Madrid Day 2: Literary Quarter, A Tapas Tour & Secret Cookies Made by Hidden Nuns

“I do not insist,” answered Don Quixote, “that this is a full adventure, but it is the beginning of one, for this is the way adventures begin.”

~Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote

Except for the wheels of white delivery vans ker-thumping over cobblestone pavement, Madrid’s Literary Quarter was as still as the early morning air. The warren of narrow, twisting streets is a lively and crowded hub of tapas bars and theaters, but in the early hours it transforms itself into a quiet refuge made for exploring.

The Literary Quarter is named for the great literary figures who called the neighborhood home during the Spanish Golden Age, from 1492 to 1659. It was a time when the Spanish Empire was prospering, world exploration was thriving, and literature and the arts were flourishing.

What remains today seems to me a sort of love letter to that time. Poetic quotations in golden letters are carved into the cobblestones of Calle de la Huertas, the main thoroughfare. Street signs and statues and long bronze placards pay homage to a host of writers. It’s all in Spanish, of course, but that wasn’t a problem for this non-Spanish-speaking visitor. The Literary Quarter is one of those places where you can feel its heartbeat, even if you can’t read the words.

No author is more revered here than Miguel de Cervantes of Don Quixote fame. Considered the greatest writer in the Spanish language as well as one of the world’s most important novelists, Cervantes lived in the Literary Quarter and is buried in its Convent of the Barefoot Trinitarians. Prolific Spanish playwright Lope de Vega was another beloved resident. His 16th-century house is now a museum and open to the public.

Secret Cookies Made by Hidden Nuns

While doing research for Madrid, I ran across a story about cloistered nuns who bake and sell specialty cookies in secret – all without being seen. Tracking down the location sounded like an intriguing treasure hunt, and I jotted down details on how to find it and what to say in Spanish when I arrived.

Our destination was the Monastery of Corpus Christi at #3 Calle de Codo, about a 15-minute walk from the Literary Quarter. The extremely narrow and almost hidden Calle de Codo is just off Plaza de la Villa, with the monastery tucked away at the end of the street. When we reached the old wooden door, I pressed the buzzer by the word “monjas” (nuns), and a voice came through a speaker saying something in Spanish.

The door clicked open.

Inside was a courtyard painted in bright yellow with green doors. Herb and I followed the arrowed “torno” sign down a long hallway that led to a wood-framed window with a lazy Susan that enables the nuns to sell the cookies without being seen.

As we perused the posted listing of various cookie types, a voice came through another speaker. I had no idea what she was saying, but responded, “Dulces por favor,” (sweets, please). I also had to specify the type of cookies we wanted and the size of the box. As I tried to figure out the Spanish words for “half kilogram,” divine intervention appeared in the form of two young women in line behind us who were able to translate and help me order the small size box of almond biscuits!

In a few minutes, a box of cookies wrapped in a plastic bag appeared on the lazy Susan. I placed a 20-euro note next to the box, the lazy Susan spun around and reappeared with my change.

We retraced our steps to the front entrance and headed to the Plaza de la Villa to taste our purchase. As we opened the box, Herb and I couldn’t help but laugh about our rather surreal experience. And as for the cookies…well, they were fantastic!

A Tapas Tour

It was almost noon when we reached our tapas tour meeting point at the Plaza de las Descalzas. Herb and I had signed on for Devour Tours “Madrid Tapas, Taverns & History” experience, joining a group of ten other travelers. Our guide was a delightful young American woman named Montse, who had been an expat in Madrid for several years.

I was as interested in learning about the tapas culture almost as much as about the food itself. Tapas is a word that appears everywhere here, and I had a feeling that its significance goes far beyond the “small plates” description we are familiar with at home.

As we walked to our first stop, Montse talked about the “movability” of going out for tapas. “You order one drink and one tapa for everyone in your group to share,” she told us. “You eat and drink while standing at the bar, and then you move on to the next tapas bar. It’s a very social experience.”

Taberna Real

Our first stop was Taberna Real on Calle de Arenal, a warm inviting space with a crystal chandelier and old musical instruments on display. The main attraction here is Spanish vermouth – fortified wine steeped in herbs and botanicals. Served from a tap, vermouth is widely popular in Spain, Montse told us, and a traditional drink to order with tapas.

La Casa del Abuelo

The almost 120-year-old La Casa del Abuelo was packed when we arrived for our tasting. Herb and I found a spot in a back corner as Montse ordered the tavern’s signature dish – gambas al ajillo (garlic shrimp) – along with bread and red wine. La Casa del Abuelo’s kitchen is a one-person affair by the front entrance – a sign, Montse said, that the menu is limited to a few really great items.

Los Galayos

Our last stop on the tour was a sit-down tapas lunch at Los Galayos, a restaurant in Plaza Mayor that dates to 1894. A table had been reserved for our group in one of the upstairs dining rooms, a rustic-looking space with red walls and dark wood beamed ceilings.

Montse explained that our meal would be family-style. She had ordered platters of several dishes for us to share, including tortillas made with eggs and potatoes, fried cheese balls in bernaise sauce, salad with tomatoes, and bread which she encouraged us to use as a scooping utensil. A server gave everyone a glass of red wine mixed with club soda, a popular Spanish drink.

The extremely late dinner hour in Spain was one of the topics of conversation. Montse told us that the largest meal of the day is often lunch – which happens mid-afternoon – rather than dinner. The notorious nine and ten p.m. dinnertimes are true, she said, but as she spoke I got the feeling that the people who live in Madrid don’t always adhere to the rules that define a culture.

“It isn’t so much when you eat or where you eat…but what you eat.”

A Bird’s-Eye View Before Saying Adiós

It seems no matter where we travel, I try to hold onto the last day like the ends of a rubber band, stretching it out as far as I possibly can without snapping it. Even with the greatest of times in a new place, I yearn to hold out for just one more hour, one more moment, one more encounter before saying farewell.

For the marvelous Madrid, that desire was the chance to look out over the city’s rooftops – spectacular views I’d seen in photos and whose source I’d narrowed down to a building on Calle de Alcalá. The Círculo de Bellas Artes held the portal to this lovely scene, I was certain, and I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend the end of our last day here.

We reached the Círculo de Bellas Arts building in less than twenty minutes and headed inside to purchase tickets to the rooftop. When the elevator doors opened, it was all I could do to keep from shouting, “We found it!” as the world above Madrid came into view.

We walked around the periphery, past tables of diners at the rooftop restaurant, past other camera-toting travelers checking out the views. The stunning architecture we had seen a day earlier was easy to recognize. There were the horses atop the Chariots Building, the pink-toned Church of the Calatrava, the black and gold-bedecked dome of the Metropolis Building.

It was as if Madrid in all its splendor had turned out, just to say goodbye.