Secretos de Madrid-My secret love.

Most people who know me would tell you that I must be on facebook all the live long day. And with an iphone in my bag of Mommy tricks that was probably true- until recently. I'm actually stepping out on facebook with twitter, its wilder smarter and more mysterious brother. Returning from Madrid, I realized that I could continue exploring my favorite city by following its diverse people. I wasn't wrong in my assumption. Currently, I am following over 300 people who have their own unique angle on Madrid. Over the course of a few months, I began to follow tweets displaying various information on Madrid food, culture, events, music, bars, art, theatre, opera, current events and history.

It was especially facinating finding a twitter feed that led me to a spanish blog which proved as riveting as two books recent read, Ghosts of Spain by Giles Tremlett and The New Spaniards by John Hooper. What made this blog even more desirable to me, was that it zeroed in on the city of Madrid's rich detailed history that could easily be dismissed, discarded or just plain overlooked. Not suprisingly, there are many blogs nowadays but few are really well done or consistent updating content. Secretos de Madrid is a deep well documented history of Madrid told in a random order, inspired by street names, old photos and even heavy metal local inhabitants. And this blogger is dedicated. 

Whether he's covering the story of a misguided angel landing upon Madrid rooftops, following the bittersweet perigrination of the infamous Tio Pepe sign, or the sinister history of the street named after a decapitated head, Secretos de Madrid's posts are written to interest anyone visiting Madrid for a short period or even one of the over 3 million inhabitants that occupy the city, unaware of its beautiful profound detail.

The author of this insightful blog is a thoughtful young gentleman by the name of Manu. I took one of his quotes so as to fully describe what he aims to do.

"Lo que más me fascina de ella es su capacidad de adaptación sin límites, de simple fortaleza a villa, y en apenas cuatro siglos a urbe cosmopolita de primer orden mundial. En agradecimiento infinito a ese recibimiento y en homenaje a esa historia convulsa de cambios y crecimientos sin medida va este blog. Bienvenidos" -Manu

 Here is the my translation in English,
"What facinates me the most (Madrid) is her capacity for limitless adapting, a simple strength of spirit,  with only four centuries of being a first world urban cosmopolitan city. Because I am infinitely grateful for this realization, this blog is a homage to its convulsive changes and its inmeasurable growth.

Secretos solved one of my mysteries. After celebrating our wedding anniversary over a wonderful dinner at La Gastroteca de Santiago, my husband and I decided to walk back to our hotel. From Plaza de Santiago, we decided to find Kathmandu, an old club I used to frequent as a student in the 1990's. Once on Calle Senores de Luzon, a fairly narrow cobbletsone street, we located the club which was closed as it was Madrid's shut down month, August. Well, hey at least it was still open 17 years later and that me feel somewhat young. The street then let us out into Calle Mayor where unbeknownst to me, Plaza de la Villa is located. Andy took a few shots of me walking past the Plaza slowly, looking at the statue and surrounding buildings. It was deserted on a summer Monday night, so it was easy to notice that this medieval plaza must be historically relevant. Except, I had no idea what it represented. I obviously didn't delve enough when I lived in Madrid back in the 90's as I was too busy trying to cover many areas of Western Europe.

According to Secretos de Madrid  Plaza de la Villa is comprised of three buildings- the fiftienth century gothic-moorish influenced Lujanes Tower named after a successful aragon merchant family, the Cisneros House and Casa de la Villa City Hall that for 300 years served as the headquarters for Madrid's city hall. One of the wonderful historical tidbits he provides is that the tower was a prison for the King of France, Francis the First after the Battle of Pavia. As he was being imprisoned, to humilate he him even further, his captors had him enter through door where he would have to bow his head and in those times for a king that was unheard of. 

I loved that Manu likes to begin his route through the great Asturian area of Madrid at the Plaza de la Villa, away from the crazy bustle of Plaza del Sol or the infamous Plaza Mayor. His writing can be personal and yet demonstrative of why someone like me loves illuminated Madrid.

Estado Puro- Global Gastro Bar Tapas & Drink

Checking into the Hotel Palace and ready to enjoy my first day in Madrid, I decided to spend some time at the Prado Museum. It was around 2am California time so I decided to get a coffee to stay awake.

I was in a hurry to head to the museum but couldn't bring myself to get coffee at the Starbucks around the corner from the hotel. And the Spanish cafeteria/restaurant VIPS wasn't an option. I saw Estado Puro just up ahead so I figured I'd get coffee and check out where I was having lunch later.

I had done some research on tapas bars around our hotel area and was impressed when I read a Bon Appetit article on the modernization of some antiquated open air markets and the inception of the "Gastrobar" namely, Estado Puro created by Paco Roncero, Terraza del Casino head chef and the "disciple" of Mr. El Bulli himself, Ferran Adria. The mural of the stereotypical Spanish youth wearing a peineta and pouring out her Mahou beer also intrigued me. These were the little changes in Madrid that I had not witnessed being away for so many years.

There are two locations for Estado Puro currently, the one I was heading to is part of the Hotel NH Paseo del Prado, just in back of the Madrid Hotel Palace. It was a warm day, perfect to work up a tiny sweat but never feel uncomfortable. The sidewalk terrace looked great to have lunch at but I was going to have my coffee inside the bar. The space is smaller than I imagined but what they do with it is clever.

sealed with kiss and no drool

The ceiling where you can dine indoors features hanging peinetas that match the Spanish girl's in the Mural. At first glance, it looks like Creme colored Mexican papel picado thats been laid flat. The L shaped bar was well stocked with every spirit imaginable. The wines looked fabulous. For a moment I wanted to get sloppy drunk. This was the bar to do it at. But I drank another coffee instead. I had a plan and I knew with a few drinks in me, I'd pass out drooling on the white counter.

Drifting through the Prado for three hours proved dreamily powerful as toward the end of the third hour, I nearly fell asleep on my feet. Nearly colliding with some German tourists, I decided to break for lunch. Taking my seat within Estado Puros sidewalk terrace, the warm air tenderly tussled me awake to my first Madrileno late afternoon. The city's vibrant atomosphere was pumping oxygen through my body and every mundane thing seemed amazing. I loved watching the waiters playfulness, expounding paternal sweet nothings to a patron's fussy baby and warning another client not to leave their iphone on the table as someone else got theirs stolen that way. There's not much to the terrace itself but the location is stellar. You look out and Neptune with his watery fountain is standing guard across the street. The tree lined Paseo del Prado is your neighbor and the most beautiful post office is in the distance.

The majority of their are tapas modern, no doubt deconstructions of old favorites. Patatas bravas morph into whole small potatoes with a goopy red sauce center that can be devoured like a deviled egg. I normally could eat Bonito out of its tin can, and thats exactly what they brought me except the olive oil and bread that accompanied it made it moist, flavorful and theres just nothing like bread in Europe for the taste buds. Nothing.

Bad Senorita, no bocado for you

I brought Andy back here. I had to, it was a perfect afternoon place after walking around and wanting a snack and a drink before taking a break in our hotel room. We tried the tempura asparagus in a wonderful romesco sauce and devoured the simple salty cantabrian anchioves and tomato bocadillos.
It was all washed down with  a couple of beers. The weather was warm and throughout our trip we fell into the rythm of drinking Mahou beer during the day and red wine at night.


Weeks later, when we returned to the states, I was enjoying my Friday afternoon watching tve espanola, wine in hand while the kids tore the house apart. One of the networks shows, Gente or Corazon ( can't remember which) featured a segment on Estado Puro's Gin and Chicken. The unlikely combination works as for several hours they marinate the chicken in botanicals that go into the make up of gin. Citrus and juniper berries are a good examples of this. Then they traditionally cook it rotisserie style and serve it with a foamy gin and tonic drink that is less in alcohol content and more heavy on manadrin, lime, and lemongrass flavor. It supposed cleanse the palate as you dine on your bird. I'm sure it did. Harper's has an excellent article there famous dish in Spanish. The New York Times review is a good read in English if you want an overview on a the restaurant.

I was disappointed that I didn't try such an amazing concoction. But there's always next time in my illuminated Madrid.

Iluminated Madrid

I went to Madrid this past year in what most say is the worst month to go- August. It had been a few years since I had been in Spain's capital and it had truly evolved since I last lived there. It was no longer the ghost city I once youthfully roamed in late August of 1994. In the intial stages of planning my 2012 trip, I was concerned that many travel sites warn you not to go in August. There aren't many places with central air, many Spainards take month long vacations so nothing is really open, the very few restaurants open have tourists swarming them like red ants on a mound, and you'll literally melt liked the wicked witch of the west whenever you go out doors so don't bother. I didn't have the luxury of picking any week out of the year or even a random week out of the summer. I had a small window of opportunity. So it was early August or stay back in Los Angeles, California while my husband plays golf in Scotland for a week. So in deciding not to allow myself to get bitter and more than likely divorced by staying back, I chose Madrid.

I chose Madrid about eighteen years ago as well. I was a 20 year old girl wanting to be in Europe the same time my boyfriend would be after his graduation. I was already a Spanish Literature major at the Univerity of California, San Diego so choosing Spain was obvious but Madrid was a little random. The U.C Education Abroad program offered Alcala de Henares as an excellent option to study Spanish Literature as a foreign student. So while I chose Alcala, I was dead set on living in Madrid. I wanted to live in a European city.

 Atocha Renfe, Madrid 1994 20 years old

This last return to Madrid was as 38 year old married mother of two. The country was facing one of its worse financial crises and I was in desperate need of a change in scenery. I left my children in the care of my family - a Mexican village of grandparents, neices and a sister  and nervously boarded a plane at LAX. It was a solid day of traveling from the west coast to Madrid. I was alone as my husband was finishing his trip of golf in Scotland and he was to meet me in Madrid in 24 hours. 

The week I arrived was perhaps the most beautiful weather I ever encountered. It was apparently painful the following week as the Saharan hot winds arrived but I simultaneously experienced a similar heat on my return to Los Angeles. The sunny skies powerfully iluminated the vibrant and regal city but there was a soft gust of wind that was both calming and refreshing after being on a plane for hours.

I was emotionally wounded for many reasons and physically tired as the last month of my life had been full of highs and very painful lows. Exiting the cab at the Palace Hotel in Madrid (now a Westin) it was inconceivable to me that I was a continent and ocean away from my kids. But in my hesitantancy and trepidation I also felt like I was fuflilling an impossible dream. Just a few years ago, I was holding my first newborn watching TV Espanola and wondering if I'd ever get back to the place that altered my naive albeit youthful beliefs. As I entered the 100 year old hotel and was greeted by the staff I began to realize that this was all meant to be. 

Westin Palace Madrid August 2012,  38 years old