There was no specific name for the liquid that my Ecuadorian waiter, Señor Gonzalo Bravo, poured from an old nondescript bottle retrieved from the back of the restaurant at the end of my dinner. It tasted a bit like limoncello with a mysterious earthy twist. It was not a menu item, but a handcrafted after dinner drink reserved for friends and family. Bravo was clearly proud to share this little secret with me, but I was more impressed with his classic gesture of Spanish hospitality during my first restaurant visit on a 2-day stay in Barcelona.
Strolling through streets packed with tourists and locals enjoying an evening tapeo was a welcome relief to a 5-hour high-speed train trip from Alicante. I had made a last minute decision to attend the culinary conference Fórum Gastronómico 2015, so I’d done no research or planning for my short jaunt. But I counted on a visual cue learned long ago: the best tapas bars are usually earmarked by an abundance of discarded white paper trays covering their floors during peak evening tapas hours.
To my surprise, most of the restaurants around the Plaça d’Espanya were way too tidy, so I was left to hunt for a place that locals frequent amidst a street filled with tourist-friendly eateries. Fortunately, it didn’t take long.
A bunch of businessmen at its sidewalk tables, a proprietor at the door ready to greet his regulars, and a few older gentlemen at the bar was my first signal. Aged jamon hanging from every open spot on the aged ceiling was the second. It looked good enough to take a chance and I’m glad I did. Spanish hospitality is not hard to find, but at Portonovo Silvestre, it was on display from the start.
My first food adventure began with complementary Catalan tapas – pa amb tomàquet and a small dish of olives. If you leave Barcelona without having the classic pa am tomàquet, something is amiss with your restaurant choices. Grilled bread rubbed with a ripe slice of tomato and drizzled with fragrant olive oil is offered almost everywhere. While this particular example was not something to write home about, the service alone made up the difference.
Señor Bravo was quick to answer my questions about the history of the restaurant, their four seafood-centric sister restaurants around the city, and why I was the only “mujer” in the place. “Of course, the men are relaxing after working all day and their wives are at home with the children getting ready to fix dinner”. Ok, I might have lost a little in translation but his matter-of-fact explanation made sense in a Spanish sort of way.
As I worked my way through the menu, Bravo proudly showed off a platter of their best jamón ibérico and an enormous octopus straight from the ocean, all the while pointing out other dishes I might like to try. But after I asked for la cuenta, he brought over a few little lemon olive oil cakes on plate and then presented the real treat: a shot glass filled with a hand-crafted elixir blended from three different homemade liquors.
Once he explained the combination with a small drawing – an herbal liquor distilled from grapes, a coffee liquor and a “blanco” liquor which I took to be straight 80-proof ethanol – he took off for the back again and returned with all three bottles – insisting I try just a taste of each.
Just a sip won’t make you heady, but when I asked for the equation of the blend, somehow it only came up to a total of 83%. Did Señor Bravo know where the other 17% had gone? With a slight shrug, I’ll never know if this too was lost in translation or just his way of keeping a family secret, secret. I’m just glad he shared a little of this secret with me.
