In pursuit of an evolved omelette

We visited Logroño once before - in early December 2016, heading north from Valencia to catch the ferry home from Santander. We had arrived early about mid-day and walked into the Logroño's compact city centre. First we happened upon a small exhibition of Henry Moore sculptures in the main square, a delightful surprise; however the main reason we stopped here was an entry in our Lonely Planet guide about the clutch of tapas and pinchos bars in Calle Laurel. We visited a couple and had an excellent lunch, but some of the places mentioned in the guide were closed, clearly they only opened in the evening. I was particularly disappointed as the place that claimed to have re-invented the tortilla as an 'evolved omelette' was shut. I suppose we could have returned in the evening, but it was winter, dark by late afternoon and sub-zero outside. We turned up the Truma and turned-in early, but promised to return one day in pursuit of the evolved omlette.

Why do the modern outskirts of Spains's old cities all resemble Milton Keynes?

Fron the aire, over the Ebro..

it's a ten minute stroll to Calle Laurel - pinchos main street.

So here we are, thanks to a smashed wing-mirror, unexpectedly back in Logroño'. Will this be radical omlette moment? Just after 7 o'clock we headed towards Calle Laurel, it was already crowded with people out on the pinchos razzle. We were a motley crew, a mixture of locals - families, couples with buggies and without, after work drinks parties - and tourists, predominantly grey haired. Everyone was having a jolly time apart from gaggles of Americans being frogmarched around as part of guided gastronomy tours. They were taking it very seriously, listening intently to the guide, some had note books which they hastily scribbled in every so often.

The set up here is a little different to San Sebastian. There the bars tend to provide a feast of small delights; you take a small plate and choose as you wish. In Logroño' places tend to specialise in one 'star turn' cooked to order. 

Our first stop, Bar Soriano, specialised in grilled mushrooms, each with a small shrimp nested in the cup, then drenched in sizzling garlic oil. These were being turned out in industrial quantities by two guys behind the bar, using a small grill squeezed into the corner. A third guy was equally busy providing the festive throng with glasses of Rioja. The place buzzed with activity and noisy, good humour.

It struck us that if we were going to join in the fun and go from place to place we were going to have to eat something more substantial than a delicious morsel pinned to a slice of baguette by a cocktail stick. Lunch had been hours ago and had been a fairly light affair anyway. Gone are the days when we could drink on an empty stomach without impunity. We found a place that specialised in patatas bravas. A very British solution to our dilemma, if all else fails, eat chips. However, as chips go, these were very posh ones, the small cubes of potatoes had been deep fried perfectly, the sauce carefully poured over them in two stages, a creamy one, then the spicy tomato gently placed over it to form two distinct layers. The result was when you skewered the potato cube  the two sauce layers mixed forming a mysteriously pleasing swirl. A simple, yet delightful piece of culinary theatre.

In a way, this simple dish illustrates a difference between the Basque region's pintxos and the pinchos found in the north of Navarre and Rioja. What we ate yesterday in San Sebastian was a fine dining dish miniaturised; as well as tasting delicious, the morsels are styled to look amazing and there is overt competition to invent unusual flavour combinations. It's all a bit 'chefy',' as Rick Stein might say.

These patatas bravas were the opposite of this, a simple peasant dish elevated to be something memorable through skilled cookery and a bit of creativity in the presentation. There was no attempt to reinvent the recipe, instead attention to detail turned a workaday dish into something remarkable.

High-end fare miniaturised or everyday dishes glamourised, pinchos and tapas menu's do the same thing, making delicious, creative cooking affordable and readily available without compromising quality or creativity. We're fans.

Our mission however was as yet unaccomplished. We explored the entire neighbourhood seeking the 'evolved omlette' place. It was nowhere to be found. Gone bust we concluded, maybe messing with the traditional tortilla was just a step to far. Instead we found a place whose signature dish was black pork teryaki.

The fusion of Iberian ingredients with Asian flavours worked really well. The bill for both of us including a glass of Rioja each was a mere €6.90. Spain is truly a delightful place; like Italy, it is somewhere you have to try very hard to be miserable, whereas at home, at least at the moment, the opposite is true.

Time to head back to the van. As we left the restaurant I glanced at the bar opposite. A small sign by the door said 'Evolved Omlette'. We'll just have to come back one day we agreed.

This proved prescient. Next day, after setting the alarm for the ungodly hour of 7.15am. we presented ourselves at Garage Rotunda at nine as requested. The manager was very apologetic as he stood surrounded by piles of cartons delivered just moments before; our replacement wing mirror had not arrived. We will need to return after the weekend. Frustrating, but we intended to visit the nearby Rioja anyway.