When I think about some of the best Spanish food I’ve had, I keep fixating not on the food but on a drink — and a drink I never actually tasted, as it happens.
The beverage in question, a seasonal gin and tonic, was presented in a round glass pitcher with flat sides and a small spout. Inside was the drink mixture, in which a careful selection of fruits, vegetables, herbs, and flowers steeped. Cucumber slices were arrayed in the shape of two hearts. A curled Valencia orange peel wrapped a long branch of rosemary along the bottom rim.
The effect was that of a transparent banjo head full of beautifully arranged produce.
When the bartender presented the vessel, heads turned to look, as if Audrey Hepburn had somehow walked into the restaurant. The woman sitting next to me at the bar, who had ordered the drink, looked almost embarrassed by the attention as the bartender poured it into a voluminous iced globe with a flourish.
Gin and tonic is indeed a form of art in Spain, no less a source of national pride than flamenco. The more modest version that I’d ordered, featuring imported artisanal versions of its gin and its tonic, sat in a broad, long-stemmed glass loaded with ice. A long, wide strip of cucumber was tucked around the inner perimeter. A small purple flower punctuated the top. It was fragrant and invigorating, if not quite the virtuoso performance sitting right next to me.
Del Mar: Spanish food from an Italian kitchen
All of this took place at a restaurant called Del Mar, a playful, showy, two-story dining room located along the waterfront in Washington, D.C. Improbably, this temple to elevated modernist Spanish cooking comes from one of the area’s most awarded Italian chefs, Fabio Trabocchi. (His Fiola, located downtown, has held a Michelin star since 2017; its sibling Fiola Mare won it in 2023.)
Why Spanish seafood? Well…Spain is also Mediterranean, so there’s that. And his Fiola Mare in Georgetown features the seafood of Italy, which is pulled from the same body of water. And, well…but why bother to ask?
Trust me: At Del Mar, Trabocchi has nailed updated Spanish cuisine too.
Garlic, por favor
Take one of the unassuming (but essential) dishes on the Del Mar tapas menu: Andalusian Garlic Shrimp. It arrived in a low ceramic bowl, its lid removed with a gentle wave to reveal a bubbling broth and aromatic steam. You immediately know a serious amount of garlic is involved.
The shrimp are tender, the broth luscious, the dozens of slivers of garlic, so thin they’re nearly transparent, tender and sweet. After dispatching the shrimp, I ate every shaving of garlic.
The pan de tomate, a tapas staple, is a halved loaf of crunchy rustic bread paved with a glittering spread of sweet grated tomato.
Back to the bar
Another drink, senor? Si, como no!
I have dispatched many smoked Old Fashioneds over the years. I have had more than a few that use fat-washed whiskey. But I have never had one like Del Mar’s Sabor Iberico.
The bourbon is washed with jamon iberico, and poured from a clear glass pig full of smoke. It was a hilarious show. It was soft and rich and beautiful to drink.
Speaking of pig, I next ordered the Jamon Croquetas, three crisped orbs of cream tinged with truffle, each capped by a jaunty wafer of jamon iberico.
This Spanish ham, trimmed from the cured hog’s leg anchored not far from the front door, is a bite of salty, concentrated meatiness.
Eating high on the jamon
I ordered only tapas on my visit, but you can spend, and eat, much more at this temple of modernist Spanish food.
The menu includes two sizes of paella. Prices range from $65 for the vegetable version for two to $245 for the seafood version that serves four.
A four-pound whole Branzino, which can presumably feed a whole table, hits about $200. Most other entrees range from the mid-$20s to $80s.
But you can do very well at Del Mar just sampling the small plates at the bar.
For my last act at Del Mar I got another savory rather than a sweet. The Spanish Tortilla is a downy wedge of potato-and-egg omelet touched (again!) with truffle. It was topped with an overpour of creamy, intense Belper Knoll cheese. Slivers of garlic were again scattered on the plate.
In this case, the garlic had somehow taken on the texture of a moth’s wings. When I touched them, they magically disappeared on my fingertips.
Craig Stoltz blogs at eatdrinkgosmart.com.
You may also like:
- Gordon Ramsay’s Hell’s Kitchen in D.C.: Gustatory Purgatory
- Fattoria e Mare in California’s Half Moon Bay: Labor of Love
