San Sebastian, Spain
Pulled A Runner! Skipped Out On Paying For Our Pintxos. Ooops!
When my ex-boyfriend and I drove into the old quarter of San Sebastián we were inundated with crowds. What on earth was going on? People amassed the narrow roads and alleys, bars were overflowing with patrons and music was reverberating around the buildings. Turns out this was the weekend for their annual regatta race. Party! After endless circling of the town, we squeezed our car into a tiny spot hugging the seawall, found our hotel between the throngs of partygoers, rolled our luggage into our room and bounded back down the stairs to join in on the festivities.
Ravenous and thirsty from our drive from Arcachon, we maneuvered our way through the crowds in search of a filling meal. Every bar we peeked in, a restaurant we passed we noticed colorfully displayed ‘open-faced sandwiches’ laid atop the length of bars. We were jealous as we assumed these were for private events, but when we overheard a group of Aussies rave about their plates of ‘tapas’, we realized we could join in. Score!
Now, I have already made two faux pas, calling these delectable morsels both a ‘sandwich’ and ‘tapas’. So before I continue on this riveting story let me provide a brief overview of the what this finger food actually is:
- They are pintxos, which means to pierce
- Pintxos are a Basque version of the tapas/tapa found in other regions of Spain
- The bread is pierced with a toothpick to keep the layers of goodness together – cheese, charcuterie, vegetables et cetera. Some cocktail sticks hold their own items such as olives, anchovies, and peppers
- If you call them tapas you will be asked to leave the bar and San Sebastián for that matter
- Not all pintxos use a piece of bread as its base. Some are fried pieces of goodness, such as croquettes or can be a bowl of risotto
- You always pay for pintxos, unlike some areas of Spain where tapas are free when a beverage is purchased
- Pintxos are displayed along the bar for easy viewing and serving
- Some bars allow self-service – grab a plate! Others will have the barman serve you
- Not all pintxos are displayed. Some bars offer a menu of cooked to order pintxos
- Payment is by the honor system. Those toothpicks aren’t just for holding the pintxos together. They are used to count how many you ate. Round them up and hand them over to the barman
Now that you have been briefed on all things pintxos, let me continue with the story.
On our final night, the last of the suns rays were moving over the old quarter creating distorted silhouettes against the pavement. Bands were playing an array of music competing against one another’s sounds and revelers were in high spirits after a successful day of boat racing. Chris and I were famished after a hike up Monte Urgull and decided to head to our favorite pintxos bar. (By now we were seasoned eaters, ‘pintxos bar stars’ we coined ourselves – we had the ordering and paying down pact, we knew which pintxos would be the most delicious and what establishment offered the highest quality of ingredients).
As hoards of inebriated patrons were having a raucous of a time, we had to forcefully meander ourselves through to the bar. Like being on a conveyor belt, we slowly made our way down the long bar, salivating at the pintxos. As it took a while to get the bartenders attention we knew we should order everything in one go – we piled two plates with an assortment of goodies – enough to feed a family, their neighbors, and friends. We couldn’t shove our way through the crowd in fear of dropping our pintxos to the floor, so we delicately held our plates tight and slithered through to the outside tables. We plunked into the metal chairs, happily sipped our sangria and munched through the pintxos. For an hour we breathed in the exuberant atmosphere and chatted with others at our table.
It was time to head forth to another restaurant, so I piled all the toothpicks into my hand and elbowed my way back to the bar. I felt like a child again, standing among the towering adults, waiting for someone to notice me. Only instead of a cashier, it’s now a bartender. I stood like a good Canadian, patiently waiting to pay. Time passed. I held the toothpicks in front of my face to make it more obvious. Still nothing. Again like a conveyor belt, I slid side to side in whatever direction the bartender was moving. Finally, eye contact achieved! Then nothing. After this charade went on for a good seven minutes, I had enough of this game and forfeit. When the bartender was busily serving others at the other end of the bar I made a run for it. I ducked low, moved stealthily through the crowd, told Chris to get his ass off the chair and like thieves in the night, disappeared into the darkness down a crowded alley.