Flamenco Everyone

You can't go to Spain and not see flamenco. There's probably a law on the books somewhere. Certainly everyone you talk to about Spain will go, "So did you see any flamenco?". And you'll have to say no, and feel like a horse's ass, and the person you're talking to probably won't even believe you actually went to Spain. They will assume you are a lying dog. We had to go see flamenco. So for our last night, we did.

Flamenco, in briefest terms, is a fast-paced and athletic dancing style with its origins in Andalusia, Spain's southernmost region. The word flamenco did not come into use until the 19th century, and is now used to refer to all components of a flamenco performance: song, dance, and guitar playing. Flamenco is a result of the great melting pot that is Spain, composed of Arabic, Sephardic, Gypsy, and Andalusian cultures, with additions from Cuba and Latin America. It is taken extremely seriously as an academic subject by many in Spain, and "flamencologists" produce considerable quantities of research and commentary on this vastly rich art form. Flamenco in practice is considerably different from the rose-in-teeth stuff we're exposed to in popular American culture: at it's best, it is fiery, intense, and hyper-sexualised, with a flurry of color and angular, fierce motion that is evocative of Spanish modern art.

The Flamenco Corral de la Moreia is located in central Madrid, close to pretty much everything. Madrid is not flamenco's home base - that's Andalusia - but as Madrid is Spain's largest city and its face to the world, good flamenco venues exist. It's a small and well respected venue, and provides both a nice dinner, booze, and a lovely show for a (not insignificant) amount of euros. It's been in operation since 1957 and has hosted various celebrities and world figures. The space was surprisingly small and intimate, which I believe is a fine thing in the context of an intensely personal form of expression.

If I'm not an art critic, I'm really not a dance critic (occasional viewing of "So You Think You Can Dance aside). Here are the photographs, at least. It's a beautiful and intense thing to witness. I'm particularly fond of the music - I was reminded of how excellent flamenco guitar in non-kitschy restaurant scenarios can be. The powerful voices are also magnificent - you can't help but recall the morning call at the mosques (a sound I got a bit accustomed to in India, and still like). It's a melting pot art form.


The seeming grand dame of the show.








It's an incredibly athletic dance mode. The women are all ripped like prize fighters while retaining an essential feminine sensuality. This is not ballet (and I like it far more).









The Corral de la Moreia talks up its food, and the menu is certainly ambitious for a dinner and a show type venue. I found the food perfectly acceptable, but not entirely special - and extremely expensive!. You're paying for the ambience more then for haute cuisine. The food does look muy hermosa.




A large and overwrought salad complete with a whole prawn and a rather offputting dollop of liquified cheese. I think it may have been trying to be foam.



A simple appetizer of (you guessed it) grilled prawns. These were fresh and large, and fulfilled their prawny little potential.



This was billed as a fancy variant on gazpacho, but it was, in fact, just plain old gazpacho. I was disappointed, hoping for the chunky and delightfully fresh liquid salad that a fine gazpacho can be.


I had, as usual, the monkfish. This was a competent preparation of one of my favorite fishes and the addition of Spain's always-tasty prawns pretty much guranteed I'd approve. Nothing special. I wish monkfish had wider recognition in the USA.


My dad ordered the buey, Spain's cave-man sized ox steak. It was tasty and rare in the middle, although I didn't find the flavor to be distinct from other varieties of bovine. Incidentally, buey means "large crab" in Galicia. Might want to keep that in mind if you find yourself looking at a menu in Santiago. It could happen.

My mom ordered the salmon, which she reported was okay and rather reminiscent of airline food. Such is the fate of salmon in many restaurant's hands.



I chose mango sorbet with mint and raspberry sauce for my dessert. Always a classic. The raspberry sauce drizzled around the plate is exceedingly 1997, but at least there were no sun-dried tomatoes on it.


Vanilla ice cream with honey, chocolate straws, and cookies. This was pretty excellent - honey ice cream doesn't get nearly enough love. It's easy to forget how good simple stuff can be. And it's purty.