Dinner With Meg

I’ll set the scene. It’s 6pm on a Friday after a busy week at work – think strategies, planning, team management. Not to mention running and growing a business, a challenge that my other half has absolutely grabbed by the huevos. He only left his last work call of the week a mere 30 minutes before we began dining.

Now call me biased given my life-long love affair with this country in question, but after a week of this kind I’d give nothing more than to close my eyes, tap my heels together three times, and transport myself to a quaint and quiet Spanish callejón, littered with all of the croquettas a girl could wish for.

And despite the rapid biological and technological advancements of the 21st century, such a wish is yet to come true. 

So a table at Bar San Juan in Chorlton will have to suffice. 

And whilst that sounds like a minor and passing remark, for those of you that aren’t local to Chorlton, please do not underestimate the weight that statement carries. Bar San Juan is perhaps the smallest yet most popular place on Beech Road. It sits quietly on a corner with only a few tables inside, as well as a handful outside. 

To put its popularity into context – on a cold Friday night in January, there were people sitting outside enjoying tapas here (albeit there were plenty of covers and heaters, adding another layer of charm and literal warmth to the place). I have known people wait months for a table here.

But here we were. Exhaling at the door, to leave the working week behind, before embarking on what felt like a temporary culinary teleportation to Spain – a couple of hours I really didn’t want to end.

We went inside just as our table was being prepared, which allowed me to stand for a couple of minutes and admire my surroundings. I was instantly mesmerised by how authentic and traditional the restaurant felt. It was narrow with people sitting quite close together; strangers who’d no doubt also encountered busy weeks, all with their own stories and separate lives, but bonded by a clear appreciation of good food. The nods and empty plates said so.

The walls boasted traditional Spanish tiles, a mix of frames and artwork, and the best thing was fresh legs of jamón hanging from the ceiling by the kitchen – a clear indication of the fresh and authentic produce used to curate such delicious, traditional dishes.

And that’s what I love about this place. It’s traditional in the purest sense of the word. I see ‘tapas’ and ‘small plates’ are terms used interchangeably now, but they aren’t to be confused. The former is strictly Spanish cuisine, which of course is usually shared, whilst the latter could originate from any cuisine but is at least designed to share, or for an individual to indulge in a few different things. Bar San Juan’s output really is tapas done at its absolute authentic best.

We took our seats and after very little deliberation, we bypassed our routine of ordering a bottle of white wine to share whilst dining, and I opted for a glass of sangria instead. In an establishment like this, there’s no competition really. A sangria just feels like the right place to start. It arrived and it was a struggle to not drink it all on the spot (nothing to do with the week I’d had I promise, but everything to do with how good it tasted).

Ordering our food however was met with much deliberation. Everything on the menu sounded absolutely delicious, so for two people that aren’t fussy eaters in the slightest, everything was in with a chance of being chosen. We took the usual approach of selecting a good mixture, and settled on the dishes we’re about to explore below…

Bread and Ali-Oli 

More of an accompaniment, but with talk of reductions and gravys in our upcoming dishes, it’s only right you have something to mop those sauces up with. The bread did just that, and the Ali-Oli was enough to keep the vampires at bay for the evening. Just how I like it. 

Patatas Bravas (with a traditional Madrid sauce)

I’ve never had patatas bravas like this before. Maybe that’s the Madrid element? In some places sometimes, the brava sauce may as well just be overpriced passata. But this wasn’t even tomato based – it was smoky and meaty, and almost looked like a gravy. I’m almost certain that you couldn’t replicate it at home, which I guess means if you want them again, there’s only one place you’re going for them. 

Gambas Pil Pil (chilli and garlic tiger prawns)

I always said I didn’t like prawns, and sometimes I still don’t as I’m a little fussy with their texture. But I do think ordering gambas in a tapas bar is somewhat mandatory, and a very good way to judge the quality of ingredients used.

And boy am I glad they did make our final order. So good we had to order twice. Deliciously meaty with the most amazing chilli and garlic sauce you just have to mop up once the prawns have disappeared.

Croquetas SanJuan (bechamel with chicken and jamón)

I’m a sucker for a croquetta. You might think that place to place, there isn’t much variation between them. For that reason, I know some people think they’re a waste of a dish in a tapas order. But they’re everything I love – crispy, cheesy, creamy. And when they’re done well, they’re bloody good.

Suffice to say these didn’t disappoint. Deliciously gooey inside with a coating crisped to perfection, I could’ve eaten a bucketload. 

Chistorra en Sidra Gallega (thin chorizo from Leon cooked in Galician handcrafted cider)

Again, another go-to order I’m sure – I always have to get chorizo, partly for the meat itself but partly for the oil left behind that makes for tremendous bread dipping. The chorizo was lovely and such high-quality, served in its own oil with cherry tomatoes. It was quite a simple dish but it really didn’t need to be anything else.

Carrilleras de Ternera (beef cheeks, crispy fried leeks, homemade gravy)

Onto the star of the show. My boyfriend warned me that I’d be thinking about these for days after dining (he’d eaten here before), and he’s an honest man, so he was absolutely right.

I was ready to ask for a knife to accompany my tapas fork as I tucked into these, but quickly learnt it wasn’t necessary. With one gentle nudge of the fork, the meat fell apart and into that deliciously rich red wine gravy. The crispy leeks were a nice addition too and provided a lovely contrast in texture to what otherwise could’ve been quite a soft, rich plate.

Saquitos de Cordero (roast pulled lamb pastry parcels with a Tempranillo wine reduction)

We finished our plates and suffice to say we were full, but we love a challenge. And we’re not really dessert people, so we chose another two dishes from the main menu. We went back for the prawns, and then chose these.

And thank goodness we did because now I can’t imagine my experience without them. They were packed with lamb and subtly seasoned, to let the meat really do the talking. That combination of lamb with the wine reduction is something I’ll be thinking about for a very long time.

And to finish off an already stunning evening, the bill came and the cost was more than reasonable. You don’t mind paying more when the quality of food is so good, but it’s a bonus when it feels like a bit of a bargain too. Maybe that’s what you get nowadays for sticking to the suburbs rather than braving the city centre.

Something else worth shouting about here too is the service. Everyone is so friendly and as soon as you’re nearing the end of your drink, they’re straight over so you can order another. I suppose with such an intimate venue, you’re giving yourself the capacity to provide a service to match. It certainly beats going all in and buying a restaurant too big to run well. I’d take small and personable over space any day…even if it does mean waiting a couple of months for a table. It’s worth the wait.

We’re paid up and as I’m savouring my last sips of sangria and nearing the end of my fleeting moment in makeshift Spain, I realise: whilst I can’t close my eyes, tap my heels together three times, and transport myself to a quaint and quiet Spanish callejón, Bar San Juan won’t just suffice.

Infact, it’ll do just fine indeed.