Not All Tapas Bars are Created Equal and Food Isn’t Always Just Food

Perhaps the most memorable meal of my summer travels was in a minuscule Tapas bar in Seville. The Bar itself was indeed tiny—consisting of only a long carved wooden bar with a marble countertop and few, if any stools, inside the building. The seating was comprised of slightly gritty tables jammed somewhat haphazardly in every inch of sidewalk next to the bar that isn’t required for foot traffic along the street. The efficient, yet jovial waiters bustle around in white shirts with rolled up sleeves and black slacks, and in some respects the operation and appearance of the place could have just stepped out of another century. I might add that the previous night we had seated ourselves at another similar Tapas bar without the slightest notion of what to expect. After perusing what seemed to be an extensive hors d'œuvre menu and eying the delicious looking fish being served on the table next to ours (which happened to be serviced by another establishment), we vacated for the fish dinners.

After a quick bit of research the following morning concerning the protocols of dining in a Tapas bar, we decided to take the Tapas plunge. We scouted out a little bar, just around the corner from Alfalfa square which offered Tapas for 2.80€ per item. What appealed to us almost as much as the price was the somewhat less chaotic location. It was still an active little street, but was not in the square. I’m convinced that what we experienced was some of the most delicious sampling of Andalusian specialties available. For starters we ordered olives, gezpacho, goat cheese, tuna with onions, and shrimp--along with cold white wine and bread. The olives were marinated in herbs and chilies and were the size of small eggs. The gezpacho was served in a glass--more like a drink--but with all the flavor of a chunky cold soup.  The goat cheese was served warm with a honey glaze and a small sprig of rosemary on top—and was fabulous on the fresh bread. Large chunks of fresh tuna were baked with large onion slices—in a sauce that was reminiscent of fine French onion soup. The shrimp were large, cold, fresh and sweet, and served in their shells. Of course, one must add the romance of the narrow cobbled calle in the heart of old Seville to the experience, as well as the fact we had been walking the city all day in simmering heat. When the sun set and the evening breeze began to cool off the city and such delectable dishes were whisked out of what appeared on the surface as a tiny little corner bar—eating such a meal was practically like dying and going to heaven.

Needless to say, we sampled another round of items (one of which had to be more goat cheese). We sipped more wine, watched the moon rise, and amused ourselves with the parade of locals trying to squeeze their small cars into the tiny parking slots next to our table.

Throughout our summer travels we tried to replicate the Tapas delirium, but we never came close. For Tapas, the center of the universe is Alfalfa square in Seville.