Dudua Palacio: Spain´s Greatest Hits
Fun fact for you: I can sound out Russian. Is it very useful? No, it’s not very useful. Is it at least a cool party trick? Also no.
(To be fair, a few weeks ago I decoded a Jack Kerouac title, and my Russian Roommate pretended to be impressed – thank you Russian Roommate.)
My schoolboy Russian abilities have done me well in the intervening years leading to several interesting things:
- An approach from MI5
- The ability to pretend I speak Latvian
- A week in Russia
Number one’s isn’t really true, although even if it were, there’s be NDAs and death threats, and well, I couldn’t speak on it anyway. Number two is true, although I can’t actually speak Latvian, and I should find sharper friends. And number three was a privileged experience.
I loved Moscow. It was Christmas and snowy and cold, and my exchange family fed me like a Tsar. Blini (mini pancakes) with (cheap) red caviar and condensed milk, borscht (beetroot soup), solyanka (a meaty, sour soup), and pelmeni (dumplings) whilst our socks dried at the door and snow fell outside the window… Hearty, substantial foods, built for the hearth.
Lunching with Arturo brought it all back. Arturo is the head honcho at Dudua Palacio, and whilst he’s called Arturo (!) he’s originally Russian (!). Very cool. He’s been a naturalised Spaniard for forty plus years and a naturalised restauranteur for more. Fair to say then that when it comes to restaurants, he knows a few things. I should probably say that Dudua’s not a Russian restaurant. In fact, it’s about as traditional Spanish as traditional Spanish gets to which end I LOVE the location.
It’s *literally* just down from Plaza de España which means it’s central and walkable-to, but also real and normal, far from the pastiche traditional of Plaza Mayor and Cava Baja. Inside it’s green and cosy, with that nice traditional Spanish countryside-ness, like you’ve just been on a long ramble with the dogs in the hills.
It was Friday lunchtime and in theory I had class AND work to come that evening, but it quickly became apparent that I wasn’t going to be getting out of there in a class-going state. This was a work lunch after all, and my editor wasn’t going to finish two bottles of red on his own.
It was quite busy for lunch I thought which was a good sign. Big tables and small tables, all *less special* than us of course but still looking like they were getting the right sort of treatment from the very lovely team of servers. After a drink at the bar and a tour of the place (big downstairs, good for groups) we ended up a cute little corner table.
Then the food started coming, slowly at first and then all at once: a deluge of Spain’s Greatest Hits. There was steak which was tender and aggressive and perfectly salty that came with little balls of crispy potato. There was ensalada Rusa, obviously a speciality of Arturo’s. I’ve never really liked ensalada Rusa but this one was good. It was fresh and light and truffled and I felt that although everything everywhere has truffle in it right now, it made the dish better.
Then cochinillo and refreshingly no smashed plate (we used knives like cavemen). The pig was succulent and fatty and nicely balanced with roasted asparagus.
Then came albondigas (meatballs) which were ENOURMOUS and my favourite dish. Beef from el Pais Vasco, and not much else. Arturo explained that they like to let the ingredients do the talking and they did do the talking, like a full, rich red wine. And then finally (!) paella which was huge and ricey and fishy and quite delicious. By this point the table was full and we were full and I was definitely on my way to being a little drunk, but if this is how it works in the world of restaurant criticism, then who am I to say any different?
And that looked as if it might be it but of course it wasn’t because this is Arturo and we’re Arturo’s friends. He dragged us to the bar and three HUGE Galician gin and tonics appeared.
After a few sips I couldn’t anymore, so I made my excuses and headed into the Friday afternoon, quite drunk, very full, and fondly remembering that week in Russia.
This meal was on the house but you’re probably talking $30-40 a head.
