Culinary A
T
The Basques take their food seriously.
Very seriously. I know this, in theory. But the
reality still takes me by surprise my first
morning in San Sebastián, when the crois-
Basque Renaissance: A new sant I order at a pastelería behind the Hotel
wave of ground-breaking de Londres y de Inglaterra arrives with a
Spanish cuisine, including filigreed silver knife and fork. Everything
the Basque variation of else about this pastry counter seems relaxed
tapas known as pintxos, – locals wearing jeans chat casually in
dominates the restaurants Basque, a complex language quite unlike
and bars of San Sebastián. Spanish, French or even Catalan – that is,
until the habitués primly slice their baked
confections with utmost etiquette. I follow
suit, adopting the attitude when in Rome….
And so begins my gastronomic foray into
Spain’s Basque region, where, apparently, I
am to experience its traditional tuna stews,
avant-garde appetizers, the Basques’ famous
finger food known as pintxos and even its
croissants, with cutlery.
The epicentre of Basque cuisine and
capital of Guipúzcoa province is an ideal
locale to commence such an epicurean jour-
ney. Just 600 km northwest of Barcelona and
half an hour by train from the French
border, with a population of only 180,000,
the quietly aristocratic town of San
Sebastián is widely considered the cultural
hub of the Basque region. Popular regional
events include the city’s celebrated jazz and
film festivals, held each year in July and
September, respectively, and the Running of
the Bulls in nearby Pamplona. Bilbao’s extra-
ordinary Guggenheim Museum is just a

y Autonomy
short drive away. The coastline is dotted
with some of Europe’s finest surf beaches,
including Zarautz and San Sebastián’s Playa
de la Zurriola. Long a political hotspot and
stronghold of the Basque separatist move-
ment, the region has, nonetheless, always
been a favourite tourist destination. And it’s
not hard to see why: Even in the height of
summer, the days are cool, providing a
welcome escape for vacationing Spaniards
anxious to escape the southern heat.
But perhaps most significant, San Seb-
astián also boasts some of Spain’s most
renowned cuisine – from the likes of Restau-
rante Arzak and Martin Berasategui – and the
most Michelin-starred restaurants per capita
in Europe (only central Paris can claim a sim-
Heinz Hebeisen
marmitako (tuna stew)
ingredients:
1 kilogram fresh tuna
1 litre water
100 millilitres olive oil
2 onions, peeled and minced
6 green peppers, peeled and
minced
2 kg (4 lbs, 6 oz) potatoes
4 cloves garlic, minced
4 pimentos choriceros or tomatoes
250 ml fish stock and/or txakolí,
white wine or cider
salt and pepper to taste
The quickest route
to understanding Basque
Country culture is through a
San Sebastián kitchen
by Jennifer Patterson
ilar density). Obviously, cooking and eating
well are an intrinsic part of the culture here,
where even the neighbourhood cafés and
bars offer traditional or elaborately con-
cocted New Basque cuisine. Yet the region
known as País Vasco, or Basque Country, is
one of the best-kept secrets among gas-
tronomes: a culinary tour de force on par with
the cuisines of Tuscany and Provence that is
famous throughout Europe for its straight-
forward, simple dishes, prepared using the
freshest local ingredients. Its pintxos, the
Basque tapas, in particular, are among the
most innovative and exquisite appetizers in
all of Spain. As Basque restaurateur Teresa
Barrenechea writes in her authoritative tome
on the cuisine of her homeland, The Basque
preparation:
Clean the tuna. For the fumet, or fish broth,
place the skins and bones of the fish in a saucepan,
cover with water and bring to a boil. In a casserole,
heat the olive oil, add the peppers and onion and
sauté until the onion is translucent. Then, add the
potatoes (cracked in cubes) and garlic to the
vegetables and sauté briefly.
Cut the tuna in cubes, season with salt and
pepper and set aside.
Add the tomatoes and/or the pimentos
choriceros to the casserole, pour in 250 ml of the
fumet, the wine and some water if necessary to
cover, mix well and bring to boil over medium heat,
stirring now and then. Reduce heat and simmer
about 20 minutes or until the potatoes are tender.
Add the tuna cubes and season to taste.
Cook gently 3 to 4 minutes until tuna is opaque.
Remove from heat and let stew settle for a few
minutes before serving. Serves eight.
Table, “I do not know of any other place in
the world where cooking is as revered an art
and as dominant in the national conscious-
ness, as it is in the Spanish Basque Country.
It is one of the most important and distinc-
tive traits of our culture.”
It has been almost two decades since I first
visited San Sebastián and this northeastern
pocket of Spain, as a teenager backpacking
across Europe. Back then, I lived mainly on
baguettes, cheese and tomatoes and the rare
bottle of wine; home base was an expansive
youth hostel off Avenida de Madrid. I didn’t
speak a word of Spanish or French – my
impressions of Spain were based largely on
the bullfight aficionados of Hemingway’s
The Sun Also Rises. So, too, my view of San
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 1 2

4 5 6

7 8
 “I do not know of any other place in the world
where cooking is as revered an art and as dominant in the national
consciousness, as it is in the Spanish Basque Country. It is one of the
most important and distinctive traits of our culture.”
Sebastián was quintessential Hemingway: an
expat’s seaside holiday in Europe (except I
was Jake Barnes the journalist and Lady Brett
rolled into one). And upon my early summer
return to the Basque resort town, it appears,
at least superficially, largely as I remember –
except for a few new architectural monu-
ments, most notably the Kursaal Convention
Centre (an illuminated Rubik’s cube above
the surf beach of Playa de la Zurriola) and a
stadium where the youth hostel once stood.
But this time, my experience promises to be
altogether different. I am on assignment, for
one. My mission: to attend cooking school at
one of San Sebastián’s Popular Gastronomic
Societies (until recently the exclusive domain
of men) and concoct a traditional Basque
meal, sample some of the best local cuisine
the city has to offer and, hopefully learn a lit-
tle more about this enigmatic corner of Spain.
I check into the elegant four-star belle-
époque hotel overlooking Playa de La Concha,
a kilometre-and-a-half-long crescent of
cream-coloured sand. Below the Hotel de
Londres y de Inglaterra, the seaside prom-
enade is lined with ornate lampposts and
white balustrades, where well-to-do families
circulate each evening after spending the day
sunbathing or lazing beneath beach umbrel-
las. The ritual promenade hasn’t changed
much since the belle époque, late 19th-century
Europe’s “beautiful era,” when the “Basque-
land” resorts of Biarritz and San Sebastián first
became popular among wealthy Europeans.
Halfway along Paseo de La Concha is Bat-
aplán, a modern beach bar with palm trees
and throbbing techno music where fashion-
able young Basques lounge in white wicker
chairs. The beach at this hour is empty save
for a few lovebirds strolling by moonlight.
1 Sporting the Basque beret — San
Sebastián gents in the Alberdi Elder gardens
2 Belle époque architecture on La Concha
Bay 3 Eduardo Chillida’s Comb of the Winds
sculpture, exposed to the elements 4 Bergara
Bar’s “rainbow” pintxo 5 Piquillo peppers
stuffed with cod, Basque-style hake and cod
pil-pil from the cooking college of Luis Irízar
6 Salt cod brandade at the Aloña Berri bar
7 San Sebastián’s casco viejo, or old quarter
8 Socializing at Gaztelubide, the oldest
gastronomic society in town
(1) Jorge Tutor, (2&3) Heinz Hebeisen, (4,5&6) Toya Legido, (7) Matías Costa, (8) Noriko Lida
pre-cook instructions
homework: The Basque History of the World,
Mark Kurlansky (Vintage Canada, 2001; $34).
Life and Food in the Basque Country, Maria
José Sevilla (New Amsterdam Books, 1998;
$20.95). The Basque Table, Teresa Bar-
renechea with Mary Goodbody (Harvard
Common Press, 2006; $21.95)
getting there: The small airport near
San Sebastián offers regular flights to and
from most major cities in Spain. Charter
flights from elsewhere in Europe may also
be available. Train or bus connections to
Barcelona, Madrid and Paris are frequent.
the urban gourmet: A Taste of Spain’s
four-day The Basque Kitchen package
includes three nights at the four-star Hotel
de Londres y de Inglaterra, a cooking lesson,
excursions to Bilbao and San Sebastián’s old
town and some meals. Instruction is available
in Spanish, French or English. From $1,900.
34 915 214 170; www.atasteofspain.com
surf school: Pukas on Playa de la Zurriola
in San Sebastián (and at the nearby surf
mecca, Zarautz). 94 332 0068;
www.pukassurf.com

On the terrace, I sip a lemony cocktail and
admire undisturbed the panoramic view of
La Concha Bay, its scallop shape spanning
the smooth mound of Monte Igueldo to
Monte Urgull and its illuminated monu-
ment of Christ, the bay’s golden city lights a
sparkling ocean necklace. The mist-laden air
is fresh and cool – a world away from the
heat and intensity of Barcelona or Madrid.
Luis Mokoroa, director of the Cofradía
Vasca de Gastronomía, greets me the next day
at the door of the gastronomic society’s
headquarters, a rustic two-storey clubhouse
perched above San Sebastián’s old town on
the wooded slopes of Monte Urgull. My
three-hour cooking lesson is scheduled at
the height of the tuna season off the
Cantabrian coast, and Mokoroa suggests we
prepare a traditional main course: a rich
tunafish stew called marmitako that is even
more delicious in summer when the tuna
feed voraciously. Once a simple Basque fish-
erman’s dish named for the marmita, or
stewpot, it is cooked in, marmitako was orig-
inally created from ingredients that could be
easily taken to sea. These days, it is widely
appreciated throughout Spain.
“Every port has its own version of mar-
mitako,” says Mokoroa, a barrel-chested man
with a booming voice. “In Vizcaya, they like
to use choricero (a sweet, dried red pepper
used to make chorizo); in Guipúzcoa, we pre-
fer more tomatoes. There are small differ-
ences, but basically it’s made with potatoes,
onions and green peppers, tomatoes – or
choricero – and tuna.”
I tie on my apron and get chopping and
peeling, taking notes at every opportunity,
like a student of Dona Flor’s Cooking School
of Savour and Art. Mokoroa sets the skins
and bones of the tuna in a pot of water on
the stove and brings it to a boil. This fumet,
or fish broth, will later be added to the stew
to cook the potatoes.
For dessert, Mokoroa proposes pantxineta,
an almond custard pie and typical San Sebas-
tián dessert. We prepare it first so it can bake
in the oven as we prepare the main course.
The puff pastry is complicated to make, and
many cooks buy it ready-made from a pastry
shop. But Mokoroa is from the old school. He
rolls the pastry – made of flour, butter and a
bit of sugar – out on a floured board, from the
middle to the edges so the dough can’t curl
back on the wooden rolling pin. We then
make the cream for the pastry, heating all but
one cup of the milk with a cinnamon stick.
Stirring with a whisk, we let the milk boil,
strain it to remove the cinnamon, then sepa-
rate the eggs, add flour and sugar to the yolks
and add the egg mixture to the milk and stir.
Elaborate desserts and pastries were not
introduced to the Basque region until the
19th century, Mokoroa tells me. Prior to that,
a typical Basque dessert might have been
arroz con leche (rice pudding), leche frita (fried
milk) or sweetened breads. The tradition of
pastry making was largely a Swiss import;
true Basque desserts are rich and custardy,
composed of what is commonly found in
most kitchens: eggs, milk and sugar.
Of course, part of the Basque reputation
for good food comes from the gastronomic
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societies themselves, where men gather to
cook and talk and share a meal. (For the most
part, Basque women do all of the cooking at
home, while Basque men cook in the restau-
rants and their gastronomical societies, or
txokos.) Traditionally the exclusive domain of
men, the societies have been around since
1870, serving as social clubs, with 15 to 100
members each, where men of all stratas of
society, from fishermen to magistrates, are
treated as equals. About 2,000 of these soci-
eties exist in Spain, with approximately 180
in San Sebastián’s old town alone – including
several of the country’s oldest and best
known. Today, some of the finest food in
Spain is prepared in these clubs, which are
closed to everyone except members and their
guests. To join a gastronomic society, an
aspiring socio needs to be recommended by a
member and supported unanimously by a
vote; though it is possible, says Mokoroa, to
belong to more than one at a time.
“Men here love to cook – that’s why
we’re in the kitchen. But there are excellent
female chefs in this [Basque] country too.”
And though, traditionally, the gastronomic
societies were male-only, that is slowly start-
ing to change, Mokoroa admits. “Now, very
few societies are exclusively male.”
Once the pie is in the oven, we slowly
prepare the marmitako with fresh, seasonal
ingredients purchased at the nearby San
Martín and La Bretxa markets. Not surpris-
ingly, given the Basque coastline and strong
fishing traditions on the Bay of Biscay and
the Atlantic, seafood figures prominently in
local dishes, particularly cod, tuna, hake, sar-
dines, anchovies, baby eels and squid. Local
wine or Basque sidra (cider) is also enjoyed
with most meals. (Basques prefer earthy reds,
vino tinto, particularly from the nearby Rioja
region, though txakolí, the slightly efferves-
cent Basque white, is also popular.)
The onions for the marmitako are sautéed
in olive oil along with the garlic and green
peppers. I help Mokoroa’s assistant cook, Aritz
Aramburu, cut the peeled potatoes into cubes,
slicing them halfway and then “cracking”
them into the pot so they release their starch
and naturally thicken the stew. We cut the
papery skins of dried red peppers into rings
with scissors, add the tomatoes and season to
taste, then add the tuna and simmer. Moko-
roa dips his spoon to taste. It’s almost ready.
After more discussion of Basque culture
and history, gastronomy and lifestyle, the
tuna is stewed to perfection, the pie cooled.
Mokoroa grabs a Rioja – a Spanish red – and
a bottle each of cider and txakolí for the table,
and wine or cider is poured into tumblers.
Mokoroa, his assistants – Aramburu, the lone
female cook Pepi Múgica and servers Merche
Martínez and Loli Barquero – and I sit down
and toast one another. I try “my” stew – it’s
delicious, as is the pie – as we chat about
members and guests who’ve cooked and
eaten here in recent weeks: architects, profes-
sors, politicians, even a delegation of Japan-
ese chefs. (I joined their ranks by simply
signing up for a cooking course – an easy
entrée for anyone wishing to learn more
about Basque culture and cuisine.)
After our big midday meal, Mokoroa
escorts me through San Sebastián’s old town,
pointing out other gastronomic societies
tucked away behind non-descript doorways.
This is the oldest, he says, of Gaztelubide, on
a side street near Plaza de la Trinidad. I poke
my head in, hoping curious women aren’t
taboo, and snap a photo. Back on the streets,
the occasional poster or banner calls for the
return of Basque political prisoners. Basque
flags flutter from balconies next to potted
hydrangeas. Street signs in Basque – a lan-
guage cluttered with x’s, t’s, k’s and z’s – serve
as subtle reminders that we are not in just
any quiet corner of Spain, but in Euskal Her-
ria, the Basque homeland.
We stroll by the San Martín market, once
as famous and important as Barcelona’s La
Boqueria. Sadly, says Mokoroa, the market has
been converted into a mini-mall, with shops,
cinemas and, most surprising, a McDonald’s.
There was much protest to this fast-food inva-
sion of a slow-food sanctuary, Mokoroa tells
me, but the battle was lost. Ironically, the
most important fish market in Spain has now
moved underground, to a parkade.
For the best pintxos, Mokoroa recom-
mends the old town, where the tapas “are
more traditional, though there are modern
variations.” The word pintxo, he tells me,
comes from the Spanish word pinchar, “to
prick,” because pintxos were originally eaten
with a wooden toothpick. Today these finger
foods are served on plates, platters or in bowls.
But, unlike other tapas, which have evolved
into side dishes in some cases, pintxos are not
to be eaten with a fork or spoon. He suggests
a tour of the parte vieja, sampling the pintxos
at five or six establishments. Some specialize
in anchovies, others in setas a la plancha
(grilled mushrooms) or prawns, but the food
is good most everywhere, he notes.
Later, I venture out alone to the tapas bars
Continued on page 81
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Culinary Autonomy
Continued from page 65
in the casco viejo, or old quarter, and find one
bathed in a warm yellow light. It is pintxo
heaven: Inside, hungry tasters are packed into
the narrow bar like sardines and the atmos-
phere is convivial. The pintxos – anchovies
on grilled peppers, asparagus wrapped in
salmon, baguettes crowned with crabmeat or
ham, even white fish that could pass for
Basque sashimi – are stacked on white plates
along the bar. In true Spanish style, tooth-
picks and napkins are tossed on the floor and
the bartender calculates the bill by trusting
the customer’s own tally. Small squares of
waxy paper serve as cocktail napkins, but do
little to soak up the olive oil on my hands.
The bigger challenge, I realize, will be to leave
each tapas bar after only a taste or two.
“Can you take our picture?” Four young
Spaniards dressed in white T-shirts are holi-
daying in San Sebastián en route to the Run-
ning of the Bulls. Javier Moreno, who runs a
catering company in Madrid, is so inspired by
the array of food on display at the bar, he
snaps digital close-ups of the bocadillos and
variations of toppings piled on toasted rounds
of bread. “In Madrid, we don’t have tapas like
this, not like these pintxos,” explains his
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friend, Javier Marin. “Tapas in Madrid are kept
behind glass cases – not piled high and cover-
ing every inch of space on the bar.”
The madrileños invite me to join them in
search of another tapas bar. It’s still far too
early for dinner in Spain, which is usually
eaten after 9 p.m. A light rain has started to
fall – the narrow pedestrian-only streets of
the old town are already slick – but there are
no awnings or overhangs to duck under, so
we dash into the first bar we find on the
grand Alameda del Boulevard, separating
the old town from the more modern zona
romántica. The bar’s interior is decorated
with black-and-white photographs of tradi-
tional Basque sports – strong-man competi-
tions and handball, or jai alai – a reminder
of a culture radically different from the rest
of Spain. My Castilian friends, I realize, are
just as puzzled by this cultural shift as I am.
I look around the bar. The origin of these
Basques and their language remain a mys-
tery; genetically, the Basques are different
from other Europeans; and the Basque lan-
guage, Euskera, is arguably the oldest living
European language. But one thing is clear:
despite countless invasions and occupa-
tions, the indomitable Basques have kept
their culture alive for thousands of years.
My last evening in San Sebastián, a
friend and I dine at one of the many restau-
rants specializing in nueva cocina vasca (new
wave Basque cuisine) in the old quarter, not
far from the oldest gastronomic society. We
share the eight-course menú degustación, start-
ing with foie gras yogurt and gazpacho
shooters garnished with clover and daisies,
followed by octopus, hake and a surprising
potato-and-apple salad.
At a nearby table, one couple trades fork-
fuls of their dishes, smokes cigarettes between
each course and, at the end of their languo-
rous two-hour meal, politely bickers over the
bill. The marmitako, I realize, is symbolic of
the Basque region’s cuisine and culture. The
slow food movement has been embraced
wholeheartedly here, by the gastronomic
societies and the best chefs, as well as the
locals. Soon the tourists will leave, as they
always do, for the Running of the Bulls in
Pamplona, and San Sebastián will fall back
into its own quiet rhythm. I, too, will come
away from the city with a fuller impression,
of a place far more layered and complex than
the one encountered on my first visit. And
this time, I’ll know better than to wait so long
to return.
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