They say that travelling is not about the destination, but the journey itself, and based on a recent experience where I was seeking out fun, food, and adventure (not necessarily in that order) in the province of Alicante in Spain, I would say that is definitely true.
However, when you know that ultimately you will reach a point in the day where you’ll then turn around, and that point happens to be a lunch somewhere in mountains that lie inland from the Costa Blanca, the destination certainly does add to the travelling experience.
It was quite a journey to get to lunch!
It’s not that it was all about the destination. Since arriving back in Spain, and in light of becoming complacent with the chance I have to enjoy new experiences, I decided that in 2015 I am going to grab life by the balls, so to speak. Which means doing things that I don’t necessarily feel like doing, but dragging myself along to do them, as I know that at the end of the day I will enjoy myself. Or at least, I’ll try something new.
Hell, the other day I even hopped on the back of an acquaintances motor bike in Seville to go and sit by the pool in a nearby pueblo with a group of new friends. This signified three challenges for me: riding on the back of a motorbike, showing off my pasty white stomach to strangers, and being with a new group of people I don’t really know – which was heightened by the fact I was the only one not from Seville, as some days I still feel like I am adjusting to in-depth conversations in the thick andaluz accent that you hear around these parts.
But back to Altea. While in Altea, my options were limited, until I stumbled across a jeep safari with a locally based company, 4×4 Routes. There were three safaris on offer – the 2 hour, 4 hour, or whole day. The whole day included a stop for lunch. I was sold.
Looking down to the Costa Blanca from the mountains.
After a wonderful morning sitting in the back of the jeep and bashing through bamboo, rambling over rocks, and racing through the river, with the icy winds biting my ears and with road conditions that made Fraser Island seem like no more than a dusty path, I arrived in a town of no more than 700 residents called Tárbena.
Being a Monday, the restaurant that my driver and guide Hans had in mind for lunch, was closed. Monday closures are common in Spain, although in small towns like this the restauranteurs tend to share the day off around, in an effort to not starve locals and tourists alike. That means there is always at least one restaurant open, so deciding where to lunch instead was not a hard choice. The best part is that in small, non-touristic towns like this, it doesn’t really matter where you eat – the food is almost always going to be good.
Looking down on the village of Tárbena – Photo: Juan Carlos
It was only just pushing 2pm when we arrived, which is early by Spanish meal time standards, so we were the first guests to arrive for lunch. First impressions count, and my first impressions were “Holy shit, I love this place”. But it wasn’t for the glossy menus, perfectly set tables, or warm welcome.
I would say that the welcome was somewhat gruff at best, and the tables were adorned with white paper tables cloths and red napkins printed with the restaurant name. Quite a standard set up for local restaurants in Spain. But it was the overdone indoor decor that got to me straight away.
Hanging from the ceiling were old guns, the walls were adorned with posters branding slogans of socialism and independence, and images of Che Guevara looked down on me as I looked up at them. In the middle was an old and dry stone fountain, with a hand scrawled paper sign labelling it “Font Santa de la Democracia” (Fountain of the Holy Democracy).
In front of the fountain there was a plastic funnel dangling from a piece of string for emphasis – or perhaps that was simply a nod to the fountains previous practical purpose? Honestly, I couldn’t really tell. But I appreciated it for whatever it was.
The decor inside Casa Pinet.
It turned out that there was a reason for this socialist (communist?) decor. Unbeknown to me at the time, I was inside a restaurant owned by the grandchild of a famous bandit from the Valencia region.
Llorca José Martorell, or otherwise known as simply “Pinet” embodied the ideal of the noble bandit. It wasn’t that he was forever a bandit – it really was fate and a series of events that placed him in disapproval with the law. He was born into a wealthy family, but while completing military service he was beaten by a sergeant. Like any good man after a bit of self defense, he killed the offending officer.
“Officially” Martorell was “killed” by his former superior, and the new life of “Pinet” was born – the life of a Robin Hood style bandit, a life with adventure, a life where a priest enlisted the his help to deliver justice, a life where the rich were targeted and the winnings distributed among those in need. He really was the main enemy of the rich landowners, but thanks to his ingenuity and the fact that he aided the poorer population, he escaped capture from the Civil Guard on many occasions.
Now here I was, sitting in a restaurant decorated to represent the political ideals of this famous/infamous man, Pinet. Mental note to self: make sure I investigate the decoration of restaurants I visit instead of leaving it down to “art” or mentally unstable owners, depending which way you look at it. But I digress – back to the meal.
Look, this restaurant has it’s own wine! Oh wait. I soon realised it was just a label stuck over the real label of the wine.
The wine was on the table from the moment we sat down, and I was quick to note that the label was that of the exact restaurant we were eating at.
“Oh great, they make their own wine!” I exclaimed, before noticing that it was a sticker stuck over the real label of the wine. Oh Spain. It’s things like this that make me love you even more! But regardless of the rightful producer of the wine, it was good solid local wine from the Alicante region. Vinos de valencia are really coming up on my radar lately. Another mental note: when I have more time I should really learn a bit more about the wines from this region.
But back to the wine on the table. Before I have time to pour myself a glass, the dueño comes over with another alcoholic proposal. In his hand he has a boda, a traditional goatskin bag that for carrying wine.
Drinking mistela straight out of the boda.
When you think of a boda, you really should think of farmers out on the fields all day. Once upon a time the water in Spain was unsafe to drink, so wine sufficed. Though I always think of the local farmer’s market that happened on various Saturday’s in the square outside my old flat in La Rioja. The local men sold their produce with one hand, and swigged from their bota with the other. Whether they were swigging water or alcohol, I’ll let you decide.
One by one the dueño signalled us to open wide, and the bota was raised. On each occasion out came a long squirt mistela, a sweet but light fortified wine, made from moscatel grapes and unique to the Valencia region. I’m used to being served mistela in a glass after a meal in restaurants around Valencia, but straight out of the bota, and before the meal, was definitely a new experience for me!
After wiping mistela off my face, it was time to order. We made things easy for everyone and settled for the menu del día, the most typical way to eat a long, drawn out, three course lunch in Spain. Simple is often best in Spain, so the lunch menu went as follows.
First up was a simple ensalada mixta. While it’s true that if you visit the trendy gastro-bars of Seville, or restaurants in larger cities such as Madrid and Barcelona, you may find more, well, let’s say “interesting” salads on the menu, but here in hills of the Alicante things remain the same as they have been for decades.
Spain’s answer to ensalada mixta – a simple mixed salad.
A typical salad in Spain consists of – give or take an ingredient here and there – iceberg lettuce, tomato, grated carrot, onion, olives, hard boiled egg and tuna. The salad arrives at the table undressed, and it’s your pride and duty to dress it with a hearty amount of olive oil, sherry vinegar and salt.
Being in a region that is famous for its rice dishes, the fish and seafood paella was a no brainer for the main course. Yes, yes, I know that seafood is not the “traditional” paella valenciana. But you know what? I happen to like a good ol’ seafood paella. In fact, I’m not discriminative – I like seafood rice in any form, whether it be risotto, arroz meloso (wet rice) or my own special invention in the kitchen at home.
Main course: a lovely homemade fish and seafood paella.
At the suggestion of the dueño we also ordered a couple of plates of local meats to accompany the salad, as we waited for our paella to be cooked to perfection. One plate was of typical pork sausages found all over Spain, such as chorizo (pork sausage spiced with paprika, salt, pepper and garlic) and morcilla (none other than the infamous sausage made from rice and pigs blood).
I always say it’s hard to pick one national dish in a country where each of the 17 regions has their own identity, own culture and own food, but if there is one thing that we could consider a national dish, it would be pork. At least, it could be considered a national ingredient. Regardless of the fact it is eaten all over Spain, it comes prepared in more localised, regional ways. Today, some of the pork variations on the table in front of me taught me a little about the people of Tárbena.
In the front we have sobrasada (a typical Mallorcan sausage) drizzled in honey, and in the back morcilla, chorizo and blanquet, three other typical pork sausages from the region.
As well as the morcilla and chorizo, I also was served sobrasada, a typical pork sausage that actually originates from Mallorca, in the not-too-far-away Balearic Islands. But why was I eating something from Mallorca right here in the hills of Alicante?
Well, until the 17th century, Tárbena was populated by the Moors. The Spanish Inquisition, under the rule of King Felipe III at the time, expelled all the moors from Tárbena effectively wiping the village’s population out.
But the village was soon repopulated. The Duke, whose domain included the mountainous terrain where Tárbena lies, was involved with trading between Valencia and the Balearic islands, and realised that Mallorca’s own style of morcilla was becoming quite popular among the valencianos. So rather than waste time and money shipping the product across from Mallorca, why not just bring across a group of poor Mallorcan cured meat producers, and set them up, home and shop, in the ruins of the village?
He shipped them across to the Valencia region, took them up into the hills to show them the village of Tárbena, following which he gave it to them – for free! They got to work and turned the ruins into a thriving village which was producing pork left right and centre, and in a variety of ways – including varieties that were once just typical to Mallorca. The perfect example of this is the aforementioned sobrasada, which they are still producing to this day.
The homemade liquor containing 27 different herbs, nuts, fruits and cinnamon.
The sobrasada was served drizzled in honey, and made an hearty but interesting start to the meal at Casa Pinet. The meal was then not allowed to be finished until a chupito was shoved down our throats — perhaps not as unwillingly as I may have just made that sound. It was a strong, homemade concoction of alcohol, infused in 27 different types herbs, nuts, fruits and cinnamon, something to really get the blood pumping on a chilly autumn day.
In local taverns like this the food is no frills. There are no fine touches, no fancy finishes and fusion hasn’t even entered the vocabulary – let alone the mind – of those cooking. I’m pretty sure gourmet would be a swear word.
It’s about local, fresh ingredients, simple recipes, and a suitable amount of love and respect for the food along the way. The food and the restaurants themselves tell a story, even if that’s not their intention. As I ate, everything came out fresh, not undercooked or overcooked, but just right, and with a nice hearty flavour – just as I would expect eating in a place like this. I don’t want anything more. I don’t need anything more.
Have you visited any surprising restaurants on your travels lately? Perhaps you have some other suggestions different things I could do, different places I could visit, different restaurants I could try around Spain? Bonus points if it’s in Andalucía. 😉
Aaron Jade says
Love that picture of you drinking the mistela! The Spanish sure do know how to feed you. I love the traditional Spanish restaurants with the Spanish tiles and the old pictures on the wall. Bet that chupito had a myriad of flavors.