Casa Lucio, Cava Baja 35. Go early and if you plan on dining here, don’t go without reservations. This is an old-school institution. We stood at the bar and fortified ourselves with rose, olives, and anchovies. I liked the multi-generational-ness to it all, and we particularly enjoyed the ladies of a certain age standing beside us. Always wear eye shadow, ladies. Always. Especially when you’re 80+.

Casa Alberto, C/Huertas 18, close to Plaza de Santa Ana. We were initially attracted here by the promise of vermouth on tap, but once we entered, we knew we had to settle down and relax for a while.

Why? The Casa Alberto pork scratchings! Not good for the cholesterol, but wonderfully good for the soul. As is the vintage interior and lovely onyx bar and sweet and gentlemanly service.

Bar Raypi, Mercado Maravillas. Unbelievably inexpensive and delicious to boot. We could barely finish the huge sandwiches they put in front of us or the heaping platter of patatas bravas. This was one of those lunches where you spend the rest of the day saying, “Boy, lunch today was really good. Wasn’t it good?” Short on atmosphere as it’s a cafe in a busy, working food market. But long on everything else.

Casa Lucas, Cava Baja 30. We were lucky to get a table in this place that’s half stand-up in the front, half sit-down in the back. We ordered a bottle of rose (surprise!) and I got my vegetable fix through one of the best salads I think I’ve ever had. (I never eat enough vegetables when traveling, so I always try to order the occasional salad.) This was a cut of pork (solmillo?) accompanied by pears, ginger and dried figs. Absolutely fantastic. Oddly, we were not (that I recall) given any tapas. Service also a bit harried, but they got the job done. Lovely female chef came out to say hi when we were so complimentary and inquisitive about the pears.

Mercado San Miguel. It’s not Spain without the obligatory jamon. We whiled away a couple of hours at the lovely Mercado San Miguel, which seems perfectly oriented towards the tourist crowd. The hardest part is finding a place to sit, so I’d recommend 1. getting a glass of wine before you do anything else and 2. waiting until you find a place to sit to order food. (I ordered three glasses of rose to start us out and they cost, um, 9 euros. I love you, Spain.) We made multiple trips up and back to the market stalls for oysters, empanadas, olives and more. The nice part is that there is something for everyone. The only flop was the croqueta guy. His croquetas were undercooked and, well, just not very good.

Casa Botin, Calle de los Cuchilleros, 17. A guidebook stalwart. Lots of atmosphere, but also lots of tourists. Not necessarily a bad thing, but this was one of our most expensive meals and the price/value and price/taste ratios were out of whack. The artichokes were good though. I would skip this one, but I list it here because it’s so popular and you’re bound to read about it and I want you to skip it.

Hotel Urban, Glass Bar, Carrera de San Jeronimo 34. I had “dinner” twice at the Hotel Urban bar. I loved my tomato, rucola and mozzarella sandwich so much the first night, I ordered it again the second night. At 10 euros, this is a pretty expensive sandwich for Madrid, but it was still pretty delicious. The Glass Bar sort of looks like it was designed ten years ago, forewarned.

Cerveceria Alemana, Plaza Santa Ana 6. Another guidebook stalwart, but worth it for the woodwork, the Hemingway connection, and the low prices.

Do you know how sometimes, you think you took at on of pictures, but then when you actually review what you took, you didn’t take many at all? That was my trip to Madrid. Not enough photos! Next time…

The post Eating and Drinking in Madrid first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Hotel Urban, Madrid. Billed as a four star property. Service more like two star. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s how it goes down. I pull up in a taxi outside the hotel. A bellman who smells like all his clothes got wet and he wrinkled them up in a ball and left them in a dark place and tightly-enclosed space for a few days opens the taxi door. I get out. Before I can pay the driver, he’s taken off with my luggage, but not in that helpful way. It’s like he’s gone, gone, disappeared. I check in, and the desk clerk has a very confusing conversation with me about the Internet, but I’ve been awake for 24 hours so maybe it’s just me. He hands me two pieces of paper, each with a different username and password. He tells me they are good for 90 minutes.

Someone takes me up to my room. I immediately take all my clothes off because I feel pretty disgusting. (For various reasons, it took me a really long time to get to Madrid, and I am covered in white wine, thanks to my somewhat obnoxious seat mate on the way from Chicago to Munich. When, when, when will I sit next to that totally awesome person on a plane??) There’s a knock on my hotel room door. I’ve seriously been in my room for 3 minutes and it’s after 3 pm. I don’t want to answer, but they knock again. It’s the hotel staff, and they want to check the minibar. NOW? No. I don’t think so. I send them away and take a shower in the bathroom, which has a moldy, water-damaged ceiling. Later, I avail myself of the free wifi in the bar, where the service is sweetly inattentive, but then I pass out.

The day I am to check out, my room is blissfully dark and cold and I am trying to sleep in a little bit. My hotel room door opens at some point. It’s housekeeping. I check the time. It’s 8:40 am AND I HAVEN”T CHECKED OUT YET. They want to clean the room. WTF. I am mad. And then I do go to check out and they try to charge me for all this Internet access that I apparently bought in advance BUT no one ever gave me access to. What I objected to most was the tone the front staff used with me. That I was an idiot. That I didn’t know how the Internet worked. I left angry.

Next up, Hotel Regina in Madrid. And I have low expectations because I’ve spent 47 euros a night on my room here. But although it’s basic, it’s SUPER clean and has all the right things, including some of the world’s best black-out blinds. (Rendered useless by leaving the door open to the bathroom, which did not have blackout blinds.) There’s FREE WIFI and lots of it, although it’s occasionally slow. There’s a supremely inexpensive cafe for breakfast with very professional service, and most of all, the price is right. This is a TripAdvisor favorite and I can see why. My two complaints would be that the hotel reception can be a bit too busy and bustling at times, and I hate shower curtains. But I liked that the local business people came in for a coffee and a drink at the bar and I liked the location and the free wifi.

Field trip! Hotel Convento das Claras in Penafiel, Spain. In the Ribera del Duero. A beautiful property and a beautiful location. But the staff! It’s not that they were mean or bad…they were just so clueless and not helpful. It was terrible. Trying to organize a taxi to the airport was like trying to schedule brain surgery. Only one person could talk to the taxi driver and that person wasn’t there so I had to wait 12 hours to talk to the right person and of course that person only worked in the middle of the night. How about having a guest file, people?

And the rooms were a bit not perfect. I laughed when I saw how the beds were made in my room. (See pillow on left bed.)

Ah, and the spa. Have you ever had a facial from a heavy smoker? Trust me, you don’t want to.

The only staff member who was nice and helpful was the morning I checked out…he knew I was leaving at 5 am, and he put out a complete breakfast for me. (I have to apologize to everyone who came in for breakfast at 9 am though because I’m sure all the bread was stale and the meat was sweaty by then. I told him I just wanted something small. I couldn’t believe what they put out for me.)

So in short, so much potential…wasted.

At least there was free wifi.

So…I’m back from Spain and catching up on life and everything else. More to come on my travels as well as restaurants in Chicago and elsewhere. Yes!

The post Sleeping in Spain first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

I will repent later at the gym, or during a long walk through Madrid’s Salamanaca. The shops will probably all be closed — it’s Sunday, after all — but that won’t be a bad thing. My credit card needs a bit of a rest. And so do I.

The post Breakfast… first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Life is good.

The post Happiness is…Jamon! first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Cerveseria Catalana
Pla del Palau, 2
Barcelona 08003, Spain

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, July 18th, 2009

The Victims: Rutton, Kainaz

The Damage: Rutton paid, the ass. I think it was about 40 euros.

The Background: Richard has suggested we load up on tapas before the wedding. I, in my fragile state (cava…), venture out into the Barcelona sunshine with Rutton and Kainaz, on our way to Cerveseria Catalana, one of Richard and Mireia’s favorite places. I’ve actually been here before, a few years earlier, when I was in town for Richard’s birthday. And it’s just like I remember. Bustling. Friendly. Loud. Fun. Locals and tourists, all mixed up.

The Entrance: There are no seats available. We put our name on the list and then we strategize the bar. I take the south end. Rutton the north. Then we stalk a poor British woman and her son who have finished their food, paid for their meal, but show no signs of leaving.

But they do leave and we take their seats. I’m all up for anything anchovy. And anything jamon. We just point and point and the food starts arriving. Everything arrives but the calamari, which we have to order about five times before someone actually delivers it. (And when it does arrive, it’s bland and rubbery. That Jose Luis place in Madrid was much better.)

The pimentos de padron are great, better than last night’s. But they could maybe use a little more salt. I don’t mind though. They’re green. And Spain is a land of seafood, meat, and potatoes. Anything green is a good thing.

The Verdict: I like it here. Are you going to walk out saying, “That was the best meal of my entire life?” Probably not. But are you going to eat well and cheaply? Probably so.

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Passadis del Pep
Pla del Palau, 2
Barcelona 08003
Spain

Date of Last Visit: Friday, July 17th, 2009

The Victims: Barry, Natalie, Chris, Evelien, Robbie, Barney, Susan

The Damage: About 80 euros each

The Background: I’m in Barcelona for the wedding of my good friends Richard & Mireia. We’re to meet for drinks at 10 p.m. (this is Barcelona after all), so Barry organizes dinner for us at Passadis del Pep beforehand. When he tells me that it’s down a dark alley, I don’t put things together. But then I vaguely remember reading this in the New York Times.

The Entrance: We’re more than a little bit late. But it’s fine. We grab our table and the food starts its immediate procession, served by gentlemanly waiter-types. First is the jamon (above) and it is, of course, lovely. It’s accompanied by some pan con tomate, which is just okay, really. Actually, it tastes a bit old. I don’t say this out loud of course. I just think it.

Then come the clams, and they’re pretty great. I could eat a lot of these. But I don’t. Because Passadis del Pep is one of those “we keep bringing you food until you say stop” types of palces. And next up are the anchovies…

And I eat a lot of these. They’re great…crispy, fired in all the right batter, lemony. I feel distinctly unladylike, asking again and again for someone to pass me the plate of anchovies. I feel like a cat. And I’m allergic to cats.

Somewhere after the very delicious snails/whelks come the pimentos de padron and I’m struck by the fact that some of our table have never had pimentos de padron before. How is this possible? How have you lived? I tell them that 1 out of 11 is spicy. Just in time for Robbie to have a spicy one. These were better than good. A bit crispy. And good salt.

Ah, and this is where I put my camera down as things begin to go downhill. Some prawns arrive. And they’re okay. And then some more prawns arrive. (Of a different sort.) And they’re okay too, but I’m kinda tired of prawns. Then a server comes to our table and asks “Pescado o carne?” and we say “Carne!” And two more plates of prawns arrive. (Two different types of prawns.)

I’m serious.

I like prawns.

But I was a little prawned out.

Plus, we were late for drinks. So we rounded up the bill, with thanks to Susan’s Spanish, and made our way out into that dark night, to the party on the roof of a hotel, where we all wore white.

The Verdict: Eh. Things started off well. And the company, of course, was tremendous. But really…how many prawns can a gal eat? Maybe this would have been better if we were all a bit more chilled out about things. We were late and had to leave early. Never a good combo.  All that being said, I kinda think that maybe you should still go here, next time you’re in Barcelona. Just maybe.

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Jose Luis
C/Serrano 89-91
Madrid, Spain

Date of Last Visit: Sunday, June 7th and then again on Monday, June 8th, 2009

The Victims: Myself the first time. Fernando, Guillermo and William the second time.

The Damage: About 25 euros the first time, and unknown the second time because Fernando paid.

The Background: I had all these grand plans of having a big day out in Madrid on Sunday.

Until I figured out that getting to Spain takes a long time. A really long time.

Not sure how I missed that.

My flight was at 9:30 a.m. from Heathrow and we took off on time. I landed in Madrid around 1 p.m. and then my luggage came out around 1:40 p.m. By the time I bought my metro tickets and figured out where I was going, it was after 2 p.m. And by the time I checked into my hotel, it was nearly 3 p.m. So by the time I was ready to go anywhere, it was 5 p.m. (I squeezed in a quick workout at the hotel gym.)

So–worst possible time to eat in Madrid?

5 p.m.

Lunch is over and dinner won't start til 9:30 p.m. (10, really.) But it was 5 p.m. and I was STARVING. And so the hotel directed me to Jose Luis. And it was okay. Just okay. (I had the squid–a different squid than what I talk about below.)

And Even More Background: Now fast-forward to the next evening. My colleagues suggest taking me out to dinner. I say sure. And we start walking. And we're walking some more. And eventually I say, "Are we going to Jose Luis?"

And we are.

Really, what are the chances?

The Entrance: My waiter from the previous evening doesn't recognize me. I think this is a bit of a bummer. Even after we had this whole discussion where he said everything in Spanish and I said everything in English and we totally understood each other.

The Food: I put myself in the hands of my Spanish colleagues. (I don't mind someone else ordering for me when I've asked them to order for me.) And so the parade begins. The first dish of the night is the best dish, and it leave me with high hopes for Jose Luis. It's squid and the batter is great. Super great. And then there's some jamon serrano, roughly cut. It's pretty darn good too. And the manchego cheese. I have no complaints. We've started this meal on a high note.

But then the pulpo arrives. And it looks great, with great big chunks of octopus. But it's not so good. It's tough and chewy. Poor reviews from around the table…my Spanish colleagues apologize to me for it.

The Pimientos de Padron arrive, and they look like they've been through a lot, just to get here. They're okay. But they seem slightly overcooked. And I like them with a bit of rock salt.

In between, there's some forgettable calamari (for which my colleagues, again, apologize) and then we have fun with Google Translate trying to figure out what this next dish is. It's cuttlefish. And it's chewy. But the garlicky mayonnaise is good.

The Verdict: There are lots of people who probably love this restaurant and give it rave reviews. I thought it was just okay. But the squid (the second time) was great.

The post Jose Luis, Madrid first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

Depintxos
Calle Castello 115
28006 Madrid

Date of Last Visit: Monday, June 8, 2009

The Victims: Many

The Damage: No idea. My colleagues paid.

The Verdict: This is just a little chain. It's nothing special, really. But why do places like this exist in Madrid but not London? (I can't vouch for the food. We just had drinks and lovely roasted peanuts.) I'd go back here for after-work drinks and snacks again.

The post God I Love Spain first appeared on Passport Delicious | Solo Travel Blog | Solo Female Travel.

La Torre del Oro in Madrid

La Torre del Oro

Er 26 de la Plaza Mayor
Calle del Arco de Triunfo s/n
28012 Madrid

The Victim: Jen

The Damage: I forget. 30 euros maybe?

The Background: I thought I knew my cousin well. But I’ve learned a lot of new things about her this trip. For example…she doesn’t like ham. Or lamb.

Yes, and I decided to take her to SPAIN. Yo estoy estupido. But then again, when I did order a plate of jamon iberico, I did get to eat it nearly all by myself. (Jen, to her credit, did try a few pieces. But just a few.)

I think I got her into octopus though. Oh yes, and I introduced her to croquettas. We ate croquettas most every day in Madrid.

Anyhow, we are in Madrid and we’re hungry and we walk by La Torre del Oro and it looks festive. With normal people inside. So we enter. And we’re greeted by shouts of Viva America! Yes, we are that obvious. We reply, rationally so, with Viva Espana, and we’re all friends.

Our server (the gentleman there on the left) keeps telling us about Bruce! Bruce! Two years, Bruce! I have no idea what he’s talking about. But then I see this…

Bruce Springsteen La Torre del Oro

Apparently, according to the team behind the bar, Bruce likes his red wine.

All we really had at La Torre del Oro was beer and complimentary paella and then a non-complimentary plate of potatoes and octopus. So I can’t really tell you much about the food, really.

But I can tell you that the guys here had us charmed and amused enough to go back three times for drinks and snacks and to watch the tourists come and go across Plaza Mayor.

I’d say this is a touristy bit with life and spirit. And that’s all you really want out of life, isn’t it?

The Verdict: I liked La Torre del Oro in Madrid. We had fun, each and every time.

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Where was I…Canadia Boy and Stacey got married the other weekend. In Biarritz, no less. They are humongously fantastic people and an excellent time was had by all. The other Thursday–that day at the beginning of the bank holiday weekend–they took us to San Sebastian. And we all stuffed our faces and drank lots of txacoli. Why have I not been to San Sebastian before? Why?

So, here’s a little round-up of our tapas crawl…may you at some point in your life get to experience something as wonderfully delicious and entertaining.

First stop, Goiz Argi for some pimentos de padron and some juicy shrimp, all washed down with lots of txacoli…

And then…we headed over to Txepetxa for some pulpo (octopus) and some croquettas (and yes, that’s more txacoli in the background)…

And then it was over to San Sebastian’s La Cepa (my absolute favorite stop) for some jamon and some cervesas…

And then our last stop…whose name I won’t even try to write out…for the nicest bit of steak cooked to a very perfect medium rare…

Now if that doesn’t make you want to move to San Sebastian…

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