There’s a restaurant here in town called La Traviesa.
In the nearly six year I’ve lived here, I’ve seen the place change ownership at least seven times.
The food has generally been decent to quite good, depending on the owner at that time.
But as nice as the view might be, and as good as the cook may be, the fun kinda gets spoiled if the kitchen window opens onto the terrace, and the cook is a screaming fury who insults here staff whilst loudly throwing skillets through the kitchen.
And I really don’t care how fantastically terrific the sauces may be: if the owner serves them, returns to the bar to fetch his overfilled glass of wine (A proper wineglass can hold half a liter – who knew?) and sits his drunk ass down at our table to start babbling incoherently. I won’t be back.
Neither do I need a British cook with golden fingers to accompany the dessert with a 15-minute rant about how fucked up the economy is and what idiots the Spanish are.
All those owners of the past, they closed down. Some as quick as within 3 months.
These days however, things are different. Suzana and Luis run their restaurant as if we’re family. And genuinely so, with sincerity.
They put on live music even if it’s going to rain and they know very few people will show up.
They are as delightful as can be – yet completely unintrusive.
The food is, of course, stellar. Suzana makes sure of that.
More business there than I’ve ever seen.