Casa Urola: the exception that proves the rule
If you've read my post on how to eat out in San Sebastian, you'll know to avoid any place that has a queue outside – because within five minutes' walk there are 50 places as good or better. That's not to say we don't occasionally and speculatively walk past some of the city's favourites on the off chance there's a miracle spot at the bar in the offing.
As it happens, last night, at 7.00pm-and-20-seconds, we found ourselves outside the famous Casa Urola. Full-on tourist season ended a week ago, when about half a million French and American galoots seemingly had to go back to work on the same day, but there was still a tentative gaggle of foreigners milling about on the kalea outside, waiting for the restaurant to open its garage-style sliding door. Clearly Japanese and English, they were too polite to queue in earnest, which meant that we were in pole position the moment the door swung open. You snooze you lose. We scored the only two stools in the whole bar where you can sit without suffering people leaning over your shoulder asking what's good today (usually in English, possibly with a Japanese accent). We quickly got our food and drink order in then watched the mob flood in, happy that they'd at least beaten the suckers for whom there was no room in the tiny bar and were forced to remain outside the door like they were waiting for a bus.
We'd come full circle. Casa Urola was one of the places we loved during our first visit here as tourists in 2012, not yet having discovered how to crack the San Sebastian dining code but loving it nonetheless (admittedly the city wasn't so busy 12 years ago and the House of Urola was still an achievable destination). Here we were, on one of our last nights out in the city before moving to Jerez, back in the same place but with a whole bunch more knowledge. From our privileged position at our two-person VIP area we got to watch newbies tick off one of their big-ticket bucket-list destinations, seeing close-up the hunted expressions on their faces just like those I noted back when we first moved here. Just like the expressions on our own faces back then, too.
On the one hand we had a great hour or so, thanks not only to our impeccable timing but also because we got to chat to a few poms and even a Japanese couple; most of our regular haunts are devoid of English speakers and we're on our own, conversationally speaking. (As we speak I've got Masterchef Spain on in the background, and I'm understanding quite a bit of it, but a meaningful conversation with a Spanish speaker is still a long way off.) BUT, like many 'must-see' eateries in San Sebastian, Casa Urola should not be on your list. Yes, the food is great – but so it is in lots of other places. Plus it's packed with nervous, uncomfortable and confused tourists who are having lots of things beside fun. There's no laughter, no sense of local culture, and no place to sit.
At risk of being accused traitorous by the locals, in my next post I intend to put my dinero where my boca is. I'll name a few of our favourite joints and why we like them. I don't get many readers aside from family and friends so I don't think my doing so will affect these places in the same way that TV chefs and bloggers have ruined the likes of Casa Urola, Bar Sport and Borda Berri, but time will tell. If the worst happens and my top haunts start overflowing, I'll be well away, sipping fino in Jerez. And by 'sipping' I mean 'pigging'.
