The Pintxos Crawl Through La Parte Vieja

San Sebastian's old quarter, La Parte Vieja, contains more Michelin stars per square metre than anywhere else on earth. But the real eating happens standing up, at long zinc bars lined with plates of pintxos — the Basque cousin of tapas, but more architectural, more precise, more argumentative about provenance. A slice of jambon on a crouton with a pickled guindilla pepper and an anchovy from the Cantabrian sea. A tortilla of Idiazabal cheese. A pil-pil cod that quivers when you pick it up. Each one costs one or two euros.

The ritual is this: find a bar, order a txakoli — the local slightly sparkling, bracingly acidic white wine, poured from height into a wide glass to oxygenate it — and survey the bar top. Point at what you want. Eat it in two bites. Move to the next bar in twenty minutes. Over the course of an evening you might visit seven or eight places, spending perhaps thirty euros total on some of the best food of your life. The Basques have perfected the art of eating well cheaply and standing up.

The debate over which bars are best is perpetual and enjoyable. Gambara, La Cuchara de San Telmo, Bar Nestor (whose tomato salad is served only twice a day, sells out in minutes, and is perhaps the single greatest tomato preparation in Europe) — these are starting points, not conclusions. The real education is wandering, ordering instinctively, and eating whatever the locals are reaching for.