I know I’ve fallen hard for a city when I find myself gazing into estate agent windows – or just gazing straight into house windows. Picturing orange trees on balconies, gorgeous tiles in a huge wet room, poured concrete floors scattered with interesting rugs. A worm-holed wooden bench salvaged from an old factory where I can throw my keys when I walk in from my morning coffee or afternoon swim or evening tapas.
Last year that city was Valencia, the neighbourhood was El Cabanyal and the cafe where I’d set up shop for much of the day was Tallat. I’m not the first person who has woken up to the rundown charms of this ex-fisherman’s quarter – the digital nomads have already got their feet under the plywood tables – and several regeneration projects are now underway.
Warehouses are becoming cultural spaces; public money is being used to renovate houses and streets. The area’s old-school Mercat Cabanyal – with its cured and salted seafood stalls and a bar where staff cook up any fresh produce you purchase – now sits a short stroll from newly opened food-and-drink destination Mercader. It’s all exposed brick walls and craft beer and artisan workshops. And when we visit, the after-work crowd is tucking into deep-dish pizza and chilled cava.
But what happens when regeneration turns into gentrification? Because with tourist temptations like this come Airbnbs and absent landlords. And while demolition plans to make way for an extension of Avenida Blasco Ibañez, a large street connecting the city centre with the beach, died with the previous government, many long-time El Cabanyal residents have already been evicted and are likely to be priced out should they want to return. My point is, that the hype about the neighbourhood becoming the next Ruzafa (read: hipster hotspot) needs to be underpinned by plans that benefit Valencians over visitors. Myself (and my dream pied-à-terre) included.
Rant over. If you’re stopping by the city, here’s where I suggest joining the locals and spreading your tourist spend. There’s lots of good coffee but – as we were staying around the corner – most of our days started at Bruma, where the barista who remembered our order did little to dissuade the fantasy of taking up residence. Good-looking Federal serves a lovely-looking breakfast while Los Picos greets daytime drinkers with wine and sandwiches. It’s tiny inside with metal tables and chairs set up in a leafy pedestrianised precinct, which makes for good people-watching. But if you really want a sandwich with a side of life, please enjoy esmorzaret – a culinary tradition that saw agricultural workers break for a mid-morning meal between 10 and 12 – at Bar Restaurante Rojas Clemente. It’s a fabulous and frenetic family-run place stuck on the side of the market and serves no-frills coffee, short beers and incredible stuffed sandwiches – I’m talking fried calamari and garlicky aioli with a sluice of lemon juice and a pan-scorched egg, potato and chorizo hash.
It’s the perfect breakfast to set you up for a bike ride. Because you can’t come here and not cycle. Check out the futuristic madness of the City of Arts and Sciences before continuing along the waterside path that leads to Albufera Natural Park (home to Spain’s largest lagoon) and pretty El Palmar – the birthplace of paella. A few laps of this little hamlet revealed thatched roofs, tiled entranceways and wooden boats being built before we collapsed into seats set up outside Restaurant El Sequer de Tonica. It’s open for 3.5 hours each day (and not at all on Tuesday) and I would do the whole sweaty journey again just for a plate of black rice.
For a smart but bargain lunch that’s closer to the city centre, make it Pelayo Gastro Trinquet for fideuá noodles and sangria before nipping next door to take a look at the smart sports centre where pilota – a form of handball – is played.
And yes, Ruzafa is very cool but never cliquey – crawl from a glass of natural wine at Bliss to croquettes in a bookshop at Ubik and canned fish and olives bobbing in vermouth at La Cooperativa del Mar. When you decide it’s time to try a lethal serve of Agua de Valencia, perch at the bar of fancypants El Rodamón de Russafa before soaking up the heady mix of gin, vodka, sparkling wine and orange juice with sandwiches at laidback, late-night crowd pleaser El Rus Entrepans.
Finally, return to El Cabanyal for an evening that spans the before and after of this fast-changing neighbourhood. It starts at Stone Castle – a buzzing brewery set in what resembles a mechanic’s garage. Here, a free snack of chips and chorizo almost derails our dinner plans at Casa Montaña, which would have been a huge shame as this place is special. Really special. Behind the grand wooden doors, staff in white shirts and black waistcoats place small plate after small plate in front of you – michirones (a broad bean stew), mouth-puckering piparra peppers, the tastiest chunks of tomato sprinkled with coarse salt and sloshed with gold-green olive oil. Wine is poured straight from the barrels behind the bar. I instantly joined a long tradition of people who’ve been getting overexcited here since it opened in 1836.
Sure, the drink that broke the internet a few years back (orange juice and espresso) is being served in an industrial-looking cafe a few feet away, but if there’s a way for transient trends and decades-old tapas bars to coexist, then I’m in.