Living to Eat

Judging a pintxo competition in Bilbao

When we say that countries like Spain have a good quality of life, we usually mean that they eat well. They take time to enjoy meals with family and friends. They care about how food is prepared and produced. They don't just grab a cheap sandwich to eat at their desk.

Two weeks ago, I visited my in-laws in Bilbao, the largest city in the Basque Country. It is a region famous as one of the world's great food cultures. The Basques take pride in using fresh ingredients¹ and simple recipes. While fast food exists, it is not typically as corporate burger joints but in the form of pintxos.

Pintxo is the Basque equivalent of tapas, the small-plate snack the Spanish use to prevent flies from getting in their drink. While many bars in Spain serve food, it took the Basques to turn this way of eating into a fine art.

This is, I suspect, due to their bar culture. In British cities, pubs are huge, anonymous places. The archetypal pub is a Wetherspoons, which accommodates hundreds of people who can even order anonymously with an app. In Basque cities, bars are small and personal. Almost everyone lives in flats, and most apartment blocks have a bar on the ground floor. Sometimes, these bars barely fit a dozen people, so locals spill onto the street to socialise before flitting to another bar.²

With so much competition, you might think innovation is inevitable, but tastes are surprisingly conservative. The standard pintxos are tortilla (Spanish omelette), jamón (ham), and the Gilda (olives, anchovy, guindilla, and oil)—all served on bread. While these are tasty and comforting, I want to try something a bit more exotic when I'm on holiday. So, I was happy to spot a poster advertising a pintxo contest in Deusto, the neighbourhood where I was staying.

A total of 17 bars were taking part. Each offered a special pintxo and a glass of wine or beer for the bargain price of €3.50.³ Once you had tried the pintxo, the bar would stamp your booklet, which you could hand in at the end to win a prize. The organisers encourage people to write down their favourite bars and pintxo.

I decided to take it seriously and imagine what it would be like to be a food critic.

Pintxo 1: Deustoarrak

Iberian ham cheek glazed with orange on a parmentier of mushrooms and foie.

When we judge food, are we judging it against an abstract standard or just amongst the entrants? How can we judge one if we haven’t tasted the others?

This pintxo was astonishing. I would have given them the prize right then if I didn't have sixteen more to sample.

The only thing I would mark down is that it is not really a pintxo, at least not according to the traditional definition. A pintxo (which literally means “little stab”, implying the use of a cocktail stick) is something that you can eat with your hands and is quick to prepare. I waited thirty minutes for this and needed a knife and fork.

Pintxo 2: Mugarri

Octopus with pepper and paprika piperade

If people ask me about my dietary requirements, I inform them I am allergic to bivalves (mussels, cockles) and cephalopods (squid, octopus.) I won't die if I eat them but I will feel queasy and probably vomit. Nonetheless, I quite like checking every decade or so to see if it is still the case. Maybe all the kimchi and kefir I consume have changed my microbiome?

Alas, after this grim pintxo, I didn't feel great. But this was more down to how greasy and full of onion it was, I think, rather than my allergy to octopus.

Pintxo 3: Lagun Artean

Endive boats stuffed with crunchy salad

This one looked disgusting: two leaves with a salad slathered in mayonnaise. However, it tasted delicious. Low visual expectations can help, it seems.

The bar is on a street corner so got foot traffic from both directions.

Dan Hancox

wrote recently about the lack of street culture in the UK, saying that it can't just be the weather which means we don't socialise outside. However, I don't see what else it could be. It was 24 degrees outside in October at 10pm. Unimaginable temperature for the UK.

Pintxo 4: Etxe Berri

Chicken salad

It occurred to me that I know at least three professional food photographers.⁴ Along with weddings, food photography is one of the main sources of commercial income for photographers. It is a specialised world, where PVA glue is used instead of milk to stop cereal from getting soggy. For restaurants, it is the best way to entice customers. Food photography is everywhere and, in a post-Instagram world, is coming to influence how meals and restaurants appear.

Banner for steak at a service station near San Sebastian

My own efforts at food photography are functional at best. A bit like this pintxo, which is a simple chicken and mayonnaise spread on bread, combined with a tomato (the symbol of Deusto) and a tortilla chip (representing the South American immigrants who made it).

Pintxo 5: Itxas Bide

Pulled pork sandwich with a touch of garlic mayonnaise and jalapeños

This is one of the only places in Deusto where you can get La Salve, the local beer, on tap. It has a slight BrewDog feel, with lots of meat and burgers. Their pulled pork sandwich was tasty but lacked much in the way of presentation.

It is worth noting that there is no translation for “pulled pork” in Spanish (or Basque). They use English, indicating a creeping Americanisation of culture.

Pintxo 6: Café de Deusto

Spring cod toast with mushroom (boletus) emulsion

Owner-operated bars are my ideal. The owners become friends and care about their clientele. But, success under capitalism inevitably leads to owners with multiple bars. Café de Deusto is owned by the same guy who owns Mugarri and Etxe Berri (see above). I worry that economies of scale might lead to corner-cutting, but this one was good. Definitely the best of the three, with seeds and flowers adding visual interest.

Pintxo 7: Madariaga 33 Etxea

Pintxo "Valle Pasiego"

This bar is located in a pedestrianised area below a big block of flats and has the best atmosphere. Patrons were spread out like on a plaza as kids played without worrying about cars.

However, I wasn’t really sure what to make of their pintxo, which was pâté on sweet toasted bread with seeds and chocolate sauce. Very weird to contrast sickly sweet with savoury meat.

Pintxo 8: Akeita Gozo

Japanese octopus dumplings with saké

Food is the great universal. Everyone in the world has to eat. What’s more, we see each culture reflected in its food, what they value and the environment they emerged from. It also provides a point of comparison.

The refinement and small size of the pintxo are comparable to Japanese sushi or gyoza, so it was nice to see Akeita Gozo experiment with a dumpling accompanied by saké. Indeed, the name of this bar Akeita Gozo looks like it could be a transliteration from Japanese, but it is Basque.

This marble-sized dish was just small enough to eat in one bite, providing a kaleidoscopic sensory experience. This was my winner.

Pintxo 9: Bordatxo Jatetxea

Crispy cheese and quince

Deusto has a main road running through the middle of it that discourages people from exploring what's on the other side. By this stage, however, we were intrepid food explorers. I’m glad we did as this was delicious: cheese wrapped in a thin layer of pastry with a dash of quince jam and a bonus slice of jamón.

Pintxo 10: Chamonix

Iberian bun with arugula, honey and mustard sauce on bao bread

In Britain, slot machine halls are seedy and desperate places. They have misted glass to hide the shame of the players. In Spain, there are basically just bars. You can get cheap drinks and watch football. I didn't see anyone gambling.

The only annoying thing is that to enter, you need to bring your passport and register for a facial recognition gate. Partly this is to ensure you're not under 18, but presumably also to prevent problem gambling.

After eventually getting in, they made me their sliced pork in a bao bun. Succulent meat, soft bun, well-seasoned, it was surprisingly delightful.

Which makes it all the more embarrassing that I think we forgot to pay. We are so used to the British way of ordering and paying at the same time, that we forgot to ask for the bill. Hopefully, the facial recognition system won't ban us from entering bars in the future.

My wife tries to access the casino bar

Pintxo 11: Bar Sport

Crispy empanada of shredded beef, accompanied by a joyful sauce

I didn’t notice any prejudice against the many South Americans who have moved to Bilbao in recent years, but there is a big class divide. One of the most common sights in Deusto is a wealthy old person accompanied by a South American helper.

The question I had is whether people would give up their favourite native foods in favour of a “superior” cuisine. Would I give up roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for pintxos? Very possibly. If I was South American, I would give up this greasy empanada in a flash.

Pintxo 12: Bar Ikatz

Piquillo pepper stuffed with squid and shrimp cream, candied mushrooms, coffee foam and fried leek

One of the early signs that the effective altruist movement might be misguided was that so many of them were fans of Huel, the meal-replacement drink that efficiently satisfies your nutritional needs so that you can get on with saving lives.

For effective altruists, the attention to detail found in Bar Ikatz’s elaborate pintxo would be a waste of time and energy. But what is the point of living if you can’t experience the delight of candied mushrooms and a dash of coffee froth?

Pintxo 13: El Rincón de Arantza

Caramelized smoked sardine toast on cream cheese

I asked my father-in-law if Basque food culture had changed in the past forty years. He said it had been totally transformed. Maybe this is due to competition between venues. Maybe it is increased leisure time. But I wonder if food is the fine art of a culture which doesn’t believe it will exist in a hundred years’ time. There is no point striving for immortality when climate change or the singularity threatens to bring civilization crashing down. We need to enjoy our pleasure now … as I did with this perfectly balanced combination of fat, sugar, and salt.

Pintxo 14: Goiri Eder

Cod with orange sauce

One of the first things I learnt about the Basques is that they managed to explore the world because their salted cod enabled them to travel great distances without picking up new supplies. Bacalao, their salted cod, is still immensely popular and often features in pintxos. This one was beautifully presented, however the taste was ultimately forgettable.

Pintxo 15: Bar Presley

Prawn Torpedo with Aioli Sauce

Obesity is not as bad in Spain as in the UK, but it’s getting there. Levels of obesity increased from 7.3% in 1987 to 15.7% in 2020. Like everywhere else, unhealthy processed food has got cheaper. Rising prices mean people are moving away from olive oil towards cheaper substitutes. I didn’t enquire about what kind of oil was used in this “torpedo” or the accompanying mayonnaise. It was too tasty, though, and I could see how people might get addicted to food.

Pintxo 16: Meson Antioqueño

Potato stuffed with beef and rice, coated with corn flour

This bar had a Colombian flag outside its door, a signal to the growing community of immigrants from South and Central America that they were welcome inside. Their deep-fried cornball was pretty gross, but I can imagine it would be a comforting reminder of home.

Pintxo 17: Jolastoki

Vegetable tower with cherry tomato

The final bar, Jolastoki, was another casino with a facial recognition system. I was let in instantly, so it does work. It was also the first time I had seen anything green on a plate: a stuffed courgette with meat, cheese, and a tomato on top. It is slightly greasy and unappealing, but I was so starved of vegetables that it went down well.

The collection of stamps that proves I visited all the places mentioned.

If you’re ever in the area, do check out my three favourites: Akeita Gozo, Deustoarrak, and Bordatxo.

1. An abundant grocers in a working-class district.

2. Bilbao has almost double the population density of Glasgow. Bilbao has 8,341 people per km² whereas Glasgow has 4,255 people per km².

3. In the Basque Country, you don't get measurements like Pint or Half-Pint. Instead, there is a Zurito (small glass), Caña (medium glass) and, rarely, a Jarra (large glass). These vary in size depending on the bar. In some, a caña is basically a pint. In others, it is a lot less. In Deustoarrak, for instance, the zurito was bigger than the caña simply because the glass didn’t have a stem.

4. Including

Xavi Buendia

on Substack. When you look at Xavi’s commercial work it is all about selling the vibe of the restaurant and the most idealised version of the food possible.