Hams hanging from the ceiling of a bar in San Sebastian

The taxi driver turns his head all the way around so that he can get a good look at me. “Of course I know where Arbelaitz is,” he scoffs. “It is a very good restaurant. One star Michelin. One of our best.” He raises his index finger to emphasize that point.

“But, you know,” he says, his finger now wagging at me, “you really should go to Arzak. Three stars Michelin. The finest in Spain!”  Continue reading →