Through bites and sips, Granada shows off the glories of fusion

If my burning need to get inside the Nasrid Palace was my first reason for promoting Granada for the 2019 girls’ trip, Marta Sanchez was my second.

The tour my husband and I took with her last year (described here) opened our eyes to the charisma of a city we hadn't yet warmed to. Having spent an evening following Marta around town, I was certain she had the depth of knowledge, sense of fun and appreciation of the good things in life to match our girls' trip style. One of the cornerstones of our trips has become investing in private guides; split between the four of us they turn an invaluable investment into memorable experiences. 

Though she's a guide to all aspects of life in and history of Granada, Marta's specialist subject is food and drink. Her tours include consuming a variety along the way, covered in their price. The idea: understanding what people put on their table helps you truly understand a culture. It's certainly true of Granada's mash-up of cultures, wrapped up in pork-eating protestations of Catholic faith. (Neither Jews nor Muslims eat pork thus, Lord Inquisitor, if I'm eating it daily I must be on the right side of God. So please don't arrest me.)

We arranged two half-day tours with Marta. The first wound us through the Albaicin to cover the town's ancient and medieval history; seven centuries of Romans and another seven of Moors before Ferdinand and Isabella incorporated the region into a united, Catholic Spain by conquest. The second was a morning in the lower town exploring history since that Reconquista and accumulating enough snacks to banish any need for lunch. Together, they covered most of the history and cultural highlights I wrote about last year; I'll let you read the basics here rather than covering them again.

Having a local guide in the Albaicin meant cutting up the hill through quiet, narrow lanes rather than jammed tourist tracks. We appreciated dozy courtyards, historic facades and almost-empty plazas from which to snap photos of the Alhambra on its hill across the Darro river valley below. Marta brought us up to the Plaza Aliatar, the Plaza Larga and a network of bustling lanes between filled with intriguing shops and restaurants. I thought I'd explored the Albaicin thoroughly last year, but this section ... though only a stone's throw from the blockbuster site of the Palacio Dar al-Horra, had completely evaded my discovery. Not returning here for a leisurely wander was probably the greatest regret of our trip, but we simply ran out of time.

Winding through the Albaicin in this way means you come out onto the scenic overlook of the Placeta Cristo de las Azuzenas and the Mirador de Santa Isabel la Real (essentially giant stair-steps of public plazas coming down the crest of the hill) from the back, through narrow lanes with short perspectives, and are completely surprised by the magnificent vista suddenly spread before you. The Alhambra in all its glory, the snow-capped mountains behind it, the city sloping down to miles of fertile valley before more mountains contain the scene. As urban vistas go, there are few better.

This area is full of bars and restaurants obviously convenient for tourists. But the reason you book Marta is to find something more local. Winding down a few lanes brought us to the Balcón de San Nicolás. Just four metres above us, scores of tourists crowded against the top of a wall to watch sunset over the Alhambra from the famous viewpoint of the Mirador de San Nicolás. We had the exact same view, but from a quiet, covered patio shared with gently-murmuring people "in the know" and looked after by an attentive staff.

Whether the bartenders always pour such strong gin and tonics or if you have to be a friend of Marta's I can't tell you, but I will say we could have happily sat here all night and had some regrets that we'd booked pre-booked dinner elsewhere. But we needed to keep moving and let Marta go home, since another big day of sightseeing, food and drink followed.

The next day, at a hangover-friendly 10:30 (another benefit of private guides being the ability to set your own schedule) we started chatting about the Reconquista, Columbus' discovery of the new world and the fabulous fusion of styles and flavours those things brought together under the statue of the explorer and Queen Isabella. Then it was off to Pasteleria Lopez-Mezquita for second breakfast.

It was a delight to learn that Tolkein's hobbits aren't the only characters in love with this extra morning meal. Likely to have started their day with just a quick coffee and small bite, the people of Granada traditionally take a break at mid-morning to enjoy a more leisurely café con leche with a pastry and some civilised conversation. We can vouch for the veracity of this tale, since we returned to Lopez-Mezquita every morning for the rest of our trip. From its wooden panelling, marble and brass to its grand dames and waiters who look (and perform) like they've been behind the counter since Franco was in charge, this place screams venerable institution. Despite the fact that it's on the main tourist flight path, you'll hear few foreign accents. It can be a bit intimidating without local knowledge and the ability to speak Spanish, but dive in, point at what you want and enjoy. You won't regret it.

Marta introduced us to two local specialities here. Piononos are little rolls of sponge cake, soaked in a faintly alcoholic syrup, topped with a cap of flame-toasted custard (above left). They're supposed to evoke papal costume, and were originally made to commemorate a visit of Pius IX to Granada. I found the pastela moruna more intriguing. Light, sweet pastry filled with stewed chicken and dusted with confectioner's sugar, these have the classic sweet/savoury combo so typical of Arab cooking and are a lighter, sweeter version of Moroccan pastilla (above right). The Arab/European cross-over in Granada frequently reminds me of Sicily. Another delicacy Marta introduced us to the day before, pestiños, are like thick, unfilled cannoli shells.

After a bit of strolling around the Plaza de Bib Rambla (where Inquisitors were once happy to incinerate Moorish descendants suspected of religious backsliding, even while stealing their pastry recipes) we transitioned solidly from sweet to savoury at a tiny grocer specialising in jamon. There we learned, and tasted, the difference between the standard and the more prized Iberico (also called pata negra or black leg; they're all the same) before meandering on to the Mercado San Agustin. While not as comprehensive or as gourmet as Barcelona's famous Boqueria, this has the same delightful mix of proper local market and buzzing spot for casual dining.

Having circled the cathedral and heard stories of the Catholic monarchs and its dramatic construction,  and popped briefly into the cultural centre where we checked out some dramatic Moorish interiors, then stopped for a drink in a classic, bustling bar near Plaza Nueva. Bodegas Casteneda is well known for its home-made vermu. This is not the vermouth you put into martinis but a sweet, herbal mixture that's a bit like a highly-alcoholic, but not-as-sugary-as cola.

It's worth noting that, once you dip into the alcoholic drinks, Granada is one of the few cities in Spain that still follows the original tradition of a free tapa with each round. Here it was a plate of paella. Bonuses at other places included a mound of fried potatoes with slices of roast pork, croquettes and a pile of fried squid. These are usually generously-proportioned snacks that stretch the budget and can stand in for dinner if you bar hop across an evening. (Perhaps one of the reasons we saw no public drunkenness despite throngs of young Spaniards across the weekend. I can't imagine the same when combining Brits and cheap beer.)

Then it was time to head for a different neighbourhood. One that would become our regular evening haunt for the rest of the trip. The Calle Virgen del Rosario is a three-block lane packed with trendy bars and restaurants. On a Saturday afternoon it was heaving with locals of all ages, and liberally laced with Spanish hen dos. These are not the brazen, intoxicated raves of the British version, but almost charmingly innocent packs of girls in matching costume ... Minnie Mouse is popular ... who break into the occasional group dance routine.

Our objective was Taberna La Tana, a small but perfectly-formed wine bar once lauded by
American celebrity chef and food pundit Anthony Bourdain. This place is a gem. Towering shelves packed with beguiling varieties of Spanish wines, a dark and mellow interior and a landlady who looks like she's just stepped out of a Caravaggio painting. Though you'll hear foreign voices it's mostly Spanish-speakers here, catered for by substantial regional tapas that are not for the faint hearted: scoops of home-made black pudding, lightly-grilled fresh sardines on thick slabs of bread and the simply glory of locally grown tomatoes bursting with acidic punch. We would have come back every night left to us, but they close on Sundays. I wouldn't visit Granada without a return here. I might even book my holiday accommodation to be near it.

La Tana is the kind of place I'd be unlikely to find without a local guide. And we would have been unlikely to develop the confidence to plunge into similar places without Marta's coaching on the local form. After she left us, we honed our skills around town for the rest of the trip. Check out my next entry for the best dining and drinking spots we went to without our trusty escort.

Marta's company is called Bite Granada. Follow or contact them via Facebook and Instagram.

From Moorish mystery to Catholic bombast, Granada has an exotic charm worth an extended stay

There's much more to Granada than the Alhambra.

It's not something I was convinced of when I discovered we couldn't get tickets to the main attraction. I'd booked us for three nights. Would there be enough to keep us busy without the hilltop palaces? Had I made a mistake? No. It's a city of various pleasures that deserves time to explore.

First, appreciate the magic of the physical setting. You're 738 metres above sea level ... almost 300 metres higher than Annecy, France, the mountain town I know best ... with the old city tucked into the sides of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Snow-covered peaks tower overhead, often still white even when it's high summer in the valley below. While the sprawling, post-Napoleonic new town is mostly flat, older bits are a warren of steep lanes, most-often cobbled with fist-sized river-polished stones in fanciful black and white designs. Come with good walking shoes and be ready to climb.

There's enough architectural variety and quaint scenes to keep a lover of the picturesque wandering happily for days. The medieval splendour of the Alhambra dominates many views; the hill facing it is dotted with small parks that seem contrived just to give you a chance to sit and glory in the architectural wonder across the way. That hill is the Albaicin, the old Arab neighbourhood that formed the town beyond the Alhambra in its glory days. It still retains a whitewashed ancient feel; more Sidi Bou Said than other Spanish towns I've visited. And yet, descend to the bit where the Albaicin meets the Darro River and you'll find a cluster of Renaissance palaces that would make you swear you're in Florence. Main boulevards in the newer town are closer to Madrid or Barcelona, while the cathedral is an architectural mishmash unlike anything I've ever seen.

The cathedral's stop-start construction over multiple centuries created an awkward hotch-potch that doesn't gel and is completely at odds with the buildings around it, but it's a cheerful mess. Down on the valley floor you'll find the 21st century in gleaming glass and stone, surrounded by sprawling car parks, in what they claim is Europe's biggest shopping mall. A university district sprawls to the north, while marvellously grand houses climb the Alhambra's southern flanks. Monasteries, nunneries and churches dot the place with a profusion that rivals Rome. One wonders if, once they kicked the Moors out, they were all protesting a bit too much...

The Moors are back in a big way, of course, now that the legacy of their glory days here has become the focal point of the city's tourism. Start by exploring the Albaicin to drink in that heritage. Some of it isn't particularly authentic: a fairly-new Moroccan community is supplying restaurants, hookah bars and shops that have little to do with the Nasrid's Granada. But they do give the whole place a charming, souk-like atmosphere, there's some fun shopping on offer and landlords deserve credit for kitting out their modern buildings in Mudejar style.

I started early one morning and avoided the winding commercial streets for a direct, steep route up Palacio Dar-al-Horra. Follow the little alley that leads off the Placeta to find it, rather than the tourist maps that imply it's in the convent next door. This is the pocket-sized palace of the mother of the last Nasrid king of Granada; from the tower room at its top she could look across the Albaicin to see her son's spread on the next hill. The architectural decoration is similar to the Nasrid palaces, but it's little known and if you wait for the occasional bus tour to clear out you can have it almost to yourself. The empty rooms host rotating exhibitions; at the moment they're full of tools and instruments exploring the scientific talents of the Moors. This was one of my favourite places in Granada.
the Albaicin's hill via lots of stairs. I ended up in a residential section with hardly a car or person in view, just lots of cascading bougainvillea and remarkable vistas below. On a return visit I'd consider looking for a hotel in the charming district around the Placeta de San Miguel Bajo. (We stayed in a practical but unremarkable Ibis on the outskirts.) I got there hunting for the woefully signposted

A bargain-priced entry ticket (less than €6) gets you into several other Moorish monuments across the Albaicin, most notably the Banuelo. You'll probably have to wait a bit to get into this one, as it's in the more touristy part of the Albaicin along the river Darro. But it's worth the wait, and the staff limits entry numbers so that once you're inside it's not too crowded. This is the best-preserved of what were once 21 different neighbourhood bathing complexes with hot, tepid and cold rooms, plus ante-rooms for relaxation and business. The layout is preserved today because it had been turned into a house. Now the modern layers are stripped away so you can see the elegant procession of rooms through Arabic arches. Brick vaults are pierced with hexagons and stars, allowing sunlight to dapple the space below. Even without its water and glazed tiles, it's a magnificent space.

At this point you're close to the Plaza Nueva, sightseeing Ground Zero as it sits between the Albaicin, the Alhambra and the Cathedral district. Time to consider some shopping: something I didn't do enough of in this city. Tourist shops are jammed with Arab-inspired slippers, mouse pads, fridge magnets, pashminas, etc. ... probably mostly made in China but even in the tacky shops there's some pretty stuff. Happily, there's plenty of real craftsmanship along with the mass-produced stuff and for every five tourist shops you'll find something that has a more artisan feel to it. Leather goods, jewellery and ceramics are all worth checking out. The main streets of the Albaicin, the road that runs along the valley of the Darro and the 19th century imagining of a medieval Arab souk near the cathedral are all good for browsing. Granada is particularly known for a distinctive style of inlaid-wooden box. You'll see them everywhere, but the best and most authentic range we saw was in a dedicated shop directly across the street from the Casa del Arte Flamenco on the Cuesta de Gomerez.

Speaking of flamenco, Granada is mad for it. Legend says the art form arose in the 16th century when jews and Moorish "conversos", not yet kicked out of the country but relegated to second-class citizenship, worked out their frustrations with heart-rending music and angry dancing. (Explaining why flamenco tunes often echo the pathos of Eastern-European jewish music, or the wails of Arab women at funerals.) The traditional district for Granada's flamenco is Sacromonte, once an under-class ghetto outside the city walls. It now hosts an array of flamenco venues, many in caves, where tourist buses disgorge large groups for the nightly show and dinner. Local aficionados are dismissive of most of them as being neither serious about dancing or food. Instead, they directed us to the Casa del Arte Flamenco. This small (only about 50 seats) venue stages a concentrated, one-hour experience with a rotating line-up of performers who are all well-known on the flamenco scene. Our show included a guitarist, singer, male and female dancers, each given the solo spotlight in addition to performing as a group.

This was unlike any flamenco I'd seen, either live or on television. The passion was raw and visceral. The intimacy of the venue meant we could see every drop of sweat and feel the shudder of the floor under the dancers' pounding heels. The speed and power of movement was jaw-dropping (and that included the flying fingers of the guitarist). An hour was perfect; any more would have been emotionally draining. And the beauty of this venue is that you spill out into a district full of restaurants in time for dinner.

The last must-see on even a short trip to Granada is the burial chapel of the Catholic Monarchs. Had the entire cathedral been constructed in this lace-like, triumphant gothic, it would have been a masterpiece. Instead, it's as if all the beauty has been concentrated in this small appendage. The focal point is the tombs themselves: full-size marble effigies of Ferdinand and Isabella, their daughter Juana and her husband Philip, lying on marble biers encrusted with carved figures, foliage and architectural elements. In a poignant contrast, you can descend and peer into the crypt where they actually lie in stark,  unembellished lead coffins. The main altarpiece which their effigies face is
considered one of the biggest and most lavish in Spain, a towering concoction of carved saints and angels who are painted and gilded to a life-like sheen as they go through their stories as if acting in a three-dimensional cartoon strip.

Several side chapels have altars and other works of art almost as intriguing. The most significant masterpieces, however, are probably in the arched room beyond the tombs, now used as a museum. Queen Isabella had a penchant for Flemish Renaissance art, and her collection on display here is better than most of the world's great museums: Roger Van Der Weyden, the Master of the Legend of St. Catherine, Dieric Bouts, Hans Memling. Seeing these paintings alone would be worth the admission price.

I worried that three nights in Granada would be too much. I thought I would like Cordoba better. I was wrong on both counts. We easily could have used another day. My only complaint? It's a city so swamped with tourists it can be hard to find a local experience. We beat that challenge by investing in a top-quality food and history tour led by a local. For that story, see my next entry.