Sunday, 5 June
The bus ride from Oviedo to León through the Picos was wilder than we would ever have expected. The mountain highways ran past grey dolomite-esque crags, we wound through mountains cloaked in a carpet of dark trees and shrouded in mist, several endless-seeming tunnels had to be traversed, and fantasy novel-like vistas suddenly opened out across turquoise lakes. All thoughts of reading our books or listening to something were forgotten – we simply gasped and gasped.
Finally, the landscape grew hilly rather than mountainous, and then quite suddenly flattened out into shrub-covered, brownish rolling plains. León was visible ahead, a squat agglomeration of reddish houses in its landscape bowl, with its cathedral just poking out. As we got off the bus, it was immediately clear we’d gone south. The bright sun was beaming down, and it was way, way too hot for a sweater.
León definitely has a different feel from Oviedo – the same mid-rise apartment blocks with 7-ish stories built in the 20th century dominate, each with a shop or bar on the ground floor, but the colour palette (like the weather) is warmer, and there is a more crumbling aspect, both in charming and run-down ways, to some of the buildings. León is clearly bigger, too, and its old town extends far beyond the few squares of Oviedo’s.
That old town is where we headed right after dropping our things at our Airbnb (just a room in an apartment this time, but well-located and with the crucial elevator). We found ourselves quickly in the Barrio Húmedo – so called because it’s home to so many bars. There were also several impressive medieval churches, bits of medieval wall, and a Franciscan convent which sells pastries (surprise!) – sadly closed for lunchtime. The streets, narrow and twisting between orange and yellow buildings, had a slight feel of Venice about them. We were hungry, and we were on the right track.
Local León specialties include cecina, a dried smoked beef ham, and morcilla (blood sausage), which is served loose and smear-able here, like a haggis-y pâté. There are also several local pastries, which honestly didn’t sound as amazing after the anis-y delights of Oviedo. Most excitingly, it’s traditional in León to spend afternoons or evenings wandering from bar to bar, being given a free tapa with each drink ordered. This was a tradition we were keen to try out.
We began in the Plaza de San Martin, the slightly touristy hub of the Barrio Húmedo scene. The atmosphere on this dazzlingly sunny afternoon was busy but pleasant, as locals and pilgrims alike sheltered under big umbrellas and crowded around their tables to sip sangrias and cervezas and nibble tortillas and croquetas. We soon pulled up one of the few remaining outside chairs at a nondescript-looking bar (it seems the nondescript ones are often the best) and ordered.
In the interest of efficiency, I shall simply list the bars/restaurants we sampled (both before and after our siesta, which accidentally ran to four hours!) and provide notes on each. Who knows, maybe this León tapas guide will be helpful to others someday!
1.Bar El Botijo (‘The Jug’)
This was the nondescript bar in the Plaza de San Martin. To drink, I had a pleasantly malty lager and Alfie had a fresh, low-tannin, medicinal vino tinto. I chose the cecina as my free tapa, which came in one thin slice on a slightly unnecessary piece of bread (but hilariously adorned by a small bit of chorizo, as if the latter were parsley). Meanwhile, Alfie went for calamari (which came with the obligatory chipped potatoes, which are like slightly thicker, freshly fried potato chips here) – both small but satisfactory. The place was unpretentious, good for watching the world go by. It was probably a hair cheaper than most things on the square, but most places here charge about the same (1.80-2.50 for most wines and beers).
2.Los Cazurros (‘The Dimwits’, ‘The Slobs’)
Right next door, this place was a tad more upmarket (and interesting), with nice modern wood cladding and wooden peasant clogs forming a sort of wallpaper along the back. We ordered their two cheapest local reds (I should note that glasses of wine are generally smallish here), two Robles (likely made from either Mercia or Picudo, local grapes of which León is very proud). One was dark and leathery, the other a bit lighter and more herbal. Neither showed any vanilla-y sign of oak influence (which is interesting, because the age label ‘Roble’ means a wine has spent up to 6 months, and more than none, aging in oak barrels). The deliciousness of our free tapas – one croqueta and a few rings of calamari – made us cave and order a ración of the former to share. They were deliciously unctuous, impossibly savourily creamy, and fried before our eyes in the teeming kitchen behind the counter at which we perched.
3.La Ribera (‘The Shore’)
If you want a real taste of local life in central León, this little bar hidden down a side street is where to get it. It was heaving when we arrived in the early evening (for Spanish standards, anyway), and everyone seemed to be picking at little red-sauced platters of offal. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts in half-remembered Spanish, I could not get the huge man behind the mirrored counter, who was serving everyone with remarkable speed, to give me anything other than patatinas and meatballs as a tapa. This was frustrating, as we (well, mainly Alfie) so wanted to try the ears, brains, kidneys and more listed on the short and sweet (or rather, short and blunt) menu! The atmosphere made up for this frustration, however, and we may well be back.
[4. Pizzeria La Competencia
This local favourite-turned-small-chain is well reviewed everywhere online, but we found the original branch practically boarded up, another closed and a third completely empty and lit with horrible hospital lighting. Not sure what happened there – we went elsewhere.]
4.La Bincha (‘The Snake’)
This little place on the Plaza de San Martin was closed when we were there earlier in the day. However, it was clear to us even then that the owner was going to be a ‘character’, given that his shopfront was covered in signs to the tune of ‘I open when I come, I close when I go, and if you get here and I’m not here, tough’ and ‘If you want wine that isn’t made in León, sangria, lemonade or water, get out.’ As soon as he opened, he began doing a roaring trade, particularly in morcilla – his big black plates of the stuff, ladled on from a griddle behind the counter, are supposed to be the best in town. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a very good experience at his bar – he seemed aggravated by my less than perfect Spanish, completely ignored my clear request for a glass of water, and wouldn’t look at us when we spoke to him. He also only gave us one small pincho, even though we were clearly two people (I have a theory that we are generally being served smaller portions than the Spanish people, especially old Spanish men, receive). In any case, the tables outside were full, and the atmosphere in the little bar was dominated by his grumpiness and therefore a bit lacking. We decided to forgo the morcilla and leave.
5.Camarote Madrid
Leaving the Barrio Húmedo in a funk, we were determined to find at least a few bites of substantial food before turning in. Passing this place in the slightly more modern Barrio Romantico (really just one street of bars, and we don’t know why it’s called that), I remembered it being mentioned in a good blog article I read about León’s food. Its more modern (though still retro) decor was a nice change: big marble counters, silver buckets piled high with wine bottles, waiters in waistcoats, shiny jamóns hanging from the ceiling like trophies… In retrospect, we should have perhaps predicted what was to come. However, the vermouth (one to share) poured from the tap and adorned with orange, olives and plentiful ice was very nice, and the tapa served with it even better – a little finger bowl of cool salmerejo (like a thick gazpacho) adorned with grated egg and bits of jamón. We’re so hungry, we thought. Their food is great, we thought. Sure, their menu doesn’t have any prices on it, but they can’t be that different from everywhere else, we thought. Suffice to say, our raciónes of cecina (paper-thin and amazingly buttery and beefy) and gambas al ajillo (insanely garlicky, spiced with chilli, served scalding hot and perhaps the best food we’ve had this trip) cost twice what we expected. The bread wasn’t even good! We left conflicted – annoyed by the money spent and yet very happy for the culinary experience. Tomorrow we’ll be eating in!
– Bea