Sabor Español

 

Judy. About a quarter mile from us in Uvita, down a barely-graveled road, is a small porch restaurant called Sabor Español. We’d heard good things about it, and Trip Advisor gave it a good rating, so why not give it a go? We walked down for lunch one day, since the website said they were open from noon till nine PM. A sign across the entrance stated the same hours, but the place was deserted. We assumed the worst; after all, so many restaurants had closed during the pandemic, and it was, after all, just a shack of a place. 

A few evenings later, we wandered by after watching the sunset on the beach. Three people sat at a table, and jumped up when they saw us. They were open, but the hours had changed to evening hours—five until nine. We said we’d be back the next day. 

 “Would you like a reservation?” 

 Poor guys, there were about six tables, and I guess they wanted to know if they should bother opening, so we made our reservations for the next night. 

 Imagine our surprise when we returned that Sunday night to find the place packed, with little twinkling lights on the perimeter and candles on the table. And there were other surprises in store. Sabor Español is Spanish in every sense of the word—Spanish beer, Spanish wines, Spanish menu, and Spanish owned. The chef is from Ibiza, an island off the Spanish coast, and his wife is from Barcelona. I suppose it was his wife and son who served as both waiters and hosts, and the three of them worked like a well-oiled machine. Each dish is cooked to order, so, as in Spain, you’re looking at an evening of dining. While the service was excellent, you couldn’t expect thirty minutes in and out. 

 Often, when a dish was brought out, it was the chef himself who delivered it to the table, glowing with pride at his creation. then stopping by every table to greet patrons and ask how they were enjoying the food and the evening. While some customers like us were new, there were obviously regulars, and the hostess spent time chatting with them. It felt so homey, yet so very well run. Poor latecomers who hadn’t made a reservation were turned away, or told to return in another hour or so. 

 The Albariño wine was crisp, the Catalan mineral water tasty. We split gazpacho for a starter and almost licked the bowl. Then came Ted’s chicken brochettes with banana and bacon covered with a sweet brown sauce; and my shrimp in cream whisky sauce with polenta. Y’all, I like to have died from joy. 

Hours later we finished our espressos and wandered home. The moon was full, and the cicadas were singing. It was our penultimate day in Uvita, and what a way to go.