“With Catalan food, the future doesn’t worry me,” says Carles from Garcia in nearby Ribera d’Ebre. “It won’t disappear. I’m 32 and I cook at home. I’ve been doing it for years.” “He gets pissed off when I cut the potatoes wrong,” his girlfriend chimes in. “Slice in a curve and break off, always.” We’re talking about…
“Friday at 00:15” means Thursday night, not Friday night. This most rookiest of mistakes cost me two hours of despair and a two hundred dollar flight the following morning. As the loss of my night bus from San Sebastián to Barcelona began to sink in, I found myself focusing solely on the negatives: money lost, time in…
Directly across the street from Bar Gran Sol in Hondarribia is Bar Alcanadre, a much more laid back and traditional spot where a pintxo is a pinxto and not so much an abstract work of art. The food here doesn’t take itself so seriously and neither does the service. The guy behind the bar was incredibly…
A short bus ride away from Donostia is the charming Basque fishing village of Hondarribia best known for its spacious beaches and its fusion of Spanish and French architecture. A 10-minute boat ride and you’re in France, in the town of Hendaye across the bay. As is generally true of places within Euskadi, the village of Hondarribia is packed…
And then there was Casa Bartolo, a slightly more legitimate and local looking spot where the bar is lined with plates and the floor below is covered in used napkins. They come around every 10 minutes to sweep it up. It is said by locals that the more napkins there are the better the place…
It’s a Wednesday afternoon and early, yet already the streets of San Sebastián are teaming with hungry bar-hoppers, avid pintxo-poppers looking to wash down two-bite snacks with a beer or frosty cool caña of clara. Locals and tourists and local tourists alike frequent the “pintxerias” that line the streets of Parte Vieja. At first glance these spots all look kind of similar. But they’re not. Hams…
The first time I had rossejat was at the restaurant of the El Far hotel, high atop a cliff in Llafranc, Girona on the Costa Brava of Catalunya. The hotel is so named for the Sant Sebastian lighthouse nearby which rises bright and high into the night sky, towering over the jet black sea that…
As I start this article I’m on a RENFE train, Basque Country bound. My expectations are high. Pretty much every chef I’ve ever met has either wanted to go to San Sebastian or waxed poetic about the city, having visited often for inspiration. I know already that there are more Michelin stars per square foot…
It was raining in Vienna when my plane took off. The sun was ablaze where I landed; in Spain. On my way to my temporary home in the mountains of the Priorat, I made a stop in Benidorm, Alicante to celebrate my mother’s 50th birthday with her et familia at my aunt’s vacation home. The dates just kind of worked out…
I don’t like traveling alone. I like being on planes alone, trains alone, sure; it’s when I digest what I’ve just experienced or prepare for what awaits me. But I’ve gotten lazy with planning my own route and paranoid of falling into the tourist traps that I know I’ll regret later on. Plus, drinking a beer alone sucks. Bourdain…
That Best Bite 