“La France profonde” may be a literary conceit, but its Andalusian equivalent is the real thing. Best of all, we discovered it almost by accident after first experiencing Ronda’s mass tourism.
This historic town merits its high warm body count and the famous, much photographed view of the Puente Nuevo spanning the gorge which connects the ancient Moorish quarter with the 15th century ‘new town’, is accessed by a satisfying near vertical hike into its depths.
Traces of the centuries long Moorish occupancy are everywhere and not just in the streetscape and on our plates. A short walk from the ‘Puente Romano’ (the oldest of Ronda’s three bridges), are the remains of the 13th century Arab baths. Weary travellers would visit here and the adjacent mosque to cleanse body and soul before entering the city. Then there is the haunting ‘water mine’ accessed by hundreds of steep steps where christian slaves were employed to extract water from the river, in case of siege. Ironically it was this very staircase in the cliff face that Castilian troops used to breach the town’s supposedly impregnable defences. The tranquil view at the water’s edge belies its dramatic history.
Precipitous escape routes aside, the crowds have been relentless and there is a sense of being part of some massive multicultural group selfie or harmonious social experiment about the place, never more so than when Sabrina who got the first table, helped to pack a restaurant terrace with assorted South Korean, Japanese and Chinese diners, who having seen that the place was filling up with Asians of various nationalities (Sabrina is part Chinese), decided they should eat there too, while the adjacent restaurants stayed empty of all but locals. The waiters thought this floor show was hilarious and rewarded us with especially delicious sangrias with massive flower filled ice ‘spheres’ and complimentary almond liqueur digestifs to finish. The food in between was outstanding- delicious courgette soup amuse bouches, and a saffron-infused seafood paella.
Contrasting with this tourist crush, a day or two later we find ourselves at a finca in the remote village of El Colmenar, a couple of hours south west of Ronda. Ringed by the Montes de Màlaga and densely wooded oak cork forests and with a section of the southern branch of the Camino de Santiago to hike on the doorstep, we had fondly imagined ourselves staying put for a few days and making full use of the establishment’s ‘natural health spa’, but the reality is that it’s a ‘rustic retreat’ with a capital ‘R’. I was all for jumping ship immediately and taking the financial hit, but Sabrina calmed me down and as usual she has turned out to be right. Though we hadn’t bargained for the railway line which passes right through the centre of the village carrying freight from Algeciras on the coast to Ronda, disturbing our slumbers at all hours.
The first pleasing novelty is to find that we appear literally to be the only foreigners here, (apart from the occasional transient hiker or cycle tourer). Word of our presence (and willingness to spend) seems to have rapidly spread around the village’s store and its two restaurants, (which are next door to one another, open on alternate days and have remarkably similar menus) and we are given the warmest of welcomes. Gossiping ladies crowding the counter at the store are waved aside by the store owner in favour of our fully laden shopping basket and various old dudes, some in combat fatigues nurse beers and coffees while watching us eat. There’s a melancholy sense of ‘waiting room’ about it all as there are few if any young people in the community, but there’s a comfortable mutual affection which sustains the place.
Both restaurants have wintry, meat heavy menus, and though my Chipirones a la plancha (grilled baby squid) are delicious, it’s Sabrina’s locally sourced venison stew which we’ll remember.
Venison Stew: Serves Eight
1 1/2 kg venison cut into 2 1/2 cm chunks
1 very large onion, diced
1/3 cup EV olive oil
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
2 large red bell peppers, seeded and sliced to 1/4 inch thick
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp finely chopped fresh rosemary
2 tsp dried thyme
1 tbsp smoked paprika
1 1/2 cups red wine
1 tin whole peeled tomatoes, broken up by squeezing them
1/2 cup passata
Salt & pepper to taste
1 1/2 cups chicken stock
In a cast iron or heavy base pot, (oven safe) add half the olive oil, then brown the venison chunks in batches until all done and set aside. In the same pot add the rest of the oil and fry the onion and garlic until fragrant and translucent. Add in the paprika and rosemary stirring constantly to prevent it from burning, then pour in the wine and bring to boil scraping up the caramelised bits. Add the passata and tomatoes and the rest of the ingredients along with the meat. Bring everything to the boil then turn off the heat. Cover the pot then place in a 350°F/175°C pre-heated oven and cook for two hours, checking from time to time if there is enough liquid, if not add a bit more water.
Season with salt and pepper and serve with mashed potatoes or rice.
On my hike to Cañon de Butreras (Vulture Canyon) I encounter and am greeted by many of the same characters, and finally there’s context for ‘Vulture toast’ (which does not feature the protected species) and appears on both of the restaurants’ menus. These magnificent birds of prey are riding thermals high above the canyon walls.
It feels a little bit like we’re taking part in a benign Spanish language version of ‘The Truman Show’ or ‘Westworld’, so for a change of scene, we get in the car and make the winding drive northwards through a vast oak cork forest to the ‘white town’ of Ubrique. It’s a misty day, so the redness of the recently harvested trees (it’s a nine year cycle), contrasts vividly with the greens of the undergrowth, lichen and leaves.
Set dramatically in the lee of the massive crag Cruz de Tajo, Ubrique is ‘handbag heaven’, as the town’s leather tanners and workshops provide the raw materials for many of the luxury goods brands including Loewe, Louis Vuitton and Gucci. It’s raining steadily but Sabrina is in her element and we duck in and out of many of the leather goods stores and a couple of the workshops, before a huge asado lunch enjoyed with a brand new cast of characters.
Turns out we have merely changed sets in the movie in which we have walk on roles, as an ever expanding table of old men nursing Espressos and Estrellas, noisily shout and gesticulate about local politics and the lamentable performance of Sevilla and Màlaga FC, while a bevy of wine drinking mothers wait for their kids to finish school and a table full of young guys flirt with the waitress, as we eat our way through a massive platter of Costillar (pork ribs) and fries. Hitting the road back we are full of admiration for the sheer joie de vivre displayed by this little town on a wet and wintry weekday afternoon.
Returning to the finca, we find that a party of sixteen ladies on a yoga retreat have taken the place over, so while Sabrina has the massage she’s booked in the rustic one room spa, I escape for a walk along the river which adjoins the property. It’s beautiful, but far too soon I come to the barrier of the railway line. As I turn round and head back, I can hear the primal screaming of the yogis in the finca’s grounds.
It’s going to be a very long night.
Amusing descriptions! Marvellous! I remember Ronda and that 'group selfie' feel!
I’m very jealous of this journey. Avoiding the crowds and finding the original culture in country life. It’s the life that carries on whether there are spectators or not as opposed to tourist traps which depend on crowds.