The village of Molina de Aragón is one of the Spanish curiosities: it is not in Aragón and it does not have a mill – go figure. The suddenly bulky car squeezed not without difficulty through its streets to the little plaza in the historical center. This is our stop on the route which darts us east: from Madrid to Alcañiz.
Food, food, food – give us food. Floor of the bar is completely covered with litter (remember, this is Spain, so it is supposed to be a good sign), humming of voices and a medieval TV set featuring “the Tour de France posteriors” are the attributes of the San Juan restaurant. No, I am not going to hazard a notion that each lover of Spanish cuisine should get himself on the nearest flight here, I merely want to capture the moment, as it is delightful. The homey setting of the establishment is simple to the point where you’d rather call it a diner than a restaurant. It is however clean, friendly and – the reason I’m bothering with typing this up – the food is mind-bogglingly good. Paella and Gazpacho are clearly the best I’ve ever had, so I venture to try the stewed rabbit while Lidia orders lamb chops. Fantastic. Don’t come, it is crowded as it is.