Viva Espana

Taberna del Alabardero
1776 I St NW
Washington DC 20006
202-429-2200


With the football team’s Euro victory, Nadal’s successes at Roland Garros and SW17, and more recently Castre’s triumph in the Tour de France, this has undoubtedly been a great year for Spain. It is recognition that has come somewhat belatedly in all other arenas but cooking. In cooking, Spain has been leading the way for quite some time now – names like Ferran Adria, Santi Santamaria and Jose Andres are almost requisite knowledge for any gastronome. I love Spanish food for its big, bold flavours; I love the bitter tang that olives impart, I love the defiant orange hue that saffron brings to a dish. And so it was with high expectations that I ventured to an establishment that the Spanish government calls “the best Spanish restaurant outside of Spain” – a restaurant right here in little old Washington DC. I had heard many good things about Taberna del Alabardero, not least from RK who has certainly eaten at enough good restaurants to know the real deal when he sees it. I expected great things.

The consultants in my company got together recently for a training course in DC, and I selfishly anointed myself the “One Who Gets To Pick The Restaurant”. We all enjoy a good meal out (I honestly believe that is the only reason they hired me) and fighting off the sly self-serving suggestions of others in order to fulfill my own self-serving wants was trickier than I thought. But in the end not too many people were disappointed when I picked this place – Ty had been there before and had only good things to say about it.

The Taberna is in an odd location, right in that no man’s land between downtown and the West End on 18th St, one of the busier throughfares in the District. Tall office buildings soar around it and with its Rioja red awning and distinctive lettering – it looks rather out of place. I arrived early and immediately ordered myself a tinto de verano. Hunter had recommended this, and it turned out to be exactly what I needed.

Tinto de verano, translated as “summer red”’, is a refreshing seasonal drink much like sangria, but made by mixing equal parts of red wine and soda - typically La Casera, which is similar to Sprite. It is one of the secrets that the Spanish do not market abroad extensively. I much prefer it to sangria, which can be rather sweet and stick to the roof of your mouth sometimes. Also, with sangria there are more combinations and possibilities for people to absolutely screw it up, whereas any bartender with half a brain can pour a tinto de verano.

There is a bar of tapas right outside the main dining room, where you can take your pick of cold and warm appetizers. But what caught my attention was the leg of Jamon iberico just chilling on a table, in plain sight, illuminated by the dim glow of the heat lamp, half carved and tantalizingly appetizing. Sheer marketing genius – just like bars that serve peanuts because they make you thirsty – but I fell hook, line and sinker for it anyway. I was already hungry, and now I was ravenous.

I could hardly wait for everyone to arrive, and when we were finally seated I paused to take in the surroundings. The walls were painted a deep red, with just the right amount of trim and flourish adorning the hallways and furnishings – it was just shy of kitsch and oozed a certain Old World charm. We started off with a heavy-hitting wine, a 2003 Bodegas Mauro Vino de la Tierra – which while enjoyable was a little too concentrated to open our palates with. It had wonderful accents of vanilla and tobacco but was very dark and not very fruit forward, which I thought rather atypical of Tempranillos, and of Spanish wine in general.

I always find it amusing when people are unsure whether or not to order a personal appetizer, and as a result suggest one, or several “communal” appetizers for the table. Nobody wants to be the one who decides on what to order, and it takes a special breed of friends to agree exactly on what those choices are. I always keep my mouth shut in instances like these, for I know there is never the right thing to say. For every person in this world there is a palate and a preference, and – particularly when there are more people at the table – it is often hard to reach a consensus. Somebody is inevitably disappointed, and it is never polite to say so when you are.

So when Ty hesitantly suggested getting the bacalao, I was pleasantly surprised. Not many people know what bacalao is, let alone like it. Ty was very gracious about the whole issue, and immediately qualified his suggestion with a non-committal “But we don’t have to get it if you guys don’t want to.” I did want to, and immediately threw my backing behind him. Sadly it did not turn out to be very good, and neither were the other appetizers that we picked. Democracy, as history will no doubt prove, does not always yield the optimum result.

I was convinced I had found my gastronomical soul-mate when Ty beat me to suggesting that we should also get paella for the table, and squid ink paella at that. Now there are very few things I love more than seafood, and being a nice Chinese boy I am partial to rice. A rice dish made with assorted seafood, to me, is heaven on a plate. I also like squid ink very, very much. The dish that arrived was lovingly spooned onto our plates by the waiter, with the final drizzle of a squid ink sauce the coup de grace. It was beautiful presentation, and I am glad to report that the paella lived up to the hype. The squid ink and fresh seafood added a mariner’s tang to the gummy, starchy goodness of the rice, and I tasted the sweet accents of saffron and paprika, judiciously used. I did not have to pepper the dish, and in my world that is very high praise indeed.

I had the pork loin for an entrée, and it was good without being spectacular. It clearly bore the hand of a skilled cook, for it showcased the big, bold flavours and spices of Spanish cuisine, sauced classically – which is to say heavily – but not once was it overbearing, and the flavours melded together as if by some strange force.

What did stand out was the wine that the sommelier picked for us – a 2002 JC Conde “Neo”, Ribera del Duero. This was a Spanish wine to end all Spanish wines and for me typified what Spanish wine was. It was bright and full-bodied, very fruity and sensual, with rich, opulent aromas of espresso, crème de cassis and white chocolate. If ever there was a wine that made you feel like dancing, this was it.

The Taberna was a good experience, but when the bill finally came I had a little sticker shock. It is funny how much the price of an item casts a relative judgment on its quality. I found myself thinking, “Well my pork loin was good, but was it thirty-six-dollar-good?” One of the main reasons why the Taberna is so expensive (and probably also the main reason it is so authentic) is that it sources many of its ingredients directly from Spain. I signed the check and sighed inwardly, and as I did so I started thinking of the explaining I would have to do.