The understated Mediterranean gem embarking on a foodie revolution
The fish market in Ciutadella is a symbol of abundance, filling Pla?a de la Llibertat with an array of fruits of the sea so extensive that I am bewildered by the choice. There are crabs wandering woozily across beds of ice, lobsters twitchy of antennae, monkfish so fiendishly ugly – mouths gaping like pink drains with tiny teeth, beady eyes embedded in grey scales – that I begin to question if they are edible, or just there as a security measure.
Happily, Sílvia Anglada has a more professional approach. She wanders the building – a relic of 1895, encased in green and white tiles – with the eye of an archaeologist combing a desert dig for the bones of an ancient civilisation. When she spots what she wants, her decision is immediate – and she continues to watch at the counter of fishmongers Peixos Manu as the fillets of eight decadently red scorpionfish are readied further, their spiny fins brutally shorn with scissors, their guts extracted via three surgical surges of a knife.
Satisfied with her bounty, she indicates the way with a flick of the head no less deft. And I follow her, through the narrow streets, to Carrer Santa Clara – where Restaurante Es Tast de na Sílvia, it transpires, is a chic affair. There is white and grey linen, designed to echo the pale hue of the chairs, painted so that the grain of the wood shows through in patches. The vision extends to the menu, which declares: “We are a ‘Km 0’ restaurant. We cook in a way that gives preference to local farmers using seasonal products. We visit the market on a daily basis, creating the menu accordingly. We are bringing back slow food.”
Menorca is changing its game. As far as tourism goes, it has long been the unfashionable duckling of the Balearic Islands. It has never been able to boast the dramatic mountain heights or the busy-beach popularity of Mallorca, or the nightclub clamour and up-all-night party ambience of Ibiza – nor even the salt-flats wildness of little Formentera. Instead, the second-largest fragment of Spain’s Mediterranean archipelago has lagged behind in perception – a place of gentle breaks and calm, where tourists sun themselves without getting too excited in quaint south-coast resorts Cala en Bosc and Cala Galdana.
Sílvia clatters down a set of pans on her work top, as if reminding me that she is part of an evolution in the island’s image that is pinned to all things gastronomic. A member of Chefs(in), the influential collective of the foremost chefs in the Balearics, she is about to begin making lunch for a group of 10. This is a semi-regular event that sees her guide her guests through the preparation processes for a five-course feast – then let them devour it.
She opens this seven-hour window into her world – which, titled “De la Tierra y el Mar a la Mesa (From Land and Sea to the Table)”, includes breakfast at the market before the hunt for ingredients begins – in conjunction with another local gourmet organisation. At first glance, Cómete Menorca is a website devoted to the best restaurants, cafes and bars – more than 300 of them – on the island. But it also offers experiences – cooking courses, culinary demonstrations – as part of its bid to position Menorca as a brightening light in Spanish cuisine.
“Menorca is a small island, but we have an incredible variety of produce here. The land is so fertile,” the group’s Antonio Juanella says when I meet him. Passionate about his home, he sees the growth of the food scene on Menorca as a logical future. “Conserving the island’s agricultural economy is conserving the island.”
Sílvia is true to these words. Everything, it seems, is put to use in her kitchen. Even a clump of broad bean skins, which, their contents shelled, are pulped to provide colour and flavour to the panna cotta that will conclude the meal. “Nothing is wasted here,” laughs Antonio Tarragó, Sílvia’s partner in both business and life. “There’s always a way.”
The dessert will prove an acquired taste, even if the addition of caramelised fennel and a beetroot coulis quickens the incongruous combination of cream and vegetable. The rest of the lunch, though, is a delight – a sprout salad with strawberries and soft cheese; a fried patty of rocket and sun-dried tomatoes that exudes a green healthiness despite the method of cooking. The scorpionfish will reappear with a sweet potato mash and a rich sauce of chocolate, bread and its own liver – also carefully brought back from the market.
If this all feels startlingly modern, then, outside, Ciutadella is anything but. Wedged into Menorca’s west flank, its staunch structures and sandstone walls sing of the turbulence of its past seven centuries – part of the Kingdom of Mallorca until the mid-14th century; absorbed into Spain, along with its neighbour, in the 15th; tossed about like a beach ball between performing seals by France, Britain and Spain in the 18th. Its sumptuous Gothic cathedral, built between 1300 and 1362, witnessed all of this – including the Ottoman evisceration of the town on July 9 1558, of which it is the only real architectural survivor.
It marks one end of a strand of history that stretches across the island, and far further into the past in the shape of the “Talayotic” settlement at Torre d’en Galmés, in the south-east – the remains of a prehistoric village of surprisingly developed dwellings that thrived from 1100 BC to the Roman conquest of Menorca in 123 BC. The thread twitches again, down to Mahón, at the east tip of the land mass – where the Royal Navy, arriving in 1708, observed the colossal deep-water natural harbour, and set about making it a military base.
The loser in this was Ciutadella, which shed its status as island capital under British rule, sparking a rivalry between the two towns which, locals say, with tongues only partially in cheeks, has endured ever since. If this spirit of one-upmanship is largely good natured, it is also visible on the plate. Mahón has foodie flourishes of its own. Its wrought-iron fish market (1927) may be eclipsed in age by the one in Ciutadella, but former convent the Claustre del Carme lands a clever blow in return, its cloisters reanimated with delicatessens and cafes. There are voguish moments too – restaurant Passió Mediterrània, on the water, where chef Teresa Montesinos conjures joys such as grilled macerated salmon loin with coconut cream (€17.50/￡15.80); Casa Venecia, a bijou bar on the north side of the bay, easily reached by road – but also accessible by boat, with patrons able to tie up at a rear jetty and stroll in.
Out on the rustic edges of Mahón, two “agroturismo” retreats compete for the affections of the food-focused traveller, in different ways, but with the same levels of sophistication.
Alcaufar Vell, almost in the south-east corner of the island, plays the “country hotel” card, with rooms injected into former cow sheds and stables – as well as the 18th-century property at the estate’s heart. The restaurant, in the old carriage house, wanders a fine line between tradition and innovation via hearty dishes such as suckling pig with cabbage (€18), and eel and pea stew (€14).
I opt for the latter, determined to be daring, but tacitly nervous that I will be confronted with a stringy oddity. In reality, the bowl set before me contains steaming nuggets of fluffy white flesh, served in a citrus sauce. A wonder. Chef Miguel Mu?oz smiles benignly at my admission of nervousness, and returns to the sustainability theme espoused elsewhere on the island. “Our emphasis is on produce,” he says. “It’s the opposite of molecular cuisine. It is about using what we have to the best. There is no disguising what you are eating. It is simple food, slow food.”
Ten miles (16km) away, close to Alaior, Torralbenc aligns itself more with the hip hideaways found in the Ibizan interior – a long pool carving a placid blue chasm into its grounds, a spa tucked discreetly to one side. It, too, has an excellent house restaurant, but it shines most persuasively in the 37 acres of vineyards that creep to the fences in all directions. Four types of wine (parrellada, viognier, chardonnay and sauvignon blanc) are currently in production in what is a fresh venture – the 2016 vintage was the hotel’s first.
Winery director César Palomino Guzmán enthuses about the project like a new father, mentioning excitedly that he has added pinot noir grapes to the furrows, and dashing between tanks to pour glasses of his 2017 editions, as yet unbottled. “We hope to expand a little more, but not too much,” he reveals. “That way, I can keep close guard of quality.”
He is talking about this viticultural oasis. He could just as easily be speaking of Menorca.
Getting there
Flights to Menorca include easyJet (0330 365 5000; easyjet.com) from Bristol, Gatwick, Luton, Southend and Stansted, and BA (0344 493 0787; ba.com) from London City, Gatwick and Heathrow.
Staying there
Torralbenc (0034 971 377 211). Double rooms from €168 (￡151) with breakfast.
Alcaufar Vell (0034 971 151 874). Doubles from €113, room only.
More of the best hotels in Menorca
Eating there
Es Tast de na Sílvia (estastdenasilvia.com); Passió Mediterrània (passiomed.com); Casa Venecia (veneciamenorca.com).
More information
The next “From Land and Sea to the Table” at Es Tast de na Sílvia, is on Sept 26; €145pp (cometemenorca.com). For more details on the island, see menorca.es.
