An Englishman abroad in summer 2018
Day 1 – Monday
So, we’re off to Leeds/Bradford airport (used to call it Yeadon when I was a lad) to board the plane for Palma and then get the transfer to Palma Nova. Yes, you did read that correctly- Palma Nova. Now, anyone who knows me would be very surprised to find me staying in a seaside resort, but the thing is, it’s a family holiday and Elizabeth (she’s three now, believe it or not) likes nothing better than the beach. Besides, as the resorts go, it’s not at all bad and it’s only a short bus ride into Palma.
It’s actually a JET2 package holiday and it’s very well organized. The plane lands on schedule, but by the time we reach the hotel, it’s getting late, so we just grab a couple of litres of Alhambra from the supermarket opposite and settle in for the night. The hotel and apartment are nice and clean. There is a kitchen and a small terrace, but I am somewhat dismayed to discover that I have a sofa bed in the sitting room. However, it turns out to be very comfortable, so it’s fine.
Day 2 – Tuesday
After a quick look around the pool, which looks very nice, we go out to get our bearings and the hotel does turn out to be very well located. It’s a short distance from the beach, where the others decide to spend the day. I get on the bus for Palma and, unfortunately, it’s bad timing as it’s packed. I end up in the bendy bit in the middle and get chucked around all over. When we reach the cathedral, it disgorges most of its contents and leaves a handful of locals and me to head for the bus station
So, I’ve decided to try for a table at Marc Fosh. Marc is the only English chef on Mallorca with a Michelin star; you may have seen him on the television, most recently, I believe, with those hirsute bikers. The restaurant is situated in a 17th century convent and is very stylish. I’m delighted to find they can fit me in at 1.30, so I kill the intervening forty minutes with a look around the market and a cold beer.
I am shown to my table and take up the waitress on her suggestion of a bottle of Rosa Blanca. It’s really tasty and I look at the label to find out which Mallorcan craft brewery was responsible for it, but there is no indication. I subsequently discover that it was first brewed in Mallorca in 1927, finally disappearing when Damm bought the brewery in 1998, but they have now decided to start producing it again.
The three-course lunch is very reasonably priced at €29.50, but the wines vary from €30 per bottle to €518, so I settle on a glass of 12 Volts from local vineyard 4 Kilos for €10 and very nice it is too.
I begin with chilled yellow gazpacho with marinated salmon, smoked avocado purée and amaranth, then have glazed Iberian pork with “trinxat” (a posh kind of bubble and squeak), apricot-olive oil purée and lemon thyme jus, before finishing with watermelon with lime, green tea consommé and coconut sorbet.
The presentation is exquisite, the food delicious and the service impeccable. I simply cannot fault it.
We decide to try to find something to eat in Palma Nova for dinner, something which we do not expect to be easy, but after a leisurely stroll up and down the strip, we decide that we like the look of Brisas and it turns out to be a good choice. The service is friendly and I take a risk with lechona asada – roast suckling pig. It can be difficult unless it is cut from a freshly-roasted whole pig, but they pull it off and I am very pleased with it, especially as it’s washed down with a very reasonably-priced bottle of José Ferrer’s Crianza from Binissalem.
We don’t have a late night as we have to be up at a reasonable time for Sineu in the morning.
Day 3 – Wednesday
As we get an early bus, it isn’t too crowded, so the journey into Palma is quite pleasant.
When we first started coming to Mallorca, the railway station was a simple affair with two lines in the open air and a tiny ticket office (most people paid on the train), with the bus station about half a mile away. Then a few years ago, work commenced on a project to incorporate both the railway station and bus station in an underground complex now known as the Intermodal. From here, it is possible to get to pretty much anwhere on the island
So, a short walk from the bus to the train and it’s off to Sineu. Sineu is a pretty town in the centre of the island and was once the capital of the Kingdom of Mallorca. Today, it is probably best known for its wonderful market, held every Wednesday.
I’ve been at all times of year, but on this sunny summer’s day, it’s busy. Nonetheless, it’s not too difficult to get around. We stop at Son Toreó for a coffee and then continue. We buy a couple of siurells, the clay whistles; a demon for me and a tortoise for Elizabeth. I’m delighted to find a mule and foal and spend some time petting them. Don’t ask me why, but I love mules. Nearby, they are doing pony rides for children and I have to take Elizabeth. Charlotte has distrusted horses since I took her on a ride in Calvia when she was little and she hated it, and Kaleb is not keen, so me being an experienced equestrian, I lead the pony round the little course. Seriously though, it’s only tiny, but I can tell that if it had its head, it would be away, unlike the one in front which keeps stopping. We weren’t sure how Elizabeth would react to it, but she absolutely loves it.
There are quite a few restaurants in Sineu, a couple of which I have dined at in the past, but we decide to just have a cold drink and head back to Palma. One of the places on our list to take Kaleb is Celler Sa Premsa, so we go there for lunch. It’s only a short walk from the station. As I’ve said before, the food is ok rather than fantastic, but it’s a Palma institution and so atmospheric. I go for the very reliable Menú del Dia and have arroz negra, black rice, followed by frit, lamb’s liver and vegetables, and finish with púdin, like a kind of crema catalana, but made using ensaimadas.
In the evening, we head into Magaluf (no – wait before making any assumptions and read on) to visit a little restaurant that we used to frequent years ago. You see, we used to stay with friends who lived in Magaluf, because that’s where the work was and although we quickly found our way to Palma and the interior of the island, we inevitably spent some time in Magaluf and Palma Nova. In fact, this unassuming little place – Méson Español – was where I first ever had tapas and when we reach it, it really is a blast from the past. The menu is slightly different, but the place is exactly the same with el patrón still there serving the drinks and doing the cooking himself. I tell him that we used to come here when Charlotte was little and now we’ve brought my grandaughter and he smiles benignly, but I don’t think he really remembers.
I have Variado de la Casa, a big plate of freshly-made tapas and only €7. The table is fairly groaning under all the food and drink and the bill is next to nothing. I don’t actually know how to feel; it’s comforting to find that some things never change, but there’s also a touch of poignance in that this lovely man is still beavering away there doing the same old thing.
On the way back, I buy a bottle of Son Colom, Mallorcan red wine, with a curious drawing on the label of a cat with false wings and beak, with its arm around a pigeon. It’s apparently a reference to the local proverb, “Don’t leave a cat in the pigeon house or a goat in the olive grove”!
Day 4 – Thursday
The others elect to have a pool and beach day, so after a pleasant interlude watching Elizabeth playing in the pool, I head for Palma. I have sussed out the buses now and know that a 105 will be quieter as it doesn’t go to the cathedral and that I can get off opposite my destination – another eponymously-named restaurant, Adrián Quetglas.
The Paseo de Mallorca is one of my favourite parts of Palma. It’s a wide, tree-lined avenue with the torrent running between the two carriageways. The torrent is a waterway running from the city into the sea; in winter it can be a veritable torrent, but in summer, it is reduced to little more than a trickle.
I walk up to the reception desk at the restaurant and am pleased to find that they have a table for 1pm. I have twenty minutes or so, so I have a coffee a few doors away. I pick up a copy of the local newspaper, Última Hora, and chuckle (apologies to my German friends) at the headline – Alemaña Eliminada! – Germany are out of the World Cup.
I head back to the restaurant and am invited to sit in or outside on the pleasant shady terrace. I do enjoy an al fresco lunch, but think I would prefer this inside, so I am shown to my table in the airy and simply, but very nicely, decorated interior. A rustic basket of bread and a jar of home-made alioli come to the table and then the degustación begins. It is a set menu – the only choice is the wine pairing, which I opt for.
The first course is Selyodka pod shuba or Russian salad. Now, Russian salad used to be ubiquitous on Spanish menus and was generally to be avoided, as it was canned vegetables in mayonnaise. This is the real thing (Adrián spent his early working life in Moscow) with fresh vegetables and herring. The wine is cava, about which I am normally ambivalent, but this is a really good example.
The waitress is a sheer delight. Her English is very good and whilst being knowledgable about the food and wine, she also has a great sense of humour. The second course is cream of courgette curry with coconut milk and lemongrass turkey, which I concede does sound a little odd, but it’s delicious. The wine is a rosé from Chateau La Gordonne.
The third course is squid with black rice, fresh herbs, alioli and “Tap de Corti” pimentón – a locally produced paprika. The black rice is perfection, just verging on the sticky. The wine is an Alta Alella Pansa Blanca and I am coming to realise that whilst I have always been a tad sceptical of wine pairings, these really have been thought out and work very well.
Next comes veal shank with sundried tomato polenta and light sauce of truffled burrata, an Italian buffalo milk cheese made from mozzarella and cream. The accompanying wine is a red Mestizaje from Valencia.
The pudding is cherries with white chocolate ice-cream and matcha tea biscuit. I don’t really have a sweet tooth, but this is a delicious end to the meal as well as being visually stunning, coming in a kind of volcano. Indeed, all the presentation has been superb. The wine is a moscatel form Enrique Mendoza, a good choice.
The service has not been at all rushed, with a welcome invitation to pause between courses. I finish with an hierbas dulce (the archetypal Mallorcan digestif) and a café solo. I had thought that one o’clock was a little early for lunch, but it turns out to have been no bad thing as the whole experience has taken over two and a half hours! And the cost? €33 for the food and €25 for the wine, of which I do not begrudge a single cent. Oh, and coffee on the house. This is now, for me, the restaurant by which all others shall henceforward be judged.
I get back to Palma Nova just in time for a cold drink and a quick change, then it’s off to find somewhere to watch the football – England versus Belgium. All the bars on the strip are packed and apart from finding somewhere to sit, they’re a bit rowdy for a three year-old. As we pass one, we notice that the rep has three Lion Bar wrappers sellotaped to his t-shirt. He says he can’t afford a real England shirt and we suddenly get the joke!
We have a look down a side street and come across Roger’s Beach Bar, a large bar with a nice terrace right on the seafront. It’s presumably packed during the day, but there are a couple of tables free in front of the television, so we sit down. The menu is simple and cheap; I have three big pork chops, nicely cooked, for €6. Not bad at all.
The game is ok, but England, who have not played a full-strength team, lose to Belgium. It transpires that Southgate actually wanted to finish second in the group as the route forward will be easier – now it’s Colombia next Tuesday.
Day 5 – Friday
One of the things on the list for Kaleb is the old wooden train from Palma to Sóller. We buy the tickets in Palma and have a little time until the departure of the train, so we wander down Carrer Sant Miguel and stop at Forn del Santo Cristo for some ensaimadas.
The Ferrocarril de Sóller must be one of Majorca’s major tourist attractions. The train trundles through the outskirts of Palma and then through the most glorious countryside into Sóller, stopping at a spot in the mountains, overlooking the town, for a panoramic photo-shoot.
On reaching the town, we wander up and down Carrer de la Luna, “Moon Street” with its eclectic collection of shops, before having a cold beer at Café Sóller in the centre. Then we take the tram down to the Port, which Charlotte and I remember as a quaint little place with its pretty horseshoe-shaped bay and arts & crafts shops interspersed with tempting restaurants. When we get there, it is heaving. I mean, you can hardly move. Whether we’ve been slightly out of season before (I know that once there was a torrential downpour) or whether this is an example of the “tourist massification” which is the flavour of the moment with the media, I don’t know, but we don’t stay long before taking a taxi (cheaper than the tram) back to the town.
We wait a little while for the train back to Palma, which is absolutely packed, though we still manage a little doze along the way. On our return, we remark on how busy it seems and then it dawns on us – it’s Friday evening. In the resorts, one day is pretty much the same as another, but in the city, it’s a different story. Consequently, when we reach Más Bosch, they don’t have a table until 8.30, which is a bit late for Elizabeth.
Of course, there is no shortage of good places to eat in central Palma, but the problem is finding something for everyone. I decide to have a look around La Lonja and we eventually concurr that Chez Camille appears to fit the bill.
It starts off ok. The décor is nice and we have a table by a window. Then the food is dumped on us. The Broken Eggs is acceptable; the potatoes nicely smoky as promised, though the eggs are slightly overcooked and the chorizo under, as if it has been thrown in as an afterthought. Then the dish which drew me in – Chez Camille’s King Prawns flambéed in Cava with Spinach and Garlic. What I get is a bowl of large, but mediocre-quality prawns in a nondescript orange liquid with slices of apparently boiled garlic in the bottom. It takes a rare skill to render garlic tasteless. When I mention the complete lack of spinach to the surly waiter, I receive nothing in return but a grunt.
You know, I am genuinely not a food snob and if simple home-made food is presented to me with a smile, I am happy as Larry (whoever he is*), but if the menu promises something wonderful and I have rubbish thrown at me, I feel insulted. Moreover, I now feel embarrassed when I have been showing the family around my favourite haunts and we end up in what appears to be a tourist trap. How this can be the sister restaurant to La Paloma, where I have had excellent food (possibly the best lamb I’ve ever eaten) and impeccable service, is beyond belief.
So, a quick look at the cathedral from Parc de la Mar and then a leisurely stroll back to Placa España and the bus. Now, the buses are cheap and frequent and one doesn’t expect executive travel, but this journey is something else and it’s only around 10pm. Whether it’s the bus from Hell or the bus to Hell, I’m not certain, but a large proprtion of its passengers seem to be exhibiting demonic possession.
It is thus with some degree of relief that we alight outside the hotel.
*Isn’t Google great? Larry was the Australian boxer Larry Foley, who never lost a fight and retired a wealthy man, prompting a New Zealand newspaper to run the headline, “Happy as Larry”.
Day 6 – Saturday
As it’s Saturday we decide to have a fairly relaxed day and to enable Charlotte and Kaleb to have some time to themselves, Elizabeth and I toddle off to the little playground by the beach where she has a great time. When I can finally pry her away, we mooch down the seafront and stop at Ciro’s Terraza for a drink and enjoy the view over the bay. The friendly waiter compliments me on my Real Mallorca shirt.
I take Elizabeth to join Mummy and Daddy on Son Matias Beach and this is my one and only walk, with some trepidation, across the sand. Beaches are just not my thing. I love the sea and enjoy few things more than gazing out over it with a cold drink, but sand? No.
On the way back, I buy a copy of the Daily Bulletin and stop at Rasputin, just around the corner from the hotel. It’s a very simple place of painted breezeblocks and I think I remember previous incarnations including “The Pub”. Maybe they get it on a short-term lease, I don’t know, but there is a nice terrace with a big television and the owner is friendly, so I read the ‘paper and watch some of the France-Argentina game.
In the evening, we go to The Grill House, immediately opposite the hotel. I use my best Spanish and nobody has a clue what I’m saying – they all speak English. Perhaps there’s a clue in the name of the place. I’m not sure of the various nationalities, but I have a chat with the obviously English waiter and he turns out to be a Wolves supporter.
So, a massive salmon fillet with terriyaki-style sauce. Perfectly cooked and most enjoyable. The large cocktail list has, surprisingly, quite a few including hierbas in the ingredients, so I assume I’ll be able to order a shot as a digestif but once again, nobody knows what I’m talking about until one of the waitresses suddenly shouts, “Ah, you mean the tunnel drink!” Tunel is one of the best-known manufacturers of hierbas. I get my drink and we all have a laugh – the service here is great. When I order a coffee, I say “Café solo….er…..I mean an espresso please”.
Back at the hotel, I open a bottle of José Ferrer Añada Roble 2014, which I’d bought earlier, and I have a glass on the terrace before bed.
Day 7 – Sunday
It’s Sunday, not that you’d know it in Palma Nova, so we elect to have another chilled day and stroll around, stopping at a car hire firm to order a car for tomorrow. Another compliment on a different Real Mallorca shirt from the owner. By the way, just in case you were wondering (I doubt you were), I’m only wearing shorts and a football top around the resort. I wouldn’t dream of not wearing long trousers and a shirt anywhere else.
We pop into Aldi to buy some comestibles for tea in the apartment and then the others go to the beach whilst I decide to try out The Olive Tree, an attractive restaurant with a large terrace, right on the promenade. I should have learnt my lesson at The Grill House, but I automatically ask for a table in Spanish. I assume the waiter is going to check the availability, but he’s actually gone to find someone who can understand me! A smiling waitress comes and says, “Can I help you?”. I only want a light lunch, so I try the platter with a whole roasted garlic bulb, olives, bread and dips. It’s really nice and as it’s baking hot now, I wash it down with a couple of pints of Estrella Galicia. There is a beautiful olive tree in the centre, where I’m sitting, and I tell the waitress how much I like it. She replies that it was very expensive and I don’t doubt it. It’s actually quite fortunate that I’m sitting where I am, as two of the large parasols suddenly collapse, but nobody is hurt.
As it’s so handy, I decide to watch the Spain-Russia match at Rasputin (the name made me wonder if the owner was Russian, but he isn’t, so I don’t know what the connection is) and a couple of English ladies and the owner’s mum join me at the table, so it’s very convivial.
We have a really nice meal in the apartment. Aldi seem to have done us proud and I even bought a couple of craft beers – 08 Summer Ale from 08003 Barceloneta and Lupulus from Cervesa del Montseny in Barcelona.
Not a particularly exciting day, but very pleasant.
Day 8 – Monday
We pick up the hire car, a Seat Ibiza, and after popping in to Mercadonna for a few things including a bottle of Trinxet red wine (named after the Mallorcan curved bread knife) for later on, we drive to Sant Elm. It’s a twisting mountain road and occasionally one of the wheels leaves the carriageway, but as long as it’s one at a time it’s fine, honest Kaleb.
After some window-shopping and a coffee, we board the ferry, “Marguerita” for the short crossing to the island of Dragonera.
It is probably so-called as it looks somewhat like a sleeping dragon. It is six kilometres long and uninhabited, although there was pressure to build a tourst development in the 1970s, but it is now a protected Natural Park. The indigenous lizards, which are relatives of the European Wall Lizard, are everywhere. We take a walk to one of the lighthouses and the views are dramatic. It’s a steady trek and not very difficult terrain, but we get back just in time to board the boat for the return journey.
We elect not to eat in Sant Elm, but as we have the car for the day, decide to drive to Santa Ponsa for dinner. After a few wrong turns, we eventually find a parking place and have a fair walk along the beach to where we know there are a few restaurants. We opt for El Balcón de Maria and sit on a terrace with stunning views of the sea and the subsequent sunset. From a very large and interesting menu, I choose micuit foie gras with fig jam on pan cristal, filo pastry roll filled with duck, leeks, and shitake mushroom, and frito with milk-fed lamb. Because I’m driving, I have a non-alcoholic Mahou, which is actually pretty good.
Charlotte and Kaleb share a paella, which looks great, but they are disappointed because it’s of a particular genre which is quite dry, not having the abundance of tomato of a traditional Valencian paella. It is also a bit heavy on the seafood, which is not to Charlotte’s liking. I try some and it’s ok, but the rice is perhaps ever so slightly undercooked.
Although I enjoyed the food, when we leave the restaurant I feel a bit flat, not the usual sensation of satistaction, then as we are walking back to the car, I suddenly realise why – no wine! One can’t really use the old adage that it was like a day without sun, because there undoubtedly has been – 35° on Dragonera – but it’s a shame as they had some local wines by the glass.
When we get back, we have to drive around for ages looking for somewhere to park the hire car and then put the keys through the letterbox. I quite liked the Seat Ibiza and preferred it to the Clio we had in Portugal in terms of comfort and vision, but the gearbox was a nightmare. I don’t know if it’s a thing with Seats or if, being a hire car, it had been abused previously. Perhaps if we’d had it longer, I might have got used to it.
Day 9 – Tuesday
A mid-morning start for Alaró, taking the 104 bus to Palma and then boarding the Manacor train. The stop for both Consell and Alaró is a little out of town, so there is a connecting bus. I’d thought of Alaró for a number of reasons. Partly because I’d never been before and it looks like a nice place, complete with its own castle and partly because there are a number of restaurants specializing in local cuisine, so it should be good for lunch. Also, I thought I might call in at Forastera craft brewery if I can find it.
I alight from the bus and then find myself on a long straight road which looks as if heads into the centre. I see the name and realize that this is the road on which the brewery is situated. I wonder how far away it is and in which direction, then I look to my left and there it is – Forastera Cerveza Atresana – virtually in front of me. I walk through a quaint little seating area and there, behind a long bar, is the brewery itself. Sven, the owner and head brewer, is giving a tasting to a young American couple and they are happy for me to join them.
Sven is German, but his English is near perfect. He is also a heavy rock devotee and once even brewed a beer called Motörhead, so I regale him with tales of my past meetings with Lemmy. The brewery is so named because it means “outsider”, Sven being German and his wife, Marta, from mainland Spain.
I try his new ESB – English Special Bitter – and it’s very good, as is the Summer Ale. Then Polar IPA and Another F***ing IPA, which I had tried at BeerPalma earlier in the year. Its tongue-in-cheek name comes because Sven was fed up with peope continually asking, “Can you brew another IPA?”!
I mention that I am planning a book on the beers and wines of Mallorca, whereupon Sven says, “Wine? Then you must visit the vineyard!”. He tells me about a local winery owned by a German businessman and telephones the manager, who says I am welcome to visit. Sven says it is a thirty to forty minute walk, but when I look doubtful, he says, oh come on, we’ll go in the van. We travel through the most gorgeous scenery, but it would have been a good old walk, especially in this heat, so I am grateful for the lift.
The vineyard is called Castell Miguel and I meet Jorge, the manager, and he arranges for his assistant to show me around. It doesn’t take long, but it’s very interesting and I take some photos. There is a little shaded area where one can have a wine-tasting and the aspect, overlooking the tree-clad mountains, is glorious.
I decide to taste the red wines and commence with Monte Sion Joven 2015, shiraz, tempranillo and cabernet sauvignon, then Monte Sion Cuvée 2012, shiraz, cabernet sauvignon, merlot and monastrell and Monte Sion 2011. We continue with Stairway to Heaven 2012, one 100% shiraz and the other 100% cabernet sauvignon. Because Castell Miguel is not in a DO area, they are able to experiment with the grape varieties, but it is notable that they don’t include any traditional Mallorcan ones. There is a little shop where the people who were sitting on the next table are filling the car boot with cases, but I’ll have to be content with my tasting. I certainly can’t imagine a better location.
I order a Pa amb Oli and although it’s on white bread, it’s very well made with plenty of ham, cheese and pickles. Just the job.
Jorge very kindly gives me a lift to the station and it’s only a short wait for the train back to Palma. So, the visit to Alaró itself and the lunch will have to wait for another time, but I’m certainly not disappointed – a brewery and a vineyard! You know, when I first started coming to Mallorca about eighteen years ago, there were no craft brewers and about eight vineyards. Now, there are several breweries and upwards of fifty wineries!
In the evening, we head to Roger’s and find a free table. I have a perfectly adequate fish and chips and we settle in to watch the game. It’s England and Colombia and although England take the lead with a penalty from Harry Kane (Colombia are being quite dirty), Colombia equalise in the dying seconds of injury time and after another thirty minutes, it goes to penalties. The tension is palpable and I am obliged to have another large gin and tonic. Then it happens and it just goes to show that it is possible – England win on penalties!
On the way back to the hotel, we expect to hear the roar of ecstatic fans, but it’s unusually quiet.
A glass of Macià Batle Añada 2016 is a most acceptable nightcap.
Day 10 – Wednesday
I am in Palma continuing my search for some small watercolours to take back and frame for the new office, but to no avail. I’ve looked in all the souvenir shops here and in Palma Nova, plus Sineu market, but nothing. There are some street sellers with some larger than I really wanted, but I give up and buy someof these.
As it’s now lunch time, I’m thrilled to find I can get a table at Más Bosch. When I say get a table, I’m actually the only one there. I choose bacalao (salt cod) with sobrasada and honey and it’s all that I hoped it would be. Served on a bed of sliced potatoes, it’s delicious. The place is very elegant and it’s nice to have the undivided attention of the two waitresses, but it does feel a little odd. I ask if it’s normally busier and I’m told it fills up between two and three, but it’s 2.15 now. Anyway, I pay the very reasonable bill and potter back to the bus station.
It’s our last night and as we don’t want to stray too far we go, on my recommendation, to The Olive Tree. I have potatoes with chorizo, just to see how they do it and it’s nice but no surprises, and then carpaccio of wild cod, which is outstanding. I am able to try two reds by the glass from Can Rubí of Binissalem – Negre Fusta and Llepol “Sangre de Toro” and we finish with an hierbas. A relatively simple but very nice meal with great service, and virtually on our doorstep. Who’d have thought it?
I let Charlotte and Kaleb have a last wander on the beach and Elizabeth and I look at the shops. I only have a handful of change left in my pocket but she’s happy, somewhat bizarrely, with a ‘fridge magnet!
Day 11 – Thursday
Quite an early start for the transfer to the airport and then the plane for home. When we get back, it’s been none-stop sunshine and scorching hot, so of course people say to us, “Haha, you see, you didn’t need to go away!”. We did. Yes, we did.
Passeig de Mallorca, 20, 07012 Palma
Tel: +34 971 781 119
El Balcón de Maria
Avinguda del Rei Jaume I, 97, 07180 Santa Ponça
Tel: +34 971 69 10 82
Passeig Mar, 26, 07181 Palmanova
Tel: +34 971 68 38 17
Celler Sa Premsa
Plaça del Bisbe Berenguer de Palou, 8, 07003 Palma
Tel: +34 971 72 35 29
The Grill House
Avenida Son Matias 10, Palma Nova
Tel: +34 618 18 91 46
Carrer de la Missió, 7, 07003 Palma
Tel: +34 971 72 01 14
Plaza Rei Joan Carles I, 6, 07012 Palma
Tel: +34 971 71 22 28
Av. Magaluf, 10, 07181 Calvià
The Olive Tree
Carrer Cala Blanca, 3, 07181 Torrenova
Tel: +34 699 75 77 77
Av. Constitució, 34, 07340 Alaró
Tel: +34 633 72 88 97
Bodegues Castell Miquel
Carretera Alaró LLoseta, Km 8,7, 07340