between present and past, Ledgard’s motives are eerily revealed- let’s just say Ledgard is not necessarily the story’s only villain, and Vera is not all who she seems. She holds the key to his obsession, and even though the plot twist was all too obvious (even to us, watching the film in its original rapid Spanish without subtitles) this did not prevent it from packing a real psychological punch. The house is a prison, one that incarcerated not only Vera but the audience as well, locking us into a thrilling world of unnerving macabre. Almodóvar beautifully treats Vera’s patient struggle to reclaim her identity- whilst his leads Antonio Banderas and Elena Anaya impress as the possessed surgeon and his enigmatic human guinea pig. Be prepared: I found the first half an hour was torturous viewing (as usual, Almodóvar really goes in for the brutal, weird sex scenes...) After this, however, it is impossible to tear your eyes away, even when you want to. It may not be for the fainthearted, nor for those just looking for a gratuitous Hollywood blockbuster, but this film is definitely worth a watch. A visual feast, stamped with all the trademark Almodóvar fixations of murder, betrayal and sexual anxiety, my verdict is don’t miss it.

http://www.lapielquehabito.com/