“Lola’s Little Plates”
In a narrow alleyway off a sun-drenched plaza in Seville, a woman named Lola ran a tiny tapas bar with no sign above the door—only a faded tile mosaic that read “Comer es recordar”—To eat is to remember.
Lola was in her thirties, with wild dark curls and a laugh that bounced off the walls like music. Tourists found the place by accident. Locals returned because they knew magic lived there—in the form of patatas bravas, tortilla española, and gambas al ajillo sizzling in garlic oil.
But Lola didn’t learn from chefs or schools. She learned from her abuela, Carmen, who had once fed half the neighbourhood from a tiny, crumbling kitchen that smelled of smoked paprika and bay leaves. As a child, Lola would sit on a wooden stool, feet dangling, as Carmen cooked, her voice weaving tales between tastes.
“You don’t make tapas to fill a belly,” Carmen would say, nudging a toothpick into a cube of manchego. “You make them to open a heart.”
Carmen had passed when Lola was nineteen. She left behind no written recipes—just an old cast-iron pan, a faded apron, and the echo of her instructions.
Years later, Lola turned her inheritance into something sacred. Her bar wasn’t fancy. No menus. No prices on the wall. People came in, sat down, and Lola served whatever felt right that day—anchovies draped over roasted red peppers, crispy croquetas filled with cheese and love, tiny bites that somehow carried whole memories.
One night, an elderly woman wandered in, tired from the heat. Lola brought her a small plate of berenjenas con miel—crispy fried aubergines drizzled with local honey.
The woman’s eyes welled up. “My grandmother used to make these,” she said, voice trembling. “I haven’t tasted this since I was a girl.”
Lola sat down beside her, smiling gently. “Then she’s here with us now,” she said.
Because that’s what Carmen had always told her.
Tapas weren’t just food—they were fragments of memory, passed from hand to hand, plate to plate, heart to heart.
And in that little nameless bar, Lola was keeping them all alive.