Madrid, 1989. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was an editor for Culture at the newspaper El Independiente, which had its offices at number 11, Marqués de Riscal street, just above the Archy nightclub (now Coque restaurant). From time to time, with my colleagues Ramón Reboiras, Alberto Luchini and Emma Sueiro (what a Champions League team!), we would go to eat at Casa Ciriaco, which was located on our same sidewalk, 50 meters further up.
Founded in 1917, that secluded, illustrated neighborhood tavern was not related to Ciriaco on Calle Mayor, although both owners knew and respected each other, having decided by mutual agreement not to sue for the brand. In Riscal's they did not serve dinner –a curious rule that was also practiced by emblematic places of fin-de-siècle Madrid such as Órdago or De La Riva–, but you could have lunch until late in the afternoon emblematic dishes such as tripe, pelota –a kind of meatball in sauce–, battered hake or rice pudding, served in an outdated decoration of checkered tablecloths and walls with sepia-colored images.
This week I once again walked through the door of this history-laden chamberlain venue, next to the now-defunct Beti-Jai Basque pelota fronton: a colossal 10,800 m2 architectural space that closed its doors in 1919, coinciding with the ban on betting, and which until recently could be visited thanks to the guided tours organized by Madrid City Council Heritage.
Going back to our business, little remains today of that endearing traditional tavern since, in 2015, chef Mario Vallés (Hortensio) and his partner, architect Juan Pablo Domínguez, undertook an important reform to strip the façade and interior of everything foreign to the original construction, bringing out the granite, exposed brick and even the chasing that sheltered pipes and cables. From that Hortensio – who in 2021 moved to the Hotel Fénix Gran Meliá – in 2023 a good part of the interior design and exposed kitchen have been preserved, which do not clash at all with the culinary concept of his successor: Asiakō.
Asiakō is the crowning glory of Grupo Srito and defines itself on its website as a "Japanese-fusion grill where the iron and fire cuisine of the Basque Country and the explosion of Asian flavors and techniques come together." There is nothing. Asiakō, in Basque, means Asian; while the syllable kō translates from Japanese as pretty girl. A bet as original as it is daring that, in the words of our colleague and friend José Carlos Capel, has meant from the beginning "a game dressed in ease that requires knowledge to avoid making mistakes." Was he to interpret that phrase as a warning?
"What a nice surprise!" The reception of Luis Martín-Portugués upon our arrival at the establishment cleared up any doubt. With this head waiter and sommelier from Madrid, seasoned in exotic pairings after passing through Café Saigón, Grupo Pradal and many other houses of that kind, we had at least guaranteed the liquid aspect and efficient room service. As it was.
And what is eaten in Asiakō? Well, one night in July, with the space almost full of a cosmopolitan clientele from the neighborhood, the mestizo recipes of Malaga chef Eduardo Marco and his team had lights and shadows, although no serious slip-up would prevent us from going back for dinner another time to enjoy the daring savory combinations and the intimate atmosphere in dim light.
As expected, the embers are the guiding thread of a proposal, as they like to say, "marked by seasonality and raw material". That smell of grilling that can be perceived from the very sidewalk accompanies most of the dishes that arrive at the table, even some that do not seem to have even come close to the fire. Here there are short trips to Korea, Japan, the Philippines or Thailand, without losing sight of the origin of the raw materials, which can come from Galicia, Navarra, Aranjuez or the Atlantic coast.
In all the dishes, one perceives a willingness to meticulously take care of the cutting of the pieces, the cooking –when there is one– and the plating; but not always the result reaches the notable, following that unwritten rule that only the one who risks is wrong.
We started with an original red tuna gilda, with smoked eel, piparra peppers and pickled onion, which offered a well-pronounced flavor and a spiciness that was beyond cheerful. A hopeful start for my companion that day, a true madman for spicy dressings –as they call him in Mexico–, who later saw how his expectations sank. No other dish reached that level of hot seasoning.
The Balfegó tuna tartare with soy sauce, sesame, matured txuleta oil, Chinese chives, egg yolk cured in smoked oil and caviar was very pleasant and had a soft texture. The yuzu-marinated tuna that followed, accompanied by some wonderful pickled tomatoes, lacked flavor on its own and was overly dominated by the cheeky citrus. Perhaps due to excessive maceration?
On the other hand, the grilled chistorra sam, with vegetables marinated in txakolí and shiso leaf was a true Asian street-food party, with sticky fingers and taste buds asking for more. But then came a miso-pickled aubergine with summer truffle that seemed like the unwelcome guest at a thuggish party: difficult texture, excessive flavor of the sauce... I have learned that in Asiakō they often use miso to enhance seasonal vegetables such as artichokes or leeks, with more than interesting results. It will be necessary to give them a vote of confidence and return one day to test the formula, applied to other vegetables.
The succulent grilled turbot with pilpil and Judas ear that later arrived at the table did not allow for a single fault and is related to that Basque-speaking desire to accompany fish with mushrooms, which in this house has been seen before with a grilled gilthead gilthead with rice vinegar and perretxikos. Another path to continue exploring.
Any menu at Asiakō –they have two, at €60 and €90– usually ends, before dessert, with a string of niguiris. We particularly liked the flambéed scallop with XO sauce and soy emulsion. And the sweet section? Well, unlike so many fusion places where little or no attention is paid to this chapter, here they take it quite seriously and we had a hard time deciding between the Ossau-Iraty cheesecake, the smoked milk flan with dulce de leche and that fun pantxineta mochi, covered with sliced almonds, which ended up being the chosen one and did not disappoint at all.
Apart from some irregular dishes, a place to which I will undoubtedly return for the uniqueness of its proposal and the good service. Attention: prices in line with the Chamberí neighborhood and with the upward trend that lately dominates the restoration of the capital.
