With new amigo Carlos for company, Kevin Pilley discovers the culinary delights of Madrid... and marvels at a woman’s ability to shave.

Having been to Dublin, I have learned to wait for Guinness. Having been to London, I have learned to wait for fish and chips. Having now been on a tapas bar tour around Madrid, I now know how to wait for ham. I have also experienced the pleasure of watching a beautiful lady shave especially for me.

It takes time. Local delicacies need a delicate touch. Haunch shaving is an art form in Spain. It takes a long time to learn how to shave properly and to give the maximum sensual pleasure to paying customers.

“Watch this!” said Carlos Linares, my brilliant ‘Madrid & Beyond’ gustatory guide as we watched Celicia shave for us. She trained for six months to become a ham cutter, or cortador de jamon.

Ham shaving is a highly respected profession in Spain, and Cecilia shaves every day at the modern Meson Cinco Jotas tapas bar and restaurant in the city’s Santa Ana Square. She gives mouthwatering master-classes in Iberian ham appreciation.

Carlos does the commentary as Cecilia busies herself about her haunches.

“Perfect Spanish ham should be wafer-wafer thin and melt in the mouth, and it should be washed down with the best Osbourne’s Fino Quinta white sherry,” he told me as we clinked our glasses of ice-cold fortified wine and toasted Cecilia’s expert slicing and accomplished paring.

We could only admire the smells of the chicken and the chopitos (squid) as we were already full; our stomachs feeling like a shoal of anchovies

“Sherry is the perfect complement to ham. The ham pigs put on a quarter of their body weight in two months in autumn, and the best ham comes from acorn-feeding animals.”

We fed ourselves on the ham, tortilla (Spanish potato omelette), delicious seasoned anchovies and, of course, the ubiquitous manzanill and arbequine olives. Carlos was in his element.

“If you go to the best, most atmospheric, oldest and best modern tapas bars in central Madrid you will get a great introduction not only to Spanish culture and lifestyle but also the cuisine of the whole of Spain.

“Madrid has tapas bars specialising in dishes from all over the country. From Andalusia in the south to Galicia and Asturias in the north.

“When you go on tapas bar-hopping, or as we say, ‘ir’, you’re doing what many Spanish people do. You are socialising and tasting the very best finger food.”

We had started our lunchtime finger food crawl just around the corner from the Opera Metro station in Casa Parrondo,a narrow hole-in-the-wall sidreria (cidery) on Trujillos street off Plaza Descalzasii.

The patron, Senor Parrondo – portly, ever-smiling, hearty and sporting a moustache which Merv Hughes would covet – poured me some of his Trabanco house cider. He poured it from a great height to give it bubbles.

He told me that his region of Spain is the only one that does not produce wine. But it more than makes up for it with its gastronomy and fermented apple juice. Signor Parrondo’s father uses to run a butcher’s shop around Madrid and deliver coal.

Cured hams hung from the bar walls, and the bartop was packed with fresh octopus tentacles, squid fritters, rice, salads, pastries, cheeses and other comidas Asturiana. The patron offered me a very filling chorizo sausage in a roll and made me his special bean Fabada stew.

It was before noon, and the food was being delivered by the six ladies who prepare it. Carlos and I had the first tasting.

The hospitality was unstinting. The bar gets packed during the night but the Spanish like to eat and gossip standing up. They eat and talk late into the night. Midday is a good time to start a leisurely ‘ir’.

“Most good tapas bars give you free tapas to begin with. In the bad ones, if they don’t like you they give you a small hard olive on a stick! Tapas are sometimes called pinchos after these cocktail sticks.”

The history lesson continued to the corner of the Plaza Major and the Casa Maria, where Galician chef Doxi Garcia specialises in tuna and octopus pies.

Then it was onto to Casa Labra (meaning ‘house of fried cod’) where the country’s Socialist Workers’ Party was founded in 1879.

There, nibbling al fresco after been served by distinguished elderly gentlemen in white jackets, we tried the house’s signature croquettes bacalhao (codfish) and famous soldadito de Pavia (more crispy cod). Its name comes from the colour of the uniform of a 17th-century cavalry regiment. The name of the Italian city of Pavia comes from the victory of the Imperial armies over the French in 1525.

Carlos is a historian as well as a gourmand. He is great company. “Some people try and say that tapas comes from the lid that coach drivers used to put on their glasses to stop them drinking and driving! Or a lid to keep off the flies. Or something someone gave to King Alphonse X of Castile while he was in Cadiz to keep the sand getting into his wine,” he tells me.

“The word ‘tapar’, of course, means to cover. I think it simply means a stomach liner; some food before you eat. The salty goodness also provokes thirst, so it’s a clever move from the owners.

“In the olden days, some bartenders and landlords used to give out old cheddar to cloak their bad wine! But you don’t just have snacks; you can have bigger version of tapas dishes called racions. Most have special sitting areas as well as counters.”

Carlos’s favourite tapas bar is La Trucha (‘The Trout’) on Manuel Fernandez Gonzalez Street. It reminds him of his student days. It is old-style.

There, more smartly-dressed, distinguished gentlemen (Julian, Juan and Oscar) served us more wonderful bouqueron anchovies and some asparagus. Behind them, the ladies – Carmen, Patricia and Irena – worked their magic in the kitchen.

We were in the middle of Madrid. And in the middle of the 1970s. We could only admire the smells of the chicken and the chopitos (squid) as we were already full; our stomachs feeling like a shoal of anchovies.

We walked through the San Miguel market where students were enjoying champagne and oysters for less than €10. And others were having a glass of tinto with their chicken stews. Tapas vary in price from €1.50 to €13 a portion.

We could only stare at the meatballs (albóndigas), salsas, clams (almjeas), shrimps (quisvillas), black puddings (morcilla), the unfeasibly large sausages and the smoked fish (ahumados). The empanadas (savoury turnovers) had to wait for another day.

I needed a nap to recover from my walk. It was only 2pm. I wanted to lie down. I badly needed a siesta.

I carried a lot of extra ballast back with me. All the great food slowed me to a snail’s pace. I almost missed my siesta.

It was a close shave.

Madrid and Beyond (www. madridandbeyond.com) offer not just tapas bar tours but many tailor-made holidays throughout Spain. Tel: +34 9 1758 006 3.