[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: July 15, 2013]
I finished up a fabulous first visit to Madrid in 2003 with a deep dive into the major art galleries, and another Michelin two-star dinner, this one at Santceloni.
I also ate at the oldest restaurant in the country...and at a bunch of other good places too.
My notes from the Prado mention Goya's royal portraits as well as his sensationally grim "dark paintings" (shown in a rather dark room); Velasquez, "Las Meninas"; religious paintings by Murillo; and lots of Rubens.
At Thyssen-Bormenisza, which is tiring but educational, I liked the early Italian masters, an annunciation by Bellini, a bunch of German expressionists, and--according to my notes--a representation of the gospellers by Maesselkircher, an artist of whom I can now find no trace. Is that a radical misspelling?
Lunch was free tapas at a bar in a back street near the Prado. At least, the canapé of smoked cod was free; did I really not pay for the bocadillo of Bellota ham? I followed the trek around the Thyssen-Bormenisza with some reviving vermouth and chorizo at what must have been a bar called the Alhambra (the Alhambra itself being in Granada).
Big eating that night. Around the back of Plaza Mayor, there are some ancient tapas bars specializing in specific ingredients: so I ate mushrooms at the Mesón del Champiñon and tortilla at the Mesón de Tortilla (really). Something else, a beer at least, at the old Cuevas de Luis Candelas, one of Hemingway's many haunts.
And then, just around the bend, and dating from around 1620, the glorious Sobrino de Botín.
Through those old doors and up creaky staircases to dining room upon dining room full of formal waiters and linen-clad tables. I had liked the idea of this place since I'd seen pictures in Vincent and Mary Price's 1965 book A Treasury of Great Recipes--actually a treasury of photographs and menus from legendary restaurants.
One would be foolish to expect Michelin two star cuisine here. It's food with a history and a deep heartiness, and it doesn't disappoint. I started with the famous morcilla de Burgos, followed that with a dish of roast suckling pig, and finished with arroz con leche. The wine was a Jean Leon Penedès Gran Reserva from 1994. I somehow stumbled to La Venencia for a sweet sherry afterwards.
And we're not nearly done.
The Prado is a two day thing. I was back there the next morning, gazing on Luis de Morales, El Greco, Tintoretto, eventually giving up in the light, airy rooms showing eighteenth century French fripperies. After some more free tapas for lunch, the Centro de Arte Reina Sofia. As you wander through the galleries, you hear a buzz of lively conversation getting louder and louder until you step into the packed room housing "Guernica."
More exciting for me were the works of the great generation born in the 1920s, masters of abstraction and materials: Lucio Muñoz, Eduardo Chillada, and above all Antoni Tàpies. I guess you need to be there, but I find a work like this just endlessly moving.
A rest period before dinner, sitting in the garden of El Ventorillo, toying with chilled vermouth while looking at the views west from the city. Tapas on the way to dinner, of course: sliced pepinos and salchichas at the Museo del Jamón.
Dinner was at a grill which, like some other destinations on this trip, had been recommended by Simon Majumdar. The Asador Frontón is a homely little place, down by Tirso de Molina, specializing in grilled cuts of beef--chewier than USDA prime, but with a bloody, mineral flavor worth prizing. Grilled fresh duck liver came out first, then a pink entrecot de buey (ox sirloin, I guess), with little or no garnish. Sensible flan for dessert, and a bottle of cold rosado.
My last day in town started late with some gift shopping under a hot sun. I went back to 100 Montaditos for lunch--sandwiches of boar terrine, cheese, and morcilla. Then some relaxing in an Asturian cider house.
Another formal dinner was set for the evening at Santceloni at the Hotel Hesperia. This was the big Madrid venture of the late Santi Santamaria, presiding genius at the three star Can Fabes outside Barcelona. The dining room was spacious, luxurious, low lit. One of the features was a glorious silver duck press; another, a vast wooden table laden with cheese which waiters would carry around the room at the appropriate moments.
After champagne and amuses:
Soft boiled quail egg en gelée, caviar
Chilled onion and celery soup
Mackerel salad with mint
Pato con peras--first service of breasts with sauce from the pressed carcass, second service of legs with salad; roast pears
Cheeses: Picon, Torta de Extramadura, Idiazábal, red pepper-rubbed goat cheese
Almond tart, ice cream
A Priorat with the duck, a Moscatel to finish.
Food served in the grand French tradition, but with clear references to a rustic Spanish tradition (the Catalunyan duck with pears, the simple soup, the farmhouse cheeses). Yes, it was good.
Next week, home again.
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