Story: Succulent Suckling Pig at Segovia’s Oldest Tavern

There are a lot of reasons to visit Segovia, a lovely ancient city in the center of Spain, such as the Alcazar de Segovia, a pointy-turreted, blue-roofed castle that some say inspired Disney’s Cinderella palace; a wonderfully preserved Roman aqueduct, lacy with arches; and a charming tangle of cobblestone streets. It makes a perfect day trip if you’re staying in Madrid.

But last May, my husband and I set out for Segovia with another purpose in mind: to taste the roast suckling pig, called cochinillo, that Segovia in general—and the tavern Mesón de Cándido in particular—is famous for. The cochinillo’s claim to fame? Being so tender and succulent that it can be cut with the edge of a plate. A Spanish friend of ours kissed his fingers in a gesture of appreciation when we told him our destination, and proudly repeated the cochinillo’s trademark: cochinillos que partía con el borde de un plato.

Truth be told, we had a few misgivings as we set out by bus for Segovia, an easy hour’s ride from Madrid. In pictures, we’d seen the entire suckling pig—head, tail, four tiny feet—arranged on a plate and displayed before smiling patrons. Both of us are carnivores, but within limits; we both prefer our meat to be disguised enough so as not to indicate too obviously the beast it came from. This is not always easy in Spain, where whole slaughtered animals are carved to order in markets, and entire haunches of the famous jamon iberico (an elaborate kind of cured ham) grace the counters of every bar. If our cochinillo was served head and all, we’d have to get over our hesitation.

Nonetheless, we made a lunch reservation at the Mesón de Cándido, run since the early 1900s by multiple generations of the Cándido family and thought to be Segovia’s oldest restaurant. It was raining hard when we arrived—a rain that had pounded central Spain for three days running—and the cluttered, rustic restaurant was a cozy relief. We were seated in a comfortable upstairs room where small, white linen-covered tables nestled together and looked out over the aqueduct outside. Around us, everyone was eating plates of cochinillo. We looked at the menu only long enough to decide on our wine and first courses, sopa de castellana (a kind of bread and egg soup) and setas segoviana (wild Segovian mushrooms). We had come for one thing and one thing only.

The cochinillo did not disappoint. Carved discreetly in the kitchen (with a plate, we assumed), generous portions of the pig were served to us on plain, round white dishes. The flesh was soft, almost buttery, the thick skin roasted to a deep gold. There were two small pig’s feet resting on my husband’s plate, but he pushed them to the side; and the soft meat and crisp bite of the skin made both of us sigh in pleasure. We lingered over our food and wine as raindrops made the cobblestones shimmer below us. It was a perfect Segovia afternoon, and a destination that any trip to central Spain should include.

If you go:

Reservations should be made in advance for lunch or dinner at the Mesón de Cándido, particularly on weekends. Lunch for two, including two courses and a bottle of wine, is around €75. http://www.mesondecandido.es/ingles.html