Beyond the Center: El Romero and El Nido del Buho

These two bars are among my favorites, and neither is in the center of the city. Both are on the northern part of town, and chances are, if you’re in Granada for just a few days, you won’t get to either of them. Your loss.

The first is El Romero, where you can get pitchers of beer and the tapas vary among paella, squid, octopus, sausage, and other extremely typical Spanish foods. There are a couple of great things about this bar: the cycling club that I sometimes ride with (the average age of the riders is probably somewhere in the 60s, even factoring in that I bring the average down by a few decades) has been going there after Sunday rides for years. I met up with some of the riders at a café in Ventas de Huelma last week, rode back to Granada with them, and we all went for some tapas at El Romero. Naturally, another part of the cycling group, that had gone on a different ride, was already there, and later, yet another member (who hasn’t been riding for a few months but who felt like getting tapas anyway) met the group there. In short: if what you want is to hang out with sixty-year-old men in spandex on a Sunday afternoon, show up at El Romero at about 1 in the afternoon. Also, if you happen to have gone on a nice bike ride and just feel like hanging out with fellow cyclists, just show up and chat them up. They’re friendly! And hilarious, particularly when the septagenarians get into arguments with the octogenarians about whose bicycle is the lightest/most high-tech.

This is one of the few places that I know of in Granada that serves pitchers (naturally, of Alhambra, the local beer.) Something about the atmosphere reminds me of Lanesplitters in Oakland, even though it’s not a pizza place and certainly not populated by twentysomethings in tapered overdyed jeans. The service is fantastic, in that they’re friendly, the tapas are generous, and they put up with large (overly enthusiastic groups) with a (grudging) smile.

It is in the neighborhood of La Chana, on the northwestern end of the city, off of the Carretera de Málaga, on Washington Irving street. Right across the street is a chicken roasting place called No Pía Mas that seems really popular, and with a really morbid name (“It doesn’t chirp any more.”) I have no idea what their hours are other than that they always seem to be open in the early afternoon on weekends. I don’t really hang out in La Chana except when I’m on my way back from a bike ride or running an errand there, so I can’t give you a feel for what the service or atmosphere is like on Saturday nights.

My favorite tapas bar for when I have more time than money, and am pretty hungry, is El Nido del Buho (The Owl’s Nest), on Plaza Santa Pantaleon a couple of blocks to the north of the Plaza de Toros (which isn’t a ridiculous walk from the center, and a nice stroll down the new landscaped pedestrian median in the middle of Constitución.) This place is always packed, and for good reason: the portions here are, to put it simply, the largest of which I’m aware in Granada. The service is shockingly fast, and you get a plate with olives and cornichons as soon as you order. You also get another, empty plate for your pits (a nice touch, no?) and, while they don’t automatically give you a fresh plate of olives with each round of tapas, if they notice that you keep eating them, or if you ask nicely, they cheerfully give you more.

The list of available tapas is extensive, and each person picks a tapa. Unlike most other places, where groups are limited to two varieties of tapas, a group of ten (should you manage to find enough space for such a large crowd) can pick ten different tapas. The tortilla de patata is huge, the lomo with alioli is filling, and the Filadelphia (their spelling) with walnuts includes more walnuts than you could buy for the same amount of money in the supermarket. It’s best to get here early, since it gets so crowded and seating is limited.

At lunchtime, one of the available tapas is paella, which I’ve never had (since I’ve never managed to get there in the middle of the day.) This is the kind of place where you pay for your drink as soon as it’s given to you, and where it’s crowded enough that the service can (if you’re waiting to order more) seem inattentive. On the ther hand, it’s amazing that they manage to get to everyone and that the tiny kitchen turns the tapas out before you can turn around.

Next time: Antiguas Bodegas Castañeda, Los Manueles

2565 bottles of beer on the wall ...

It's official: Granada is the city in Spain with the most bars per capita. Or, should I say, the fewest capitae per bar. There is one bar for every 92 inhabitants and a hair more than 237,000 inhabitants. 2565 bars!

The average number of people per bar in Spain on the whole is just 129, though, which seems shockingly low.

Anyhow, doing some pretty simple math, it becomes evident to even the most casual of observers that, without a liver of steel and 24 open bar hours in a day, trying every bar even once, let alone trying each one enough to have any sort of useful feedback on the quality, quantity, and consistency of the tapas would be impossible.

Presuming the visit of one new bar per day, it would still take more than seven years to go to each bar in Granada. Once! And that's presuming no turnover in ownership, bar closures, or bar openings. In a word: impossible.

And so I ask you, gentle reader, to please send me any suggestions for bars to review, particularly beyond the neighborhoods in the dead center of town (La Chana and Zaidin are places I don't really go for tapas, but I'm willing.)

Minotauro, Bella y la Bestia, and La Antigualla

These three tapas bars are actually six bars, as each has two branches in the neighborhood of Plaza Nueva. These bars determine the tapa by how many rounds you’ve had, and, I imagine, unless you specifically request to be served a vegetarian tapa (in which case you’ll probably be served a wedge or cube of tortilla), you have little say in the matter of what you’ll be getting. All can get fairly crowded, but seating can be found (at the bars with seating) by showing up a hair before the heavier-traffic hours of two and eight.

Minotauro is located a block off of Plaza Nueva on a street that connects directly to the plaza. The second Minotauro, which opened within the past year, is located on the Carrera del Darro (which, for part of the street is the Paseo de los Tristes, and for another part has a different name altogether but people seem to call the whole thing the Paseo de los Tristes), which runs from Plaza Nueva to the Cuesta del Chapiz. The newer Minotauro has more seating than the first, and, in a city that lacks cafés where you can sit for hours and get work done, is an alright place to spend an hour or so reading in the dead hours of the hot afternoon between lunchtime and dinner. The décor at the first Minotauro consists largely of napkin drawings of minotaurs made by, presumably, previous patrons. Both have standing room, as well as bar seating and table seating.

Antigualla I and II are both located on Calle Elvira; Antigualla 1 is the first bar on your right as you leave Plaza Nueva, and Antigualla II is just two or three short blocks beyond it. Antigualla I has no seating, and Antigualla II has very little, and both have dark wood trim and an affinity for heraldry and suits of armor. Antigualla II has a television screen usually set to the world’s campiest music videos.

One branch of Bella y la Bestia is located right off of Calle Elvira (the entrance isn’t directly on Calle Elvira, but is catycorner to the entrance to Antigualla II) and the other is on the Carrera del Darro. Both branches have seating, and the kitchens don’t close between opening and closing. Their décor is inoffensive and completely unmemorable; a wine barrel table or two may or may not be involved.

They’re all, as bars, cut from the same cloth: the prices (current as of July 2008) range from 1.80† for a tubo of beer or a tinto de verano at both Minotauros, to 2† for the same at both the Antiguallas and Bella y La Bestia. The tapas are also pretty similar: at all of these establishments, what you usually get is a small, bagel-shaped roll (that is by no means a bagel) with a bit of stuff between it, accompanied by potato chips and olives at Minotauro, by french fries at Antigualla, and by french fries and a pasta salad at Bella y la Bestia. At all of these establishments, first rounds are usually a grilled lomo sandwich, and seconds and thirds vary between sausage, cold cuts, burgers, and tortillas. I don’t have the stamina to know what fourth and fifth round tapas at any of these places could possibly be, but my guess is more of the same. Most Spaniards don’t stay put at one bar long enough to find out, though, even if they are having more than three rounds.

All are decent, but none are my absolute favorite: in their favor, however, they are centrally located near Plaza Nueva, serve tapas until later than the midnight at which the kitchen closes at other establishments, and they are all close enough to each other to take groups of friends from one to the other. The sizes of the tapas are reasonable and are neither the smallest nor the largest in Granada: La Bella y la Bestia off of Elvira is an occasional exception, though, since their tactic seems to be to fill any remaining space on your (large) plate with fries and salad. If you go there alone, or with just one other person, the plate space that would have otherwise been occupied by other people’s little sandwiches is filled and your tapa ends up being quite big. If you’re with a crowd, though, at Bella y la Bestia, as well as at the others, instead of getting a handful of chips or fries per person, you get just a couple.

If what you’re after is haute cuisine, a particularly cool atmosphere, or an extensive selection of wines, these aren’t the bars for you. If, however, you’re with friends and just ant to relax for a bit, grab a couple of beers, and have decently-sized tapas, you may just end up at one or several of these Plaza Nueva-area bars.

Granadacast

So, I started a podcast, and one of the things in it is dining suggestions. Will it be published with the fantastic regularity that this blog is? I don't know.

Check out the first episode of Granadacast, where I take you on a tour of Plaza Nueva and suggest three tapas bars, here. Contact me regarding the podcast at granadacast [at] gmail [dot] com.

Minotauro, Antigualla, and Bella y la Bestia reviews to follow shortly. I swear.

Tapas: The Definitive Guide to Getting Your Small-Plate On in Granada

I’ll get to posting reviews of tapas bars shortly, but before you can start to enjoy the plenty of Granada’s bars, you need to know what a tapas bar is.

I know what you’re thinking: Duh. Of course I know what a tapas bar is. It’s a bar where you go to eat small plates of usually-expensive Spanish-themed food.

In the context of Spain, most bars are tapas bars in that a request for a tapa of something results in your receiving a small portion of food, for which you are charged a couple of euros (or more, depending on the bar.) In that case, the tapa is in contrast to a ración, or meal-sized portion, or a media ración, a half-meal-sized portion. In most bars in Spain, things that can be ordered as a ración can also be ordered as a tapa.

In Granada, however, with the noteable exception of some of the bars where young people who are or who think themselves beautiful go to see and be seen (and at which drinks are either very expensive or very cheap, but I will get to that at a later date), all bars are tapas bars because it is your God-given right to a tapa, as long as the kitchen is open (usually from about 1 to 4 and then again from 8 pm through midnight), and even sometimes when it isn’t.

You need to know both to expect a tapa and, if need be, to ask for it, in order to have a not-too-expensive, somewhat filling evening out. If your Spanish is rusty or your Granaino nonexistent, you might come to Granada and go to plenty of bars without realizing that a) that tapa is yours, and that b) it is included in the drink price. Tapas are not included with mixed drinks, but are included with beer, wine, and soft drinks. Some bars will also serve a tapa to accompany an order of juice (when it’s not ordered at breakfast) and bottled water (although tap water in Granada is neutral and delicious and most bars and restaurants will serve it non-grudgingly.)

You should also be aware that tapas vary widely in size. At some places, what you will be served is no greater than a stamp-sized slice of bread with a paper-thin piece of ham or cheese; in others, you will initially presume that the bar mistook your drink order for a meal order. The quantity and type of food that you will get varies by both bar and neighborhood: in areas with fewer tourists and more students, tapas tend to be more generous, if sometimes less inspired. In some highly-touristed areas, the prominent display of a tapas menu with prices encourages the uninitiated to order tapas off the menu and forego the freebie. At some other bars that are also in the epicenter of Granada tourism, however, the tapas are innovative, more than a single bite, and satisfying.

If you are going out more to eat than to drink, be sure to ask the bartender if there are tapas at that particular moment: some bars open the kitchen later or close earlier than you’d expect, and the answer to the question of “hay tapas?” will be enough to let you know if you best return later, as the drink price remains the same during hours when no tapas are to be had.


If your tapa is not served at the same time that your drink is served, but your drink is brought to you, you merely need wait until your tapa is brought. If your drinks were served at the bar and you picked them up, you will frequently need to glance at the serving area to see if your tapas have come up. In some crowded bars, if you ignore your tapa for terribly long, a group of young adults (college students or the like) will be happy enough to adopt your tapa, and, unless you immediately notice and tell the bartender that you are still waiting for your tapa, the burden of proof will be on you. In short: watch the bar for your tapa.

There are basically three ways in which tapas bars work, and your awareness of protocol could make the difference between contented you and vaguely-dissatisfied you.

First, there are bars in which the tapa served progresses (growing in, it is presumed, complexity, quality, or size) with the number of rounds that you order.) In these bars, you will usually hear the bartender yelling back things such as “dos primeras” (two firsts) or “cuatro segundas” (four seconds) to the kitchen. Occasionally, bars post a list of the primeras, segundas, terceras, etc. outside, so you know what to expect with each round. In most cases, however, the progression is not posted, and if you are interested in knowing what the tapas are, you will need to ask.

Second, there are the bars where you order a drink, and you are given a small portion of whatever the kitchen staff feel like serving you at that particular moment. In some cases, these are bars that give you some of whatever it is that they also serve in larger sizes, or that vary the tapas according to the day of the week. In others, these are bars that specialize in a particular type of dish (such as fried fish), and every tapa that you are given will be some iteration of the same kind of dish without a progression (for example, you will first get octopus and then sardines, while the table next to you will first get the sardines, because their first round coincided with your second, and both coincided with whatever happened to be ready at that moment.)

Finally, there are bars with an extensive tapas menu (without prices, as these are tapas that are included with a drink), and it is upon you to tell the bartender what tapa/s you’d like when you order drinks. At most, but not all, of these kinds of bars, there is a maximum of two tapas varieties per group: if you are a group of two, you can each order the tapa that you’d like, but if your group is larger, some consensus needs to be reached.

Next entry: Reviews of Minotauro and Bella y La Bestia.

Still in Granada. Still Eating. Just not writing about it.

Dear Reader,

I didn't tell you this, but since last March (over a year ago), I've grown more than jaded of shawarma, moved to a street with significantly fewer bars (and that is not in the shawarma-dense neighborhood of Calle Elvira), and I've been eating, somewhere in the range of three meals a day. And at least once or twice a week, I've been to tapas bars. Sometimes those tapas bars have even been new and exciting ones, or horribly disappointing ones.

But I haven't been writing about it.

Anyhow, it turns out that I'm doing society a disservice: Google analytics tells me that the bulk of the (very few) visitors to this site find it through a search engine. There's obviously a need for people to have someone sift through the chaff of Granada dining establishments so that they don't starve while they're in my fair adoptive/adopted city. And I haven't been holding my end of the stick.

So, from now through the end of the summer, I promise: an extremely short daily review. Of something. Probably eatable.

Eat, Granada!

Dear Reader,
I realize that you are probably not in Granada. But, of course, you want to know all about it, particularly my street (Calle Elvira), for the eventuality that you should come and visit.

Granada is a small city whose residents officially number about 260,000. I am told that this is of the people who are officially registered residents of the city; most students would be registered wherever their parents live, and people who are here transiently for tourism, people who reside here but are registered residents of somewhere else, and people who are here illegally aren’t included in those numbers.

I am told (and this is all hearsay, but both the population numbers and the percentage of city residents to non-residents during the summer have been repeated by at least two people who don’t know each other, and my housemate, who is studying immigration in Granada, backs up at least the first of the numbers) that during high tourist season, tourists outnumber residents. Given the number of hotels around, and how crowded it is during puentes, and how crowded it was from my arrival until mid-October, and how many people look lost, that really isn’t an outrageous claim. Conservatively, let’s say that Granada is a city of about 400,000. That’s half the size of San Francisco. It’s a place with lots of restaurants, and lots of immigrants, but somehow that formula hasn’t translated into a Spanish culinary equivalent of a half San Francisco. It hasn’t even translated into the Spanish culinary equivalent of half an Oakland, and it’s about the size of Oakland. Maybe I just haven’t found the greasetrucks with burritos yet?

As far as I can tell, there are 2 (two) Indian restaurants. Granted, I’ve never seen both of them, but the one that I’ve been to is called Muglia II, and the menu boasts of another location, called, of all things, Muglia I. It’s just okay. I was taken there for lunch on my birthday.

There are two or three heaping handfuls of Chinese restaurants, a bunch of pizza places, and a couple of Japanese places. A couple of places are combination Chinese-Japanese. As far as I can tell, there is no Thai, Ethiopian, or Vietnamese to be had. There is no dim sum. There are some Moroccan places that, for the time being, hold no interest for me.

There is one decent Asian supermarket that, naturally, is nothing compared to places in/around either Oakland or SF. It’s no Ranch 99.

Two things we’ve got in spades, though, are tapas and shawarma.