The Best Places in Spain

The lareira, a traditional Galician hearth, does double duty here: heating the stone dining room and smoking whatever came off the local farms and boats that morning. This is a rural restaurant tucked into a village quiet enough that the car park has gates to keep livestock in. Tasting menus lean on Galician tradition without apology, and the drive out, however far it feels, is entirely the point.

Near the port in Ferrol, this modern restaurant takes its name from the nickname everyone has for the owner, "El Inglés," though the food runs decidedly global. The à la carte is rooted in Galician cooking with detours through Peru, Japan, and Italy, and the open kitchen keeps things easy to watch. A tasting menu is available with advance notice, and half portions let you cover a lot of ground without committing.

From the upper part of Fisterra, this modern Galician restaurant looks straight out over the port, the estuary, and Langosteira beach, which means the view changes with the tide and so does what's on the menu. The kitchen follows the fish auction closely, and almost everything, from the sharing plates to the ten-course tasting menu, is built around seafood and organic vegetables. Save room: the spread of artisanal Galician cheeses with homemade bread is the kind of footnote that upstages the main text.

The sticks poking out of the Arousa estuary just beyond the windows mark the clam beds, which tells you everything about what ends up on the plate at this low-key seafood restaurant in Carril. The room is rustic but not fussy, and there's a terrace and a coveted table inside the kitchen. The menu is short and unsentimental, built around whatever the water gives up, with a tasting menu if you want the full tour.

A couple who left restaurant kitchens elsewhere in Spain to restore her grandmother's farmhouse in rural Galicia, growing their own vegetables and running a small vegetarian restaurant built around a single seasonal menu. The setting is quiet countryside, the cooking is contemporary and confident, and the whole project has the feel of people doing exactly what they meant to do, which is rarer than it sounds.

A manor house in the Monterrei wine country doubles as the dining room here, and the kitchen runs on a simple philosophy: product first, technique second. Chef José Luis Prieto offers a short à la carte alongside a few tasting menus, all rooted in the Galician and Orense traditions of the surrounding land. It's a family operation, so the welcome feels less like a restaurant and more like someone's very talented relative learned to cook.

Tucked inside Hotel Can Ferrereta in Santanyí's old town, Ocre is a Mediterranean restaurant that moves to a candlelit Mallorcan patio in summer, which does most of the selling on its own. The cooking is straightforward and seasonal, the kitchen drawing from local suppliers and, on Saturdays, from the weekly market a few streets away. The room leans rustic without trying too hard, and the crowd tends toward the quietly romantic rather than the loudly celebratory.

A pig drinking at a bar, its name tattooed on the animal's side, greets you at this sleek contemporary restaurant near the Guggenheim. The menu is devoted almost entirely to pork, with two tasting formats to choose from, one of which lets the chef propose the starters while you pick the main. The cooking leans Basque, the room is precise and modern, and the whole thing is funnier and more confident than the concept has any right to be.

A tiny Mediterranean tasting-menu restaurant near Sants station that seats exactly eight people, so the chef basically knows your name before you arrive. Ezequiel Devoto, Buenos Aires-born, named the place for his home district there, and the cooking moves freely between Argentina, Spain, and Italy without making a fuss about it. The room is discreet enough that it's easy to walk past, which keeps it feeling like a quiet discovery. Book ahead, obviously.

A sushi bar on A Coruña's showpiece main square, where the menu changes daily based on what the chef picks up at auction that morning. The room is stripped back to almost nothing, just counter seating and a fish-aging cabinet doing quiet, visible work. One tasting menu, take it or leave it, with a few extras if you want to push further. Reservations go through the website, so plan accordingly.

You enter through a corridor lined with cookbooks, which sets the tone for a restaurant that takes its references seriously. Alberto Chicote's contemporary dining room sits in a converted workshop, with an open kitchen planted in the centre of the room. The cooking runs Spanish at the core with a Far Eastern lean, served across a choice of tasting menus. The whole staff wears a bracelet modelled on one a Masai tribe gave Chicote, which is either very moving or very on-brand, depending on your table.

A small Mediterranean restaurant on a pedestrianized street in Gandia's old town, where the menu changes daily and the kitchen decides what you're eating based on the market. The two-person team runs tasting menus built around fish and vegetables, so there's no à la carte safety net, just whatever looked good that morning. The cooking skews creative while staying rooted in the region, which is more discipline than it sounds.

The kitchen is open-view and the menu follows the same logic: a modern Spanish restaurant where you build your own tasting from half-portion dishes, with the chefs explaining and plating their own food. The room has an eclectic look that suits the loose, come-as-you-are spirit of the thing. The Gilda Open has become a house classic, and the lobster salpicón with tomato broth shows where the kitchen's ambitions actually sit.

Wooden shoe lasts mounted on the wall nod to Alicante's old shoemaking trade, which is either the most obscure tribute in the restaurant world or a very cool one. This tasting-menu spot runs through a set sequence that begins at a communal "Mother Table" where the chef kicks off with appetizers and explains the concept before you move on. The cooking leans on local pantry staples, red prawns, blanquet, and nougat, worked into something quietly modern.

Tucked into a residential pocket north of Palma, Óseo is a modern tasting-menu restaurant where the kitchen leans hard into Mediterranean-Mallorcan ingredients and lets the seasons do the arguing. Two menus, five or nine courses, and a chef who treats stuffed partridge with the same seriousness as smoked aubergine. The kind of place that feels personal rather than programmatic, which in a dining scene full of scenic terraces is a different kind of ambition.

Chef John Ordóñez runs a creative restaurant on Aribau where the desserts alone tend to come up in conversation afterward. The setup is relaxed and unfussy, with extra seating upstairs, and the cooking plays with unexpected aromas without losing sight of the individual ingredients. You can order à la carte or pick a set menu sized to your appetite. The kind of place that makes Barcelona's casual dining scene look very good at its job.

The bar here is the main event, where glass chambers display fish mid-maturation, aging toward the nigiris they'll eventually become. This Japanese restaurant in Chamberí imports much of its seafood and builds an extensive à la carte around jukusei, the Japanese practice of carefully aging fish to deepen flavor. A wood-lined dining room sits behind it all, but most serious eaters want the counter. Tasting menus are available for the full commitment crowd.

Industrial-chic dining room in Barrio de Salamanca with a social conscience baked in, not bolted on. Ovillo is part of a foundation that brings vulnerable young people into professional kitchens, which gives the contemporary tasting menu format a slightly different weight than usual. The cooking runs from snappy mini-appetisers through to longer tasting menus, and the tripe with haricot beans has its own small legend among offal enthusiasts.

Authentic Sicilian pottery lines the shelves, which sets the tone before a single plate arrives. This small, contemporary Italian restaurant is a Madrid offshoot of an original in Palermo, and the kitchen leans into that southern Italian lineage, reworking traditional recipes with a modern eye. Both the à la carte and tasting menus come with optional wine pairings, so you can commit to the full Sicilian afternoon whether or not you planned to.

Landlocked Valladolid isn't where you'd expect to eat seriously good seafood, but Paco Espinosa has been quietly making that case for a long time. The front tapas bar does brisk work, while the dining room runs a proper à la carte with Iberian ham, home-style stews, and fish and shellfish that travel better than they have any right to. The wine list reaches past Spain, which in a room this comfortable feels almost unnecessary.

A bistro in the informal, rustic-chic register where the menu refuses to pick a lane between Spain, Peru, and Mexico, which turns out to be the whole point. The team behind this sharing-plates spot layers those three kitchens into dishes sized so you can graze widely rather than commit. Half-portions are available, which is a rare act of mercy. The executive menu runs Tuesday through Thursday for anyone who prefers a set path through the chaos.

The dining room sits in the straw loft of an old Catalan farmhouse ringed by rice fields, which tells you most of what you need to know before you've touched the menu. This is a family-run restaurant where rice is the serious business: the kitchen grows its own Carnaloli variety when the drought cooperates, and the rice dishes are the reason regulars make the drive to Pals. An à la carte of traditional Spanish cooking, a tasting menu, and daily specials round out the options.

Palacio Ico sits inside a restored historic property in Teguise, where the old Canarian stonework sets a mood that the kitchen then tries to live up to. It's a tasting menu restaurant, short version or long, both built around ingredients sourced by island and producer: octopus from Lanzarote, prawns from La Santa, the local black pig. The wine cellar leans hard into champagne, which nobody seems to be complaining about.

A big communal table anchors the bare-concrete dining room tucked behind an unremarkable door in Santiago's old quarter. The chef calls it "cocina de barrio," neighbourhood cooking, and means it: homemade empanadas, escabeches, stews, and whatever came off the boat that morning. The kind of place where the food tastes like someone's grandmother made it, which is exactly the point.

A vine-covered patio tucked into the center of Lugo sets the scene at this contemporary restaurant, where the sourcing is taken seriously, from small organic growers to farms where the animals are treated well. The menu runs from Galician classics to gyozas, which sounds like it shouldn't work and somehow does. Tapas, a tasting menu, and à la carte options mean you can stay as long as you like, and in this town, you probably will.

The chef named the restaurant after himself, which either signals confidence or a grandmother who wouldn't let him call it anything else. This contemporary dining room inside the Eunice Hotel Gastronómico runs on what the kitchen calls purist cuisine, chasing seasonal Castilian produce and respecting cooking times the way a monk respects silence. You order à la carte or choose a tasting menu, and either way the food sits somewhere between tradition and the chef's own instincts.

A restaurant set inside a working winery in the Ribeiro, where the wine practically pours itself. The kitchen leans contemporary with deep Galician roots, and the tasting menus move through local seafood and the occasional odd-couple pairing, like egg with fried pig's ear, that somehow makes complete sense. Wine pairing is available throughout, which, given the address, would be rude to skip.

A short walk from Playa del Orzán, this contemporary seafood spot in A Coruña takes its cues from the same kitchen philosophy as Morrofino de Vigo: shareable plates built around serious Galician seafood, handled with a light, modern touch. The menu is designed for the table to eat together, which either sounds very convivial or like a negotiation, depending on who you bring. Either way, the ocean is the whole point here.

A colorful house on the banks of the Nalón river, a few miles outside Oviedo, where the chef puts Asturias on a plate with the kind of quiet confidence that doesn't need explaining. Two tasting menus anchor the dining room: one rooted in tradition, one that nudges old flavors into modern shapes. Panoramic river views come with it, and a terrace for anyone who wants to eat with a little weather involved.

The name nods to the hummingbird, a bird famously picky about which flowers it visits, so consider yourself warned about the menu's focus. This small Navarrese restaurant near the Ensanche Market is run by a young chef whose family keeps a vegetable garden in Corella, and the cooking reflects it: traditional, unfussy, and built around whatever the garden insists on. Meatballs in grandmother's sauce is the kind of dish that explains the whole place in four words.

Eight seats, one seating, everyone starts together: Playing Solo runs like a small theater where the kitchen is the stage. Chef Luis Caballero cooks Japanese-inflected fusion with detours through France and Scandinavia, all built on local ingredients, at a counter inspired by the izakaya format. The seasonal tasting menu is the only real option, and the room fills and empties as one, which somehow makes strangers feel less strange.

Five tables and a half-open kitchen near Alicante's Central Market, where the chef works in plain view and the menu follows whatever looked good at the fish market that morning. Plëgat is a small contemporary restaurant that runs both à la carte and a full tasting menu, leaning on regional produce and market fish. Intimate is the word they use; unhurried is probably the better one.

The wooden counter running through the dining room is where the chef works, finishes dishes tableside, and occasionally holds court. This is a casual Catalan bistro with a local-first ethos, though the menu quietly pulls in Asian influences where it feels right. Sea cucumbers and teardrop peas show up when the season allows, and the daily suggestions change depending on what arrived that morning. The kind of place where the kitchen has nothing to hide behind.

The green azulejos and thick esparto blinds give Polea's facade an arresting look before you're even inside. This contemporary restaurant runs a single tasting menu built around seasonal, locally sourced ingredients, with nods to Scandinavian technique and, occasionally, the kitchen's own garden. Sustainably caught fish only. The partially open kitchen and small bar keep things intimate, and a couple runs the whole operation with the kind of calm focus that takes years abroad to develop.

A tapas bar and restaurant hybrid steps from the Retiro's Puerta del Niño Jesús, with Andalucian roots running through a contemporary small-plates menu. The tasting menus are called "Lo Que Diga Willy," or What Willy Says, which tells you something about the chef's self-confidence. The gilda, that classic olive-anchovy-pepper tapa, gets its own quiet reinvention here and tends to be the thing people mention on the way out.

A family with deep roots in Murcia's restaurant scene, now with a younger generation quietly rewriting the menu. This intimate modern Spanish restaurant runs both à la carte and a tasting menu, with the kitchen leaning hard into local vegetables and Murcian tradition, then nudging both somewhere more interesting. The room feels warmly old-school; the plates do not.

A glass-fronted porch dining room looks out over the Cantabrian countryside, and the other room leans rustic stone and timber, so you pick your mood at the door. This is a family-run restaurant where traditional regional recipes have been quietly modernized by the son of the house, who took over and adjusted things by degrees. The Michelin Guide has it on their list. If you need somewhere to sleep, there are a handful of rooms and apartments on the same property.

The name means "sauce" in Galician, which telegraphs the kitchen's priorities pretty clearly. This tapas bar in Lugo's old quarter runs an extensive à la carte built around the grill, with serious beef cuts and whole fish doing most of the talking. The upstairs dining room has a rustic feel, quotes from Galician writers on the walls, and an aging cabinet that signals the team's patience. Daily specials round out a menu the chef describes as "celebration, abundance, satisfaction."

The house cocktail has a backstory: in 1967 it took a Spanish championship and a runner-up at the World Cocktail Championship. Order it first. This contemporary Spanish restaurant sits on the ground floor of a hotel wedged between the bullring and Muelle Uno, and the menu riffs on Malaga classics, local seafood among them, without losing the plot. A tapas option keeps things casual if you'd rather graze than commit.

A couple's restaurant in the truest sense: one half runs the kitchen, the other runs the room, and the whole project feels like proof that having your own place changes how food tastes. It's a casual, share-plates spot near the Municipal Theatre, where the menu shifts with whatever's seasonal and leans into local flavours. The wine list favours small producers and moves just as often as the food does.

The open grill in the dining room is the first thing you notice, and it explains a lot about what follows. PUCHE is a relaxed, sharing-plates restaurant in a stone-and-brick building on the square, with an open kitchen and a tiny bar counter for those who want a front-row seat. The cooking leans on Catalan ingredients and tradition, with off-menu market options that change without warning. The Palamós red prawns, dressed with a vinaigrette made from their own heads, are the kind of detail that earns the trip.

An open kitchen faces the dining room so you can watch the fire do most of the work, which tells you everything about Nandu Jubany's farm-to-table restaurant near Passeig de Gràcia. The cooking leans on charcoal and salt rather than technique for its own sake, letting the raw ingredients carry the weight. Bar seats fill up with people ordering half portions to cover more ground, which is the move.

A sushi restaurant tucked into an annex of the Puente Romano hotel, run by an Argentine sushiman whose specialty is aged and cured fish. The room splits into two: The Lounge has low tables and sharing plates, while the Omakase Bar is quieter and reserved for the chef's tasting menu, plated in front of you. The sommelier focuses on sake, which is either very niche or exactly what you needed to know.

The lobster section alone takes up half a page, offered grilled, stewed, with chickpeas, or folded into rice, and it requires at least two of you to order it. This Valencian Mediterranean restaurant near El Retiro leans hard into seafood starters, fideuá, and serious grilled dishes, with French notes threading through quietly. The kind of place that makes a long lunch feel like the obvious choice.

The dining room occupies the old stables of a grand mansion, and the garden patio beyond it is reason enough to book. This Mediterranean restaurant inside the Sant Francesc Hotel Singular leans into Mallorcan ingredients and local cooking traditions, with both an à la carte and a tasting menu most evenings, and rice dishes taking over on Sunday lunch, which feels exactly right.

A family restaurant that quietly added "3.0" to its old name when the third generation took over, which is a more honest way of handling inherited ambition than most places manage. It sits in Hostalric with Montseny mountain views and serves contemporary Catalan cooking that rotates with the seasons. Several set menus run at different price points, and the à la carte rice dishes cooked in the traditional tin pan have their fans among the regulars.

The Venezuelan chef behind this informal Las Palmas restaurant pulls local Canarian ingredients into a orbit that includes Mexico, Japan, and the Caribbean without ever losing the thread. It's a modern fusion spot with a shareable-plates sensibility, the kind of room where the menu reads like a well-traveled notebook. Dishes like the rabbit escabeche and sea bass aguachile do most of the convincing on their own.

Peppa Pig hangs on the wall and the bathroom is called the Pocilga, which sets the tone for this small bistro near Plaza de las Salesas. The kitchen opens straight into the narrow dining room, with a chef's bar up front so you can watch things come together. The menu rotates with the seasons and pulls from cuisines across the world, mixing techniques and flavors without committing to any single tradition.

A dedicated ham carver works a corner of this two-floor traditional Spanish restaurant on Velázquez, which sets the tone nicely. The room leans into bourgeois comfort, all dark wood and vintage details, with a proper wine cellar and a bar for classic cocktails. The kitchen draws on Catalan family recipes, cooked with enough confidence that the menu feels rooted rather than dusty. The rum baba with whipped cream is the move at dessert.

A Galician restaurant on the wooded banks of the Támega river, where the kitchen leans into the Monterrei region's own pantry, organic veal and seasonal chestnuts among them, and folds traditional technique into something a little more current. The set menus range from a short weekday lunch to longer, memory-driven formats, and the à la carte runs alongside them. Good country-road-drive energy, if you're in the Ourense orbit.

The menu categories at this contemporary Spanish restaurant are named after royal hunts and noble courts, which makes sense once you know the chef built the whole concept around the court of Philip V. Sitting beside the Parador in La Granja, the dining room takes its cues from the Royal Palace next door. The tasting menus require a reservation heads-up, and the à la carte keeps things more flexible for those who just wandered in from the gardens.

On the road up to Mt Igueldo, this old-school Basque restaurant has the weathered exterior of a countryside inn and a dining room that quietly undercuts your expectations. The kitchen leans on tradition, baked crab and hake in parsley sauce among the anchors, but keeps one foot moving forward with more composed, seasonal plates. The wine list runs deep enough that even seasoned regulars find something to chase down.

A renovated house with enough history that a famous Spanish poet once slept here, now running as a regional restaurant with an à la carte and a handful of set menus. Vegetables lead the way, most of them sourced from the river-hugging market gardens of Tudela's Mejana growing area, which the kitchen has relied on for years. A separate dining room called El Choko de Remigio handles the more seasonal, locally focused end of things.

A restored farmhouse tucked among the vineyards of the Escoda-Sanahuja winery, one of Catalonia's pioneering natural wine producers. This is a Mediterranean restaurant where the chef, Russian-born and clearly converted, builds an à la carte and tasting menu around organic produce, much of it grown on the farm itself. The kitchen and the cellar are in obvious conversation, and the cheese menu is the kind of detail that makes you glad you asked.

The kitchen garden by the hotel entrance supplies much of what lands on your plate here, a contemporary tasting-menu restaurant inside an eco-resort just outside Barcelona. Three set menus, each built around certified organic, seasonal produce sourced from local farmers and that garden, trace the surrounding landscape course by course. The whole table commits to one menu, which feels less like a rule and more like the point.

Stone walls thick enough to keep out the Canarian sun anchor the dining room at this casual restaurant in the historic Vegueta district, a few steps from the Casa de Colón. The kitchen casts wide, pulling from Spain, France, Italy, and beyond, and the portions are the kind that make you reconsider the afternoon you had planned. A Michelin Selected pick for the neighborhood.

A modern bistro tucked inside a tennis club in a quiet residential neighborhood, which sets the tone for everything that follows. The name is a tennis pun, the cooking is casual in spirit but serious in execution, and the gap between those two things is where it gets interesting. The tasting menu leans creative and precise, while the room stays genuinely relaxed, the kind of place that has strong opinions about what it's doing without making you feel it.

A trattoria tucked near Las Palmas's old literary quarter, Rígolo is built around the idea of cooking the way someone's grandmother would, if that grandmother also imported her cheeses and charcuterie from small Italian producers. The chef spent years under Nacho Manzano before channeling that experience into handmade pasta and slow, regional Italian cooking with the odd Canarian twist keeping things honest.

A family restaurant in the Salamanca countryside that grows its own vegetables and organises whole-tuna days, with fish hauled up from the port of Barbate and broken down on the premises. The dining rooms mix wood and cement in a way that feels deliberate without being fussy. Traditional stews, roasts, and a serious commitment to Iberian pork fill the menu, alongside fresh fish priced by weight, which is the honest way to do it.

The cheese trolley and tableside carving set the tone before the food even arrives. This is a quietly serious Asturian restaurant on the edge of town, where the kitchen leans into the region rather than away from it, pulling fish from a trusted local supplier and giving traditional cooking a careful modern nudge. The tasting menu runs long; the à la carte is the more relaxed way in. A couple runs the room, one per side of the kitchen pass.

The ox chop from El Capricho, a farm in León with a cult following among serious meat people, is the main reason to sit down at this traditional grill in the Salamanca district. A terrace, a wood-fired focus, and a menu that also makes room for grilled fish, seasonal vegetables, and rice dishes keep it from being a one-trick pony. Occasional full-day events built around a single ingredient, oxtail lately, give regulars a reason to come back.

The name comes from the Basque word for a log, which tells you something about how seriously this creative tasting-menu restaurant takes its place in the Urdaibai Biosphere Reserve. Set inside a farmhouse hotel a few kilometers outside Bermeo, with valley and sea views through the windows, the chef builds each seasonal menu from the surrounding ecosystem, much of it grown on-site. Over thirty txakolis from Bizkaia make the drink list worth your full attention.

Stone walls, heavy wood, and a family running the room with the kind of quiet attentiveness that doesn't come from a training manual. This is a regional restaurant in a small Cantabrian town, built around zero-mile sourcing and three tasting menus named for local caves. The cooking is rooted in tradition with a lighter contemporary hand, and the soups and stews, pinto beans with venison among them, are the sort of thing you think about on the drive home.

The wood-heavy dining room, dressed like a South American hacienda that took the brief seriously, sets the tone for what follows: a grill-focused restaurant where the fire does most of the talking. Angus and Wagyu cuts arrive in Brazilian, Argentine, and European configurations, and the terrace, shaded by actual trees, is the kind of outdoor room that makes Madrid's long evenings feel well-spent.

The Josper grill, the Basque parrilla, and the Castilian wood oven all get a turn here, which tells you this is a serious meat restaurant with a clear point of view. Rafa Zafra, known for his seafood-focused Estimar, pivoted hard to land, and the menu runs from Joselito cured ham to game to barbecued pinchos. The room is dim and urban-cool, the wine list is deep, and the crowd skews people who know exactly what they've ordered before sitting down.

More than 3,000 Granada-style ceramic jugs hang from the ceiling of this traditional Spanish restaurant in the foothills outside the city, which is either charming or mildly alarming depending on your relationship with gravity. The Pedraza family has been running it forever, and the Mudejar-inspired building, the extensive classic à la carte, and a wine cellar worth a detour have made it a proper institution across the province.

A farmhouse south of Sant Lluís that started life as a picnic spot and has been quietly doing its own thing ever since. The cooking is rooted in Menorcan tradition, with contemporary touches and a dedicated section of rice dishes that regulars tend to navigate toward. The room feels like a house because it is one, with a hostess who runs it like she means it and a wine list that ranges further than you might expect out here.

The open kitchen runs on charcoal and open flame, and the dining room looks straight out over the Mallorcan coast. This is the modern Mediterranean restaurant inside the Pleta de Mar hotel, where Marc Fosh lends his name and a young local chef runs the kitchen day to day. The à la carte and tasting menu both lean hard into Balearic ingredients: fish from the market, local meats, vegetables pulled from the season.

A glass of cava appears in your hand before you've found your seat, which tells you most of what you need to know about Sa Taula. This tiny contemporary restaurant in the Gros district seats ten guests at most, all eating together, with the two chefs simultaneously cooking, serving, and chatting across the room. One surprise menu, drinks included, ingredients from small local producers. Dinner party energy, without the obligation to bring anything.

A contemporary tasting-menu restaurant facing Logroño's co-cathedral, where the two chef-owners work the room as much as the kitchen, which gives the whole thing an easy, personal feel you don't always get at this register. The cooking leans on seasonal Riojan produce and modern technique, though it borrows freely from wherever it feels like, and the cod done in the style of ajoarriero has become something of a calling card.

Stone-built and tucked inside a vineyard estate in the D.O. Ribeiro wine country, this Galician restaurant takes traditional cooking somewhere a little more considered without losing sight of local meat and fish sourced that morning. You can order from the à la carte or pick one of two tasting menus, both offered with wine pairings, which makes sense given that the cellar and the kitchen are essentially the same project.

The wood-fired oven is the star here, turning out baby lamb and Castilian suckling pig at this classic restaurant-asador in Montiel. The room earns a slow look: a glass-fronted wine cellar lines one wall, and a fresh fish counter up front quietly signals that the sea shows up this far inland too. Cantabrian hake and red tuna tataki sit alongside the roasts on an à la carte that takes traditional Spanish cooking without irony.