The Guggenheim Gastronomic Restaurant aka Jatetxe Gastonomika is simply genius. I was certainly touted onto this place by my good architectural friend Janet, eG reviews lauded it, so it was not a found object, but was on the top of my list. And, rightly so.
There are a confusing number of eating opportunities on the upper ground floor of the Guggie-B, but the gastro one run by Josean Alija and Martin Beraskegui is where you wannabee. I choose the most expensive of tasting menus (72 vs 62 €, NB: one course a la carte was 3/4 that), because it seemed to be the most comprehensive. But who knows, all their dishes seemed terribly inventive, so maybe the fish soup at 12 € would have been just as mind-blowing.
In any case, the amuse gueule was a double veggie tempura with a slice of flower they never identified – off to a good start. Then teeny, tiny (not thick) sprigs of white, yes white, asparagus cooked “one minute” in what they say was a “floral, herbaceous and citrus” tart oil, sounded hocus pocus to me but tasted divine, with another tempura of what sounded like “axtyx” but tasted like onion and which I originally thought was over-salted but was strongly-herbed.
A slice of aubergine, covered with a purple sauce (which they said was licorice, but I think was laboratory engineered aubergine skin reduced to its essence) with a sweet sauce of makil goxo, whatever that is, and olive oil from 1000 year old trees, was next.
Then, a pasta (which in Basque Spain I was not looking forward to), with a “Joselito” (see below) ham stock and parmesan. I was Right: it was parmesan but Wrong, it was not sliced over the pasta; it was in a foam.
Then the fish of the day, a small piece, perfectly, I mean, perfectly cooked piece of hake on a bed of black olives so reduced to their essence they were ephemeral along with a sauce flavored with sherry and oregano and rhubarb leaves.
Next, what was understatedly described as a “traditional stew” of pork; my a** it was. It was as if one took a slice of raw beef filet and grafted onto it a browned/vers/burnt duck skin and presented it in a wild herb and honey sauce with potatoes confited in passion fruit. Get the picture; complex but incredible food.
So now onto the desserts that my source Janet thought were the best part. First a “cream of pumpkin” (coulda fooled me except for the color) with bergarnot perfume, macerated biscuit bits and a dollop of toasted beer (come on, toasted beer?) ice cream. Pretty damn good.
Then a choco thing that was ½ way between a moelleux and a gateau with coffee ice cream sitting atop ginger dust.
The bill here cannot be less than 70 €, even with the 62 menu, one glass of wine and no bottled water (here, difficult to escape) or coffee, which given our dollar’s standing doesn’t look too great.
Oh yah, the “corn bread,” can you believe it? was crusty and delicious.
Go back? In an instant, maybe tomorrow, just kidding Colette.
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