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Posts from the ‘San Sebastián’ Category

Goiz-Argi

Goiz-Argi was a good place to start. On a Wednesday night, our first night and still getting our bearings, this compact bar had enough breathing room to survey the small selection of fairly traditional pintxos on the counter and listed on the wall.

Goiz-argi facade

A hit of fizzy txakoli in a tumbler (I later began ordering vino tinto or cañas, small beers which seemed to be synonymous with zurritos, which I originally thought were even smaller, because that seemed more standard with locals—there are also a lot of rosado drinkers—than the white Basque wine) a brocheta de gambas, one of their specialties, and a wildcard, simple morcilla accompanied only by charred green pimientos, no fruity purees or hidden foie gras, set my foundation for the week of eating and drinking.

Goiz-argi brocheta de gambas

In much of Spain, at least in Barcelona and Madrid, there is the truth that only tourists go out to eat before 9pm. You look like a rube otherwise. So yes, you may not dine until 10pm but I learned the hard way that that doesn’t mean the entire evening has been extended. Most restaurants close by midnight so the opportunity for dining is short. After that, you may find yourself eating at Vips, the Denny’s of Spain.

Goiz-argi morcilla

San Sebastián turned out to be shifted even earlier. On this first night out we didn’t leave the apartment and make the two-block-stroll to Goiz-Argi until 9:30pm. By 10:30pm, many pintxos bars were already sweeping up and stacking stools. Weekend nights are the exception. Patrons spill onto the streets until midnight (though not much later) making it impossible to even consider entering. On a Saturday night attempt to return to Goiz-Argi, we were shooed out by owner as we tried to squeeze in past the hordes and had the grate pulled down behind us. No nonsense.

Goiz-Argi * 4 Fermín Calbetón, San Sebastián, Spain

 

Bar Zeruko

Zeruko, where foie gras hides in every crevice and otherwise responsible adults leave sleeping infants unattended in strollers out front, turned out to be one of my favorite places to eat in San Sebastián. (In the late ‘90s a Danish mother got into serious trouble for employing this carefree parenting style in NYC—at a Dallas BBQ, no less.)

Zeruko facade

You see, pintxos bars are tiny, often narrow places, many standing room only and even though they are now safe for forming lungs (smoking was finally banned indoors in Spain at the start of 2011, much to the dismay of my loving-to-smoke-on-vacation self) parents haven’t taken this as the signal to start maneuvering strollers inside. Clue number one that I wasn’t in Brooklyn anymore.

Zeruko more pintxos

Clue number two was the pricing. I’ve thought about why pintxos bars don’t/couldn’t thrive here (Txikito being the only example I can think of). We have plenty of small storefronts and a love of creative food, but the ingredients would demand higher prices, as too the rent, and a small $12 plate of food—what I could see being charged in NYC—would make the whole thing overly precious.

Zeruko pintxos

In San Sebastián you may only have a little glass of wine (beer, cider are also acceptable) for the equivalent of $2 and one dish, maybe $4, and consume it in less than ten minutes. Time to move on to the next spot. Your 5 euro meal—something to savor, but not to fetishize—has earned you a brief spot at the bar or a ledge.

Zeruko pintxos more

Now, allow me to fetizishe the food. Zeruko differed from standard approach where cold dishes are displayed on the counter and warm ones are listed on a chalkboard menu to be ordered sight unseen on description alone. Here, everything available was piled onto the counter and there was a menu, some of the two matched up and most items if pointed at or asked for would be whisked to a back kitchen and gussied up in some manner.

Zeruko alcachofa y foie

Like the artichoke I saw being consumed by many. I mangled the word alcachofa with anchoa (anchovy) and had to point to sort things out. I wanted something light and vegetable-based. Ha, but what I was eventually served was deep-fried, stuffed with foie gras, painted in gold leaf and surrounded by a swirl of caramel sauce; a rich wallop consumable in a few bites. So, this is how it’s done at Zeruko.

Zeruko bacalao
A simpler package of something fishy, likely bacalao, swaddled in thin zucchini slices served straight from the counter.

Zeruko langostino glass

Langostino glass (I know this is the official name, even though I don’t understand the glass part, because on our second visit we ordered from the menu rather than picking by sight) turned out to also contain foie gras, possibly the most popular ingredient after mayonnaise in the region, along with a fruity compote. Foie gras was almost always paired with fruit and 95% of the time, apples. In this case, though, berries.

Zeruko cochinillo

Taco de cochinillo lechal confitado con mostaza dulce y Grany Smith. Once again, the taco that wasn’t. This time it turned out to be a square of suckling pig.

Zeruko morcilla y foie rebozado con pistacho
Morcilla y foie rebozado con pistachio
. Yep, more foie gras, blended with blood sausage, encrusted in pistachios and drizzled with raspberry sauce. Our drizzle was more of a dried-on speck because I asked for this dish just as they were about to toss out three that had been ordered and not wanted. Would I be ok with one of these? Yeah, I ate someone’s reject.

I did not try their famous “la hoguera,” featured on the cover of the one book I bought, Pintxos de Vanguardia a la Donostiarra. It’s likely you’ll see at least one person (usually whole groups) with the diy charcoal smoked cod atop a mini grill. It draws attention—just like a sleeping baby left alone in a buggy.

Bar Zeruko * Calle Pescadería 10, San Sebastián, Spain

Spain ‘Splainin’

Deep, insightful wisdom gleaned from travel will follow shortly (ok, it won’t). It’s more likely that I will just be talking about what I ate in San Sebastián for a while (and not until I catch up on my work work because I’m responsible that way) with a little bit of NYC thrown in here and there.

What I can say now:

  • Whenever in Spain, I know that I’m going to have to eat flowers. I’m not crazy about eating flowers (psychologically, not from a taste perspective) but it’s a fact of alta cocina. I ate 11 dishes containing flowers in eight days.
  • San Sebastián was severely lacking in cats; it’s a total dog town. I saw a fluffy Himalayan pop out of the bushes at Mugaritz and that was it. Latin American is also doggy. Southeast Asia is full of street cats.
  • Many women in Spain—not just older women, and I’m guessing not just smokers (80% of the population it seems)—have very deep voices, like that House of Sand and Fog woman deep. I don’t know how this happens. Also, 30% of the women over 50 in Bilbao had short magenta, pink or purple hair. This also can’t be explained. The Guggenheim effect?
  • King beds are really just two twins placed in a larger frame. This is not just the case in rentals like the apartment I stayed in on this trip, but also at modern hotels like I experienced in Barcelona. I caught part of a TV documentary (yes, I always watch TV on vacation) about a teen trying to obtain the abortion pill at pharmacies in Spain and the staffers just kept giving her pamphlets about natural contraception. I wonder if these beds count?
  • At La Cuchara de San Telmo I overheard a group of men, maybe German and Dutch, speaking in the bridge language of English about dining (and disparaging American food as overly battered and fried). One was going to Noma. Another was recounting a nine-course tasting menu eaten somewhere I didn’t catch. Afterwards, he “wanted to go eat a hotdog.” Good to see that I’m-still-hungry-$200-and-ten-plates-later isn’t a uniquely American rubric. Here, it’s “I could eat a Big Mac.” Neither battered, nor fried.

What I can show now: