Good Spanish restaurants are the kind of thing you have to go to Shanghai for (or Spain). Not to mention forking out an arm and leg. But Nanjing, quite remarkably, has its own treasure, and an affordable one. It’s win-win. Thinking at first it was named after the Spanish national football team, do not be fooled that this is some grimy old sports bar. The food is serious, and seriously good, while the service makes you feel as though you’ve ambled down Mercado de San Miguel to a scrumptious local eatery. You will quickly forget you are in Xinjiekou.
Our culinary adventure began with ham. This is no Walmart or Carrefour facon. This ham deserves a business class seat from Spain. Layered over a smear of tomato on a crunchy little toast, and paired with its eternal lover, cheese, this is a nostalgic kick and a revelation at once (Gasol, ¥62). Etiquette went out the window as we indulged with our hands, licking our fingers to savour every last hint.
In between mouthfuls of salty goodness we sipped spoonfuls of gazpacho (¥35). With Miró-esque splodges of balsamic vinegar, the refreshing soup was balanced in colour, flavour and acidity, topped with more of that delectable ham.
Gazpacho implies summer as does, of course, sangria. But try the Andaluz, a white wine version from the south made with soda, lime and mint. We ordered a jug (¥90) without hesitation, although I would have rather had the whole thing to myself.
Further down the comfort food end of the scale were the Manolos (¥45); boiled eggs stuffed with tuna, mayonnaise and apparently crab, balanced on a ring of cucumber for an elevating crunch. We had wanted the Spanish tortilla (¥90), but they need time to make it properly, so order a day in advance.
Then there was the Lorenzo (¥110), as if there hadn’t been enough mmms and uuuhs already. Charred outside and pink within, these pork sirloin morsels are so tender you can put down the steak knife. In fact, you can put the fork down too and just tip the plate into your mouth. Fruit and meat can be an awkward pair but the bitterness of the orange and tang of the mustard complement the pork well. I am more sceptical, however, of blueberry jam which also lurks on the menu.
For lack of space in the kitchen, desserts are rather dreary, made up for, however, by the excellence of everything else. Selección Española is somewhere of which even the Shanghai food snobs can be jealous.
