Patxi Zumárraga is a big, bearded Basque chef, who fans from the capital may remember for his seven years at the helm of Fismuler's kitchens and another five at Grupo La Ancha. After the pandemic and spurred by some life changes, he decided to give up his shares in the group and partner with the Argentine restaurant director Patricia Haramboure – also former Fismuler – to open his own restaurant in a discreet semi-basement in the Salamanca neighborhood.
This is a rather peculiar space, located on the little-traveled Maldonado street – named in memory of a captain of those community members who rebelled against Charles V –, which despite being located two steps from the luxurious Serrano street, is always It has gone somewhat unnoticed. Here we have eaten in the past the Andalusian fritters from La Giralda, the fabada from Esbardos or the oyster tartare with red tuna and caviar from the short-lived Le Kañí.
By completely eliminating the glamorous decoration of that failed brasserie in the global village to opt for stone, exposed brick, unpolished wooden tables – and without a tablecloth, for the moment – and second-hand chairs, Patxi and Patricia make a initial statement of intentions that connects with the aesthetics of some icons of the Parisian bistronomie, halfway between the brut Nordic style of Bertrand Gerbaud's Septime or the vintage and bohemian non-interior design of Chateaubriand by my colleague Iñaki Aizpitarte. And the bet is not only aesthetic, of course, since the concept of cuisine with ambitions in a rogue environment devoid of any luxury is equally perceived in everything that reaches the table.
Before going to have lunch there on a warm October noon, with my colleagues on the board of directors of the Royal Academy of Gastronomy – who are not exactly an easy audience –, I had read about Haramboure on social networks when that muffin had gone viral. of smoked potato omelette that Zumárraga goes out to sell in person at the door of the establishment and that is causing daily queues of fans eager to try for €5 the sandwich that everyone is talking about on Instagram and TikTok, displayed every morning from 11:00 a.m. in a wicker basket on a folding table. What a nice idea to shake up the neighborhood a little and make yourself known in the process without investing a penny in a communication agency!
The secret of this trending topic muffin: sour potatoes from Álava poached in oil with chives overnight over low heat and then smoked over charcoal with oak wood. The tortilla is then made in a frying pan, ensuring that it is slightly curdled, and is then introduced as a filling into a John Torres oil bread muffin. Is it worth the trip and the long queue? Well, believe me, yes.
But beyond that mischief with a street food vocation that is somewhat shocking in the most posh-bourgeois district of Villa y Corte, what they eat in the interior of Haramboure has solidity and foundation. And, although some bite may have sparked debate at a table as difficult as mine, I have no doubt that we are facing one of the most interesting openings of the Madrid autumn. And I'm also sure I'll be back soon.
In our case, we occupy a room at the back and that can be converted into a reserved room when necessary. The letter arrived on an A4 paper format that is printed every day to suit a decidedly seasonal cuisine. The savory proposal is divided into individual tapas, fish, vegetables and meats. In the open kitchen, which emanates to the entrance an addictive aroma of embers – from noble wood, never charcoal –, the Roberto Garnacho copper is beaten, a valuable ally that allows the host to be more present in the pass and even take orders.
Patxi being a seasoned professional in temples of avant-garde and fusion such as elBulli, The Fat Duck or Nobu in Mayfair, there are hardly any hints of technological or traveling cuisine in Haramboure's offering, but in this new stage as chef-entrepreneur The trace of Basque establishments that he also passed through such as Mendigoikoa or Gaminiz is more noticeable and, of course, the love for slow-cooked dishes and the precise treatment of vegetables that he already exhibited in Fismuler.
Our menu started with a leek and shrimp mochi in which there was a division of opinion. Personally, I am reluctant to start any snack with a floury-based bite (even if in this case it is rice flour). I always prefer something lighter. And, if said snack provides acidity or spiciness to awaken the taste buds, even better. But it's subjective...
After the aforementioned mochi came a butter bun with caviar –more wood!–, which is a salty version of the classic Bilbao sweet. I thought it was a fun cooking exercise, but it also got a bit boring for me. With the beef snout cooked and then toasted, properly seasoned with a homemade brava sauce, we passed the trowel and the rite of gustatory seduction began. Truly addictive, hey.
“Would you like a rabbit shoulder glazed with cocoa and spices?” the boss had asked in the introduction, while he made us an (almost) custom-made menu. Of course! It is a magnificent dish despite a certain rusticity in the crust. Then came some pencas stuffed with tuna belly tartar, impeccable in texture and flavor. For their part, the glass peppers with torreznos more than justify the visit and are wonderfully accompanied by a snow peas salad, at the right point of cooking so that they are crispy and very well seasoned. Another find.
With the veal gizzard – served in Haramboure with grilled lemon –, I admit that I have too many French-speaking prejudices. From my years in Paris I learned to enjoy it whole, slightly marked and then cooked slowly over low heat in a frying pan with plenty of butter, seasoned with salt and perhaps enhanced with a touch of Vin Jaune, as Éric Fréchon (Epicure), Frédéric Anton ( Le Pré Catelan) or my dear Raquel Carena (Le Baratin). This widespread Celtiberian and Argentine tendency to subject it to the violent embers never fully satisfy me, although I recognize that here the result was not objectionable.
The pre-Columbian style cod with ajoarriero – that is, without tomatoes or peppers – is another twist to a succulent stew, which in this case includes fermented fennel and even a piece of breakfast porra to soak up the juice and make little boats without need to touch the bread. Another satisfying dish, despite the risk.
The sweet ending came in the form of an assortment of desserts served in the center, which is a fun way to try a lot of things when sharing a table with a well-connected group. Remarkable is the farmhouse latxa sheep's milk curd. As for the drunk babá with chantilly and the Saint-Honoré cake with summer truffle, I admit that my gabacha education can help me. They are very delicious desserts that can please the bearded foodie, but they barely come close to the standards that I have had on the banks of the Seine. I think of Ducasse's classic babá au rhum or Philippe Conticini's revisited Saint-Honoré and I long for those joyful days when I was a resident of the rive gauche. One day I'll have to settle for what's around these parts, which isn't that bad either!
However, do not think that I left Haramboure dissatisfied. Quite the contrary, I really enjoyed the conceptual proposal and the culinary audacity, a young service eager to learn and a wine list, short but varied, that already points out ways. In a Madrid worryingly dominated by the fifth range and mimetic proposals, in a Salamanca neighborhood where form tends to take precedence over substance, Patxi and Patricia have installed themselves in a reasonably spacious premises to provide food at quite moderate prices, without aspire to the laurels of the guides, but to have fun, arouse loyalty and break some molds. They have already conquered me.
