Etxanobe, Bilbao

I am not prepared for this. You are not prepared for this. Perhaps I should publish this story as a trilogy; add a few cliff-hangers and character back-stories to break up what, out of necessity, will be a monster narrative.

In a city hallmarked by its nearly endless choice of grabbable, chompable, moment-on-the-lips pintxos, I’ve come to Etxanobe. Unusually, for lunch rather than dinner (as the place is fully booked for dinner for the foreseeable). There’s only one choice to be made, either a twelve-course or a fourteen-course menu. For a solo lunch, either seems excessive. A wicked indulgence, plain and simple. But as I sit wrestling with my conscience, it dawns on me that it was almost a year ago, whilst attending a conference in Nice, that I wrote my first Tischdecken review. Here I am in Bilbao, again for a conference….and this….is essentially a birthday celebration. This is all the justification I need. No tedious asceticism here. Many happy returns! And thanks for sticking with me, dear reader.  

A glass of cava (Recaredo, Barcelona) seems the appropriate way to get the party started and indeed moves me to a greatly preferred headspace. I won’t risk straining our bond by dragging you through descriptions of two appetizers, four starters, three main courses and three desserts. Instead, I’ll focus on the highlights according to me. Glancing at the menu, I see there are six seafood-based courses ahead. As a lover of all things crustacean / piscine, this is a treat. Others may feel differently, and there doesn’t seem to be any off-ramps here. Fishphobes, consider yourselves forewarned.

Scampi carpaccio with smoked bacon vinaigrette is the first wow of the day. White prawn meat is tenderised into a two-hundred-micron thick sliver that feels like it should be eaten with a scalpel or razor blade, so delicate is this morsel. It’s silky and luscious, heavenly when eaten with the few spots of foam that land a punch of intense bacony-ness. It’s served on a white, lustrous ceramic form reminiscent of the inside of an oyster. This is elegant and exciting food, and I’m chomping at the bit for more.

Next up, the Etxanobe signature dish, anchovy lasagne. This looks spectacular. As a chemist, I appreciate symmetry, but this is not the only chord this skilfully constructed and decorated bowl of pasta and anchovy strikes in me. The square of lasagna is sitting in a thick, impossibly smooth tomato and red pepper soup that looks exactly like Dulux “Bongo Jazz” emulsion paint. I know this because I once decorated a bedroom in Edinburgh with this creamy orangey / pink colour. Unlike paint, this soup is delectable. Served just below room temperature, it’s enlivening like a gazpacho but much more comforting. The anchovies are lightly pickled, but without excess acidity and give a pleasing meatiness to the filled pasta. This dish is just so unusual, I really don’t want it to end.

Looking around me, I’d say the theme here is industrial chic, with plenty of off-greys and beiges. There’s a pastel stained-glass window that might add a little colour if the light were to strike it right. I have the odd feeling of being studied, as though my reactions are being observed by unseen eyes. Not in a sinister way; more like I’m in a Jeremy Beadle televised prank. I focus my attention on the upbeat power-ballads that are coming from somewhere above me. So far, I’ve heard some Abba, Randy Crawford and now an abominable track called “Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad”, which my phone tells me is by Meatloaf. Shudder.

At this point (course 5 of 12), I’m ready for something warm. My cava is long gone, so I take the opportunity to pump my waiter for advice on wine. He points me towards a local white called Txakoli Lainoa. I can’t say I know what I’m drinking, but it has a splendid Spring-like vitality and a vaguely sweet bouquet. I make no more notes, so enthralled am I at the sight of the next course. A whole grilled squid, precision sliced into 3mm wide rings. It’s served with two swathes of sauce, the first a blacker than black concentration of squid ink, the second a sweet, golden caramelized onion. I’m given an actual pair of forceps to eat it with. It’s hot, but still only barely grilled, soft and melting and with a little crunch of sea salt. I’m having a rare old time munching down this squid section by section and alternating between the two sauces. This is pure fun.

Of all the fish-courses, this next one is the winner. I haven’t yet mentioned my waiter, a smartly dressed, handsome fella in his early thirties. The burden of struggling to converse with him in Spanish was quickly relieved, and we’re getting along great in English. He definitely knows what he’s doing, and I feel I’m in completely safe hands deferring my wine choices to him. Now he’s heading in my direction wheeling a linen covered trolley. For this next course (7 of 12) it seems he is also the chef. He lays garnet slices of tuna out on a plate and with no shortage of theatre, ignites his blowtorch. He methodically scorches the tuna for no more than a minute, sprinkles it with sumac, then drizzles with a vivid green sauce comprising spinach and galangal. He hands me the finished plate and grins knowingly. The tuna tastes so fresh and clean, like it died five minutes ago. The sumac and sharp sauce feel lively and jazzy on my tongue. I don’t think this can be exceeded. I’ve been waiting all year to use the word “horripilate” in a review. And this, right here, is the moment. This year, my award for food-induced horripilation goes to the waiter at Etxanobe.

There are a couple of surprises in store for patrons of Etxanobe; and under no circumstances will I spoil them. That said….UKAN! I didn’t order this wine, as it isn’t sold by the glass. But after consulting again on a suitable red to accompany the coming meat courses, my waiter brings this hefty, aged Rioja into my universe. It is sublime, berry heavy with a faint trace of oak, like a surprise party in a glass. This will be my Winter wine for 2024. I cannot recommend it enough.

I’ll mention one last savoury course. If the previous dish excelled in its simplicity and nutritional purity, the next course, bluntly titled “Pork Feet” is all about gratification. A strip of caramelised grilled pork, presumably from a trotter, is topped with coriander and finely chopped apple that certainly chops right through the sweet, fatty richness. Slick and delicious. At this point, my tongue is in a state of hyper-stimulation. I can no longer rely on this sense to describe what is happening.  

Luckily, the first of three desserts provides a welcome palate-cleansing opportunity. I’m served a pale green, whipped mousse with the inimitable flavour of eucalyptus, atop a disc of toasted coconut gel and raspberry meringue. Individually, these are lovely flavours and textures. Eaten all together, they hit another level of cool. The next two dessert courses are so clever and unusual that I really don’t think I should describe them. Suffice it to say, they are extraordinary, experiential and not to be missed.

It’s taken me a couple of hours to chomp and schluck through twelve courses and three glasses of wine. With stomach-space now at a premium, I end this experience with a toast to the good health of a certain Mr. Matousek, whose fearlessness and enthusiasm for life encouraged me to make Project Tischdecken a reality, almost a year ago. After a hit of good coffee, I feel ready to depart. Luckily the conference ended this morning. Learning is the very last thing on my mind.

My final tally.

Atmosphere 8/10

Food & Drink quality 10/10

Service 10/10 

Value for money 10/10

9.5 / 10

“Lunch like a prince; order the Ukan; expect the unexpected”