Elena Girlich
Google
Espresso, Citrus, and the Art of Artichoke: A Morning at Central Bar
By midmorning, the Central Market in Valencia begins to hum with a kind of secular liturgy: clattering knives, aromatic mists of paprika and saffron, and the slow choreography of locals navigating between jamón counters and pyramids of oranges. Tucked unassumingly among the stalls is Central Bar by Richard Camarena—a gastronomic pit stop that feels, in both concept and execution, like an ode to the everyday elevated.
The coffee arrives first: rich, with a whisper of sweetness that is more flirtation than indulgence, the kind of roast that makes you wonder how often bitterness is a failure of imagination. It’s not flashy. It doesn’t need to be. This is a coffee that seems to understand the intimate relationship between simplicity and satisfaction.
A glass of orange juice follows, and it is a revelation. Valencia is, of course, a city built on citrus—both literal and metaphorical—and here the juice tastes like a memory of sunlight, sharp and alive, with none of the over-processed dullness one has come to expect elsewhere. There’s a humility in its freshness, a purity of purpose that speaks to Camarena’s broader ethos.
Then, the artichokes: tender, bright, tinged with olive oil and the kind of salt that isn’t just seasoning but punctuation. They arrive unpretentious and full of character, a small dish that manages to be both rural and refined. One could wax on about texture, acidity, balance—but better to say that they’re simply right.
Central Bar is not a place for long, languorous meals. It is a place for moments—for a short, perfect pause in the middle of a chaotic day. And in those moments, if you're lucky enough to have a coffee, a juice, and a plate of artichokes, you might briefly forget the world beyond the market's wrought iron walls. Or at least, you might not care.