My Long-Term Relationship with Asador Etxebarri

Remembering meals past (and answering your DM about getting you a reservation)

I’ve been preparing a whopper of a newsletter that’s quite chock full of tips and facts and inspired by a decades-old Spanish radio contest. However, that’s taking me so long that I wanted to be in touch before September was over, and inspiration struck when I was thinking about my history of eating at everyone’s favorite restaurant: Asador Etxebarri.

When we first moved to San Sebastián, in 2010, I studied the map to Asador Etxebarri and realized we were passing it every time we drove from Bilbao to San Sebastián. It is off an exit along a stretch of the AP-8 that would demand your attention even if your eyes were glazing with driving, thanks to the strikingly vertical white faces of the Montes Vascos—the Basque mountains. On a sunny day, the expressive peaks hovering just shy of 1500 meters look almost cheery, clean and strong against the blue sky. The cluster of the tallest peaks (Anboto, Kurutzeta, and Elgoin) shift personalities with the fast-moving clouds.

That is on a good day. More often, this cluster of mountains strikes an ominous figure in a dark, flattened mistiness. The weather in the valley of Axpe is ever-changing thanks to an endless procession of clouds and fronts. A tall mountain is a tall mountain, but this cluster is so dramatic in its proportions, and so tightly gathered, it creates both a climatic and a mystical den of sorts. The den belongs to the Basque goddess Mari, who presides over Basque Country from a hole in the side of Anboto. According to legend, she appears once every seven years, a beautiful woman in a long, billowing red gown.

In short, this is a place steeped with magic.

see what I mean?

It’s right here where Bittor Arginzoniz chose to create his own modern-day myth. Born Victor Arguinzoniz, in a time when all names had to be Spanish, chose to plant himself and do one thing, day in and day out: grill. Not that we knew that when we started frequenting his restaurant. My dream of visiting this man in the mountain started sometime around the year 2000, when my Gourmet magazine subscription arrived in the mail for the month. I flipped through to a story with some of the most evocative photography I had ever seen: impossibly lush green mountains enveloped in a fog so ridiculously mysterious, it couldn’t possibly be real. Now, 10 years later, the words hadn’t stuck with me so much as the idea of this magical restaurant-in-the-mountains—and those photos.

If any of you remember who wrote that piece, please forward this to them. Life changing. If you read it and it stuck with you I’d also love to hear about it.

I remember looking at the website before our first visit in 2011. The tagline of that simple site was Quality and Know How. True, and quaintly rustic. Much of the magic of this place is just that…Asador Etxebarri is nothing more and nothing less than a small farmhouse in the center of a tiny quasi-village. The bottom level is a taberna, which could be confused for a run of the mill, country Basque taberna if it weren’t for the clientele, an obviously international group that most definitely is not wearing Quechua sports clothes with mud on their boots.

We went, thanks to a wonderful friend with a birthday to celebrate (looking at you Hannah!). And at this place, at least for your first time, there's nothing to do but order the tasting menu. Back in the day, that meant 12 courses, showcasing the best product, each carefully grilled according to its characteristics.

back then, 12 courses evened out to €10 a plate!

I suppose the best way to eat butter is to churn it yourself from animals that graze gently on the pasture outside your house, freshly made on warm bread. The second best way is ordering butter at Asador Etxebarri. That famous smoked goat butter was on the menu, even back then, and would set you back €12, or 18 of today’s USD.

The remaining menu from that visit consisted of a creamy soup of smoked red beans, the same divinely fat anchovies you can still get today, oyster served in its shell and smelling of fire.

That day, shrimp changed forever for me. These jumbo langoustines were just barely grilled, soft, sweeter and more tender than any I’d ever have. The parade of dishes was like walking through the Basque Country, sea cucumber with white beans, porcinis, and truffles with egg. Bacalao. Baby octopus.

Dessert was two dishes, a roasted apple but the real star, a dish much imitated and never duplicated, was that cheese ice cream with smoked berry compote. Because Bittor had figured out how to use terracotta cookware and its porousness to infuse even cream and liquids with that smoky flavor as they reduced on the grill.

I loved every minute of it, from the gruff yet warm service (the Basque way!), to the terrace on a sunny day, to learning in the kitchen about all the different tools that Bittor has designed from scratch, molding even metal to fit his needs and his dreams for the freshest, best produce that Basque Country has to offer. My first meal at Etxebarri shared so much in common with my last, just a season ago: prime product, top quality and handled with the utmost reverence, the perfect kiss from the grill.

back story on this pic below!

No wonder it has been climbing the charts for the last decade, reaching its peak at number 2 at the 2024 and 2025 The World's 50 Best Restaurants. Only time will tell if they can climb to the top. But it's already an incredible feat for what is essentially one rural man's dream made reality.

Our subsequent visits to Etxebarri looked quite different over the following years.

We pinned it on our favorites and would stop whenever business or pleasure took us to Bilbao, making a lunch break on the dramatic highway that runs between the two capitals. We made our second visit one weekend for lunch, no reservation of course, a bit spur of the moment. We were greeted, ushered onto the sunny terrace, and handed a menu. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 15 years ago, you could order a la carte, and do so without breaking the bank, in the grand tradition of all Basque asadores. Our plan was steak, salad, peppers, potatoes (if I’m not mistaken, doubting myself on this one because it seems too crazy to be true!) and a bottle of red wine.

just product, salt, oil, fire

There has never been a steak this good. Some of you will have been to Etxebarri, and you may or may not agree. If I’ve learned one thing in Basque Country, it’s that a single corner of the cow can be unexpectedly tougher, or that even the best parrillero can have a slip up. You would typically be hard pressed to convince me to down more than a few bites of steak, but this one disappeared, plate licked clean. Perfectly rare. I have no problem with declaring it one of the best steaks in the world. There I was, an Almost Vegetarian, vowing to order the steak only on my next visit.

Over the years, then, I’ve been more times than I can count. I’m so lucky.

Then there was the time when my dear friend Kevin Patricio was writing a story about Etxebarri for Lucky Peach and enlisted me to photograph it (!). I love this picture of Bittor, at his most relaxed, that I took for David Chang’s defunct rag:

photo by me! for Lucky Peach.

After the shoot, I had to call to clarify some info, and I wrote the conversation verbatim down in my journal:

Today on telephone.

Me: I got a couple shots where you don't look too bad.

Victor Freakin Arguinzoniz: make sure I look good!

Me: Good thing I know photoshop! ((Jajajaa))

Victor: Good one.

Me: Just joking.

Victor: well if you need anything you know where to find me.

Me: Thanks! Victor: A big kiss. (( hang up and squeal)).

Am I embarrassed to be fangirling here? A little. But I trust y’all and this is my newsletter safe space.

We always make a casual visit to Etxebarri, even if it’s not to sit down and have a meal. You can see us feeding baby Lima outside back during the pandemic.

One of my favorite things now is sneaking down to the kitchen and bugging him until a smile erupts. For me, Bittor epitomizes Basque-ness. He is most comfortable in the wild, with the mist that's almost always hanging over Atxondo. He is loyal above all to the product and the farmhouse. He has done what not many have—remain faithful to the essential flavors of the product, and to Basque cuisine, but at the same time reinventing tradition with the elemental Basque tool: the flame.

The two times I have been the most nervous at Etxebarri? The first was when I asked Bittor to write the prologue to my first cookbook, Basque Country. My dining companions and I tiptoed down to the kitchen, got a quick walkaround, and then I popped the question. For whatever reason (surprise? Momentary pity? Or perhaps Bittor saw something there that I didn’t yet), he agreed, and I left with the reddest cheeks in history. The second was last season, when we invaded his space with a CNN television crew and Eva Longoria, beautiful and supremely gregarious. If you watch the episode, you can see me melting into my boots as we take up so much of this man’s precious time.

When you have been visiting a restaurant for 15 years, you enter into a sort of relationship with that restaurant, whether intentional or not. You start to form habits (always sit on the terrace if possible) and pick favorites (mine might very well be the homemade chorizo…so tender, so perfectly smoky, an unreal flavor of pimentón).

My favorite visits to Etxebarri will always be those a la carte pop-ins, when a tiny Buckley would dance in the bathroom window and we would just order “a couple things”. The world’s best (fill in the blank with whatever is in season) combined with a casual lunch over wine is the ultimate luxury.

The title is not clickbait. Just as an FYI to all of you, I average a DM a day asking for help or advice on Etxebarri reservations. It’s a bit like blowing out the candles on a birthday cake and expecting your wish to come true. It’s very, very difficult if not impossible. I can’t help you, but I wish you the very best of luck.

Love and smoked goat butter,

Marti