Talk escabeche to me
Eating at the hottest new restaurant in Madrid, plus a brief primer on escabeche
If a couple of years ago you told me I would end up loving a restaurant whose specialty is escabeche, I probably would have laughed in your face. But that’s exactly what happened when David and I went to Brutalista, a new restaurant in Argüelles that opened just a few weeks ago. I always, always check the menu before going to a new restaurant, so when I saw item after item followed by escabechado, I was a little… skeptical.
So what is escabeche anyway? Escabeche is a Spanish technique for preserving/cooking protein, typically consisting of simmering meat or fish in equal parts olive oil, vinegar, and water. There are several theories on where this method came from, but the most prominent seems to be that the dish has its origins in 8th century Spain, when the peninsula was under Muslim rule. Used now as an actual cooking method, it seems that it has its roots in the technique of preserving meat in the days before refrigeration.
And if it’s just a cooking technique, why was I so leery of trying it? A couple of reasons, actually. My immediate association was mejillones en escabeche1, and since I’m allergic to mussels, I had a less-than-favorable reaction. Also, sometimes just the description of a food me da cosa2. Vinegary meat? No, thanks. See also: fish soup, cannelloni filled with canned tuna and tomato sauce, and soft-boiled eggs in chicken broth, which are all things that sounded disgusting to me at first but I’ve ended up liking over the years. Despite these preconceived notions, in my adult life, I make an effort to challenge myself to try new things. So with an open mind (and empty stomach), off we went to Brutalista.
Let me start off by saying that you know it’s a good sign when you’re on your way to your lunch reservation and you overhear someone saying that the place you’re going to is awesome. We had stopped at Black Pepper Co. on the way to pick up rice for paella (a definite topic for a future newsletter) and happened to overhear the owner of the store chatting with another customer. I was half zoned-out, lost in a world of fried-egg-flavored salt (yes it’s real, yes it’s delicious, and yes it really does taste exactly like fried eggs) and spice blends, but David immediately picked up that they were talking about Brutalista. And their opinion? Basically that the restaurant was, true to its name, brutal.3
When we got to the restaurant, we were seated by the window at a high table shaped like a doughnut, with a ficus-like tree rising through the center opening. The table is set up to be used either for a large group or four small groups of two, with the plant providing somewhat of a divider for more intimacy. The space itself is trendy, with concrete walls and neon lights that lend a sleek industrial-chic vibe.
But let’s talk about what you’re here for: the food. The restaurant offers a choice of three menus4: a smaller version with only entrantes5, the standard option with nine dishes including dessert, and a special menu that is suggested for repeat visitors. Since it was our first visit, we went with the standard option, and it did not disappoint. Here’s what we had:
Cream of garlic with fried artichoke
Mini toast with sardine topped with miso
Oyster with escabiche6 sauce
Fire-roasted tomato gazpacho7 with pickled radish à la kimchi
Chicken breast in escabeche with a side of pasta salad8
Conejo escabechado9
Fried quail
Walnut tart
David chose the callos and said they were delicious (Did I want a bite? No, gracias. I’m adventurous, but not that adventurous. Plus I’ve had callos before and they’re not my thing.). I opted for the chicken, which was covered in a delicious blackened crust and accompanied by an ají amarillo mayonnaise that was que te mueres12. I sort of wanted to smuggle the mayo home in my purse to try to recreate it and smother it on everything, but I settled for the more socially-acceptable option of dipping my bread in the remnants (another use of bread that’s proper and encouraged).
The overall verdict? Todo riquísimo.13 My top choice would have to be the conejo escabechado, with the fried quail and cream of garlic being close seconds. I also enjoyed the walnut tart, which reminded me of a lighter version of a traditional American pecan pie and was the perfect hint of sweet to end the experience.
Given my previous exposure to escabeche, I was surprised by how delicate it was in all of the dishes. I usually associate it with a stronger flavor due to the vinegar, but here the taste was more subtle. As the kids would say, Brutalista definitely understood the assignment.
If you’re in Madrid, get to Brutalista as soon as possible, before it explodes in popularity and turns into the next Tepic (and it certainly will). We were lucky and got the last lunch reservation, so make sure you call ahead.
For my non-Madrid friends, I suggest hunting down some escabeche closer to home. It may not be as delicious as the ones at Brutalista, but it will give you a taste of traditional Spanish cuisine that’s more unique than the typical offerings of paella and tortilla that you usually find in the US. Or you know, book a trip to Madrid and check out the restaurant for yourself. Just make sure you come hungry.
Ki
Mussels in escabeche, a popular canned seafood here and one of David’s favorites
Phrase loosely translated here to mean “it weirds me out”
In this context: awesome. It can also mean cruel and violent, like in English. But here it definitely means awesome.
“Menu” here in Spain typically means a fixed menu offering select dishes at a set price. Sometimes the restaurant gives you options to choose from, like in the popular menus del día that you see all over the city, but in nicer restaurants it usually consists of set dishes to highlight the chef’s talent. Think Michelin star format.
Starters/first course meals
A clever combo of “escabeche” and “ceviche.” Ceviche is a dish made up of raw seafood cured with citrus juices. See what they did there? I love a good play on words, and this alone gave the restaurant significant points in my book.
The best description is a cold tomato soup, but really, it’s so much more. Planning on talking more about this in next week’s long form post.
Not my grandmother’s style of pasta salad, which is a delicious Southern mix of macaroni, onion, cucumber, tomato, and mayonnaise. Here the pasta was a shape similar to pearled couscous, lightly dressed and offering textural interest to the dish.
Rabbit in escabeche
“Callos” is stewed tripe; “callos mirasol” is the restaurant’s modern take on the classic Spanish dish
Literally “volcanic chicken”
To die for
Everything was delicious