The whole Pamplona Diaiio de Navarra; Hemingway in Burguete article with Gerry Dawes, Tim Pinks and Miguel Izu in English, July 10, 2026

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Article by Laura Puy Miguiro Photo by Jose Carlos Cordovilla

 

  

 

Tim Pinks and Gerry Dawes embrace. It has been two years since the two writers last saw each other—since the Sanfermines of 2024—though today’s setting is very different from what it was then. They are in Burguete, which they have chosen as the meeting point with fellow writer Miguel Izu. The three of them decided to visit the place wherethe characters in *Fiesta*, Ernest Hemingway’s novel celebrating its 100th anniversary, spend a day fishing “on el Río de la Fábrica ' the factory river,” as described in the novel in reference to the Fábrica de Orbaizeta Arms Factory. And so, a man from Pamplona (Izu), an American (Dawes), and an Englishman (Pinks) drive to their first stop, Aribe. It is the morning of July 3.

 

It wasn’t just *The Sun Also Rises* that brought Pinks and Dawes to experience the San Fermines; the American has already enjoyed the festival twenty times, and the Englishman has attended several times since 1984. It was also the book ‘Iberia,’ published in 1968 by the American James Michener, who traveled throughout Spain for decades and who dedicated a chapter to Pamplona and its festival. “When I read that chapter back in the ’80s,” recalls Pinks, who is very grateful to his parents for having bought "Iberia,"I told myself that a place like this couldn’t exist in the modern world. Because I knew there were bulls, but the revelry seemed medieval to me! Four years later, I came on a motorcycle with a friend to see for myself.” He arrived in Pamplona at three or four in the afternoon on July 6, heading straight to the Plaza del Castillo. “There was an atmosphere…I fell in love with what I saw, and it changed my life. And I knew I was going to learn the language and come back again and again—and that’s exactly what’s happened,” he says from his spot in the back of the car. Up front sits Dawes, for whom "Iberia*"“had a lot to do with many people from another generation.”

 

“For me, that chapter on Pamplona—which is fantastic—had a huge influence on me. So did *Fiesta*,” says Dawes, who read both books in 1968 and has followed in Hemingway’s footsteps through the Pamplona festival and through Burguete and Roncesvalles, enjoying picnics in the countryside over the course of five years—just like the ones described in *Fiesta*—for “a day of rest, escaping the Sanfermines” in the 1970s.

 

The fact is, Dawes arrived in Spain for military service, which he completed in Rota (Cádiz), in 1968. He knew nothing about Spain when he was assigned to the security school he was attending in Texas. He recalls that his company commander called him a “lucky bastard” and that he searched the library for books on Spain to learn about the country. “I fell in love with Spain the moment I stepped off the plane (actually before we landed, circling over Sanlúcar de Barrameda, Jerez and Cádiz)” After two years in the military (U. S. Navy at Rota) and with $500 in his pocket, he decided to stay in Spain. He traveled around the country for six years (living in el Barrio de Santa Cruz in Sevilla and in the artists village of Mijas near Málaga) and ended up in Pamplona “because of Hemingway and Michener,” but also because of his afición for bullfighting, through which “you learn about festivals all over Spain and traditional cuisine.”

Why this trip?

 

-[Miguel Izu] To mark the 100th anniversary of *Fiesta*, Tim wanted to come to Burguete for a couple of days before the Sanfermines, and he asked us to join him.

 

-[Tim Pinks] I wanted to do something sentimental: to thank Hemingway and Michener because their books completely changed my life.

 

And why the trip to Burguete, Aribe, and Orbaizeta?

 

-[T.P.] Hemingway first came to Burguete in 1924—after the Sanfermines and before publishing *Fiesta*—with friends to go fishing, and I thought, why not do the same? “I have a motorcycle, so I can ride to Burguete and then on to Pamplona.”

 

And what about the idea of going to the exact spot mentioned in the novel about the fishing trip?

-[Gerry Dawes] That’s something Miguel and I have in common. I’ve been looking for the spot for four years, ever since asking my friend Allen Josephs, who was president of the Ernest Hemingway Foundation and Society and a lifelong San Fermin festival-goer since the 1960s.

In addition to his visit to the area after the San Fermin festivities in 1924, Hemingway returned the following year, which is what he recounts in *The Sun Also Rises*. In the novel, to go fishing, the group of friends (GD: Jake Barnes and Bill Gorton only) leaves Burguete and starts walking east toward the Orbaiceta factory (GS: where they thought they would find the Irati). They walk six or seven kilometers GD: Actually 12.7 kms., between three and three and a half hours each way; Hemingway was an avid hiker)—between two and three hours—for their fishing trip.

-[G.D.] Some dams supplied water to the Orbaiceta arms factory, and Hemingway fished from one of them. Because in the novel *The Sun Also Rises*, they didn’t fish in the Irati.

 

-[M.I.] Exactly. In these stories people tell about him, you’ll often hear that Hemingway went to Burguete to fish on the Irati, but the Irati doesn’t flow through Burguete. And in *The Sun Also Rises*, it’s not the Irati either, because what he says in the novel is that they fish in “the river by the factory.” That’s why we go to the Orbaiceta Arms Factory. The Irati doesn’t flow past the factory either: one of the Irati’s tributaries does, called the Legartza.

 

A local woman in Orbaizeta would tell them that the Legartza River gets its name from the confluence of the Itolatz and Txangoa streams—a name also shared by one of the dams (the other one is in Itolatz). But before we get there, we’ll make a stop at the medieval Aribe Bridge, next to the NA-410 highway heading toward Garaioa. Made of stone, it is about 50 meters long and 3.20 meters wide.

 

Why are we stopping in Aribe? Did he fish here?

 

-[M.I.] Probably yes. He spent a few days in the area both times he stayed in Burguete, so he would have fished in several places, although the legendary spot is the one he describes in *Fiesta*.

 

-[G.D.] Which is the one we’ve come to see.

 

-[M.I.] No one knows exactly where he fished in Aribe. There’s no information, no photos, nothing. Oral tradition says he fished near the baths, and that might be under the bridge. But there’s really no confirmation of the exact spot. And it’s pure legend that he was seen fishing here in 1959, that he’d brought a bunch of beers which he drank, and that he left them all under a tree when he left: by 1959 he was already elderly and didn’t come here to fish.

 

Izu, author of several books in which he debunks myths about the Sanfermines—including those surrounding *Fiesta* and Hemingway—knows there’s little one can do about legends, but any opportunity is a good one to try to debunk them. This excursion is no exception.

 

-[M.I.] It’s often said that Hemingway came to Irati. But he didn’t come here—he went to Aoiz: he’d attend the running of the bulls, have breakfast at Marceliano’s, and at noon he’d go on a picnic to Irati, next to Aoiz, which allowed him to return in the afternoon for the bullfights. 

 

There’s a famous photo on the cover of the *Gaceta Ilustrada* [from 1958, showing Hemingway next to a tree, with the blue surface of a reservoir or river visible in the background]. It’s said to be at the Yesa reservoir, and there’s even a tourist sign there. But he was never there in his life: the photo was taken at the tiny Usoz reservoir in Irati, where they used to swim.

 

-[G.D.] We do know he fished at the factory because he mentions it in the novel.

 

-[M.I.] And throughout his work, Hemingway is very detail-oriented. When he describes places, situations, people… it’s because he’s been there, seen it, and spent time with those people. So, if he says “the river by the factory,” it means he went to the factory and was by that river.

 

-[G.D.] As a journalist, the non-fiction part of the novel is written as if it were a news (travel) article. And we’re going to tell you something that isn’t widely known.

 

Let’s see…

 

-[G.D.] Hemingway fished with worms, not with flies like his friend, and he caught (dug) the worms by the river in Burguete.

 

-[M.I.] He’d dig around in the mud and put them in a jar (tobacco tin).

 

-[G.D.] My new book, which is coming out in October, is about Hemingway in Spain and the 100th anniversary of *The Sun Also Rises* (will have a chapter featuring the section about Hemingway's characters fishing on the Legartza river, where we are today).

 

And just as in Aribe it’s not known exactly if he fished or where, is the location of the arms factory known for sure?

 

-[G.D.] We know it more precisely, and I’ll explain why: besides the fact that it’s written in the book, Hemingway—as Miguel can tell you—was a great lover of wine. Since they had to walk three hours to where they fished, carrying a backpack with (two) bottles inside, he wanted to chill them (GD: as suggested by the Bill Gorton character, back up the hill on the trail in a spring that poured into a large rectangular stone watering trough that could be used by animals), so he put them in the spring-fed trough that we’re going to go see. But he was afraid someone might come by and take the wines, so he didn’t want to fish where he couldn’t see the fountain. (GD: Did we mention that Hemingway/Jake Barnes loved his wine). In the novel, he walks back up the trail to the fountain, which he could see from a dam where he was going to fish—a dam that no longer exists. Now there are some trees blocking the view, but they weren’t there a hundred years ago.

-[M.I.] For a few years now, the spring has even been marked on maps as the “Hemingway Spring,” and it’s included on hiking trails.

 

-[G.D., looking at Izu] You haven’t been there since they put up a life-sized Hemingway photo cutout next to the spring, have you?

 

-[M.I.] No, but I’ve seen photos.

 

-[G.D.] In the photo, Hemingway looks to be 40 or 50 years old, and they’ve even put a jacket on him! [laughs].

 

Tim, are there still many things or places associated with Hemingway that you haven’t seen yet?

-[T.P.] No, but I’m not a big Hemingway fan. Most of the characters in his books aren’t people I’d want to meet. I’ve read almost all his books, but I don’t feel the need to go where Hemingway went, although I did consider it for the 100th anniversary of *The Sun Also Rises*.

 

-[M.I.] It’s a nice outing, a good plan—going to Burguete, seeing the spring and then having lunch. I wouldn’t have come alone either. I’m not a Hemingway fanatic, even though I spend a lot of time talking about him. They say tourists come to the Sanfermines because they’ve read Hemingway, but most have read Michener or another lesser-known author, Robert Daley, who wrote a book in the 1960s, *The Swords of Spain*, traveling across the country and describing what the festival and the bullfighting festival are all about, with a section dedicated to Pamplona.

-[T.P.] The San Fermín festival is now famous among young people even without the books, but they never travel here [for this trip], and my favorite pages in *Fiesta* are the ones where they go fishing, are relaxing in the countryside, and having a good time. Those pages set between Paris and Pamplona are the best.

 

 

Gerry, Tim, and Izu say they aren’t big fans of Hemingway. What about you?

-[G.D.] No [they laugh]. No, I’m more interested in Hemingway’s connection to Spain. That’s what interests me. I’m proud to say I’ve met about forty people who knew Hemingway, like Juanito Quintana, Antonio Ordóñez, many Americans...

 

[Arrival at the Orbaizeta Arms Factory]. Tim, have you been here before?

 

-[T.P.] Once.

 

-[G.D.] Me, three or four times.

 

And why?

 

-[G.D.] Because I’m chasing the truth about the novel. It’s a bit of a passion, and I’m writing about it. Miguel has uncovered many myths, and I’m the only American who knows that.

 

[At the point where the river takes the name Legartza].

 

-[M.I.] Look how beautiful this place is.

 

 

So, where did Hemingway fish?

 

-[G.D.] The dam must have been around here. We don’t know how high it was, but it says in *The Sun Also Rises* that he could see the spring with its wines.

 

-[M.I.] Let’s go up to the spring to see if anyone has left any bottles of wine [they laugh]. Hemingway loved coming here.

 

[Arrival at the spring].

 

-[G.D.] The first time I came, that wasn’t there [referring to the photo of Hemingway], so I have a more authentic one—just of the spring.

 

[They pose for the photo].

 

-[G.D.] If you look down from here—where the trees are now, but weren’t a hundred years ago—that’s the last spot where Hemingway could keep an eye on the fountain and see if anyone was approaching.

 

What do you think of the place, Tim?

 

-[T.P.] I like this. It’s the photo. And with the photo of him, it’s fun. I didn’t know it was here. And I think it’s a good idea, but we need to find a photo of a younger Hemingway, from the 1920s, when he was fit and handsome and used to come here. Because, as I told you before, I’m not a big fan of Hemingway, and I’m not really into his books, but I am interested in his life—he was a man of his time, a bit of a macho guy, but with a super-interesting life. His life was incredible. He faced dangers, had adventures... And the books I like best are his journalistic pieces. For me, those are the best—that was real life.

 

Right after that, the three friends take a photo at that spot. And from there, it’s on to the rest of the day’s great plan: grabbing a bite to eat in the area.

 

Comments are welcome and encouraged.

 

Text and photographs copyright by Gerry Dawes©2021.  Using photographs without crediting Gerry Dawes©2021 on Facebook.  Publication without my written permission is not authorized.

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  Shall deeds of Caesar or Napoleon ring
More true than Don Quixote's vapouring?
Hath winged Pegasus more nobly trod
Than Rocinante stumbling up to God?

 

Poem by Archer M. Huntington inscribed under the Don Quixote on his horse Rocinante bas-relief sculpture by his wife, Anna Vaughn Hyatt Huntington,

in the courtyard of the Hispanic Society of America’s incredible museum at 613 W. 155th Street, New York City.

 _______________________________________________________________________________________________

 

In 2019, again ranked in the Top 50 Gastronomy Blogs and Websites for Gastronomists & Gastronomes in 2019 by Feedspot. (Last Updated Oct 23, 2019) 

"The Best Gastronomy blogs selected from thousands of Food blogs, Culture blogs and Food Science blogs in our index using search and social metrics. We’ve carefully selected these websites because they are actively working to educate, inspire, and empower their readers with frequent updates and high-quality information."  

36. Gerry Dawes's Spain: An Insider's Guide to Spanish Food, Wine, Culture and Travel

 
About Gerry Dawes

My good friend Gerry Dawes, the unbridled Spanish food and wine enthusiast cum expert whose writing, photography, and countless crisscrossings of the peninsula have done the most to introduce Americans—and especially American food professionals—to my country's culinary life." -- Chef-restaurateur-humanitarian José Andrés, Nobel Peace Prize Nominee and Oscar Presenter 2019

Gerry Dawes is the Producer and Program Host of Gerry Dawes & Friends, a weekly radio progam on Pawling Public Radio in Pawling, New York (streaming live and archived at www.pawlingpublicradio.org and at www.beatofthevalley.com.)

Dawes was awarded Spain's prestigious Premio Nacional de Gastronomía (National Gastronomy Award) in 2003. He writes and speaks frequently on Spanish wine and gastronomy and leads gastronomy, wine and cultural tours to Spain. He was a finalist for the 2001 James Beard Foundation's Journalism Award for Best Magazine Writing on Wine, won The Cava Institute's First Prize for Journalism for his article on cava in 2004, was awarded the CineGourLand “Cinéfilos y Gourmets” (Cinephiles & Gourmets) prize in 2009 in Getxo (Vizcaya) and received the 2009 Association of Food Journalists Second Prize for Best Food Feature in a Magazine for his Food Arts article, a retrospective piece about Catalan star chef, Ferran Adrià. 

In December, 2009, Dawes was awarded the Food Arts Silver Spoon Award in a profile written by José Andrés. 

". . .That we were the first to introduce American readers to Ferran Adrià in 1997 and have ever since continued to bring you a blow-by-blow narrative of Spain's riveting ferment is chiefly due to our Spanish correspondent, Gerry "Mr. Spain" Dawes, the messianic wine and food journalist raised in Southern Illinois and possessor of a self-accumulated doctorate in the Spanish table. Gerry once again brings us up to the very minute. . ." - - Michael & Ariane Batterberry, Editor-in-Chief/Publisher and Founding Editor/Publisher, Food Arts, October 2009. 

 

Pilot for a reality television series on wine, gastronomy, culture and travel in Spain.
 

Experience Spain With Gerry Dawes: Customized Culinary, Wine & Cultural Trips to Spain & Travel Consulting on Spain  

Gerry Dawes can be reached at gerrydawes@aol.com; Alternate e-mail (use only if your e-mail to AOL is rejected): gerrydawes@gmail.com

Sunset in a Glass: Adventures of a Food and Wine Road Warrior in Spain - Volume I Foreword by José Andrés Preview (Publication 2021) Update

 

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(Update:  Now up to 265 pages in proof, sample available to agents, publishers and reviewers.)

 

 

From the Foreword by José Andrés to Sunset in a Glass:

 

"Gerry Dawes, the unbridled Spanish food and wine enthusiast cum expert whose writing, photography, and countless crisscrossings of the peninsula have done the most to introduce Americans—and especially American food professionals—to my country's culinary life.  At a time when most food journalists were writing about France and Italy, Gerry went off in his own direction to become the first to really tell the story of Spain. But, for Gerry, Spain is more than just the Adriàs and (Juan Mari and Elena) Arzaks.  He has connected with all manner of people working at every level and in every corner of Spain.  I’m always amazed at this reach.  You can step into a restaurant in the smallest town in Spain, and it turns out they know Gerry somehow.” - - Chef-restaurateur-humanitarian José Andrés, Nobel Peace Prize Nominee and Oscar Presenter; Chef-partner of Mercado Little Spain at Hudson Yards, New York.

 

Click on title to see entire post.

Cervecerías: Madrid's Beer Bars (With a Couple in Barcelona)

First appeared in Food Arts
by Gerry Dawes

La Maja Desnuda, now with a padlock over a sensitive portion of her anatomy, at the very campy Cervecería Los Gatos tapas bar, Madrid.  Curro Romero is the bullfighter.  
Photo by Gerry Dawes©2010 / gerrydawes@aol.com.

Cervecería Alemana, Hemingway Hangout

Gerry Dawes copyright 2010

If you ask the average Spaniard (and most foreigners, for that matter) for a definition of a cervecería, one of Spain’s ubiquitous so-called beer bars, you will get all kinds of answers, almost none of them right.

“It’s a bar where they only serve beer,” a woman in Madrid told me. (Most cervecerías serve wine, hard liquor, coffee, and tapas--Spain’s answer to hors d’oeuvres and the best fast food in Europe.)

La Cañita, Madrid.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2010

“A cervecería is a bar that specializes in beers.” (Most cervecerías traditionally had only a couple of beers on tap, but almost all offer draft beer, but so do most bars and tapas bars.)

And those Irish, English, or German beer pubs, which every major city seems to have? There are plenty of international-style beer bars such as Oldenburg in Madrid, which claims The Guinness Book of World Records title for most beers offered in the smallest space (163 beers in a bar that is 14.5 square meters [156 square feet]) and many others in larger cities such as Barcelona, where they are called cerveserias (Catalan). They offer a wide variety of beers from around the world and technically they are also cervecerías, but they certainly aren’t your typical Spanish cervecería.

Waiter in Madrid with glasses of beer.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2008

So, what then is a Spanish cervecería? After traveling Spain for three decades without getting a clear, fixed definition, the best I can figure is that a typical Spanish cervecería is a place to go when you want sit down with a cold glass of draft beer, don’t really mind whether there is a large selection, and wouldn’t mind having a tapa or two with your brew. Unlike many tapas bars, which are often stand-up-and-picar (snack on little bites of food) places with little or no seating, a cervecería will usually have plenty of chairs and tables where you can sit down with friends, sip your cerveza, and engage in one of those great gab sessions called tertulias. (Don’t drink alcoholic beverages? You can still enjoy the atmosphere and food of Spain’s cervecerías. Cerveza sin alcohol, alcohol-free beer accounts for 7.5% of the Spanish market, tops in the European Union.)

The average Spanish cervecería would drive most American drinks writers crazy, because most cervecerías in Spain actually don’t make that much of a fuss over beer. In a typical Spanish cervecería, the selection on draft in most cervecerías is limited to selections from the company that paid for taps, which are usually emblazoned with the logos of one of the five major Spanish breweries (San Miguel, Cruzcampo, Damm, Mahou, or El Aguila).

Cruzcampo, which was founded in 1904 and is now owned by Heineken (which also owns El Aguila), even has its own franchised string of colorful cervecería/tapas bar/restaurant establishments called Gambrinus, which is represented by drawings and statues of a jovial, portly, rather Alpine-looking, distinctly good-old-hombre kind of character lifting a beer stein.

Gambrinus, Logroño.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2010

(The Gambrinus of legend was a 14th- or 15th-Century Burgundian, who is often referred to and depicted as the “King of Beers,” which will come as a big surprise to most Americans, who think the “King of Beers” is Budweiser.) The very good, fast-growing, San Miguel-owned Cañas y Tapas franchise, which was founded in 1999 and already has some 20 outlets in the Madrid and more than 50 around Spain, features San Miguel on draft and excellent tapas.

Spain has more than 20 national brands of beer and is the European Union’s third-largest beer producer (behind England and Germany) and ranks ninth in the world. Spanish beer exports have nearly doubled over the past six years, but full-blown beer connoisseurship has not yet descended on Spaniards - - as wine geekdom has (this, too, has changed over the past decade; there are many more beer bars specializing in Spanish and European artisan beers now). Nevertheless, most Spanish beer tastes great, especially if you are the type who doesn’t lament that you are not drinking Guinness, Chimay, Fischer, etc.

In a cervecería, Spanish beer is normally served chilled in cañas (short water-glass style quaffs). [If you want a bigger beer simply ask for a doble (a large wider-mouthed glass) or a tanque (tankard, a larger mug or stein); for a dark beer, cerveza negra.] A Spaniard will pop in to a cervecería and order a caña, which will probably be accompanied by a little oval dish of green olives and/or potato chips, sometimes house-made.

Woman's hand reaching for a beer.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2004

He or she (women of all ages frequent cervecerías for a refreshing caña) will sip their beer, munch on the olives and potato chips, and move to wherever it was they were going before they got thirsty. A caña is just a quick pick-me-up and thirst quencher. Pairs will come in, order a round of beers and a couple of tapas, then move on to the next bar, which may be another cervecería or a tasca specializing in tapas and wine, at which point they may switch drinks. Groups tend to settle in at a table, order a round of beers, a couple of glasses of vino and a few raciones, larger group-sized portions of tapas. Then they set about slaking their thirst, holding the hunger wolf at bay, and getting down to the serious business of the tertulia—shooting the breeze. The topic of conversation most certainly will not be a discussion of the merits of various brands of beers or grousing about why the joint doesn’t offer 163 different brands.

Cerveseria Tapa-Tapa, Barcelona.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2004

Cervecerías are easy to find in Madrid, Barcelona, and any town of any size in Spain (and the Cañas y Tapas and Gambrinus franchises are spreading like foam out of a fresh beer tap), but a good place to get acquainted with cervecerías is Madrid, where these beer halls have a long and warmly regarded, communal history. An excellent place to begin is La Plaza Santa Ana—one of the Madrid’s most famous squares. The plaza and the streets surrounding it are home to some of the capital’s most colorful and convivial cervecerías.

Cerveza, Cerveseria Tapa-Tapa, Barcelona

Gerry Dawes copyright 2010

Plaza Santa Ana is located just a few blocks west of the Prado and Thyssen-Bornemisza museums, and the Ritz, Palace, and Villa Real hotels. It is in the old literary district where Miguel de Cervantes, the author of Don Quixote, and Lope de Vega, the Spanish Shakespeare, lived. Back in the 19th Century, because of its beer halls, this lively square was popularly known as Plaza de la Cerveza (Beer Plaza). From the number of cervecerías now on the plaza, Plaza Santa Ana could still claim that title.

Plaza Santa Ana

Gerry Dawes copyright 2010

Plaza Santa Ana is bordered on the east by the Teatro Español (Spanish National Theatre) and on the west by the now modernized Hotel ME Reina Victoria, once the epicenter for the bullfight crowd during Madrid’s San Isidro festival each May. But it is the beer halls with their outdoor sidewalk seating along the south side of the plaza, which will get your attention since they are usually filled with attractive people from across the spectrum - - locals, students, tourists - - sampling tapas and sipping beer.

As you come west up Calle Prado from Plaza de las Cortes, where the Spanish parliament (or Cortes) is located, the first bar you will encounter on this row is the Cervecería Alemana, a colorful Madrid institution founded in 1904 and celebrated as an old Hemingway and bullfight hangout.

Cervecería Alemana - Tapas

Gerry Dawes copyright 2010

The marble-topped tables, crusty veteran waiters, and taurine photographs on the wall capture the atmosphere of old Madrid. Ask for una caña de cerveza (you will automatically be served a glass of draft beer) to go with a ración of almejas a la marinera (great Spanish Manila-style clams in a rich, savory sauce), calamares a la romana (deep-fried, battered squid rings), or ensaladilla rusa (“Russian”-style potato salad), all of which are classic Spanish tapas.

Just up the sidewalk is the much newer Naturbier, a fashionable cervecería, which brews its own beer in what was the cellar of an old convent and serves it on draft with tapas such as Galician empanadas (a pie-like pastry stuffed with meat or fish), excellent Catalan sausages, and cured anchovies on toast.

Cerveza y "gildas," anchovies, olives and guindilla peppers on a toothpick, San Sebastián.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2008

Naturbier’s next-door neighbor is another good beer bar, Cervecería Santa Ana, which also has sidewalk tables where you can drink cold draft beer with mostly delicatessen-like cold tapas—a tabla de embutidos (a platter of good Spanish cold meats such as chorizo, salami-like salchichón, jamón serrano [Spain’s superlative cured mountain ham], and cecina [a cured beef ham specialty from northern Spain]; a selection of Spanish cheeses; and such standards as delicious boquerones en vinagre (marinaded fresh anchovies). This cervecería also has a wide-ranging international selection of bottled beers.

A few feet further up the sidewalk towards Hotel Reina Victoria is La Moderna, which bills itself as a cervecería, but is also one of Madrid’s best wine and tapas bars. La Moderna does serve good draft beer, but it also specializes in Spanish wines and food items such as cheeses, olives, and sausages with specific denominaciones de origen (Spain’s equivalent of France’s appellation controlee system for guaranteeing authenticity and quality). La Moderna’s wine-bar style offerings include many difficult-to-find and up-and-coming wineries. They also serve a wide variety of creative single-portion tapas, not just racion-size portions, so you can sample of number of different dishes here.

The tapas bars of the Plaza Santa Ana will get you started. Making the rounds of Madrid’s cervecerías, is a fine introductory course in Spanish food, tapas, and Spanish and European beers. The cervecería scene in Madrid is great fun and the bites of food that accompany the good, cold Spanish beer fortifies you for a long evening of pub hopping and is of a very entertaining and civilized way to drink. Just off the Plaza Santa Ana in the surrounding calles (streets), Huertas and del Principe especially, are at least 30 or more cervecerías that also serve tapas. Just a few blocks east of Plaza Santa and a block west of the Prado Museum is the Plaza de Jesús, which has several more very colorful cervecerías (see listing). There are hundreds more scattered around Madrid (see listing for other selected cervecerías in Madrid and Barcelona).

The Gambrinus chain of cervecerías also offers a short list of international bottled beers, including Desperado, which is describing as having “the aroma of Tequila.” My advice is rather than be that desperado, just do what the average Spaniard does, order a cerveza de barril and take what comes out of the tap.

Cervecerías in Madrid and Barcelona

Literary District (near the Prado and major museums)

Cervecería Alemana, Plaza de Santa Ana 6. 91 429 70 33.

Cervecería Santa Ana, Plaza de Santa Ana 10. 91 429 43 56.

Cervecería Naturbier, Plaza de Santa Ana 9. 91 429 39 18.

Cervecería La Moderna, Plaza de Santa Ana 12. 91 420 15 82.

Cervecería Los Gatos, Plaza de Jesús 2, 91 429 30 67. A very colorful, cave-like, taurine motif hangout a couple of blocks from the Prado.

Las Gatos, Madrid

Gerry Dawes copyright 2004

Cervecería La Dolores, Plaza de Jesús 4. 91 429 22 43. A Madrid classic with a great tile façade, good tapas, and an attractive evening crowd.

Cervecería Cervantes, Plaza De Jesús 7. 91 429 60 93. Another in a string of good beer-and-tapas bars on this street.

Cañas y Tapas, Atocha 42 (and some 20 other Madrid area locations, see www.tapaspain.com; Nuestros Tabernas section for listing). Central reservations number: 902 18 09 18.

Central Madrid & the Barrio de Salamanca (shopping district)

Cervecería Correos, Alcalá 55. 91 578 21 31. Beer and tapas across from Madrid’s ornate main post office, between the Plaza de Cibeles and the Puerta de Alcalá.

Cervecería Santa Bárbara (Also Known as La Cruz Blanca), Goya 70. 91 575 00 52. A Madrid classic for oysters and draft beer. (There are two other related Santa Bárbara cervecerías.)

Cervecería El Barril, Goya 86. 91 578 39 98. A cervecería specializing in seafood tapas. In the Goya metro area near the northeastern side of Retiro Park.

Cervecería Los Clarines, Bocángel 2. 91 356 98 59. A taurine-motif beer bar near Las Ventas, Madrid’s bullring.

Cervecería Juan Bravo 25, Juan Bravo 25. 91 411 60 25. An excellent cervecería/tapas bar/restaurant with a wonderful curving bar, good beer, good tapas, and good ambience.

Cervecería Oldenburg, Alburquerque 13. 91 447 42 72. Guinness Book of World Records, most beers in the smallest space.

Gambrinus Carmen, Plaza del Carmen S/N (near the Puerta del Sol). 91 531 84 13. One of several in the Cruzcampo Gambrinus chain. (See article.)

Cervecería El Doble, José Abascal, 16. 91 448 20 33. A sign here says, “Beer Drawn by the Old System,” basically slow-drawn draft with good tapas and great bullfight pictures on the walls.

Barcelona

Cerveseria Tapa Tapa, Barcelona

Gerry Dawes copyright 2008

Cerveseria Tapa Tapa, Passeig de Gràcia 44. Two long curving bars, scores of tapas with a picture guide to identify them and good German beer on draft. In the Eixample on Barcelona’s Madison Avenue, Tapa Tapa is near some of the modernista architect Antoni Gaudí’s finest buildings.

Cerveseria Tapa-Tapa, Barcelona.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2008

Els Quatre Gats (Cerveseria Modernista), Montsió, 3 bis. 93 302 41 40. Billed as a cerveseria modernista, this colorful, not-to-be-missed, turn-of-the-century bar-restaurant was an artist’s hangout where Picasso had his first exhibition.  (Warning: both management and waiters can be very unwelcoming, if you are not dining in their restaurant.)

Cerveseria 4 Gats, Barcelona.

Gerry Dawes copyright 2008

Cerveseria Gambrinus, La Rambla 140. 93 301 07 70. (See article.)

The Wines of Navarra

The Ancient Kingdom of Navarra – Spain's Exciting New Wine Region By Gerry Dawes

(Also see Tasting & Touring in Navarra)

(Photos to come, stayed tuned.)

Navarra, the landlocked northern Spanish province that shares a wild stretch of the western Pyrenees with neighboring France, is one of the most rewarding places in Spain for wine aficionados in search of good up-and-coming wines, exceptional regional cuisine and off-the-beaten-track travel experiences. Given the advances of the past few years, Navarra promises to be Spain's next great wine discovery and is set to become a major producer of top-quality wines from across a spectrum that includes world-class whites, exceptional rosés, native and foreign varietal reds and surprising dessert wines.

The province boasts some of the most varied topography in Spain: in the cooler uplands one finds snowy peaks soaring above pine- and beech-covered slopes, pristine green valleys, wild, awesome canyons, and terraced vineyards framing picturesque villages; warmer climes boast sun-drenched southern hills overlooking valleys filled with old-vine garnacha vineyards and lush vegetable gardens irrigated by the Ebro River. Also gracing this strikingly beautiful, ancient kingdom are a number of historically important, dramatically situated villages, medieval castles and major shrines along the Camino de Santiago, the Pilgrim's route to Santiago de Compostela.

Only a narrow coastal strip of the Basque Country along the Gulf of Biscay separates the province's northwestern border from the Atlantic. The tempering maritime influences are much the same as those enjoyed by Bordeaux, but Navarra's climate also is affected by the Pyrenees along its northeastern border and by continental Spain to the south, so its relatively small area has climatological variations that would make a large country proud. There are snow-capped, pine-clad peaks and swift, cold trout streams in the north; a Rioja Alta-like, almost Burgundian climate in the west; a mini-desert (Las Bardenas) in the southeast; and a California interior-like climate along the Ebro River in the south.

Part of Navarra's enduring charm lies in its relative isolation. Its mountainous terrain and, until recently, a dearth of straight, fast roads for getting there, once discouraged visitors.

Were it not for the international fame brought to Pamplona by Ernest Hemingway in his writings in the 1920s, and years later by James A. Michener in his non-fiction Iberia, Navarra may not have been discovered by outsiders at all. Hemingway's prose made the area famous in The Sun Also Rises, a novel in which he described wine-drinking episodes with Navarrese Basques, an unforgettable trout fishing expedition in the Pyrenees and the wild days of the Fiestas de San Fermín, where bulls are run through the streets of Pamplona, Navarra's capital. But, except for the celebration of San Fermín in early July, when thousands of foreigners descend upon the region, and the Camino de Santiago, whose pilgrims pass through Navarra, foreign tourism has not been a major economic factor.

On my annual visits to Navarra since the 1970s, I have often attended the Fiestas de San Fermín; stayed in the wonderful castle village of Olite; made pilgrimages to my favorite Camino de Santiago sights, such as the Romanesque jewel, Sangüesa, monumental Estella, and the lovely, 12th-Century pilgrim's bridge at Puente de la Reina; lingered in the back streets of Tudela, a Jewish-Moorish-Christian town; and reveled in photographing the grape harvest, which produces Navarra's lovely, dry rosado (rosé) wines.

I also delighted in drinking those wonderful rosados with Navarra's delicious, hearty country food, some of the best in Spain.

Increasingly, though, over the past several years, I have been drawn to Navarra to check on the progress of a new wave of wineries now coming of age that should be the next great chapter in the Spanish wine saga, once dominated completely by La Rioja. In just a decade, the world has seen the surprising red wines of the Ribera del Duero and Cataluña (primarily from Miguel Torres and the blockbuster mountain region of Priorato) and the superb, food-friendly Albariños from Rías Baixas rise to international prominence.

While it has taken Navarra longer than its more famous sister regions to emerge, there are complex reasons behind this – not the least of which has been Navarrese wine tradition, which dates back at least 2,000 years, as evidenced by the remains of a Roman winery excavated at Funes in southern Navarra.

Modern winemaking in Navarra (and the rest of this part of northern Spain, especially La Rioja) really got its big push in the 12th Century when the Cistercians, the same Burgundian order that founded Clos de Vougeot and other great vineyards, established monasteries and planted vines (probably that century's version of pinot noir) to service the great medieval pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela, a key element in the repopulation of the Christian territories on a nascent Spain's Moorish-held frontier. And for almost three centuries (1234 to 1512), Navarra was a kingdom powerful enough to count a large section of southwestern France, including Bordeaux, in its dominions. Spain, and Navarra in particular, would export native garnacha (called garnacho in Navarra) to Provence during the reign of the Popes of Avignon, contributing one of the major grapes in such wines as Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Gigondas and Vacqueyras.

In the 20th Century, Navarra, with one important distinction, was comprised mostly of cooperative wineries, producing reasonably good claretes (clarets), or light red wines (rather confusingly, rosados are sometimes still called claretes), for the local market and vinos de granel, or bulk wines, made mostly from some very good, yet under-appreciated, old-vine garnacha. The bulk wines were exported to neighboring Spanish regions, and to other European countries, France especially, for blending.

The notable distinction, overlooked by nearly everyone, was rosado, the great sangrado (free-run) garnacha rosé wine, which is probably the best in the world in its genre. Until recently though, with the exception of a few of the rosado producers, the only wineries with any notoriety outside Navarra were Chivite, Las Campanas and Señorío de Sarría, whose inexpensive, workman-like reds had their aficionados.

After Spain's democracy was established in the 1970s, Navarra, like other Spanish wine regions, began the quest to establish its own vinous identity. Navarrese pride in their historical and gastronomic attractions extended to winemaking, but, with the exception of the rosados and a few red wines such as those from Magaña and Chivite, success had been spotty. It has taken Navarran bodegas longer to hit their stride than it has for their peers in other Spanish wine regions, such as Ribera del Duero in Castilla-León or Rías Baixas in Galicia.

The Ribera del Duero and Rías Baixas denominaciones de origen have had a clearer, more vertical path to international prominence because each was dealing primarily with just one native grape variety: the great red tinto fino grape in the Ribera del Duero and the exceptional white albariño grape in the Rías Baixas. And while winemakers in the Ribera del Duero will experiment with French oak, producers such as Alejandro Fernández, whose Pesquera has become one of the top new red wines in the world, rely primarily on American oak. A grape as noble as tinto fino, which in the Ribera del Duero produces such clearly first-rate wine by itself, requires little tinkering and experimentation. In the Rías Baixas, the vinification of albariño, a white grape capable of making superb wine without wood, is generally not further complicated by the question of oak aging.

In Navarra, the picture is far more complex. There are actually five growing regions with varied terrain and climatological differences within the province – Tierra de Estella, Valdizarbe, Baja Montaña, Ribera Alta and Ribera Baja – that can produce distinct denominación wines just as the Médoc or the Rhône Valley does. In fact, the Chivite family is having great success with Bordeaux varieties, especially cabernet sauvignon, in their exceptional Arínzano Vineyard in the temperate, very Rioja Alta-like, Tierra de Estella area in southwestern Navarra. And the Ribera Baja region is particularly receptive to such varieties as garnacha, which can rival the quality of that grown in Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Until recently, the authorized red varieties for the region were tempranillo, garnacha, graciano and mazuelo (carignane); the whites were viura, garnacha blanca, malvasia, palomino and moscatel. Rather than continue focusing on the production of ersatz Rioja blends made primarily from tempranillo and garnacha, which are sometimes quite good, but a tough sell in competition with the well-established, internationally renowned Rioja houses, many traditional Navarrese bodegas decided they had to break tradition if they were to be successful.

Simultaneously, new bodegas were established, many of them on the French château or estate model, but with an eye toward Cataluña's lead with varietal-labeled wines, à la California.
Navarrese growers – led by the example of Juan Magaña who had brought in vines from Bordeaux and set up his own vine nursery in the 1970s – planted virus-free clones of foreign varieties, especially cabernet sauvignon, merlot and chardonnay. Of course, those grapes would have to be vinified in new oak, both American and French, the latter in several flavors, Limousin being particularly popular. Consultants were brought in to advise wineries, budding young winemakers trained in La Rioja, Bordeaux and California, and annual visits to Vinexpo in Bordeaux became de rigueur.

As models for what could be achieved with foreign varietals in Spain, the Navarrese had the example of their Mediterranean neighbors to the east, Miguel Torres and Jean León, who achieved international recognition with that approach in Penedés. They also knew that their Atlantic-tempered climate was probably more suited to the balanced style of French wines, rather than the California-esque style of many hot-country Mediterranean wines. And the early success of Juan Magaña, who produced some stunning Cabernet-Merlot blends in the early 1980s, showed the levels of quality Navarra was capable of attaining.

As the new vineyards reached the wine-producing stage, the age of experimentation in Navarrese winemaking shifted into high gear. It would still take another decade, however, for this experimental phase to result in world-class red wines. During this period, as in many parts of Cataluña, Navarra became a bastion of Euro-técnica, producing "international style" varietal wines. Some producers, long on modern theory and short on experience in producing truly palatable wines, churned out treatises dissecting every scientific aspect of the viticultural and winemaking process. In these documents, there was seldom any emphasis on how good the wines taste with food. I sometimes got the impression that the new wave of Navarrese winemakers wanted to convince the world that they really knew what they were doing.

Until recently, too many Navarrese wines seemed to be works in progress. Too often, winemakers with inexperienced palates wrestled with multiple variables that included young vines, foreign varieties (with which they had little experience), blends that needed perfecting and those eternal questions about oak: American, French (Limousin, Nevers, Allier) or Bosnian? How much time in oak? How much new oak? Unfortunately, the too-often-encountered answer seemed to be "too much new oak is not enough."

As in many other wine regions around the world, new oak almost seemed to be the raison d'être for making wine. One Navarrese winemaker proudly told me his wines spend their first year in a combination of new Allier, Tronçais, Nevers and Limousin oak, then another year in large Allier vats.

I asked myself why people are so proud of their wines smelling and tasting more like oak than grapes. Wines such as those say more about a winemaker's wood-purchasing acumen than his winemaking ability. This then begs the question: If winemakers are working with several different grape varieties and with three to four types of oak with which they have little experience, what does the consumer get? They get experimental wines financed by, you guessed it, the consumer. This push toward an international style has been egged on by a triunfalista, or over-zealous, Spanish press that wants to report on how accomplished Spanish producers are with both New World and New European-style wines.

Although I remain unconvinced by many of Navarra's new-wave wines, I believe this province has enormous potential. Some of the old-line producers such as Chivite have upgraded their facilities and have integrated new varieties into an already established track record with native grapes. And Chivite, in particular, now that the spectacular Arínzano Vineyard has come into production, is poised to become a world-class player with the release of its 1994 reservas. Exceptional 1994, 1995 and 1996 vintages should coincide with the coming of age of many Navarrese winemaking operations, particularly the small estate and château types. So, I expect a quantum leap in the recognition of Navarra's quality outside Spain in the next few years.

The Navarrese, despite the over-modernization of the winemaking process, are still producing more high-quality, superbly food-friendly, garnacha-based rosados than any area in the world, and the wines are an absolute steal. Several Navarrese producers also are making some good barrel-fermented Chardonnays, which are more Burgundian than Californian in style. Chivite's buttery, barrel-fermented Colección 125 Chardonnay and those of Palacio de Muruzabal, Castillo de Monjardín and Nekeas have drawn considerable attention to Navarra's potential as a world-class Chardonnay producer. Several bodegas, notably Ochoa and especially Chivite, are making exceptional sweet, white Moscatel dessert wines that are delicious with excellent Spanish foie gras. I also expect to see some superb, old-vine garnacha reds emerge from Navarra over the next few years.

Contributing Editor Gerry Dawes, who has been traveling to Spain regularly for more than 25 years, is a New York-based wine, food and travel photojournalist whose articles and photographs have been published in The New York Times, International Wine Cellar, Food Arts and Martha Stewart Living.