SAM HART MALLORCA, SPAIN
For as long as he can remember, the founder of Barrafina has spent family holidays in a tiny village on the north-western coast of this Balearic Island. He takes us on a tour of his favourite haunts
Whichever way you look at the tiny speck of a Mallorcan village that is Estellencs, the backdrop is always stunning. It’s either the thickly pine-tree carpeted Serra de Tramuntana mountain range – so good, it’s a World Heritage Site – or, to the other side, it’s the Mediterranean, glistening the most perfect blue into the never-ending horizon.
It’s got a shop and a handful of places to grab a coffee, a bite to eat, or perhaps something a bit strong. The smattering of buildings that perch on well-worn stone streets are home to no more than 300 people, who have access to the best of both land
– a maze of hiking trails through the range – and sea, with its own little cove. It was here that Sam Hart, owner and co-founder of London’s Spanish quartet of restaurants, Barrafina, first fell in love with the cuisine for which he’s intrinsically linked. ‘My mother grew up in Mallorca,’ explains Sam. ‘She’s half
Scottish and half Bulgarian. My grandparents lived on a sailing boat but, eventually, when they had three children under the age of five living on board without a house on dry land, my grandmother said, “Right, enough’s enough.”’
Up until then, the couple’s commitment to living on the sea was such that even when Stefa, Sam’s mother, was born in
Gibraltar, they only stayed long enough to get the stamp for her British passport. ‘They sailed in, she was born, and as soon as she came out of hospital, she was back on the boat,’ laughs Sam.
What twisted grandfather Vladimir’s arm, though, was the beauty of Estellencs. ‘He fell in love with the place and built a house there, where he lived until he died,’ says Sam. ‘We all go back every year (it’s split between the family) and all his old art and easels are still there – it remains very much his house.
‘It’s a tiny place,’ he continues, on the topic of Estellencs.
‘The population swells a bit in summer, but not much, and it’s part of this untouched rocky coastline, which stretches from Andratx in the south to Pollença in the north. It doesn’t have sandy beaches, but it has little pebble coves with perfect, crystal-clear water. The villages tend to be set back from the sea and are made from lovely stone going back to medieval times, all with beautiful views over the Mediterranean and surrounded by pine trees; it’s stunning.’
‘You always feel safe in the village, even for your children to run around,’ he continues.
‘The policeman comes for 45 minutes every morning, from about 11am, so if you’re going to do something wrong, you need to avoid that time slot. ‘One of my earliest memories in the village is from the bakery; their great speciality was ensaïmada, which is a Mallorcan pastry made with lard – a spiral, lardy cake dusted with icing sugar. We’d always get sent down to pick up the bread for breakfast and a couple of these ensaïmadas – I absolutely loved them and still do.’
The food routines of Mallorca remain strong with Sam and his family whenever they return, but the remoteness of the home that Vladimir built – with the one road in and out taking you via endless, tight hairpins through the ranges – means he has to follow his grandparents’ path and head to sea. ‘The best way to see the north-west coast is by boat,’ he says. ‘That way you can head up and down the coast and stop in at these tiny ports, coves and bays along the way.
‘There’s a lovely little port called Port des Canonge with a very scruffy pebbly beach but a lovely little fish restaurant called Ca’n Toni Moreno, which has long been a favourite – it’s been run by the same family for ages. Then you’ve got the cove at Deià, one of the more upmarket villages – lots of famous residents – but very charming; there’s a nice little restaurant on the bay there, C’as Patro. You’ve then got Andratx, also quite charming, right on the edge of the