Seville, Thursday, March 13, 2025
We were a bit sad to leave the Casas de la Juderia, with its gorgeous patios and gardens. But Seville called and we were soon on a fast medium-distance train bound for the province’S capital. Which whisked us there in less than forty minutes. And of course it was raining when we arrived.
Our hotel, the Posada de Lucero, shared one feature with our hotel in Cordoba: it was made up of a series of sixteenth-century houses. The resemblance stopped there. For while the patios remained, they served as nodes for walkways between the highly modernized wings of the hotel.
Our rooms weren’t ready so early in the morning, so we set off for a ramble through the old town. But then the rains returned and we were soon desperate for somewhere dry and warm. Our first attempt was abortive. We found a restaurant with hours posted between noon and three. It was 12:20, but when I stuck my head in, I was waved off and asked to wait for five minutes. More than ten minutes later we were told the restaurant was closed “because the boss was gone.” We soon found that the places that were open were full, as everyone sought shelter from the downpour. Asking at one full bar for advice, we were directed up onto a kind of catwalk around a patio. The bar seemed to be closed, but, as we walked away, Sue heard someone say “Hola,” and, as she turned a woman was lookig directly at her.
The food was remarkably good! Goat cheese with Valencia orange marmalade and roasted artichokes with a variety of peppers…washed down, for me, by a sherry.
The rain had let up, and we took a stroll through the narrow, twisting alleyways of the Barrio Santa Cruz.
This area had originally been the Moorish souq; it had then become the jewish quarter. Today it is the most charming quarter of Seville; so charming that its residents are being driven out by Air BnB’s and serviced apartments. The neighborhood takes its name from this splendid wrought iron cross in the Plaza de Santa Cruz that marks the location of a church destroyed by Napoleon’s troops during the French invasion.
As in Cordoba, many of the houses are built around patios.
Next stop was the Alcazar Real, the palace that has been the residence of royalty for more than two thousand years, dating back through Visigoth, Moorish, and Christian rule. The walls that surround the fortified castle are Almohad, the last Muslim dynasty, from the twelfth century.
Aside from the walls, there is very little left of the Muslim palace. This small space, the Patio de Yeso, with its rectangular pool and Almohad arches, is all that remains.
The main palace complex is grouped around the Patio de la Monteria.
On the right is the Casa de la Contratacion, or Chamber of Commerce, established by Isabella to regulate trade with the new discovered Indies. The upper floors contain thee royal apartments, occupied by the King and Queen on visits to Sevilla, and closed to the public.
The real glory of the Alcazar is the Palace of Pedro the Cruel, one of the finest examples of Mudejar craftsmanship.
The facade is dominated by the intricate detail of the fine fretwork–called sebka work. It is more evident in these details.
The palace as a whole is often cited as the finest example of Mudejar art.
The interior is organized around a large, richly decorated courtyard, the Patio de las Dancellas.
Every inch of the rooms surrounding the courtyard is decorated with sebka work and mosaics. The most magnificent is the Salon de las Embajadores, or Hall of the Ambassadors. It is ablaze with mosaic tiles, painted stucco, and gilt.
It is especially noted for its extraordinary cupola.
We had a lot of miles under our feet, and we decided to take a late afternoon siesta.
Dinner was joyous and even a bit riotous. We took a cab to a dark, narrow street and had a bit of trouble finding the restaurant, Señor Congrejo. Small sign out front, darkened doorway…but the door eventually opened and we were welcomed into an intimate space with a bar on the left and just a few tables against the right wall and into a slight opening at the back: no more than 20 seats plus eight at the bar. Very cool, very modern, all in gray.
But the service and the atmosphere were anything but modern cool. We were served by one of the owners, Fatima, who looks after the wine, and Nico, our waiter whose favorite poet is Emily Dickinson. Although the menus were in English, we were having some trouble figuring out the concept: a page of appetizers, a page of small plates, and a page of fish. So we put ourselves in Nico’s hands and he brought out a succession of extraordinary dishes, each accompanied by a different glass of wine chosen by Fatima. We started with Gilda, a skewer of mussels and vegetables that had been stewed in an escabeche; then came artichoke leaves and fish roe.
This was followed by an extraordinary tart with anchovy cream showered with tapioca flakes.
Then came a Philippine dish of scallops with mango; then an amazing cream of seafood and chickpeas; and finally a whole red mullet for the table.
All of the wines were good, some memorable. Everyone around us was having a great time; the atmosphere couldn’t have been better. If I lived in Sevilla I’d come every week.