Taberna Almendro 13
Taberna Almendro 13, Madrid, Spain, September 20, 2007. Photo: Adrian Murcia
One of my favorite spots anywhere in Spain is Taberna Almendro 13, not far from El Mercado de la Cebada in the neighborhood of La Latina in Old Madrid. My first visit was in 1993, when I was studying Spanish at the Unversidad Complutense de Madrid. It was a carefree time for me: the dollar strong, my obligations few, my bank account fat from years working at Washington, D.C.’s Restaurant Nora during college, living rent free with my parents, God bless ‘em.
Almendro 13 is where I developed a taste for both Manzanilla and Queso de la Serena, two products I would later explore at their respective source: Sanlúcar de Barrameda, near Cádiz, during a sommelier trip to Sherry country in 2005; and Castuera, a town nestled in the rolling hills of La Serena in eastern Extremadura, during a whirlwind study of Jamón Ibérico de Bellota in 2001 funded by a travel grant from the Geoffrey Roberts Trust.
But back in 1993, these two historic Spanish gastronomic wonders, and so many more, were mysteries unveiled daily, forming a constant parade of little gifts in unconventional packaging. Spain’s capital city, bathed in that special pink and blue twilight captured in the photograph above, presided over and abetted my personal transformation, as I settled into the novel sensation of being entirely at home in my own skin, perhaps because this was the first time in my life I felt like there was no other place in the world I would rather be.
Alemendro 13 has in many ways become the symbol of that transformation for me, a place that I never fail to visit every time I’m in Madrid, no matter how brief my stay or busy my agenda, a subconscious but effectively mandatory pilgrimage that’s both a private tribute to bygone innocence and a grateful acknowledgment of its having first lit the path I continue to walk to this day.