Jan Enestrom
Google
I entered hungry and dangerously underwined.
What followed was less of a meal and more of a beautifully choreographed ambush.
I left reborn, overwhelmed, and a couple of hundred euros poorer — but spiritually wealthier and undeniably more pleased with life.
The meal began with a three piece snack, and I blacked out briefly from joy. I don’t recall what it was, nor do I particularly care, but I know that that fermented miso and soy butter that went with the bread is worth killing for.
The first course was oyster, kumquat, and a hint of fennel. A daring ménage à trois between ocean, citrus, and a vegetable that usually just sits quietly in the corner. Not today. The twist? A foamed sauce hollandaise that made the trip to San Sebastián all worth it.
Then came a silky, flirtatious bite of hamachi, with some sesame and avocado. Imagine sashimi that got a PhD in aromatics and now travels first class. The second - or was it the third glass of wine??? - was starting to make the wife happy. I can recognize that glint in her eyes from a mile away.
At this point, the bonito showed up. Like a señorita relaxing on a bed of tomatillo, paired with yet another excellent white wine, I started to make promises I knew I couldn’t keep. That tuna brought back my appreciation for the ingenuity of humanity. A true feast for both the eyes and the pallet.
Then - the lobster and caviar
This wasn’t a dish. This was aristocracy on a plate. A delicate turf war between decadence and restraint — with no clear winner. I think I licked the bowl.
By now, the wife is getting a little cross eyed. This was more wine during the last hour or so, than she’s had all vacation. Now she’s glowing. You know what they say: “happy wife, happy life”. I wasn’t complaining.
La pièce de resistance - Kokotxas - the gelatinous throat kiss of the sea. So soft it made me question my relationship with solid food. And, as unpredictable as the weather in this green and lush country, it came with a glass of sake. I remember taking a look at the missus and thinking “this Viking goddess is about to come to life. I am not sure San Sebastián is ready for this.“
Then, an architectural marvel — scallop as foundation, asparagus beams, and a crunchy lace hat so delicate I briefly feared breathing near it. Names like Gaudi, Calatrava, Hadid, Foster, Gehry and Nouvel flashed through my mind - the great visionaries of modern architecture. This was my absolute favorite, and at this point I felt that life doesn’t get any better than this, and if I die tonight, I die as a happy man.
Then came the catch of the day - was it Hake? At this stage of the evening my memory was getting a little bit hazy, I will admit.
Somewhere under a layer of foam was a fish that once had dreams — and now fulfilled mine. My dear wife had now left all thoughts of sobriety behind her, and more worryingly, getting full. Which in practical terms meant that the pigeon from Bresse now became two pigeons from Bresse on my plate. Plus the accompanying wine. At this stage I’m thinking I can’t do four more courses, and safely get back to the hotel.
But fear not, my beautiful lady found her composure again and the three desserts passed in a blur. Tart, sweet, earthy — a tribute to everything that grows, ferments, and seduces.
When it was time for the petits fours, they arrived like the last note of a symphony you didn’t want to end. If I am honest, I don’t remember these. I may have cried a little.
Final Verdict
If you’re looking for a meal, go somewhere else. If you’re looking to be seduced, challenged, coddled, intoxicated, and artistically bewildered — book a table.
This was more than dinner. It was theatre. A waltz. A slow, decadent descent into deliciousness — where time stood still and wine flowed freely.
Highly recommended.
Bring an appetite. Bring someone you love.
And thank you for a wonderful evening and experience.