Sheratons aren't usually known for their haute cuisine—but in this angular, glossy wooden box of a dining room, chef José Miguel Olazabalaga serves up some truly inventive creations. Foie gras is wrapped in a thin skin of smoked bread, served with a gelée of salted cherries and arugula mayonnaise; grilled squid are drizzled in pumpkin and almond cream; and Iberian pork comes with black rice and a sunflower-seed turrón (like nougat). If you haven't the time or inclination to try the full seven- or nine-course tasting menus, you can simply order à la carte.

Closed Sundays.

One of the only notable paella restaurants in the city center, Albacar turns out delicious Valencian staples like arrroz a banda (seafood with rice and potatoes) in an elegantly modern dining room. Chef Tito Albacar adds a dash of creativity to traditional dishes; a "poor" dish like pig's trotters and ears with black pudding, for example, is elevated by the addition of a truffle vinaigrette.

Closed Sundays. No dinner on Mondays.

Entering this converted Basque farmhouse, set next to a 13th-century church in the small town of Galdakao—about a 15-minute drive from Bilbao—feels like stepping into a storybook. After being seated in the dining room with its beamed ceiling and embroidered table linens (or, weather permitting, the porch with its view of the mountains), you'll be greeted by a waitress in a traditional bonnet and apron. Chef Isidro Arribas's six- and ten-course tasting menus give you a chance to try a variety of traditional dishes, like marinated bonito served with garlic oil and tomato bread crumbs, or a fragrant, smoky, roasted choricero pepper that comes with a fresh anchovy. You can also order à la carte.

Mon.—Thurs. lunch only. Fri. and Sat. lunch and dinner. Closed Sundays.

A first glance inside César Rodríguez's sparsely decorated space of only 16 seats hints little at the fact that he is one of Madrid's culinary heartthrobs. Rodríguez has created what feels like a small neighborhood restaurant (his wife, Cristina de Pedro, runs the house with effortless grace), but in contrast to the minimalist interior, the kitchen tends toward more sensory stimulation rather than less, preparing culinary creations that are artfully plated. Tender, expertly grilled sardines are stuffed with crumbs of pan tomaca, ham, and aromatic herbs, while cataplana de secreto de cerdo ibérico y berberechos, an ode to a classic Portuguese country dish, replaces humble cubes of pork with the choicest cut of Spain's choicest pig and substitutes delicate Spanish cockles for clams.

The name means "above the trees" in Basque, and this glass-walled restaurant atop Bilbao's Fine Arts Museum really does feel like a sort of gustatory tree house. Chef Aitor Basabe's dishes are refined but still accessible: Pressed Ibérico pork loin comes in a rich, dark garlic sauce, while his seared bluefin tuna is topped with macadamia shavings and "faux wasabi," made with a purée of spicy guindilla peppers and fresh shelled peas. The inventive desserts include balsamic-vinegar ice cream (much more delicious than it sounds), and the first-rate wine list has an impressive selection of port.

Closed Mondays. No dinner on Sundays.

This cozy restaurant serving evolved tapas (expect lots of fish and game dishes) has walls the color of egg yolk covered with eclectic framed prints and matching eggy tablecloths. Chef Iñaki Gamba changes the lineup according to the season, the market, his mood…and yours. The website (in Spanish only) has a form on which you can list your likes and dislikes in detail so Gamba can design your ideal menu ahead of any planned celebration (www.restaurantearce.com).

For foodies, a visit to this Michelin-starred cathedral of haute cuisine is a necessary pilgrimage. Juan Mari Arzak (who runs the kitchen with his daughter Elena, a celebrated chef in her own right) is known as the father of Spain's modern gastronomy movement. Since the late 1970s, Arzak has served as a mentor to younger chefs while continuing to expand the nueva cocina (nouvelle cuisine) he helped define. His poached egg with truffle oil, crisp bread crumbs, and a mash of txistorra (local sausage seasoned with paprika and garlic) is a winning blend of strong flavors. Seafood dishes made with tender baby squid or perfectly moist marinated bonito are sublime. Your meal here will be expensive—and worth every euro.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

For a classic but casual Basque meal, head to this 400-year-old farmhouse in the university district of Ibaeta. The historic structure, surrounded on all sides by high-rise buildings, is a charmingly stubborn testament to another era. Inside, it's all white walls, wood beams, and long tables, and the menu reads like a culinary history of the region: Gernika and piquillo peppers, grilled hake, bacalao omelet, lettuce hearts with anchovies, and baby squid with caramelized onions. Order an assortment of things to share, including the wonderful chuleta, a massive hunk of tender, grilled ox meat, and you'll be thankful that the place has survived the vagaries of time.

You'll think you're in the wrong place for a few minutes after you ring the unmarked doorbell of a deserted antique store—until a stylish server emerges from somewhere, opens the door, and ushers you into a romantic urban netherworld. There, you'll dine amid pan-Oriental antiques strewn around the basement of a Brookyln-esque warehouse. The only menu is a set meal priced under $100, but it would be a bargain for twice that: As many as 20 of young chef Jaime Renedo's small courses await, and they are exercises for the intellect just as they are for the palate. A dark olive biscuit sandwiching Parmesan foam masquerades as an Oreo cookie. A postmodern Rice Krispies treat is prepared with saffron, like a retro-pop paella. Ever had a foie gras Cuba Libre? Renedo's aspic jelly atop a smooth terrine is made with rum and Coca-Cola. Asiana stands head and shoulders above the many inept Adrià wannabes.

Since it opened in August 2005, Azurmendi has been one of the region's major hotspots—and the buzz is warranted. Set in a low-slung, warehouse-like building ten minutes' drive from Bilbao, the austere-looking restaurant is the atelier of 29-year-old chef Eneko Atxa. He likes to pair unexpected flavors, and is especially inventive with concentrated stocks and broths. The results, like his scallop à la plancha —topped with flying-fish roe and bathed in squid stock—are delicious. Not everything on the menu is trendy; some dishes, like his "textures of chocolate" dessert (a trio of chocolate ice cream, cake, and mousse), are pure and simple decadence. Be sure to order the excellent white txakoli wine (pronounced cha-coe-lee) from Azurmendi's own in-house winery; this crisp, dry, mildly sparkling wine, made from the area's hondarrabi zuri grapes, pairs perfectly with fish.

Mon.—Thurs. lunch only; Fri. and Sat. lunch and dinner. Closed Sundays.

Az-Zait's decor is a strange mélange of baroque and classical, with gold chairs and murals of Roman gods, but that doesn't reflect the contemporary cuisine or the informative, friendly service. Four- or eight-course tasting menus include pan-fried scallops with a tasty, wispy fennel foam. Don't miss out on the superb homemade bread (five types, including amazing tomato and basil). An extensive wine list, almost exclusively Spanish and reasonably priced, features some fine Ribera del Duero reds from the famed ten-year-old Vega Sicilia to the humbler but serviceable Emilio Moro.

Open Mondays through Saturdays noon to 4 pm and 8 pm to midnight, September through July.

For a while, this pricey, prestigious restaurant seemed lost, as people lamented the departure of noted chef Andrés Madrigal (now at Alboroque in the Atocha district). But then along came César Martín in April 2006, who renewed Balzac's mission with verve. As ever, to dine here you'll have to have a certain tolerance for pomposities like extra silverware, unnecessary decanting, and service that sacrifices attentiveness for formality, but on the plate, you'll find this 30-something chef working wonders, as in a meltingly tender breast and leg of pigeon lying on a sticky bed of stewed fruit compote. There are some missteps, like Martín's nouvelle version of the classic ajo blanco (a northern soup made from garlic and whitened with crushed almonds). Here, marinated rape (hake) is added, which has too much acidity and is the wrong texture for the dish. But desserts like poached pear in port wine sauce shine on. In the balance, this is once again one of the city's most reliable tables.

This city center bar is famous for its superb tapas, which are slapped onto a zinc counter along with your glass of Manzanilla or foaming Alhambra beer (the tasty local brew). Seafood is a specialty, perfectly fried in a light batter. And try the featherlight eggplant slices.

Closed Sunday and Monday.

This designer tapas bar on the little square beside the main door of the cathedral is a good place for a beer or glass of wine and a tapa or two at midday. If the look is Barcelona (metal floor, purple chairs), the kitchen tends toward Bilbao. Pinchos such as avocado, apple, and langoustine tartlets or prawn-and-bacon brochettes are creative and delicious.

Open daily.

In the shabby-chic former fisherman's district of El Cabañal—ripe for a makeover given its proximity to the new Port America's Cup marina—this neighborhood bar with its bottles-and-barrels decor has been selling champañet (mistelle brandy mixed with soda water) and cask-poured wine since 1836. Today, it's the most authentic tapas bar in town, and always crowded (especially between 8 and 11:30 p.m.). Some of the offerings include tangy Santoña anchovies, cod croquettes with pine nuts, and michirones (spicy fava beans).Wine is taken seriously: There's a top-notch by-the-glass selection, and regular themed tastings are organized (participants are even asked not to wear perfume or aftershave).

No dinner on Sundays.

The classic choice around the Plaza Nueva. An ancient tavern serving good tapas including cheese and Trevélez hams from the Alpujarras mountains. As in all decent Granada bars, a free small bite is offered with your drink.

Open daily.

One of Valencia's most creative restaurants is hidden behind a discreet door in a down-at-the-heels neighborhood south of Avenida del Puerto. The decor, which incorporates scorched, sawn-off tree trunks and walls embedded with jagged glass, isn't exactly restful, but it's an appropriate metaphor for chef Raúl Aleixandre's audacious cuisine. Aleixandre uses Valencian flavors and ingredients in daring ways: A single raw oyster is paired with iced apple and lime foam; a fillet of ventresca (tuna belly) is caramelized and served in an eggplant sauce. But diners who want traditional paellas can also get their fix here. The black-clad waitstaff can be a little stiff and awkward; they're at their best, paradoxically, when the place is full.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

A pleasant hangout in the Realejo area, popular with local thirtysomethings. The specialty is montaditos—toast with every imaginable topping, from artichoke and melted Manchego cheese to tuna with roasted piquillo peppers.

When asked where to get good paella in Barcelona, many locals answer simply: Valencia. But this Barceloneta beachfront classic with a nautical-inspired interior and picket-fenced terrace is the exception—paellas here come with proper socorrat (caramelized bottom crust). There are also boat-fresh fish and seafood dishes such as whole sea bream baked in a crust of salt; tender, purple-rimmed clams, and sweet, grilled navajas (razor clams). And it's one of the few places where more unusual local delicacies such as delicate espardenyes (sea cucumbers) and pink-tinged percebes (goose barnacles) can be sampled.

Closed for dinner Sundays and Mondays.

The fishing village of El Saler, seven miles south of the city center, is known among Valencianos for its traditional paella restaurants. The best of these is Casa Carmina, a favorite of local writers like Ferrán Torrent. The decor is nothing special, but the rice, baby eels, anchovies, and cod croquettes prepared by Mari Carmen and Mari José Batlle can't be beat. This is also one of the few places that serve one of the oldest and most authentic paella dishes: arroz con judías y nabos, a soupy concoction of rice, beans, and turnips that is a great winter warmer.

Lunch only. Closed Mondays.

This down-home, family-run eating house is in the heart of Sacromonte, an eccentric neighborhood where much of the population (mostly gypsies) lives in caves, putting on overpriced flamenco shows for tourists. The Juanillo rises above all that in a one-room dining space with a few tables, terra-cotta plates, and great views from its open-air porch. The food—Spanish ratatouille called pisto, baby lamb chops—is plain, authentic, hearty, and good value. The owners are given to breaking out the guitars and engaging in some impromptu flamenco—and if you are interested in one of those gypsy shows, they can arrange it. (Leave most of your money back at the hotel, though; these shows are designed to fleece you.) Book ahead.

Closed Sunday evening and Monday.

When you want to eat nothing that's been deconstructed or otherwise engineered, when you yearn for honest Castilian food in a simple setting, there's nowhere better than Lucio Blásquez's restaurant near Plaza Mayor. On two floors, with jamones dangling from beams, brick and white walls, and terra-cotta tiles, Casa Lucio has a homey goodness that routinely attracts the famous—actors, writers, Laura Bush—as well as regulars and tourists. Here's where to try the Madrid special, el cocido (various components—chickpea, cabbage, chorizo, black pudding, maybe chicken or beef—in a broth), or any number of traditional dishes: suckling pig, hake in green sauce, judías con perdiz (green beans with partridge), oxtail, tripe, all fresh from the kitchen's coal ovens. It's very satisfying and not very pricey.

Like its more famous competitor Quimet & Quimet, this neighborhood tapas bar and restaurant in Sant Antoni specializes in conservas (gourmet canned products, which were highly revered before mass refrigeration), charcuterie, and cheeses. Lucio, the proprietor, will happily spend hours discussing the merits of home-cured anchovy filets, Italian cheeses, and cured sausages from the inland town of Vic. He'll also encourage shy types to try new things, such as oil-softened mojama (air-cured tuna loin) and bricks of Catalan meat loaf, made by Lucio's wife, Mariel. Mariel is also responsible for the more formal, brick-lined cellar dining room, which specializes in sturdy, often sensational home cooking, such as fresh foie gras with mangoes and hearty game stews. The menu changes daily depending on what's available in the market.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

There's some stiff competition among Seville's tapas bars, and Cerveceria Giralda is one of the best. Take a pavement table, order a glass of sherry and a tapa (we recommend skate with seafood sauce, and pork sirloin in whisky), and watch the Giralda take on an orange glow as the sun dips. This is a great spot to witness the parade of people on a tapas-bar crawl along Mateas Gago. If there are no tables outside, the interior—an old Arab bathhouse with a vaulted stone ceiling—is almost as atmospheric.

Open daily from 9 am to midnight.

The blank canvas of Coure's surroundings cedes center stage to chef Albert Ventura's exceptionally good—and unexpectedly seductive—combinations at this overlit restaurant just off the Avenida Diagonal in the Eixample. He slices slow-cooked, meltingly tender pig trotters wafer thin, adds fresh oysters, and brings them together in a musky cèpe vinaigrette that accentuates both the richness of the trotter and the ozone qualities of the oysters. For dessert, ice-cream cannelloni is redolent of Caribbean cocktails, perfumed by an infusion of pineapple and eucalyptus oil. The initial buzz of Coure's mid-2005 opening has quieted, but the all-ages see-and-be-seen crowd still find young chef Ventura to be full of promise.

Open Tuesdays through Saturdays 1:30 to 3:30 pm and 9:30 to 11:30 pm.

Darío Barrio is another school-of-Adrià alum, and that's what the Madrileños are hungry for, if the instant success of this place after its 2004 opening is anything to go by. Here, though beets may turn up in dessert and chocolate in a braise, Barrio's experimentation is grounded in reality. Oxtail with chocolate and wine, and his version of huevos estrellados, truffled eggs with potato foam, are two of his better-known dishes. The room is comely, but not so flashy that it competes with the plates—a staircase lit from within leads down to a whitewashed brick basement. Always full, despite fiendish prices.

Vying with the Alabardero for best restaurant in town is this splendiferous dining room, set inside the conservatory of a restored mansion beside the Jardines de Murillo. The cooking is an upscale fusion of Basque and Andalusian, and the restaurant is known for its sourcing of excellent raw materials (much of the game was shot or trapped within Andalusia). Dishes might include ceviche of monkfish and grouper with clams and virgin olive oil, and partridge salad with sherry vinegar and spider crab in the San Sebastián style.

Closed Sundays.

Built in 1916, the Mercado de Colón is an iconic Modernist market hall in cast iron and red brick; in 2003, it was transformed into a Covent Garden–like plaza by London-based architects BorgosDance. The makeover sacrificed some of the market's salt-of-the-earth credentials, but this top-floor restaurant is still an atmospheric place for lunch or dinner. Chef Enrique Barella's cuisine is contemporary but based on traditional Valencian recipes and ingredients, and immaculately presented. Go for lunch (try the sticky rice with seafood), when sunlight streams through the tall windows.

Located in the beachy suburb of Ciudad Jardí, El Bungalow is where the island's top chefs head for seafood dishes and sumptuous paellas when their own work is done. Little more than a basic fisherman's cottage on the beach, with two fairly ordinary terraces smartened up by fluttering cotton canopies (be sure to specify the one with the sea view when booking), its lack of pretense is a big part of the draw. Show up early to secure a coveted terrace spot with the Mediterranean waves lapping just inches from your toes, and linger over tantalizing dishes of purple-lipped clams steamed in white wine and garlic; heaps of mussels; and buttery, perfectly cooked squid. Booking essential.

Closed Mondays.

When a delicate fillet of sole ennobled by an aristocratic reduction of fish stock and cava is priced at such an inexplicably low level, you might come to suspect that the restaurant is a front for some illicit seafood-trafficking operation. Happily, the business is their business; yours is choosing from among the array of fresh shellfish that sits over ice in a gleaming glass case. Whether you select navajas (razor clams), berberechos (cockles), or a rather intimidating buey de mar (ox crab), you're best off leaving the good-naturedly brusque staff to decide how each is best prepared. The kitchen also dabbles in elaborate marine preparations like smoked tuna belly stuffed with seaweed and sea urchin. In a rich riff on a Spanish classic, piquillo peppers are stuffed with whipped bacalao (codfish) and drowned in a creamy, well-developed shrimp sauce—yet another gift to the city.

For an unencumbered view of the Alhambra, nab a seat on the large, sunny terrace of this restaurant, just below the Mirador de San Nicolás. In inclement weather and on winter evenings, head inside and downstairs, where the dining room has huge windows on the same stunning outlook. Inevitably, given the location, prices are on the steep side, but the dishes are imaginative and portions generous. The bread selection alone is a plus point; choose from olive, sunflower, garlic, and onion. Try the salad of arugula, pear, endive, blue cheese, and walnuts, and the tasty aromatic couscous topped with lamb or juicy zucchini, pumpkin, and almonds. Vanguard desserts include quince soup, and chocolate and basil coulant. On the downside, the service can be a little frosty, but that knockout view makes up for it.

Open daily 1 to 3:30 and 8 to 11:30 pm.

Embat, a pioneer of Barcelona's bistromanía trend, is proof that it's still possible to dine well in Barcelona for under €30 (around $40). Located in central Barcelona just off Avinguda Diagonal, Embat has faded, toast-colored wall tiles and a zinc bar that hark back to an old-school eatery; the clientele, at least at midday, is largely made up of older locals with time to lunch properly. The small menu (about five choices each for starters and entrées) changes weekly, depending on what's in the markets, but we especially like the creamy lasagna made with black sausage and goat cheese, local white beans with cabbage and partridge, or the entrecôte on a layer of mustard sauce and lletons (sweetbreads). At €12, the steak is the most expensive dish on the menu, and although prices rise slightly for dinner, Embat is as easy on the wallet as it is on the stomach. Reservations advised for lunch and dinner.

Open Tuesdays and Wednesdays 1 to 3:30 pm, Thursdays and Fridays 1 to 3:30 and 9 to 11 pm, and Saturdays 2 to 3:30 pm and 9 to 11 pm.

Arguably one of Menorca's most famous restaurants, this neat town house is one block removed from the shoreline and a world away from the touristy eateries that line it. While it's unlikely to win any prizes for interior design and lacks the postcard-perfect bay views of its competition, the lovingly tended lobster tanks at the rear of the restaurant and its own fishing fleet mean that the specialty here is of an excellent standard. Caldereta de langosta, a fragrant stew of fresh Balearic lobster cooked down with rice and tomatoes and enriched with saffron, is the regional dish, and this is the place to come on the island to try it.

Closed Wednesdays and November to mid-March.

Affixed to the museum of modern art next door, the restaurant reflects the mood in food. As one of the pioneers of "New Mallorcan" cuisine, chef Joan Torrens has spent the last decade experimenting, honing and harmonizing his skills and breathing new life into the culinary legacy left by his family. While he remains true to local produce, his interpretations of classical Mallorcan cookery are apparent in dishes such as anchovy "cake" dressed with oranges and cava vinaigrette; sticky rice with rabbit, mushrooms, and snails; and gooey apple cake with Sichuan pepper ice cream.

Closed Sundays and the last two weeks of August and January.

A bit off the beaten path but well worth the trip, Etxebarri is set in a small town about 30 miles east of Bilbao. Every dish you'll eat here will include something grilled or smoked—and that's a good thing, since chef Victor Arguinzoniz makes his own charcoal from local vine shoots, oak, and apple wood. He also uses the best raw ingredients, and the confluence of fresh and smoky flavors works beautifully. Grilled tender baby octopus is served with fresh shelled peas and asparagus; barbecued egg yolk comes with green peppers and zizas (a local variety of mushroom); and even Arguinzoniz's ice cream is made with smoked milk. Reservations are a good idea on weekends.

Closed Mondays. No dinner on Sundays.

Don't expect to see the world's most famous chef dashing around the kitchen of this avant-garde spin on the fast-food restaurant. Ferran Adrià's conceptual presence, though, seeps out in the juice of a world-class hamburger and crackles through the nut sauce in a dish of roasted vegetables romesco. His attitude also colors Fast Good's cartoonish, Jetsons-in-polka-dots, semi-self-service interior. Sometimes Adrià's haute-fast concept works, as in the burger italiano, whose gentle bite of arugula, mushy tomato confit, and unusually restrained melted gorgonzola all display appropriate deference to the burger's luscious ground veal, forming one of the best-balanced sandwiches in the city. At other times the concept takes a tragic misstep, as when french fries are cooked in olive oil, rendering them, amazingly, both soggy and tough at the same time—and virtually inedible. No reservations required.

Read our exclusive Barcelona itinerary with Adrià and his brother Albert.

Marc Fosh, considered one of the most innovative chefs in Mallorca, opened this laid-back little restaurant after tiring of the seriousness and strain of serving haute cuisine. Fosh Food is about fun and affordability: Out front, there's a specialty shop selling the chef's own gourmet products, like flavored flor de sal, chocolates, sauces, and spices. In the back, you can watch Fosh's team create your dish in a modern open kitchen. Sit at the bar, rather than in the small dining area, for a bird's-eye view and friendly banter—seems Fosh picked his staff not only for their cooking skills but their showmanship, too. The three-course set menu (around $20) includes starters like Malaysian-style scallop ceviche with pineapple- and sesame-dressed avocado salad, and main dishes like Café de Paris beef sirloin with fresh herb-crusted new potatoes.

Store open Mondays through Fridays 10 am to 9 pm, Saturdays 10 am to 6 pm. Restaurant open Mondays through Thursdays 1 to 4 pm, Fridays and Saturdays 1 to 4 pm and 8:30 to 10:30 pm.

Carles Gaig moved his restaurant in 2004 from an old farmhouse in Horta to this slick, black dining room in the Eixample. Although design junkies are drooling, Gaig is still all about ingredients, whether you're talking a pricey bottle of Vega Sicilia or the perfect baby squid. Dinner here kicks off with the deconstruction of a classic Catalan aperitif: a tongue-tingling granité of vermut (artisanal vermouth). A series of tasting menu courses follow: a single, plump mussel infused with peppercorn and juniper served on the shell; purple chunks of pressed octopus paired with a potato mille-feuille; pan-fried turbot with pork belly. Gaig's execution is faultless, and while perhaps he is not as innovative as some of his younger contemporaries, this is what eating in Barcelona is all about: connecting with the land and sea through wild turbot, tender beef, or even just Maresme peas. A more homespun version of Gaig's cuisine can be experienced at the Fonda Gaig, where the focus is on evergreen Catalan classics such as cap i pota (head and leg of pork), and meatballs cooked with sepia (200 Carrer Còrsega, Tel. 93 453 2020).

Mondays through Saturdays 1:30 to 3 pm and 9 to 11 pm, Sundays 9 to 11 pm.

The culinary headquarters of native chef Aitor Elizegi, Gaminiz is set in an improbably pretty industrial park 20 minutes' drive outside Bilbao. Here, Elizegi fuses flavors and textures with thoroughly satisfying results. Fresh anchovies, topped with coarse-ground salt and served with celery gazpacho and green apple "tartare," are a perfect balance of salty, sour, and sweet. The marmita de txipirón, strands of baby squid cut to resemble fettuccine and served with a savory Parmesan broth, is a playful take on a classic Basque ingredient. Pork fans shouldn't miss the papada, a cube of salted jowl served with artichoke carpaccio and a tangy lime meringue foam. If you can't get out of the city, try visiting Elizegi's sister restaurant, Baita Gaminiz (meaning "also Gaminiz" in the Basque language), located in the center of Bilbao (20 Alameda de Mazarredo; 34-94-424-2267; closed Sundays, no dinner Mondays).

Mon.—Wed. lunch only.

Maybe you didn't think you'd be eating in Asian restaurants of any kind on this trip, let alone a Japanese-Chinese-Peruvian restaurant—fusion yet! But you'll be glad you followed the chic hordes to this (it's fair to say) unique place. The restaurant is no relation to the London hot spot of the same name, though the owners know its owner, Alan Yau, and named this as a kind of insider tribute. The space ingeniously envelops each table in its own elegant Zen mini-environment, preparing you to tackle the unfamiliar menu—not that this is too onerous a task. In the kitchen, a Peruvian, a Japanese, and a Chinese chef work side by side, making sense of this wild idea with such dishes as grouper ceviche with fried yuca, crunchy duck pouch, or beef with oyster sauce and wok-fried vegetables. The distance from ceviche to sushi to dim sum isn't so vast, after all.

Want to blend in with the locals? Then you'd better develop a taste for horchata, a sweet, milky, nonalcoholic drink, served cold, that is made from chufas, or tiger nuts (unlike the Mexican beverage of the same name, which is rice-based). Most bars will serve you a glass, but to really do the drink justice you should sample it in a horchatería—a café entirely dedicated to the horchata cult. In Valencia's historic center, the Horchatería Santa Catalina is the best; as a ceramic inscription outside the shop declares, it's been going for dos siglos (two centuries). More colorful majolica tiles adorn the elegant main dining room, where perfectly coiffed matrons sit chatting while they dip long donuts called (we're not kidding) fartons into their horchata.

A bastion of highbrow, old-school gentility, Jolastoky occupies an elegant villa 15 minutes' drive from Bilbao. The surrounding community of Neguri is home to some of the region's wealthiest citizens (you'll see some grand houses on your way to the restaurant), and Jolastoky's several dining rooms are properly formal, with heavy swagged drapes, tufted chairs, and starched linens. Chef Sabin Arana Olaizola's family has run the restaurant since 1921, so they've had lots of time to perfect the menu of seasonal Basque classics, like chorizo with pochas (a tender local bean variety), stewed pigeon in wine sauce, and several excellent game meats in fall.

Closed Mondays. Lunch only, Sundays and Tuesdays.

This nouvelle Japanese restaurant in a residential neighborhood has made chef Ricardo Sanz into one of Madrid's newest culinary darlings. Kabuki's interior is understated, with all the bustle of a Tokyo sushi bar, while outdoor tables exude effortless class, like a sidewalk version of a Great Gatsby lawn party. Both spaces are lorded over by a suave waitstaff that's intimately familiar with Sanz's tricked-out Ibero-sashimi. Lemonfish might meet with papa arrugá (Canarian potato) and mojo verde, or urta (a rockfish from the Cõdiz bay) with adobo. In the showstopping usuzukuri trufa, a minuscule scoop of black-truffle pâté brings each ethereal pat of pez mantequilla (butterfish) back into the earth's orbit. Although Sanz can sometimes get too truffle-happy, he wisely lets toro sashimi go solo, letting the fish shine with pale, oily simplicity. Few tourists show up at Kabuki, and the casually glam regulars would probably be happy to keep it that way—reservations are hard enough to book as it is, even on weeknights. But you're well-advised to crash this party.

The softer side of clubbing, this is a beachside trance venue, which means it's a cross between a souk in Marrakech, a bedouin tent, a beach in Goa, and a caf—in the Haight—with a chill-out soundtrack. The ruins of a stone windmill serve as the bar and centerpiece, while all around, hippie transactions take place in the informal marketplace, impromptu art gets made, and Southeast Asian–influenced food is served in an array of set menus: langoustine tempura, hummus, grilled tuna with Thai vegetables, chicken satay. You'll feel better if young and underdressed.

Closed October through May.

Set on a busy yet charming square across from the 15th-century Lonja building—now used for temporary exhibitions—La Boveda serves the best tapas in town. The decor is that of the quintessential Spanish bodega: old tile floors and lots of heavy wooden tables and chairs crammed a little too close together. This place is always packed with locals and visitors, so aim to be here before 9:30 pm if you want a table—otherwise, be prepared to elbow your way to the bar and eat there. Our favorite dishes include the scrambled eggs with prawns, fried calamari, and croquettes de jamón. La Boveda's more formal sister restaurant, La Taberna de la Boveda, is just around the corner. It doesn't have the same jumping vibe, but it does have a lovely outdoor terrace.

Open Mondays through Saturdays 1:30 to 4 pm and 8:30 pm to midnight.

This enchanting walled garden shaded by purple bougainvillea, ivy, and palm trees on the edge of the D'Alt Vila in Ibiza Town is a classic—though it's better not to veer into the more ambitious-sounding dishes on the menu. But for a steak perfectly grilled over hot coals—robust and deeply flavoured, with a properly charred crust and a pink, juicy middle—nowhere beats it. It's also worth saving room for homemade desserts by the boss man's 84-year-old grandmother.—Tara Stevens

In his bullfighting memoir, The Dangerous Summer, regular client Ernest Hemingway wrote that "Dinner at Pepica's was wonderful"—and the recommendation is still valid today. The family that runs this huge paella restaurant on Arenas Beach, next door to the Port America's Cup marina, is now into its third generation; since 1898, it's been feeding local and international celebrities, from toreros and artists to film stars and European royalty. The seafood paella might be pricey (dishes made with fresh lobster often are), but you'd be hard put to find a more assured version of Valencia's trademark dish. In summer, ask for a table on the beach terrace.

No dinner on Sundays.

The quayside restaurant in Ibiza Town's swanky new marina is bustling even out of season, thanks to top-notch French cooking and superb fish and seafood. The scrubbed wood deck, hedged in by herbaceous borders and potted olive trees, is peopled by yachties, club owners, and glamour-pusses in wide-brimmed straw hats. The set lunch is great value, with mains such as skate in a butter and caper sauce, or slow-cooked lamb.—Tara Stevens

Open Tuesdays through Sundays 1 to 4 pm and 8:30 pm to midnight, September through July; Tuesdays through Sundays 8:30 pm to midnight, August.

Many locals swear that La Rosa's rice dishes are even better than those of its neighbor, the more famous La Pepica. They're certainly cheaper, and the restaurant's long dining room and beachfront summer patio aren't swarming with tourists. Instead, Valenciano families come for unusual paella variations like arroz meloso con ortigas de mar—a creamy paella made with an underwater plant known as sea nettle—and plates of fideos negros, inky black spaghetti served with squid. Service is fast and professional (a bit of a rarity in this slow-paced neighborhood), and the wine list is surprisingly extensive.

Part of the IVAM contemporary art museum (though with its own separate entrance), this avant-garde eatery has an appropriately arty, minimalist style: stark white walls, cherrywood floors, dark brown boxy chairs. The menu here appeals to fans of Catalan superchef Ferran Adrià, the guru of molecular cuisine. Like Adrià, Sucursal chef Enrique Medina is keen on foams, and likes to serve dishes deconstructed into separate bowls and glasses. But though the combinations are audacious—for example, oysters wrapped in truffle gelatin, served with celery purée, fried artichokes, and arugula—they are also delicious. There are 28 different mineral waters on offer, and the wine list is immense. In November 2006, the restaurant opened an offshoot, Vertical, on the top floor of the new Aqua shopping mall (19 Calle Luis García Berlanga; 34-96-330-3800).

Closed Sundays. No lunch on Saturdays.

The family-run La Teca has been a beloved specialist food shop in the El Born neighborhood since 1932. A total overhaul in 2005 transformed it into a more modern affair for food-lovers, complete with four tables. From there you can order anything in the shop for a 20-percent service surcharge. Choose from exquisite cheeses from Spain, France, and Italy; succulent sausages and hams; olives of every size and description; and a host of other gastro delights that line the shelves. The family also runs the Vila Viniteca wine shop next door, so the wine list is extensive, if expensive. It's possible to bring your own bottle, and for $8.15 they will serve it in petal-thin Riedel glasses. Come for a light lunch or predinner snack.

Closes at 8:30 p.m. and on Sundays.

A sweeping, glass-walled space with views over rolling green hills, this restaurant near San Sebastián—named after its three-star Michelin chef—embraces elaborate nueva cocina. The appetizer and entrée descriptions on the menu are several sentences long (and marked with the year that Berasategui debuted them), yet the dishes themselves are subtle and nuanced. One of his newer creations, a 2006 dish of oysters with watercress chlorophyll, arugula, and green apple, dressed in a lemongrass and fennel cream, is a pleasing blend of herbal and mineral notes, with a fresh saline kick. Berasategui's signature mille-feuille of smoked eel, foie gras, and spring onions dates to 1995; it may sound like an odd combination, but there's a reason why it's still on the menu after all these years.

Closed Mondays and Tuesdays. Lunch only, Sundays. Closed mid-December to mid-January.

This is the first and best of the carmen restaurants that are now so much in vogue (carmen is the grandest type of Albaicín house). Tables are set out on various terraces, and food hovers between traditional Granadino cooking and the pre-Christian culinary heritage. Feast on cardoons with an almond sauce, baby broad beans with ham, a fantastic local sheep cheese flavored with rosemary, and jamón de Trevélez (cured ham). Wash it all down with organic wine from the restaurant's own vineyards. On Tuesdays at 11 p.m., the place transforms into a flamenco hall.

Closed Sunday evening.

If you're just looking to sate your hunger, steer clear of this restaurant just outside San Sebastián. Chef Andoni Luis Aduriz's place, set in a rustic yet modern caserío (country cottage), is better suited to those seeking gustatory revelation. Aduriz's dishes combine flavors and textures in unexpected, always delicious ways: Flourless gnocchi are made with kudzu starch and Idiazábal cheese and served with an Ibérico ham broth; lamb shoulder, cooked at a low temperature for 30 hours, is paired with root vegetables and glazed with a slightly bitter honey. Desserts like violet ice cream with chocolate shavings and almonds are similarly wonderful. You can order à la carte, but it's a much better idea to indulge in the heavenly tasting menu (eight to 12 courses).

Closed Mondays. No dinner Sundays; no lunch Tuesdays.

Owned by hip husband-and-wife team John Broekman and Leah Tilbury (formerly of Las Banderas in Formentera), this old coaching inn is an unexpected delight tucked away in the middle of the island. A scruffy parking lot just off the C-733 road is the unassuming location for this magical hideaway serving great food. Outside, a terrace twinkles with fairy lights; inside, there's a labyrinth of dining rooms lit by candles and chandeliers. The menu showcases retro dinner-party classics like steak tartare as well as pan-Asian offerings like calamari in chile, papaya, and lemon. Curiously, what draws celebs like Bryan Ferry and Kate Moss is Friday fish and chips and Sunday roasts.—Tara Stevens

Open Tuesdays through Sundays 8 pm to midnight (bar closes 3 am), mid-May through July; daily 8 pm to midnight (bar closes 3 am), August; 8 pm to 1 am (bar closes 3 am), September and October; Thursdays through Saturdays 1:30 to 4 pm and 8 pm to midnight, Sundays 1:30 to 4 pm, November through May.

This upscale tapas bar—phonetically the name becomes "pa' comer algo," loosely translated as "to grab a bite"—serves up hearty dishes such as lentil stew with chorizo, pot roast with mushrooms, and fried artichoke slivers. The decor is chic, with slate-gray walls and leather bar stools, and the obligatory small chalkboard announcing the daily specials. The atmosphere is as laid-back as a neighborhood watering hole, with bantering waiters and friendly regulars. Come early (one-ish for lunch, eight-ish for dinner) to avoid a wait in line.

Few places offer a more charming, convivial way to spend an evening than with the Pan y Vino's hosts, Terry and Jill Cox. Back in London, he was a session musician, she ran nightclubs; and their island restaurant is one of those rare places where customers arrive as strangers and leave as friends. Tucked down an impossibly narrow, stone-walled lane about 20 minutes from Maó, the rustic dining room has a secret-garden feel. Jill's eclectic and accomplished home cooking spans the continents, and dinner tends to be whatever she feels like cooking that day. Dishes range from Pacific-style ceviche to local goat cheese with gooseberry sauce to Asian street food. Terry takes charge front of house, doling out welcome glasses of cava to a jolly crowd of loyal regulars and in-the-know newcomers. Past clients include Elton John and his mother, among other illustrious rock 'n' rollers.

Closed Thursdays and Fridays and from October through May.

Botin dates back to 1725, and little appears to have changed since it opened, including some of the waiters. The dining rooms, on the second and third floors of a building near Plaza Mayor, are a study in old Madrid, with dark wood–beamed ceilings, black-and-white checkerboard tile floors, and lots of bullfighter pictures on the walls. It's not just 18th-century charm that keeps this place popular with Madrileños; Botin also serves some of the finest suckling pig and roast lamb (cooked in an ancient wood-burning oven) in the city. Be warned: This is a meat eater's paradise, and you'll be greeted at the door by shelves of piglets in clay dishes awaiting their fate in the oven.

Open Mondays through Sundays 1:30 pm to midnight.

The drive over the salt pans to Cap Falcó can give you the uneasy feeling that you're lost. Stick with it: This is one extraordinary little restaurant, perched on what seems like the end of the world, with distant views over the Es Vedrà rock. This is the place to come for fresh fish and seafood straight off the boat. The daybeds of bleached driftwood and a pebble beach backed by desolate pine trees make it seem wild and isolated, save for the gentle beat of chill-out tunes. Sunsets here are magical.—Tara Stevens

Open daily noon to 11 pm, end of March through end of October (possibly until December, depending on weather); 2 pm to 3 am May through September (depending on weather, so always call ahead).

The food at the Guggenheim's restaurant rivals the art on its gallery walls. Josean Martínez Alija, who took over the kitchen in 2000 at the ripe old age of 22, has created a menu here that's ethereal, aromatic, and playful. His gelatin-rich kokotxas (hake cheeks), served with lemongrass-potato confit, are dressed with an otherworldly-looking pale-blue sauce flavored with shiso and lemon balm. Even humble ingredients get the royal treatment—like organic chicken cooked sous vide and infused with smoke, rosemary, and lime. Put yourself in this brilliant chef's hands: Order the six- or seven-course tasting menu and prepare to be dazzled.

Closed Mondays. Lunch only, Sundays and Tuesdays.

A mirage of clattering forks, clinking glasses of tinto, white plastic chairs, and multilingual chattering appears under the palm trees and sunshades directly on the sands of one of the most popular beaches on the island. For 36 years, the same couple has run Restaurante Juan y Andrea, the same people have come back, and the word has spread (quietly). The food is simple, local, and great: paella, grilled shellfish, the freshest of fish. It's a rite of summer that even the visiting celebs and millionaires observe. If you lack your own boat, hop on the Ibiza ferry.

Closed October through April.

The Casino is known in the city as the "El Bulli of Madrid." Head chef Paco Roncero trained under Ferran Adrià, who continues to play a role as a consultant. Roncero's tasting menu begins with a mojito frozen tableside using liquid nitrogen. The science continues through the tasting menu, which changes each week. "Snacks" are eight bite-size morsels, ranging from a miniature tube of toothpaste with olive-oil butter to a liquid croquette. "Tapiplatos" feature nine dishes that could include Milk Skin Cannelloni followed by the more traditional flavors of veal cheek with vegetables. Dessert could include a crunchy sweet-and-sour Lemon and Eucalyptus Igloo, while "morphings" are funky petits fours such as pistachios and artisanal chocolates. In summer months, request a table on the outdoor terrace, which has unbeatable views of the city, and remember that a suit and tie are required.

Open Mondays through Fridays 1:30 to 3:30 pm and 9 to 11 pm, Saturdays 9 to 11 pm.

Near the cathedral, the Sevilla was founded in 1930 and became a favorite haunt of native poet Federico García Lorca and his artistic friends. Nearly 80 years on, its dining room remains essentially unchanged. The menu is classically Granadino—try the habitas con jamón (baby broad beans with ham), the regional dish par excellence.

Closed Sunday evening.

Chef Bernd Knöller may be German, but his understanding of local traditions (he's lived in Spain for more than 15 years) has made Riff one of the city's most popular Mediterranean restaurants. The airy, light-filled dining room, decorated with plants, gauzy screens, and art installations, is usually filled with foodies. Knöller's seasonal menus display a real sense of theater; in April 2007, he debuted an eight-course "Black Is Beautiful" tasting menu at €69 ($94), with a monochromatic lineup of dishes like skate in red wine and lamb ribs roasted in black sesame seeds. Going à la carte will set you back a bit less; at lunch, there's a great-value three-course business menu for €25, which can be combined with recommended wines by the glass for another €10.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

This Poble Sec tapas bar has been around for four generations, but a recent facelift exchanged the cold, clinical tiles and fluorescent lighting for a softly-lit space with red brick walls, steel staircases, and a marble bar, and the local crowd for adventurous, in-the-know epicures. It's all part of the polishing up of Poble Sec, these days more Meatpacking District than beaten-down barrio. Likewise, while the Cantabrian classics such as l'escala anchovies and croquettes have stayed, 21st-century tapas are the focus. Rosal 34's signature dish, patatas bravas, is served in creamy layers of potato and garlic mousse, with a shot of chili oil in the bottom of a martini glass. Navajas (razor clams) are grilled to sticky sweetness and buoyed with vanilla-infused oil and chunks of candied lemon; the piece de resistance is an artichoke heart filled with a baked quail egg and topped with a spoonful of silky, Pyrenean caviar.

Closed Sundays for dinner.

Situated next to the river, this lively restaurant is where the young and trendy get their sustenance, drawn in by the simple, modern interior and abstract art. The creative Argentinean chef favors unusual meat combos—lamb in cumin sugar with chocolate sauce, pork with vanilla purée, lamb with golden syrup—which may not be to your taste if you don't have a sweet tooth. More traditional dishes are also given a twist; we like the almond soup with paprika crunch, and remojon (cod and orange salad) with a mustard and curry vinaigrette. From the wine list, try a bottle of the Barranco Oscuro, a good dry white from the nearby Alpujarras. And ask for a window seat for a view of the Alhambra, which towers above the hill opposite the restaurant. In fine weather, the shady riverside terrace is also a delightful spot.

Open Sundays through Thursdays 1 to 11 pm, Fridays and Saturdays 1 pm to midnight.

This roadside restaurant in the village of Cenés de la Vega is well worth the two-mile drive out of town for some of the best regional cuisine anywhere near Granada. Grilled meats, fish cooked in rock salt, and seasonal game (including ostrich, partridge, and wild boar) are just some of the specialties that might appear on the ever-changing menu.

Open daily.

The setting of this restaurant in the country outside San Antonio is a never-consecrated 16th-century church—a marvelously atmospheric, candlelit barn of a space with roughly hewn stone walls, arches, and mile-high vaulted ceilings. Outside, there's a fairy-lit terrace for aperitifs and digestifs. Food is unpretentious Ibicenco, with lots of fresh fish and grilled meats.

Closed January to March.

In a city where tradition rules in the kitchen as much as anywhere, Salvador Rojo comes as a surprise: a small, chic restaurant without an azulejo tile in sight. Young chef Rojo offers superb Spanish cooking with a nicely restrained touch: Cantabrian anchovies on toast with roasted peppers; fresh vegetable soup with cream of onion, ham, and fried baby garlic; roast salt cod with black olives. In summer, try to get a table on the lovely walled patio.

Closed Sundays.

Chef Paco Guzman has made a name for himself as the merry prankster of "new wave tapas" at Santa Maria. Santa, his second restaurant, aims to put less stress on your credit card. The blond wood tables, retro wire chairs, and funky oversize lampshades have been supplied by designer Alfons Tost (who also decked out Monvínic); the music is loud and funky, and the waiters charmingly flirtatious. Santa's menu is just as much fun, with bistro-inspired main courses such baby cochinillo (suckling pig) with leeks and sage and rice cooked with lobster and artichokes. Half portions are available, should you wish to share, but where the menu really shines is with Guzman's hallmark tapas. Order the five-dish sortido for a true taste of his creativity, such as a salad of hummus, celery, and wild mushrooms with a peanut butter sauce, or a small steak tartare with mustard ice cream. The €20 Sunday night–only fixed menu is a good bet in this quiet, more residential part of town, when many other restaurants are closed.

Open daily from 1:30 to 4 pm and 8:30 pm to midnight.

Santi Santamaría i Puig is a Catalonia booster, a previous three-Michelin-star winner (at Can Fabes, his restaurant in his hometown of, you guessed it, Sant Celoni), and now one of Madrid's best chefs, with two new Michelin stars just to underline it. His menus read plain but are as precise as calligraphy: grouper marinated with mashed smoked apples; turbot roasted with lentils; cod with snails in saffron soup; duck roasted in brioche. A choreographed team carves tableside and dotes on diners, generally subtly. The setting, the dining room of Hotel Hesperia (Madrileños love hotel restaurants), is a skylit cellar, elegantly appointed with warm, rich wood and stone, checkerboard tiles, and ample fresh bouquets.

Winningly low-key in the manner of many of Barcelona's best new-wave restaurants, this friendly place in the Eixample is nevertheless one of the most ferociously fashionable venues in town for foodies and style mavens. Thanks to the warm service that Anna Doñate oversees, a good time is had by all in this simple, white-walled dining room with kitchen views. Chef Xavier Franco takes a similarly hardworking and generous approach to his cooking. The menu changes seasonally, but always consists of eight starters, ten main courses (five fish and five seafood), and six desserts. A few dishes have become classics, including panceta crujiente con calamares y alcachofas (crispy ham with squid and artichokes), and magnificent cochinillo confitado (slow-roasted suckling pig with velvety meat capped by a brittle crust of its own skin). Beautifully balanced desserts and an excellent wine list all combine to make this one of Barcelona's contemporary classics.

Closed Sundays and Mondays.

Ramón Parellada is a veteran restaurateur with his fingers in a number of the city's culinary pies. Part owner of La Vinya del Senyor, he has a share in the Banys Orientals too, but his baby is the Senyor Parellada, an emblematic Catalan bistro that was the onetime darling of Barcelona foodies (long before food became fashionable). Those looking to the old-school for inspiration need look no further than this bustling, chatter- and antiques-filled dining room in El Born, for this is the home of excellent bacalao a la llauna (salt cod cooked over a tin and seasoned with garlic and pimentón); and epic milk-fed lamb with 12 heads of garlic. Knowing his clientele (businessmen and local food lovers) as he does, Parellada can propose homey, earthy dishes like pig's trotters with turnips and know that he'll find takers. A rejigging of the menu reflects the modern preference for sampling lots of small dishes instead of doing a rote meal of courses.

The stomping ground of politicos and visiting diplomats, Alabardero is one of Seville's most upscale restaurants, furnished with European antiques and oil paintings. Other branches in Madrid and Washington, D.C., have helped to establish the reputation of this one (the outposts were founded by priest Fray Luis de Lezama as a training ground for young unemployed people). Alabardero serves classic Spanish food, such as Cordoban soup with quail eggs and Jabugo ham, and sirloin of beef with red wine and truffle sauce. If you overdo it at dinner, there's also a small, seven-room hotel on the upper floors of this 19th-century town house.

Forget three-star restaurants and city-center hot spots. The newest, coolest way to dine in Barcelona is to uncover some hole-in-the-wall hidden beneath a car park; or better still, ingratiate yourself into a private dining club. Tapioles 53 is a "food space" in Poble Sec where diners must be members (a privilege that comes at the not-so-lofty expense of calling ahead, eating there, and signing your name to a register.) It's housed in a converted umbrella-making factory, but its ancient table and open kitchen make it feel like a private home. Chef Sarah Stothart's father—a well-known Australian painter—did the abstract oils of the Penedès wine region and of Australia that hang on the walls. Born in Australia and brought up in Greece, Spain, France, and Italy, Stothart's far-flung repertoire has been influenced by dishes she learned at her mother's knee and from eating her way around the world. The menu changes weekly, but look for her mother's juniper, veal, and pork terrine; rosewater-infused cardamom rice pudding; fresh goat cheese-with-spinach gnocchi and sage butter; and Thai beef salads.

Open Tuesdays through Saturdays 9 pm to midnight.

In a city where customer comfort often seems like an afterthought, the stellar service at this joint venture, opened in 2005 by young chef Santi Colominas and exemplary maître d' Sandra Baliarda, stands out. The striking interior is the work of local hotshot designer Jordi Torres, who combined industrial materials with a mural of a tree to create a sort of yin and yang of strength and gentleness. There's a modernista tile on each table—homage to the ornament and whimsy of the 19th-century design movement. But Colominas's seasonal menus are an exercise in restraint and balance: crisp sepiones (baby cuttlefish) in a rich sofrito of cherries and sticky cuttlefish ink; creamy duck liver paired with delicately roasted wild-garlic stems. The wine list is small, carefully considered, and well-priced, but the fact that all of the fashion-forward gourmands who fill the place smoke is a downer.

Closed Sundays.