Long before TikTok reels listed the top 10 foodie cities to visit or that Facebook friend shared 45 close-up photos of cheese from the fromagerie she stumbled upon in France, I meticulously planned every culinary experience I’d be having on my travels. Whether it was savoring the vibrant green papaya salad in Koh Samui, Thailand, or locating the ultimate coastal pit stop to slurp caracóis (garlicky mounds of snails) in Portugal, my travel destinations have always been guided by my passion for food.
Which is why I eagerly anticipated my visit to Mugaritz, the avant-garde, Michelin-starred restaurant in Spain’s Basque country. I’d met the chef, Andoni Luis Aduriz, several years earlier at a food writers’ conference and was thrilled to take him up on his invitation to visit the restaurant. My sister and her husband were living in Madrid at the time, so the decision was easy: on a planned trip to visit them, we’d make the scenic five-hour drive north through Spain’s countryside.
With two young children in tow, we broke the trip into two days, reserving rooms at a bed and breakfast in the nearby town of Errentería, where we arrived as the sun began to set and hunger kicked in. We faced a dilemma: we needed to eat, but not overeat, as a 25-course, very pricey feast awaited us the next day for lunch. Still, a stomach growl is hard to ignore, as are the aforementioned children.
“I’m hungry,” one whined, echoed seconds later by the other.
This was a time before the immediacy of Google, and given I’d devoted all my enthusiasm to researching Mugaritz, I’d simply excluded mapping any other sources of nourishment.
“Well, we can just … drive around, and see what we find,” my sister suggested. My brother-in-law recalled passing a restaurant on the way over, so we piled into the car and headed back.
We spotted it instantly because of the crowd. Squeezing past the multitude of people, we snagged a spot on one of the communal picnic benches. There was no menu, there was only one thing being served: fried calamari sandwiches — and they were going like hotcakes. We ordered a platterful and waited impatiently as the aroma of crispy calamari filled the air.
A huge jug of house wine was set before us along with water glasses, quickly followed by freshly baked mini baguettes stuffed with fresh, crispy rings of fried squid, showered with the quickest squeeze of lemon. Amid the chaos of families with babies and toddlers, we grew silent, absorbed in the absolute deliciousness of the moment. This was not the Michelin meal that awaited us the next day, the one that would be beautiful, sculpted, artsy and refined. No, this was a communal mayhem of diners celebrating the simplicity of bread, seafood and extraordinary wine at a fraction of the cost.
Don’t get me wrong: the meal the following day was a life-altering experience I hold dear to my heart. But it was the unexpected delight of the evening before, with its chaotic charm and the satisfying crunch of calamari sandwiches, that became etched in my memory. It reminded me that while meticulously laid plans can lead to unforgettable experiences, sometimes the best moments come from embracing spontaneity and relishing the simple, unplanned joys. In the end, it’s not always about the grand culinary destinations but about the unexpected treasures along the way.
Happy Reading!
Alona Abbady Martinez
alona@bocaratonobserver.com