Tapas hop-pening in Madrid

Outside, it was -4°C when our plane touched down at Madrid’s Barajas International Airport. I got a little disoriented because it was already 7 a.m. and it was still dark. My body clock says the midday sun should still be up, as we left Manila on Qatar Airlines late afternoon the previous day. By 2 a.m. we were at Doha Airport, Qatar, for a two-hour wait for our connecting flight to Madrid.

Being a Sunday morning, it was a breeze entering the city in a taxi and in about 25 minutes, I was at the InterContinental Madrid, my home for the next five days. Since check-in was yet to be at 2 p.m., I left my luggage with the concierge and went straight to the hotel’s El Café restaurant. Finding the breakfast buffet spread so irresistibly inviting, I simply surrendered to its delectable offerings. It had an unmistakably Spanish flavor to it, quite different from the predictable international spreads one sees in five-star hotels. It had jamon serrano and several kinds of salchichas, including different dried chorizos and fried fresh longanisas (less garlicky and sweet than ours, but definitely not the usual bland English links), local quezos from different regions, bottles of extra virgin olive oil, and fresh tomato puree to drizzle over crusty toasted country breads, and not to forget, Spain’s iconic churros con chocolate. Though the usual blob of scrambled eggs was available in a chafing dish, one could actually request for tortilla Española or potato omelet, another iconic Spanish specialty, which I had. I could have remained seated there the whole day had it not been for the morning buffet ending.

Perfect combination: Spanish iconic pair of churros con chocolate. The fat churros are called porras.

 It was an auspicious start to a five-day tapeo marathon, Madrid’s almost cult practice of tapas bar hopping. If there’s a New York marathon, and other destinations in the world have rappelling, bungee jumping, kayaking, and what have you as attractions, in the land of Don Quijote, it is chasing after those wonderful little dishes called tapas that have been elevated to an art and a national reality sport. On my first morning in Madrid, I literally hit the ground running.

Breakfast on air: A traditional Arabic breakfast with choice of yogurt, hard-cooked egg, flat breads, hummus and cottage cheese on Qatar’s business class.

By noontime, I was in Puerta del Sol (Spanish for “Gate of the Sun”), the pulsating heart and soul of the city. Its name comes from the rising sun, which decorates the gate, being oriented to the east. With the plaza as Km 0 (read: kilometro cero in Spanish), it is the symbolic center of Spain, with six major streets projecting in an outward direction like the spokes of a wheel. And true to its name, the sun kissed the plaza, with a clear blue sky above, in spite of being in the dead of winter. I am, after all, in the land where the sun never sets, well, at least once in their distant storied past.

From the plaza, I walked towards El Corte Inglés’ main building on Calle Tetuan to reacquaint myself with an old flame, Casa Labra, located right at its side. I first stumbled on this bar way back in 1980 during my first trip to Spain, and on many succeeding visits thereafter, I never fail to make a tryst once or twice a day I was in the city. It hasn’t changed a bit since. This is an institution founded in 1860 and run by the same Molina family for the past six decades.

Tortilla española: Spanish omelet with potatoes

What first attracted me to this bar was the long queue it had, extending down to the pedestrian street that would make one think there was a food rationing of some sort. In a way, there was. It was brought about by the backlog of newly fried tajadas de bacalao, big slices of salted cod fritters in a batter so crisp and airy light. The kitchen staff can’t fry them fast enough to catch up with the brisk orders. Once you get past the entrance, a man standing behind a glass-encased counter takes your order and payment for any of the 14 items on its chalkboard comidas menu. The hottest selling item is the tajada de bacalao, which is just like the camaron rebodaso served in Chinese-Filipino restaurants. If you’re lucky enough, you’d be given your order right away as small batches of piping hot, freshly fried tajadas and croquetas de bacalao are brought out intermittently. Otherwise, your order will be brought to you by a camarero.

Carrying your little plate of tapas, you move to another counter, just a few steps away, in the middle of the crowded SRO salon to order a drink from a choice of 16 beverages. Strangely enough, a draught beer caña de cerveza (juice glass size) costs only 1.10 euros while a 500 ml bottle of mineral water is 1.70 euros. I am reminded of the expression “Only the fish drink water,” made up by a Spaniard, no doubt. Naturalmente, you’d go for the ice-cold cerveza, specially after a bite of the mildly salty bacalao.

The joint gets pretty filled during rush hours by a crowd out for a quick tapeo. Yes, there’s such a thing — 12 noon to 2 p.m. for pre-lunch snack, and 6 to 9 p.m. before dinner. And everybody invariably orders the same thing — the golden fried tajadas and/or croquetas, with glasses of cerveza or Jerez fino (2 euros).

Food binge:The author at Casa Labra having a mid-day round of tapas

Continuing my walk across the plaza, I headed towards Calle Mayor leading to Plaza Mayor, an elegant porticoed 17^th-century quadrangle, surrounded by touristy shops, bars, and restaurants on four sides, with apartments above them. The plaza was teeming with activity. Street performers do their thing.

 It was in one of the joints on the narrow Calle Postas where I had my first taste of bocadillo de calamares way back in 1980. My virginal taste buds found it strange to have a sandwich of a hard- crusted baguette filled with fried battered squid rings, and nothing more.

 Near the far end left corner of the plaza is Mesón Cinco Jotas (5J), where I was waylaid by a staff luring passersby to come in and try their comidas. Peering through its window, I found the bar quite interesting and asked if I could take photos inside.  

 Once inside 5J, I had a little chat with the friendly lady bartender named Anna, a Frida Kahlo deadringer with straight bushy eyebrows and long, curly hair tied in a ponytail. She even readily posed for me while slicing some jamon Serrano. Anna’s Filipino boyfriend is a “master carver” of jamon.

Tapas surprise: Montaditos are a kind of tapas which are literally mounted on a slice of crusty bread.

 Down at Calle de Cochilleros is where you’d find Restaurante Botin, reputed to be the world’s oldest restaurant established in 1725. It specializes in Castilian cuisine, famous for its cochinillo asado (roasted suckling pig) and cordero lechal asado (roasted baby lamb). Its other popular Castilian signature dish is sopa de ajo, a pick-me-up soup with an egg poached in chicken broth, thickened with stale bread, and flavored with bits of jamon Serrano, sherry, and tons of garlic. Incidentally, two of Botin’s cocineros are my cabalen (province mates) from Mabalacat, Pampanga, brothers Ruel and Michael Alim, both taking turns as asador with the wood-fired oven the past 10 years.

 Enter Calle Cava Baja, best known for its large concentration of tapas bars (40 plus), restaurants, and shops. I am now in the heart of Barrio La Latina, the oldest neighborhood in Madrid with narrow cobblestone streets, large plazas, and beautiful churches.

 A notable shop is Jamones Julian Becerro, that boasts 90 mind-boggling jamon Iberico in stock. La Latina is also home to El Rastro, Madrid’s most popular open-air flea market. It begins on its eastern edge, spilling out of the San Millan exit of the La Latina metro stop, to the Plaza de Cascorro all the way to the Ronda de Toledo to the south. Held only every Sunday mornings and on major holidays throughout the year, the flea market offers a great variety of merchandise — clothes, accessories, bags, and whatever bric-a-brac one might fancy — with some side streets dedicated to just pets, antique shops, antiquarian bookstores, and art galleries.

Señorita Anna carving jamon Serrano at Cinco Jotas

 I went back to Cinco Jotas for a round of tapas: boquerones (fresh anchovy fillet marinated in lemon, quite similar to our kinilaw), callos (stewed tripes), and chipirones en su tinta (baby squid cooked in its own ink), mainly for refueling, but also to check out how our “Spanish” cuisine in Manila restaurants would fare in comparison. From here, I proceeded to the taxi queue on Puerta del Sol located right in front of popular chain La Mallorquina café and pastry shop. I eyed its display window showing ensaimadas and yemas, two sweet treats so popular with Filipinos who may be disappointed with the original versions, especially with the ensaimada malloquina, a bread which is light and airy, dusted with only powdered sugar, compared with our rich version loaded with egg yolk, butter, and grated salty queso de bola.

 By 9 p.m., I met up with Joanna Wivell, founder of Insider’s Madrid, in another part of old Madrid. She was to take me for a tapeo, courtesy of the Spain Tourism Board who invited me to Madrid Fusion, a food conference. Joanna’s tour guide company provides tailor-made itineraries like walking tours of the city, gourmet tapas tasting, hands-on culinary courses and tastings including paella and sangría classes, shopping, Flamenco dancing (which she studied and performed), and museum itineraries (e-mail: info@insidersmadrid.com; http://insidersmadrid.com).

 We met up at La Trucha, a typical Spanish bar (crowded, noisy, but mercifully no longer smoke-filled due to a recent ban on indoor smoking) serving very typical “touristy Spanish” fare. It is located on an alley just a stone’s throw away from Teatro Español on Plaza Santa Ana. At the bar, a white-haired mild-mannered Señor Julio served us a round of vino blanco and chopitos (fried breaded baby squid), tortilla española (moist inside), croquetas with mashed suckling pig’s brain, pimentos pardon with fried green chilies.

SA gastronomic haven at the Jamones Julian Becerro on Calle Cava Baja in Barrio Latino

 Just around the block on Calle Echegaray is La Venencia, a bar in a quiet neighborhood specializing in just fino or sherry from Cadiz (Andalucia region). It is like entering a dark shabby bodega or wine cellar, replete with dusty old wine bottles on the shelves. It serves five different styles of sherry and nothing but: Fino, Manzanilla, Amontillado, Oloroso and Palo Corto. It also has a very limited list of tapas: cecina or air-dried beef, mojama or cured tuna, Manchego and blue cheese, and garlic marinated olives, served with bread and picos, those ubiquitous finger-size bread sticks. A few steps up the mezzanine are ancient oak barrels. The locals favor the crisp, dry fino or manzanilla, while the occasional tourist like me prefers the sweet kind. Sherry is actually wine fortified with brandy made from white grapes in the areas surrounding Jerez de la Frontera in the Andalucian region. The name itself comes from an English corruption of the word Jerez (pronounced he-reth). The joint is named after the long stick ladle venenzia poked inside a cask to get samples of its content. 

Chef Ruel Alim of Mabalacat, Pampanga, has been the asador at Restaurante Botin the past 10 years.

 While keeping up with Joanna’s brisk walking on the narrow cobblestone streets of old Madrid, she regales me with fascinating stories about the neighborhood she had adopted (and vice versa) the past 11 years. Everywhere we turned, we would be met by familiar greetings (at least to her) from storekeepers, barmen, bar owners, regular people living or working in the neighborhood. Without realizing it, the twists and turns led us to Mercado de San Miguel which is actually just outside Plaza Mayor where I had been earlier. 

The mercado used to be a long, dormant rundown Beaux-Arts covered market built in 1916, and was bought by private investors in 2003. It went through a year of refurbishing, attuned to the present “green living” with no air-conditioning. Its high ceilinged structure is fitted with misters, infusing the air with micro-rain. The mercado has some 33 stalls selling everything from fresh produce to seafood, pastries, and yemas made by the nuns of Santa Clara. There are also specialty shops like La Casa del Bacalao for tapas of salted cod and other seafood, the Catalan food-focused bookshop Laie, and another selling cookware and gadgets.

 From the mercado, we walked across Puerta del Sol to Chocolatería San Ginés (Paradizo de San Ginés, 5), an establishment known for its churros con chocolate since 1894. We had a nightcap of a round of the house specialty.

It was past 1 a.m. and yet people still milled around the narrow streets of old Madrid. Little did I realize I had been on the prowl the past 12 hours, save for a short late afternoon siesta. The night was still young as far as the local custom was concerned. Though I had a full and heady time on my first day in Madrid, it was barely just a warm- up for four more days of tapeo marathon. I was a day away from Madrid Fusion, Spain’s major three-day food conference, where I was to have close encounters with a stellar list of culinary of culinary titans led by Ferran Adria, New Basque cuisine chef Juan Mari Arzak from San Sebastian, chef Sergi Arola of La Broche, Slow Food founder Carlo Petrini, author Jeffrey Steingarten, the Zagat guide founders, Singaporean Makansutra guru KF Seetoh, etc. But that’s getting ahead of my next story.