10 of the best restaurants in Palma de Mallorca – on a budget

Savouring the best cuisine in the Balearics needn’t be costly, especially if you go for the lunchtime menú del día. We hunt down the best bargain restaurants in Palma de Mallorca

                               Cathedral and Harbour, Palma

The Mallorcan capital has the best restaurants in the Balearics – and some of the worst. It’s easy to find yourself in an overpriced hole surrounded by other glum tourists. But innovative, cosmopolitan food is at hand, and there are bargains to be had in Palma. Many places offer a lunch deal, a menú del día, which is a great way to sample top-notch food that would blow the budget in the evening.

The Room

                                The Room, Palma

The former fishermen’s district of Santa Catalina, with its rapidly gentrifying streets, may not seem the obvious choice for a good-value meal but La Crisis  (Spain’s economic meltdown) is keeping prices keen. The Room serves lunches as fresh and simple as its white walls and chunky wooden tables. Its three-course €13 menú del día, including a drink, is a steal – a starter of couscous with nectarines and mint blew away the summer heat.
• Carrer de Cotoner 47, +34 971 281536, theroompalma.es . Open Mon-Sat for lunch and dinner

Bunker’s

                               Bunker's, Palma

Round the corner, Bunker’s menu reflects chef Luigi Valdambrini’s Roman roots. It’s small, so you can watch Luigi slaving away in the kitchen as you gorge. It’s only open in the evenings but prices are excellent for the quality: aubergine caponata with raspberry vinegar and honey, topped by a quail’s egg, is €8; wild boar pappardelle €14.
• Carrer de Soler, +34 971 220504, facebook.com/BunkerPalma . Open Tues-Fri 10am-11.30pm, Sat-Sun 7.30pm-11pm

Diner Palma

                               Diner, Palma

A little piece of Americana has landed in Santa Catalina – cue red vinyl booths, chrome counters, vintage signs, and the best burgers in Palma. Choose from a sensible-sized regular at €5.50 to a 300g double Texas at €11. There’s also a branch near the bus and train stations. Both restaurants are often packed with locals so don’t feel too guilty.
• Carrer de Sant Magí 23, Santa Catalina +34 971 736222, dinerpalma.es . Open daily 24/7

Celler Sa Premsa

                               Celler Sa Premsa, Palma

This cavernous hall will get you back on the Spanish track – it’s about as traditional as it comes, all bullfighting posters and slightly surly waiters, but the cooking is spot-on. It concentrates on Mallorcan specialities such as tumbet (slices of aubergine, potato and red pepper) at €5.30 and conill amb ceba (roast rabbit with onions) at €9.85. The three-course menu including a drink is €12.75.
• Plaça Obispo Berenguer de Palou 8, +34 971 723529, cellersapremsa.com . Open Mon-Sat, midday-4pm and 7.30pm-11.30pm

La Juanita

                               Chef Albert Medina at La Juanita, Palma

“This is not a restaurant, this is chaos,” said Albert Medina when I called to book a table in this tiny new place in the still-gritty barrioof Sa Gerreria. Albert is owner, chef, washer-upper and a whirlwind of energy. He cooks simply brilliant food right in front of his guests – diners is too formal a word. Lunch dishes, such as courgette salad and palometa fish with capers, range from €5-€7. There is no menu in the evening. I had prawns, chicken with a cucumber dip, squid in tempura and pork fillet with samfaina (similar to ratatouille). Expect to pay €20-€25 including wine. Albert also does cookery lessons for a bargain €15pp.
• La Sala dels Flassaders 4, +34 653 441208, no website. Open Mon-Sat 1pm-4pm and Thurs-Sat from 8.30pm.

La Ruta Martiana

                               La Ruta Martiana, Palma

There’s a bunch of vibrant bars in Sa Gerreria and the best way to explore them is on the massively popular Ruta Martiana (Martian route) on Tuesdays, when each place offers a special tapa and a drink for €2. Just look out for the cartoon Martian in the windows of participating bars: top spots include Bar Farina (Carrer del Pes de la Farina 10), Molta Barra (next door) and Ca La Seu (Carrer de Corderia 17). It’s a marvellous way to spend a night – bar-hopping, people-watching and eating your fill for a few euros.
• rutamartiana.wordpress.com

Quina Creu

                                Quina Creu, Palma

Still in Sa Gerreria but a notch above, this bistro bar is about as sophisticated as it gets in Palma – a long dark bar, black-clad waiters, slightly saucy films projected on to a screen. Pick out pinchos (€1.50) from the two dozen on offer or order from the menu (cod fillet with alioli and quince gratin was €2.85) and watch a hip crowd drift in and out. Its three-course menú del día is €12.50 with drink (not available Saturdays).
• Carrer de Corderia 24, +34 971 711772, quinacreu.com . Open Mon-Sat midday-1am

Simply Fosh

                                          Restaurant Simply Fosh

Palma’s best-known chef is a Brit, Marc Fosh. Simply Fosh is right in the heart of the city, in the refectory of the 17th-century Hotel Convent de la Missió. It’s expensive in the evenings but its set-lunch menú del dia is more affordable at €28. Three courses might include a strawberry salmorejo (like gazpacho) starter with avocado, coriander and langoustine, a main of rump steak with white asparagus, chervil and pink pepper, and chocolate, mint and gooseberry for pudding.
• Carrer de la Missió 7, +34 971 720114, simplyfosh.com . Open 1pm-3.30pm and 7.30pm-10.30pm daily

La 5a Puñeta

This neighbourhood bar near Plaça del Mercat is open at lunch but is more fun at night – be prepared to fight your way through the crowd to get to the bar and a long line of fantastic pinchos, such as sardines and green pepper topped with serrano ham. The dishes are replenished through the evening, so keep an eye out for new ones. Pinchos €1.65, wine from €1.65 a glass.
• Carrer de les Caputxines 3, +34 971 711571, no website. Open Tues-Sat midday-4pm and 7.30pm-midnight, Mon 7.30pm-midnight

Cervecería Anfos

                                Cerveceria Anfos
This restaurant turns a casual wander into Palma’s market, the Mercat de l’Olivar, into a foodie’s bargain hunt. You scour the fish stalls for a deal of the day – I found turbot at an amazing €11 a kilo – take it to Anfos and they cook it for you (€3.50pp). There are no frills in decor or food: everything is seared on the griddle, drizzled in olive oil and served. There’s a menu if you’re too scared/lazy to shop. Starters around €6, mains €12.
• 1st floor, Mercat de l’Olivar, +34 971 729120, facebook.com/Cerveceria-Anfos . Open Mon-Sat 8.30am-7pm

Sorce: The Guardian

The emerging fine food scene in Málaga and around

Andalucía is known for sea, sun and even tapas but not, so far, its fine restaurants. Now it's hoping to take on the gastronomic powerhouses of Catalonia and the Basque Country

                                Tapas from Malaga province

'Today you're going to eat food that will make you cry!" shouted Fernando Rueda by way of introduction. I was buckling my seatbelt. I don't think I'd even offered my hand or my name. He was shouting because Málaga's late-morning traffic was loud, and because he liked shouting. "It will take you back to your grandma, and her house, and her kitchen," he said. "Welcome to the white magic of Andalucían gastronomy!"

Fernando is a food historian and sociologist, author of a 12-volume guide to Málaga's cuisine, and head of Gastroarte, a union of 30-odd chefs and producers created in 2012 to celebrate Andalucía's food.

Málaga, he told me, is the food hub of southern Spain, in terms of produce and dining: "It has the most important goat-breeders in Europe. The French take 95% of the milk to make their cheeses. Andalucía produces half of the world's olive oil. Know where it all ends up? Shipped to Italy for bottling as Italian extra virgin."

But it wasn't all about cross-border trafficking. "Málaga has fantastic sardine and boquerón [anchovy], amazing shellfish, tropical fruits like mango and avocado. It has the last cane honey [molasses] to be produced in Europe. It's the second most mountainous area in Spain and has all the climates and conditions you need for every kind of produce."

We were leaving the city's outskirts and I commented that the land looked very dry and steep for growing, say, wine. Fernando scoffed. "They are ideal for our moscatel. This is the only region in Spain that produces red, white, rosé and dessert wines." We hit a corner at 120kmph. "And sherries."

Despite all this, both city and region have been undersold for decades. Part of the blame lies with years of package tourism that have seen the city of Málaga as the "airport place".

Fernando also pointed to underlying psychological reasons. "Until recently, Andalucíans were almost ashamed to talk about their cuisine and offer it to visitors. From the 1960s, restaurants trying to please the tourists started serving a few stereotypical dishes, and buried the old recipes, which they associated with the past, and with being poor. "Now – and this is a long consequence of the return to democracy – they're beginning to realise this cuisine is part of their identity, their culture and the landscape they see every day."

I said part of the blame might lie with visitors to the Costa del Sol asking for full English breakfasts.

"How can they print menus in English only?" he sputtered, as if the fact was still shocking.

Heading inland

Before lunch, I got to sample some of the olive oil not sold to the Italians. Finca La Torre  (fincalatorre.com), near the small town of Bobadilla, 60km north of Málaga, has just won the Spanish ministry of agriculture's prizes for both best olive oil and best organic olive oil of 2012-2013.

Victor Perez Serrano, 31, who makes it, showed me around his hi-tech plant overlooking 57 acres of gnarly, grey-green olive trees. For me – as for most people – olive oil is just a little dip for before a meal or something to splash on a salad. But Victor, presenting me with a cup of dark-green oil drawn from a huge metal tank, told me to sniff it first. "Can you smell banana, almond, and recently-cut grass?"

With a little imagination, I could, and there was a sharp aftertaste, an almost chilli-like bite. "We like it to have a kick here in Andalucía," he said, seeing my eyes watering.

Nearby Antequera is an ancient town surrounded by olive groves. Fernando said it was known as the "Florence of Andalucía" because of its many old churches and civic buildings. But our minds were on Arte de Cozina, a rustic, traditional-looking restaurant, where we were to have lunch with Álvaro Muñoz García, the business brain of Gastroarte. Beside us on the patio, a group of oldish Spaniards were tucking into a banquet of tapas.

"I'm trying to make Andalucían food into something like a brand," said Álvaro. "It should be something people recognise and value. We want to spread the word and take on the likes of Catalonia and the Basque country, which have a solid regional identity."

                                Dips at Arte de Cozina.

Arte de Cozina was where Gastroarte started and it holds a special place in the members' hearts. Chef Charo Carmona told me she learned everything from her mother. Instead of a menu, she handed me a set of beautiful facsimiles of vintage recipes detailing the history and ingredients of each dish: three delicious porras (dips), quails in gazpacho, chicken escabeche, a buttery beef dish called pelona de lomo and a hearty empedraillo (chick-pea broth). I've eaten well all over Spain, but this was special, like eating peasant fare from the pages of Joseph Townsend's 1791 travelogue A Journey Through Spain in the Years 1786 and 1787, reimagined for a modern diner.

The meal ended with no fewer than four desserts, outstanding among which was the Moorish-sounding almojábana, a kind of cheesecake. Álvaro told me: "Eight centuries of Islam, a unique feature of this region, are all there in the food."

I could see in that the food stirred deep emotions in Fernando, who ate carefully, reverently. Álvaro uttered hyperbolic benedictions: "Fatally delicious", "scandalously good". For Andalucíans, food is often a complicated conflation of raw – almost erotic – pleasure, with friendship, family and nostalgia.

Charo told me of a nonagenarian who had come back to Antequera to die after living elsewhere in Spain for decades. "He asked me to make a maimones (garlic soup) just like his mother did," said Charo. "I told him I had no idea how his mum cooked, and anyway, we were talking about nearly a century ago. But I prepared some soup and he ate two bowls. He never stopped weeping while he was eating."

Málaga city

                               Malagatheseen from Alcazaba castle.

In Málaga itself, things were more modish. I visited the Picasso museum, strolled around the new harbour district, and decided that Málaga was, like most medium-sized cities in Spain, convivial and likeable. I tried prize-winning raciones of swordfish and cod at a tiny, madly busy tapas bar, Uvedoble (Spanish for W). At Oleo, a stylish white cube of a restaurant, I had a delicious tasting menu that featured rib of slow-cooked pork in garlic, mackerel sushi and meat-and-bechamel croquettes with mint.

Andalucian food is held together by what Fernando called the "Roman troika" – olive oil, wine, wheat. Saffron, coriander and rice, introduced by the Moors, also pop up. What I felt above all was the social and emotional value of food – pleasure before pretentiousness – and that even the high-end places had deep connections with traditions, enhanced by the edible riches of the two seas – Mediterranean and Atlantic – and the sun-baked land of the south. This was localism without any banner being waved.

West of Málaga

                                Sollo restaurant

At Sollo, a restaurant that opened in late September in the hilltop town of Benalmádena, just outside Málaga, Diego Gallegos cooked the most memorable meal of my three-day trip. Diego, just 29, has Peruvian and Brazilian heritage but grew up in Andalucía, and runs the small restaurant with his wife, Susana, and one assistant cook. He regards Gastroarte as a sort of mentor.

"Fernando believed in me when I was a novice. Now I feel we can speak on equal terms with people from established food regions. Here in Andalucía we've not valued our creativity. There's still a tendency, especially in the north, to look to France for ideas. This region has long been the poor relation of Spain."

Last year, Diego spent €12,000 (saved up while working for a local hotel) on travels to Brazil, Peru and San Sebastián. He worked as an unpaid intern at some of the best restaurants in the world, including Alex Atala's D.O.M. in São Paulo. "Diego is an innovator," said Fernando, "not an imitator. He wants a Michelin star inside two years, and he'll get one."

He may get more than that. Diego works with a local fish farm, experimenting with sturgeon meat and caviar. He served us tiny tastes of some of the most exquisite food I've ever had, including eccentricities such as water melon roasted in red fruit and vermouth, and a dessert of extra virgin olive oil yoghurt.

Susana, learning the ropes of fine-dining service, juggled cutlery, talked about the wines, presented everything just so. I thought of places on the coast, serving so-so paellas and sangria.

"One of the main purposes of Gastroarte is to stop visitors getting ripped off, too," said Fernando. "Málaga is a port: it's outward-looking and we've always liked foreigners. Now you can tell people that you ate caviar near Torremolinos!"

I also want to tell people about what I ate next. The high point of the meal was a dark, mysterious-looking truffle. It was all I've ever dreamed of in a dish. It was a bit like chocolate, but with an acidic quality. It looked like a dessert and was sweet, but also savoury. It had the texture of damp coal dust, and legs like a glass of vintage wine. My face told them I had no idea what I was eating. It was a morcilla, they said, made with sturgeon's blood. A black pudding. Fernando's "white magic". My Lancashire roots. My favourite food. Grandma's kitchen! It was my cue to cry, but another course arrived.

Where to stay

Room Mate Larios, Málaga 
On one of Málaga's main squares, this hotel has been given a bold refurb that works well with the original art deco fittings. The ground-floor bar is a beauty, and the roof terrace a popular meeting place. 
• Doubles from €79 B&B, larios.room-matehotels.com 

Molina Lario, Málaga 
This smart hotel with neutral décor is close to the centre of Málaga and the cathedral, just across from the harbour. It has a rooftop pool, a good restaurant and outstanding breakfasts. 
• €148 B&B, hotelmolinalario.com 

Where to eat

Arte de Cozina, Antequera 
This traditional restaurant is in the servants' quarters of a 17th-century mansion. The homey feel belies the artful and lovingly prepared dishes; it's also a hotel, with doubles from €40.
• two-course lunch €20-€25, drinks extra, artedecozina.com 
Oleo, Málaga 
Asian and Andalucían tapas are the speciality of this restaurant in the CAC modern art gallery. But it does not compromise its quality with any daft fusions or faddy ideas.
• €25-30, facebook.com/OleoRestaurante 
W (Uvedoble), Málaga 
It is easy to walk past this place if you don't know the address, but it is one of the best tapas bar in Málaga. It's small and very popular, so go early (7.30pm is early) and grab a table on the street.
• €20, uvedobletaberna.com  
Restaurante Sollo, Benalmádena 
Extraordinary, ambitious dishes at this out-of-town restaurant feature sturgeon meat, caviar, trout ceviche and ox-steak – all beautifully presented. Open for dinner only.
• Tasting menu €49.50, sollo.es 
Traga Tapas, Ronda 
In spectacular Ronda, this friendly, fun place is where former El Bulli chef Benito Gómez serves some of the most innovative tapas in Andalucía. They can be washed down with local Schatz   organic wines, too.
• €25-30, Calle Nueva 4

Source: The Guardian

Hyères, France: A forgotten gem that still has a sparkle

A century ago, British sunseekers deserted this inland town for the Côte d’Azur’s seaside resorts.  It’s time to rediscover it

Elbows propped against the parapet, I leaned forward and squinted towards the blurred horizon.
Behind me piled the fractured bones of Hyères’ ancient castle; beneath, tumbling picturesquely down the hillside, spread the church towers, terracotta roofs and winding alleys of the medieval walled city, segueing into neat Belle Epoque boulevards lined by palms swaying in sweet-scented Mediterranean zephyrs.

But something rather critical was missing. Where, I inquired, is the sea?

“Ah. Well. It’s out there.” Julie waved apologetically towards the south-east. “Just a little hard to make out through the haze – about 4km away.”

Sorry – four kilometres? What kind of coastal town isn’t even on the coast?

The answer: a forgotten one. At least, forgotten by Brits. As the Côte d’Azur seaside resort without a seaside, perhaps the fact that Hyères slipped off our radar– for a century – is no great surprise, but it is a boon for those not wedded to a sea-view room.

It was this that had attracted me to “Les Palmiers”, nicknamed for the 7,000 palm trees shading the town’s streets and gardens; I was curious to learn what became of the first-ever resort on the Côte d’Azur.

In the late 18th century, aristocratic travellers – notably from the UK – arrived in search of winter warmth. (“The sun shines 300 days a year,” claimed Julie Cuisinier of Hyères Tourist Office, my shepherd for the weekend.) In 1860, Tolstoy came. Then other writers: Dumas, Conrad, Edith Wharton. “I was only happy once,” sighed Robert Louis Stevenson, “... and that was at Hyères.”

After Queen Victoria’s sojourn in 1892, the English elite followed. Ranks of ice cream-hued mansions and grand hotels sprang up along broad boulevards. But fashions change. Promenades and balls were overtaken by sun-soaking.

Hyères is not so very far from the sea, but far enough: its star waned as those of Nice and St -Tropez soared. Yet, as Julie was happy to demonstrate, it has been doing very nicely in the hundred or so years since fickle British heat-seekers spurned its charms.

Julie had brought me to the old castle, founded by the Knights of Fos in the 11th century, not to appreciate its architecture or aesthetics – Louis XIII’s destructive tendencies wrecked those four centuries ago – but because its perch on a rocky knoll is ideal for getting one’s bearings.

To south-west and east, verdant hills are scattered with the homes of the wealthy, including the extraordinary Villa Noailles; designed in 1923 for influential patrons of the arts (Mondrian and Giacometti contributed to decor, Cocteau, Man Ray and Dalí filmed here), it floats on the hillside like a Cubist superyacht moored alongside the old town.

Julie directed my gaze across the glimmering salt pans – a centuries-old source of income – to the Med and the Iles d’Or just offshore. Long havens for pirates, today Porquerolles’ beaches and wineries attract holidaymakers, while Port-Cros, France’s smallest national park, offers delightful hiking trails.

We ambled down to Castel Sainte-Claire, Edith Wharton’s former home. Hyères is renowned for its gardens, both private and commercial – cut flowers are still big business here – and those created by the American author are spectacular. Designed to flourish year-round, cactus and agave dominate the upper terraces, with huge magnolias and a big araucaria tree below.

Indeed, many of the upper lanes of the walled old town are proxy gardens, ablaze with bougainvillea, wisteria and magnolia adorning colourful Romanesque and Renaissance façades.

Snaking through cobbled and stepped alleys, we reached the main square, Place Massillon, dominated by the Tour des Templiers. It’s an imposing tower humbled by history; after the Templars disbanded in 1319 and their heirs, the Knights of Malta, also let their grasp slip, it became a granary.

Today it hosts exhibitions, but its external might and rooftop vistas are more memorable than interior displays. The square itself is annexed by tables spreading from surrounding cafés and restaurants, hemmed in by the shopping bags of market-goers recharging with a glass of rosé after a morning’s bartering.

As we descended along pedestrianised Rue Massillon, a heady blend of aromas beguiled me into the double-fronted Côte Sud, an emporium of Provençal goodies. One half, redolent with the scent of lavender from piled Marseille soaps, sells orange wine and pastis from the keg, while its siamese twin is an épicerie cramming the essence of a North African souk into one claustrophobic shop: dates, almonds, olives, candied fruit, spices and yet more spices.

“As a child, I would dream of the autumn, when quince was in season,” Julie told me, picking up a squidgy, red wine-coloured block. “My pocket money went on pâte de coing – quince cheese.”

I was also enchanted by a retro-looking biscuiterie, its window stacked with boat-shaped orange navettes, croquants a l’orange and orange macarons. There is, as you’d guess, no shortage of orange trees in these parts.

Outside the Porte de l’Horloge, the main gate piercing the medieval walls, more unfamiliar fruits were piled on market stalls stretching along the thoroughfares of the new town. Here, at Julie’s urging, I tried kaki (persimmon).

Smooth-skinned and orange as an unripe tomato, it exploded at first bite, spattering pips and juice down my chin as I slurped its plum-sweet flesh.

At Dominique 1888, Julie introduced me to a more sophisticated Hyères speciality: Princesses d’Iles d’Or, dark truffles heady with pungent orange, among the wonders conjured up by chocolatier Christophe Chapalain. Complementing two dozen or so flavours of bite-sized chocolates are macarons and cakes of almost unbearable beauty.

This is affordable art: a modest-sized cake – a micro-masterpiece in confectionery, gleaming with yellows, greens and reds, topped with berries – costs just €3 plus change.

Fuelled by kaki and chocolate, I was ready to explore further afield, and joined local cyclists Frédéric and Carine to tour the city’s southerly highlights. We started at Giens, a foot-shaped  peninsula jutting into the Med, linked to the mainland by a “double tombolo” – an isthmus comprising two sandbars that enclose a lake and saltmarsh.

Pedalling north along the car-free Route du Sel (Salt Road), we paused to admire the kite-surfers soaring improbably high above Almanarre Beach to our left.

To our right, the Etang des Pesquiers lake gave way to glistening, squared-off patches: the Salins des Presquiers saltworks, studded with pink exclamation marks – a couple of hundred pink flamingos that arrive in summer from the Camargue or Africa.

Salt has been extracted here for over two millennia, and produced on an industrial scale from the Middle Ages, until production halted as recently as 1995.

“Today the water level is controlled,” said Frédéric, “to ensure optimal feeding for the flamingos and other birds.” We stopped to climb a viewing platform and watch egrets nesting in the canal encircling the marsh – originally a moat constructed to protect the salt.

That white gold was among the treasures that attracted Greek sailors around 400BC; they founded the trading post of Olbia, sited where the isthmus meets the mainland. We pulled over to peer through a fence at the remains of the port, currently being excavated; more buildings and amphorae still lie underwater.

The Greeks’ successors decided that the risks of coastal living outweighed the benefits – hence the castle and town being founded on an inland hill. What might Hyères be today if they had stuck by the sea? Another Nice or Cannes? Perhaps – but its charm is enhanced by its reticence. It’s time Brits revisited our former playground.

Like that forgotten favourite toy you find at the bottom of the games box, or the album you used to love that slipped behind the CD player, Hyères is a gem that amply rewards rediscovery.

Getting there

Paul Bloomfield travelled from London St Pancras to Lille by Eurostar, then by TGV to Toulon, courtesy of Voyages SNCF (0844 848 5848; voyages-sncf.com). Return fares start at £119.

The closest airport is Marseille, served by easyJet (0843 104 5000; easyJet.com) from Bristol and Gatwick, Ryanair (0871 246 0000; ryanair.com) from Stansted, and British Airways (0844 493 0787; ba.com) from Heathrow.

Staying there

Castel Pierre Lisse (00 33 4 94 31 11 18; castel-pierre-lisse.com), a small mansion once owned by Edith Wharton, offers doubles from €100 (£80) including breakfast.

Source: The Independent

Top 10 tapas bars in Madrid

Spain’s capital is awash with tapas bars but how do you find the good ones amid the sea of tourist-traps? Madrid-based food writer James Blick tracks down 10 of the best, from classic bodegas to slick new dining spaces run by young chefs

Casa Gonzalez

Were Woody Allen to set one of his romantic European whimsies in Madrid, Casa Gonzalez – with its picture-perfect yesteryear facade, smartly tiled interior and moreish hoard of conserves, cheese and charcuterie – would be a shoo-in for the romantic Spanish bar scene. What’s more, the good-humoured and well-moustached owner Paco (whose grandfather founded the place in 1931) keeps a knockout cellar at this wine bar-slash-deli. Nab a table near the big bay window, load it with jamón ibérico de bellota (acorn-fed Iberian ham, €10.10), cured manchego cheese (€6), and a spicy bottle of red and watch the light fade over the cobblestones outside – a most cinematic start to any tapas crawl.
• Calle León 12, +34 914 295 618, casagonzalez.es . Open everyday, Mon-Thur 9.30am-midnight, Fri and Sat 9.30am-1am, Sun 11am-6pm

TriCiclo

The buzz from the blogosphere was deafening last year when TriCiclo opened in the capital’s leafy literary quarter. Young chefs Javier Goya, Javier Mayor and David Alfonso were doing something that felt very new in Madrid: serving inspired, internationally-inflected tapas in a pompous-free bar environment. Their seasonal menus include diverse ingredients like cod glands, pig ears, Kaffir lime leaves and kumquats (not in the same dish, thankfully) and most plates are available in small tapa sizes, meaning you can taste a little of everything. Reservations for the white and woody dining room are essential, but – and this is a Madrid truism – there’s always space at the bar.
• Calle Santa María, 28, +34 910 244 798, eltriciclo.es . Open Mon-Sat 1.30pm-4pm, 8pm-12.30am

La Venencia

Time grinds to a meditative standstill in this dimmed, tobacco-stained cavern, where the only tipple is dry sherry from a barrel (from €1.70 a glass) and the only tapas are sliced-to-order cured meats, fish and cheese (try the mojama – salt-cured tuna: a mouthful of ocean for €2.30). By day, sherry-soaked locals ruminate over copitas of Amontillado, but at night it regularly ignites into a raucous knees-up (cheap and stronger than wine, sherry creeps up on the unwary). Be on notice that the proprietors run a strict ship: photography is forbidden, as is tipping, and please don’t bother Lola, the slightly senile black cat curled up down the back.
• Calle de Echegaray 7, +34 914 297 313, no website. Open daily 12.30pm-3.30pm, 7.30pm onwards

El Tempranillo

Friday night, 10pm – dinnertime in Madrid and the cheek-by-jowl tapas bars along Calle Cava Baja are heaving. Escape the tyranny of choice within the boisterous brick walls of tumbledown El Tempranillo, a culinary rock that does – alongside more elaborate dishes – a top-notch selection of pinchos (slices of baguette topped with everything from foie with roast apple to cuttlefish with caramelised onions, from €2.80-€5.50). “Solo vinos españoles” – only Spanish wines – is scrawled in a defiant hand atop the excellent wine list, and the vino is stockpiled in a gloriously ramshackle wall-to-wall wine rack. There are only a few tables, so go early if you’d like to sit.
• Calle Cava Baja 38, +34 913 641 532, no website. Open daily 1pm-4pm, Tues-Sun 8pm-midnight

Bodegas Ricla

To the untrained eye, this shabby bodega might seem a culinary long shot but ageing, hole-in-the-wall Ricla – with its tin bar, swollen wine vats and lazy ceiling fan – is a homespun treasure trove of fine food and drink. Founded in 1867, it is family-run, with puckish brothers Emilio and Jose Antonio behind the bar while mum Ana tirelessly shuttles her homemade fare from the Lilliputian kitchen. Locals heave in for tiny tumblers of vermouth on tap, razor-sharp boquerones en vinagre (pickled anchovies, €2.80) and Ana’s spectacular callos a la madrileña (even the most apprehensive palates will surrender to her smoky take on Madrid’s infamous tripe stew, €5.90).
• Calle de los Cuchilleros 6, +34 913 652 069, no website. Open Mon, Wed-Sun 1pm-4pm, Mon, Wed, Thur 7pm onwards, Fri-Sat 7.30pm onwards, closed Sun eve and Tues

La Casa del Abuelo

The tangy smack of freshly fried garlic draws you through the door of this striking dark wood and marble tavern, still run by the family that founded it in 1906. The must-try gambas al ajillo (€9.90) is a palate-searing blend of plump Mediterranean prawns, fresh parsley, dried chillies and indecent wads of garlic, whipped-up before your eyes by gabby, old-boy waiters who’ve been doing this dish for decades. Pair it with the house red (a sweet tempranillo that plays perfectly off the garlic) while scanning the photo wall of famous former diners, infamous matadors and the sepia-stained faces of long-gone Abuelo bartenders.
• Calle de la Victoria 12, +34 910 000 133, lacasadelabuelo.es . Open daily, Sun-Thur noon-midnight, Fri-Sat noon-1am

Celso y Manolo

Recently opened Celso y Manolo is a lovingly nostalgic nod to Madrid taverns of old, housed in the retro surroundings of a former family-run tasca. The original 1950s marble bar remains, the lights have been dimmed – a moody antidote to this cities’ penchant for bright bars – and the homely menu zeroes in on regional ingredients: grilled organic Cantabrian lamb chops (€8), Catalonian red shrimp (€12.50), or a salad of sweet Huesca tomatoes the size of babies’ heads (€8). Its version of Madrid’s original street food, the much-maligned bocadillo de calamares, is a winner thanks to lashings of lemon-infused alioli (€4.50), and there are some lovely Madrid wines by the glass.
• Calle Libertad 1, +34 915 318 079, celsoymanolo.es . Open daily 1pm-5pm, 8pm-midnight

La Castela

On the moneyed east bank of the central Retiro Park, La Castela fiercely guards the traditions of a true Madrid barrio bar: lightening-fast waiters, a generous (and here, elaborate) free tapa with each drink and a loud, loyal local clientele. However it’s the food – simple with a soupçon of sophistication – that makes this unassuming taproom truly sing. Their unctuous rabo de toro (bull tail stew, €12) is tip-top and the blisteringly fresh seafood nesting on ice – fat mussels and candy-sweet razor clams – sublime. So grab a frothy caña (draught beer, €1.50), dive into a bowl of almejas a la manzanilla (clams in sherry sauce, €12) and make like a madrileño.
• Calle Doctor Castelo 22, +34 915 740 015, restaurantelacastela.com . Open daily noon-4.30pm, then 7.30pm-12.30am, closed Sun eves

Sanlúcar

Down a little dark street in the depths of bar-drenched barrio La Latina, Sanlúcar is a gaudy, jaunty, out-of-nowhere slice of southern Spain. A spirited crowd of boho regulars pile in for cold beers and hearty, southern stables, fuelled by frisky flamenco and surrounded by outrageous folkloric decor: bullfighting gear, brightly coloured football scarves and close-ups of desolate Virgins. Get a few tortillas de camarones (prawn fritters, €2), a sharp bowl of salmorejo (cold, garlicky tomato soup, €4.50) and a grilled slab of presa ibérica (one of the juiciest cuts from Spain’s hallowed Iberian pig, €9). Seafood freaks should venture the briny ortiguillas – deep fried sea anemones (€9).
• Calle de San Isidro Labrador 14, +34 913 540 052, latabernasanlucar.com . Open Tues-Sat 1pm-5pm, 8.30pm-midnight, Sun 1pm-5pm

Casa Toni

Amid the sea of tourist-trap tapas bars and “Irish pubs” around Madrid’s main Puerta del Sol square, Casa Toni is a rough-and-ready touchstone for real food, keen prices (everything’s under €10) and a warm welcome. Day and night, a motley crew of hungry regulars – from young lads lining their stomachs to sixtysomethings grabbing a bite after the opera – huddle at rough-hewn tables, digging into grilled garlicky mushrooms, eggplant drizzled with honey and the best beer-battered baby cuttlefish I’ve tasted. Those itching to experience some classic Madrid nose-to-tail cuisine should try the creamy mollejas (lamb sweetbreads) and – careful here – a crispy zarajo (fried lamb guts wound around a vine).
• Calle de la Cruz 14, +34 915 322 580, casa-toni.es . Open daily noon-4.30pm, 7pm till late

Source: The Guardian

Thailand's last unspoilt islands: Koh Kood

Millions flock to Thailand each year, but you can still find quiet, unspoilt beaches on which to do absolutely nothing.

It's not that I don't like other people – indeed I would go so far as to lay claim to a rich and varied social life. It's just that, as I have grown older, I have found that I increasingly like spending holidays in a place where I can guarantee that I won't have to talk to anyone. Not splendid isolation exactly, no far-flung mountain huts or Buddhist retreats, rather something we might class as "minimal interaction": no small-talk by the pool, late-night karaoke or group safari outings, thank you very much.

For this, I blame the holidays of my childhood: invariably two weeks in a remote cottage in Anglesey. There were long walks, damsons to pick, fields of cows and sheep to admire and occasional trips to the beach but, crucially, also plenty of time to read, eat, sleep and row about in the creek at the bottom of the garden. I would holiday there still, were it not for the flat grey skies and the viciously cold Irish Sea. For the past few years I have been trying to find somewhere that, while warmer than north Wales in August, is still just as quiet and still and lovely.

And so it may puzzle you to learn that I recently took a holiday to Thailand. Some 14 million people flock here each year, drawn by the natural beauty and myriad delights: elephant rides and jungle adventures, temples, beaches, romantic idylls and, of course, phenomenal food. As I stood on the streets of Bangkok, breathing in the canteen smells and the diesel smoke, listening to the calls of the market vendors selling everything from Viagra to coconut water, and wind-up toy dogs to neatly-threaded garlands of flowers, I began to fear that visiting Thailand to escape the world might have been a giant mistake.

But Bangkok was not my ultimate destination. Two hundred miles east of this giddying street, near the Cambodian border, lies the small island of Koh Kood, home to rainforest, coconut and rubber plantations, sleepy fishing villages, and fewer than 2,000 people.

Koh Kood's great advantage is its relative remoteness. Getting there requires an internal flight or train journey from Bangkok, followed by an hour's boat ride from the mainland. This sounds more of an expedition than it actually is. It's about an hour from Bangkok to the small airport at Trat, with its manicured lawns and string of topiary elephants along the runway. The car ride to the ferry port took me through lush green countryside, past villages and temples and fruit stalls. And there are, I thought to myself as I watched the land disappear and the surf ride up behind our speedboat, surely worse ways to spend an hour than sailing the clear blue waters of the Gulf of Thailand, especially if you care to use the time for a bit of dolphin-spotting.

Accommodation on Koh Kood is varied. There are homestays and budget hotels, as well as a handful of luxury resorts, but even these promote a barefoot, relaxed approach. There are no landlines, little internet access, and few cars. Electricity is minimal – homes and hotels rely on generators or solar power. All is slow, warm tranquillity.

I disembarked at the jetty of Away, a quietly luxurious resort with a cluster of bungalows overlooking a bay. There's plenty of warm and graceful hospitality here, as well as a spa and one of Koh Kood's best diving centres, but no one jostles you into a hike or a snorkelling excursion.

Mostly this makes for a fine place to do nothing; slow and calm and unruffled, you can feel Koh Kood subtly working its way into your bones. On an average day here I did little beyond loll about in the hammocks and deckchairs along the boardwalk, beneath the palm trees, and strategically positioned on the jetty to take in the sunset. I took a kayak across the clear blue sea to a small golden curve of beach; I took a quiet boat ride over to it the next bay. I swam, I slept, I read some Per Petterson, and amid the cool rooms and quiet corners, I felt my mind gently unwinding.

Most evenings, when the sun was low but the air was still heavy and damp, I strolled into the nearby village, for dinner or a beer. The road is a dusty strip, tan-coloured and warm underfoot, and at night the jungle grows inky black, full of twitching, chirruping, wild sounds – the calls of birds and frogs and monkeys. The restaurants here are simple but fantastic, and after even a short walk through the thick evening air you are pleased to find a cold bottle of Chang beer and a bowl of yellow curry.

A short jeep drive from Away, Shantaa is an undeniable step up in luxury. The 10 private villas sit on a hillside, amid lush gardens, with a simple stylish bedroom, a balcony and an open-air bathroom, home to exotic flowers, passing geckos and, to my great excitement, even the occasional iguana. There is a village nearby where you could venture for dinner, but it would be hard to leave the resort's restaurant. Family-owned and staffed by students, it is one of the island's best. The menu offers traditional Thai dishes plus some twists, such as raw sea bass salad with peanut sauce, and mango parfait with coconut ice cream.

I can think of few places I have enjoyed staying more. Flinging open the doors of my villa to lie in bed and watch the sun rise over the palms each morning, I would cross over the wooden pier to walk along the long stretch of soft, pale sand. Afternoons would be spent swimming in the warm turquoise sea, sipping limeade at the beachside cafe, and taking an open-air Thai massage, all feet and breath and tiger balm, to the sound of birdsong and the steady hush of the waves.

For a treat I spent my last night at Soneva Kiri, which was a bit of a trip from the sublime to the ridiculous. Imagine an uber-swanky Center Parcs, an enclosed resort amid acres of forest and organic vegetable gardens, where guests fly in by private plane, and spend their days in a kind of ludicrous Hollywood luxury; where you have your own personal valet, and everyone hums about on golf buggies and retro bicycles, shuttling between the spa and the library and the giant inflatable cinema screen (available for private hire, should the mood strike you).

I can think of few places less like the remote Welsh cottage of my childhood holidays, and even if you can't afford to stay there, the resort's Benz's restaurant is worth seeking out, for an exquisite, Thai feast, from leaf-wrapped mieng kam to sweet tapioca in coconut milk and perfectly ripe mango and dragonfruit, served as you watch the sun dip below the water and the fireflies begin to blink.

Later, as I took a midnight swim beneath a clear sky and a full moon, I thought how finally, after all this time, I had found an island every bit as quiet and still and lovely as a rainy Anglesey in August.

Way to go

Getting there Flights to Bangkok from London with Etihad Airways via Abu Dhabi cost from around £404pp through Expedia  (0871 226 0808). Where to stay Experience South East Asia  (020 7924 7133) offers tailor-made packages to Koh Kood and Koh Yao Noi. A week at Koyao Island Resort on Koh Yao Noi costs from £680pp B&B including return flights from Bangkok to Krabi and boat transfers. A week on Koh Kood including flights from Bangkok to Trat and speedboat transfers, staying at the Shantaa for four nights and Away for three costs from £520pp, or from £1,193pp B&B for five nights at Shantaa and two at Soneva Kiri.

Source: The Guardian

Thailand's last unspoilt islands: Koh Yao Noi

Despite the millions visiting Thailand each year, there are still islands untouched by mass tourism

Finding the perfect unspoilt Thai island is not as easy as it once was. Many have allowed their pristine worlds to be eaten away by flash resorts, watersports and nightlife. Now you have to search a little bit harder, venture a little bit further to find footprint-free sand.

There is a smattering of still-magical islands towards the Cambodian or Burmese borders, but others lie where you'd least expect, such as slap-bang in the middle of the country's most developed bay. Phang Nga is home to ritzy Phuket in the west and busy Krabi to the east, but at its watery heart the sister islands of Koh Yao Noi and Koh Yao Yai pull in just a trickle of travellers, with a few basic beach-hut complexes, bars and cafes, and the odd barefoot-chic resort.

After a rather wearing three-day kayaking and camping trip  around Phang Nga's tinier limestone islands, my boyfriend and I were dropped by long-tail boat into the milky blue shallows in front of the east coast's Koyao Island Resort. Sandy and damp, we carted our grubby rucksacks across the hotel's neat garden, passing a group of women lazily stretching their limbs into yoga poses, to be greeted by staff wearing beautiful silk dresses and bearing passionfruit juice.

Accommodation here is spoiling but relaxed, with 18 thatched-roof bungalows with open-air showers in private courtyards and a front wall made from bamboo blinds that roll up for uninterrupted views of the bay's iconic limestone stacks.

"Don't forget – 6.30 cocktail hour!" was repeated so frequently we didn't dare miss it, but after a few sickly mojitos in the company of couples slumped on giant floor cushions on the lawn, we set off across the pitch-black beach, crabs scuttling from under our bare feet. A 30-minute wander along the island's one road brought us to one of the only bars, the Pyramid, a thatched place that could have been the fictional invention of any of the cult backpacker thrillers of the 90s, mainly on account of its two other patrons, obviously regulars, – a wild-eyed, long-haired American who was teaching English locally, and a Scouser who had set off to see the world for the first time several months ago, and got stuck here, the first place he came to. "You can't get better than this," he said. "Why bother chasing the rainbow?"

The next day we discovered the real joy of the island, following the circular road on hotel bikes. Rather than the trinket stalls, neon and magic-mushroom bars of Koh Samui, Koh Pha-Ngan and Phi Phi, here the details that caught the eye were traditional: rubber farms (with tapping buckets hanging from trunks and square sheets of rubber drying on the ground beneath), water buffalo, cockerels, farmers. People waved or ignored us. No one tried to sell us anything, not even in the island's one village, a huddle of grocery stores, markets and the Je t'aime Koh Yao cafe, serving fantastic banana milkshakes.

We happily spotted kids aged 10 or 12 riding motorbikes; women exercising to pop music at a community centre; boxing schools; bored masseurs waiting for customers in roadside shacks ... in the best possible way, there wasn't much going on. We ended up back at the Pyramid, where two young honeymooners from Florida invited us to drink margaritas while they recounted how they'd joined the mile-high club on their way over, and kept us laughing at their terrible impressions of our English accents until we retreated to the hotel for coconut curry.

After kayaking along the deserted coast, snorkelling around the rocks, playing badminton on the lawn, we'd exhausted most of Koh Yao Noi's obvious activities, but if we'd had a few more days we would have cycled to find the secret beaches we'd heard lay down bumpy tracks off the "main road", and caught a ferry to the larger but even less developed neighbouring island of Koh Yao Yai. Then what? There would be nothing to do but slide into that zoned-out state where filling hours becomes less important than soaking up the surrounding beauty.

Instead we left by ferry to Krabi (they also run to Phuket), then visited the most obvious beauty spot in Phang Nga bay – Railay beach, the rock climbing mecca. It was stunning, but also horribly busy with European backpackers, all unaware of the peace and perfection to be found just across the water. Perhaps in their case it would have been worth chasing that rainbow.

Getting there

Flights to Bangkok from London with Etihad Airways via Abu Dhabi cost from around £404pp through Expedia  (0871 226 0808).

Where to stay

Experience South East Asia  (020 7924 7133) offers tailor-made packages to Koh Yao Noi. A week at Koyao Island Resort costs from £680pp B&B including return flights from Bangkok to Krabi and boat transfers.

Source: The Guardian

Bangkok in three days: holiday itinerary

Bangkok can be as bewildering as it is bewitching. In the first of a new series on holiday itineraries, we tell you how to make the most of Thailand's exuberant capital, filling your days with street food, impressive temples and lively bars

Where to stay

For old town charm, check into canalside B&B The Asadang  (+66 8 5180 7100, B&B from £66); in Chinatown, Shanghai Mansion  (+66 2221 2121, B&B from £50) has a courtyard dripping with coloured lanterns and nightly Thai jazz; while in hip Thong Lor, Salil Hotels (doubles from £35) is handy for getting anywhere on Sukhumvit Road. Or see our Top 10 budget hotels, hostels and apartments in Bangkok.

Day one: Old Bangkok

Bangkok was "the Venice of the east" for a reason. Built upon water, its river and canals (khlongs) formed the thoroughfares until roads were constructed in 1851.

Morning: hire a longtail boat (900 baht/£18, two hours) from any of the busy tourist piers for an early morning cruise on Thonburi's tranquil canals to see ramshackle wooden stilted houses, shimmering temples and floating food stalls. A public longtail zips from Tha Chang pier to Bang Yai (30 baht/60p) along busier Bangkok Noi canal.

                               Wat Suthat temple, Bangkok

Bangkok's old city boasts sparkling must-see temples (wats), including Wat Pho  (2 Sanamchai Road), with its enormous reclining gold Buddha, and the Grand Palace  and Temple of the Emerald Buddha (both on Na Phra Lan Rd). Less known are Wat Ratchapradit, opposite the rear entrance to the Grand Palace but secreted down a lane behind Saranrom Park, and decorated with intricate murals; majestic Wat Ratchabophit nearby on Asadang Road, covered in ceramic mosaics; and on Bamrung Muang Road, Wat Suthat, with hundreds of gilt Buddhas, a monumental ordination hall and, outside, a giant swing used for Brahman ceremonies.

Afternoon: nearby, hidden behind high walls, Romaneenart Park is perfect for a rest. Off Boriphat Road, on Soi Ban Bat (aka Monk's Bowl Village), artisans hammer out metal alms bowls. Boriphat Road, home to carpentry workshops and soup stalls, leads to Wat Saket (Temple on Golden Mount) and sweeping city views.

                                Pak Khlong Talat flower market, Bangkok

Evening: dine nearby at Jay Fai (327 Mahachai Road, +66 2 223 9384), famous for drunken noodles and crab omelettes, then cab it to bustling 24-hour flower market Pak Khlong Talat, where, among the chrysanthemum and jasmine garlands, stalls sell Thai sweets. Up for shopping? Browse nearby Saphun Phut market beside Memorial Bridge for vintage clothes, or have a nightcap at waterfront Sala Rattanakosin's  (39 Maharat Road, +66 2 622 1388 ) rooftop bar for views of Wat Arun, across the river, which is spectacularly illuminated at night.

Day two: Chinatown and Bangrak

Chinatown and Bangrak are Bangkok's next oldest and most atmospheric neighbourhoods. Chinatown's neon-lit Yaowarat Road is lined with Chinese herbalists and gold shops. Both are home to some of the city's best street food.

Morning: rise early for Chinatown's chaotic centuries-old wet markets, tucked down alleys. Talaat Mai is off atmospheric Itsaranuphap Lane, crammed with condiment, pickle and spice stalls, while Talaat Kao is by anarchic haberdashery and Hello Kitty street, Sampeng Lane. Recover with some noh kaw yua (hot coffee and tea) at retro Eah Sae cafe (103 Phat Sai Lane, off Yaowarat Road), before visiting Wat Mangkon Kamalawat (Dragon Lotus Temple) in an incense-filled courtyard off Charoen Krung Road.

Take a public ferry (12 baht/24p) from Rachawongse pier to Saphan Taksin pier for Bangkok Food Tours' Historic Bangrak Tour  (1,000 baht/£20) to take in off-the-beaten-track sights while gorging on local specialities, such as green curry with roti.

Afternoon: near lively Sri Maha Mariamman, Bangkok's oldest Hindu temple, Kathmandu Gallery  (87 Pan Road) shows Thai photography. Grab a Bangkok Art Map  for more neighbourhood galleries, such as Rotunda Gallery in the 1869 Neilson Hays Library  (195 Suriwongse Road) with photography tours and a garden café, and H Gallery  (201 Sathorn Soi 12) in a colonial villa. Close by on Sathorn Rd, Healthland Spa  offers budget-priced massages in a serene spa setting (two-hour massage, £9).

Evening: drop into leafy courtyard-bar Bite Me, below Eat Me  (2 Pipat Lane, off Convent Road, +66 2 238 0931) to cool down with cold craft beers and refuel on Asian-inspired tapas, such as devilled duck eggs with crispy pig ear. Around the corner, Convent Road's food stalls offer spicy Isaan chicken and fiery papaya salad. Back in Chinatown, Yaowarat Road loses its outer lanes after dark to countless food stalls serving stir-fried seafood, roast duck and soups.

Day three: New Bangkok

Modern Bangkok is centred along Rama 1 Road, which becomes Phloen Chit Road, before transforming into seemingly never-ending Sukhumvit Road. This is the city's retail and entertainment heart and the superb BTS Skytrain  runs overhead along much of this route.

                                Central World Shopping Plaza, Bangkok, Thailand

Morning: BTS Siam brings you to shopping central: posh Siam Paragon , colossal Central World  and budget MBK . Revamped Siam Centre  showcases Thai fashion brands, including FLYNOW  and Greyhound . Opposite, warren-like Siam Square  is home to local designers creating dirt-cheap disposable fashion.

Afternoon: at BTS National Stadium, Bangkok Art and Cultural Centre  (939 Rama 1 Road, +66 2 214 6630) shows photography, art and experimental films. For a quirky diversion, cab it to the Museum of Counterfeit Goods  (Supalai Grand Tower, 26th Floor, 1011 Rama 3 Road, +66 2 653 5555 ; book your visit 24 hours ahead) for slick displays of 4,000 items infringing copyrights, from fake handbags to copy watches.

Alternatively, explore Bangkok's most cosmopolitan neighbourhoods around Sukhumvit Road. Off BTS Nana, Soi Arab (soi means "lane") bubbles over with sheesha cafes, sandal shops and Arabic restaurants; Soi 12 is home to Sukhumvit Plaza's tasty Koreatown; and BTS Phrom Phong takes you to the Japanese enclave and the finest Japanese food outside Tokyo.

                               WTF bar

Evening: on Sukhumvit Soi 51, near BTS Thong Lo, laidback WTF  (7/1 Sukhumvit Soi 51  +66 02 662 6246) attracts Thais, expats and in-the-know travellers for great cocktails, photography exhibitions and live local bands. Next door, ZudRangMa  sells vintage vinyl records. Across the lane, buzzy Opposite Mess Hall  (27/1 Sukhumvit Soi 51, +66 662 6330) has a loud soundtrack, delicious sharing dishes, and original cocktails.

Interesting bars, pubs and clubs abound in the hip Thong Lo-Ekkamai area, around Sukhumvit Soi 55 (Thong Lo) and Sukhumvit Soi 63 (Ekkamai): laidback drinking spots Tuba (34 Ekamai Soi 21, +66 2 711 5500) and Shades of Retro  (808/12 Soi Tararom 2, Sukhumvit 55 Road, +66 2 714 9450) have vintage décor and cheap drinks. Owned by Thai indie band Modern Dog, Happy Monday (Ekkamai Shopping Mall, Ekamai Soi 10, +66 2 714 3935) has nightly DJs. New venues Moose (Ekamai Soi 21, +61 02 108 9550) and Sonic (90 Ekkamai Road, beside Ekkamai Soi 10, +61 2 382 3956) offer good food, live music, DJs, and friendly crowds.

Source: The Guardian