Dinner With Meg

We all have places we hold dear. Chances are, you’ll have a restaurant you go back to time and time again. One you think of when someone asks where your favourite place to eat is. It might even be the setting to many memories like special birthdays, dates, and family gatherings. Best of all, it might offer a dining experience like no other.

I’m not talking about fancy menus, or fine dining, or even the decor. We all know there are places that are done up in a way that once would’ve seemed unique – plush furnishings, dimly-lit, the occasional saxophone player. But now they fit a mold that so many places in town are also crammed into. And these places are now awash with influencers that are there for the ‘gram, not the grub.

But no, the experience I’m eluding to could actually be really simple. But the feeling in your favourite place is something that you don’t get elsewhere. Infact, you’ve never found it elsewhere. This place stands out to you as a firm favourite.  

I’ve got that place. And I’d be very surprised if anyone reading this knows of it. You might relate to the feelings I describe, but this place is situated in a village in Spain, about half an hour outside of Alicante. It goes by the name of Bar Ramón.

I have been going to this place since I was months old. I have grandparents in Spain, so it’s a country (and cuisine) I really do hold dear. This restaurant though is laced with memories. It’s a family operation, so stepping into Bar Ramón is always a reunion with old friends. And in my case, lifelong friends.

When I was old enough to hold a pen, I’d scribble drawings for Ramón and his family whilst waiting for my food.  A couple of years later – I must’ve been about 5 – I got a picture sat on the bar with the family. They got it framed, and every time I returned in the years that followed, the picture remained behind the bar.

For years, Ramón didn’t even have a menu – he’d tell you what ingredients he had and what he could make, and essentially you’d roll with it (especially given the language barrier). But you trusted him and he was a safe pair of hands. I’ve often heard stories of how my Dad and my Grandad would sit by his bar into the late hours, drinking and nattering whilst Ramón rustled them something up as they looked on.  My family’s Spanish was very limited, as was Ramón’s English, so they really did communicate in broken forms of each language. Or, you might say, quite simply they bonded over their love of good food and drink. This was back in the day when he had nothing more than a few stools and a small bar.

The place has expanded over the years though – in space and in offering – and a menu now exists. Yet it still maintains the same look and feel. It’s by no means modern, the seating is predominantly outdoors, and it baffles the brain how Ramón and cooks in the kitchen can even fit in there all together. And through the ages, there’s always been a leg of Serrano ham on the side of the bar – a nod to the fresh Spanish produce used day in, day out here.

It is unapologetically simple, and it works.

Every time I go, I order the steak. There’s no breakdown of cuts on the menu – there are simply two options: 250g or 500g (‘the big steak’). Yet it is always cooked exactly as you request.

There’s no set selection of sides. You’ll be prompted to pick your potato of choice upon ordering – fries, patatas a la plancha or a jacket potato…but it’s not like any other jacket potato you’ll have had before. Sliced in half, crispy all the way around the outside and fluffy in the middle. Dripping in butter with a generous sprinkle of salt. My mouth waters just writing about it. 

You might pick to have a salad, an egg, mushrooms, a sauce…or just as it comes. And as I say, none of this is listed or instructed on the menu. But the place has that many regulars or people there through word of mouth, they just know the score when it comes to ordering. 

And the grilled cheese to start, with serrano, tomate and an abundance of crusty bread and aioli. Again, unapologetically simple, but it works. It doesn’t need to be fancy. There doesn’t need to be any modern interpretation of tapas. Keep it as it is, exactly how it should be. Let the quality of the produce do the talking.

Not only is the food a lesson in why fantastic taste doesn’t need to be born from complexity, but I hold this place so dear because of the memories it holds. And I guess that’s why dining out and finding those places can be so special. You aren’t just there to enjoy the food, and a lot of the time it’s not just the food that you reflect on. It’s the service. It’s the people. It’s the bubble you end up being in whilst you’re there, engrossed in conversation and lapping up the good food. Anything could be going on around you, but nothing else matters beyond your table.

And it’s fair to say that’s why I love this place. I’ve been in that bubble so many times here. Winter sun and summer sun – trips to Spain throughout the seasons. Birthdays, Halloween, pre-Christmas getaways. The addition of my sister to the dinner table when she was born seven years after me. The introduction of my Nana’s partner to the family when she found love again in Spain. The first meal we’d have after getting off the flight because we simply couldn’t wait any longer to go back. 

The list goes on and on…quite unlike Ramón’s menu. 

There will never be another like it, and I hope I don’t ever have to find one.