March 12, 2025

An earnest attempt to make friends in a new city now retrospectively has become field work on the Cool Girl in Madrid. I leaned into my DM’s this month, accepting invites to hang out and take me around Madrid. I went five for five. (Or eight for eight if you count the friends the cool girls brought along.) 

Each outing comprised of easy conversation, good food, more than one stop, and intentions to meet again. Perhaps it was luck, perhaps it was fate, perhaps god is a woman. I am not surprised though. I have never gone viral. Any growth has been organic. Any growth was also before 2022; I have had 0% growth the past couple years, so the girls have been around…and seen me through it. An algorithm has read our shared interests as the same wavelength and placed us on the same side of the internet. Hot girls eat tinned fish (c. 2021-2022), 0.5x selfies in 2023, 2x zoom pics in 2024, and a free Palestine forever. 

I know none of these chicas would call themselves as cool, but each was uniquely cool in my eyes. No one was a part of scene. No one was trying to prove anything. They were cool to me because I left each encounter touched by the generosity of their time and authenticity of their drives. I also left each encounter, wanting to hang out again. And we did—two or three times each that month. That is more than I see some of my friends in NYC in a year.

I have been so well taken care of here in Madrid. New York has roughened me up. I have learned to create routine to soften the impact of unexpected inconveniences, to advocate for myself when things get gritty, and to value resilience like a diamond. But in just a month’s time, the cool girls of Madrid have inspired me to remember that life is not just about survival, self-work, and strengthening the seeds you have already sown. I must also lean into novelty and the now. 

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el 7 de febrero 
Los Gatos (@losgatosmadrid)

I told José Luis that I was meeting up with friends of friends, or amigos de mis amigos. I have not figured out how to say or explain everything alex cooks eloquently in spanish. 

¿Todo de lo que Alex cocina? ¿Todos de que Alex cocinalos?

Kelli and Andres perhaps taught me the most memorable slang that I learned—the significance of a penultima. When polling your friends on another round or another spot, you always ask, ¿Quieres una penultima? Do you want a penultimate drink? In Madrid, every round is a second-to-last. The night keeps extending so that you never ask for an ultima.

I tested penultima later on José Luis. Penultima defies time and used across generations.

el 8 de febrero 
Pez Tortilla (@peztortilla), La Consentida Del Doré (@laconsentidadedore2.0), Watts Cantina (@wattscantina)

Inêz (@cota_core) introduced me to gildas and vermut—the bite and drink that would reorder throughout the month. And for that, I am forever indebted to Inêz.

Gildas are short spears of traditionally anchovies, olives, and peppers. Each bar will serve the traditional variety as well as their own house special varieties. They might substitute anchovies for other conservas (octopus, sardines, etc.), or I have also seen conservas substituted for jamon and cheese.

Spanish vermut is a sweet aperitivo, served neat, less bitter and more aromatic than its Italian mother. Every bar has at least vermut on tap (think: boxed wine) while some pour from the bottle. According to Inêz, vermut made a comeback with our generation last year. I told Iñez that the martini—another drink for an acquired palate meant to be served with briny foods—has recently been popular among people our age in the U.S. I have never had a martini though.

Between each stop, I learned more about Inêz. Inêz is originally from a town just outside Porto and moved to Madrid with their girlfriend a year ago. They taught me a lot about the differences in their life in back home in Portugal versus now in Spain. We found validation in a shared hatred for the pedestrian congestion in Madrid. We recognized our similar hairstyles—medium-length shags with chunky highlights. (Although it looks much cooler on Inêz. . . their cut is much chunkier, and their highlights match their bleached brows.)

We ended the night with dessert at Watts Cantina because Inêz’ girlfriend works at Watts. Watts is a buzzy brunch spot that recently opened for dinner service on the weekends. Their most popular dish is their American-style pancakes.  In the following weeks, when I told any cool girl that I lived in La Latina, they would promptly ask me if I had tried Watts’ pancakes. I unfortunately did not return for brunch service. But I do recommend their new evening ambience (very chill, no filas, no colas) and miso deviled egg.

el 14 a 16 de febrero 

My good friend Chloe came to visit, and I played cool girl for 48 hours. I took her to the three of the four places that the cool girls had taken me thus far: Los Gatos, Consentida del Dore, and Pez Tortilla. I needed Chloe to test the reality of my experience. I needed Chloe to bring back memories with me to NYC. I needed Chloe to eat everything I wanted to try because was we have an identical palate (except for goat cheese). Chloe and I prefer all things fishy, acidic, briny, and bitter. (think: the fruitiest, light-roast, drip coffee and the haziest 5.7% I.P.A.) In fact, Chloe introduced me to both my favorite places in NYC: Abuqir and Kopitiam. Chloe is a cool girl.

The weekend before Chloe came to visit, I rehearsed a script, asking José Luis if my friend Chloe to stay in my room with me. I barely got through the first sentence when he immediately offered her to stay in the small third bedroom for free. Because she was staying with me, Chloe and I ended up spending a lot of time in La Latina. Here are the places in the neighborhood that we went to:

• Obrador San Francisco (@obradorsanfrancisco)
• Bar Cruz
• Lamiak Cava Baja (@lamiakcavabaja)
• Mansilla Libros y Café (@mansillalibrosycafe)
• Cinco Hilerias (@cincohilerias)
• Mercado San Fernando
• Fun Fun (@funfunmadrid)

el 21 de febrero
Vinocola Mentridana and La Muxa de Espronceda

I met Amber (@ambergrimbo) at Vinocola Metridana, a neighborhood wine bar (read: no Instagram, no hi-fi listening system, no orange wine, no somm with a unilateral, dagger-shaped drop earring) in Letras. Amber brought along her childhood friend Tamara (@tamarabepunto), now freelance graphic designer, as well. I asked if they were both Madrileñas. They both gave me a humble nod and light chuckle. They both were raised in the afueras less than hour away, and now they have since spent majority of their young adult lives in the city center. Save for the few years that Amber was touring with her band Hinds.

With live music on hold during pandemia, Amber decided to attend pastry school back home in Madrid. Amber has since left her band to work in food, but she is still within the music scene. Amber manages Radio Margaritas, a live, online radio with live shows at the garden-restaurant Las Margaritas. 

We shared with each other the common woes of city living and snippets of future creative projects. We then walked next door for dinner—another neighborhood spot catering to a diverse range of ages. We ordered my first huevos rotos—over-easy eggs and lacy jamon over patatas fritas. Amber mentioned that huevos rotos is one of her favorite foods and that her favorite restaurant—Casa Macareno—adds gambones al ajillo (shrimp in garlic) to their huevos rotos. (remember: Casa Macareno)

We talked more Madrid favorites. Tamara mentioned Sala Equis—an independent movie theatre-come-bar that changes its showings daily. She used to go multiple times a week, but nowadays it is often sold out. I walk past Sala Equis daily on my way home. It has an entrance with an intimidatingly long hallway. 

We also talked Madrid cutre—which they taught me meant something like tacky, which I translated as cheugy. I asked them if the infamous San Gines is cutre. They would not consider San Gines as cutre because before San Gines monopolized the whole block and corner, catering to tourists, it did used to be a nice, local churreria. 

el 22 de febrero 
Thyssen-Bornemisza National Museum and Club Matador (@club_matador)

When Adrianna (@adriana.casadottir) suggested that we meet at the Thyssen, her suggestion seemed serendipitous. The day prior, I asked José Luis for his opinion on the best museum gift shop in Madrid, and he recommended the Thyssen. Adrianna, whose family is from Mallorca, brought along her boyfriend Fernando. They were both eager to share with me the lore of the Thyssen family, owners of the collection and one of the wealthiest families in the world. That morning, when I told José Luis that I was going to the Thyssen, he told me the same story. I let Adrianna and Fernando tell me the story in English again though because I think I missed some crucial plot points in José Luis’ Spanish version.

I arrived 30 minutes early so that I could peruse the gift shop on my own time. Museum gift shops tend to sway one way or another: branded but cutre or design-forward but pricey. I believe the Thyssen is a high-quality gift shop because it featured branded and design-forward merchandise in a variety of price ranges. 30 minutes was not long enough. 

As for the actual museum, the Thyssen is an approachably and appropriately sized museum with a strong permanent collection featuring obras de los maestros and contemporary pieces. I would compare it to be most similar to the Whitney in NYC. 

We then dropped by at Club Matador for cañas and aceitunas and to pick up Fernando’s helmet that he left the night before. (I think the NYC equivalent is SoHo House—I wouldn’t know though. . . I’ve never been.) The members’ club was so stately that I felt a little out of place in my Uniqlo puff and relaxed black denim. Adrianna’s equally casual blue denim and red oversized scrunchie though made me feel more at ease. 

el 24 de febrero 
Bar Melo’s (@barmelos) and Sala Equis (@salaequismadrid)

Inêz and I found the place that I suggested boarded up and without a light—cerrado en lunes— Inêz immediately recommended that we pivot to Bar Melo. Pivoting to Bar Melo seemed reflexive. And later, Inêz’s order seemed instinctual: a half-portion of a zapatilla, two croquettes, pimientos, and two cañas.

The croquettes and pimientos were the best I had in Madrid. Bar Melo’s croquettes made Pez Tortilla’s look and taste like mozzarella sticks. Each shiny ledge on the pimientos—freshly fried—held a display of tiny salt crystals. (The best way I can describe pimientos are like Spanish shishitos.) 

The zapatilla—Bar Melo’s most famous dish—however, was not my favorite. The zapatilla features raclette-like cheese, four-plus layers of lacon, and thick slices of pan de Gallego (slices that make Texas toast look diminutive). The fault is my own palate though. Ham and cheese sandwiches are simply not on brand for me. My unease manifested itself as the sandwich fell apart on my plate and I had to resort to a fork and knife. The cool girls chow down.

Coming up on my last week in Madrid, I mentioned to Inêz two places I wanted to go: Casa Macareno (per Amber’s raving review) and Sala Equis (per Tamara). Inêz told me that they and Ana just went to Casa Macareno and loved it. Inêz suggested that we go to Sala Equis after dinner. They warned me though that the vibe has changed recently (just as Tamara said) and that the crowd can be hit-or-miss. Sometimes it is packed and touristy, sometimes it feels a bit basic, and sometimes it is just right. It sounds like Public Records these days. Monday night though seemed just right.

el 28 de febrero
Guinda @guinda__

I told José Luis that I was going to the afueras to help my new friend Amber cater a private dinner for a bohemian artist’s 50^th birthday party. José Luis, my middle-aged 62-year-old, single Airbnb host who lives alone, then asked if I was going to be kidnapped. (I did some snooping and math recently.) I told him: tranquilo, no te preocupes, and that I got dinner with Amber last week. José Luis still asked me for the neighborhood of the dinner party and oriented me to the neighborhood of private dinner and, in case I got lost, the nearest train station on the map.

Guinda is a culinary studio, led by Amber and her co-founder Lucia. That night with Guinda, I learned that we are all doing the same sht. Before a dinner event, Amber is buying out the mozzarella di bufala stock at Aldi and schelping it back home. Before a pop-up, I am hand carrying back 10lbs of watermelon from Trader Joes. We all prep in our tiny home kitchens. Counterspace is a universal premium. Amber’s roommate helped carry boxes down from the flat. My roomies too have been there at every pop-up, whether Jenn running front-of-house or Celine helping me plate food. Neither of us have cars in our respective cities, so we uber to the event with a trunk load of prepared food precariously packed in boxes and totes.

Amber told me she needed free hands. And I understood what she meant. Last October, on the day of my dinner with Treetop Journeys, Jacob, the founder, lent me his car to drive upstate with all the food. I packed freezer boxes, tote bags, Jenn, and Celine in the car. I did not know exactly the tasks that would arise, but I knew I would need extra hands…especially cooking outside with minimal equipment (two George Foremans grills). I started to feel really overwhelmed cooking the main dish—jjajangmyeon with clams, shrimp, and calamari—while accounting for gluten and shellfish allergies, so Jenn and Celine ended up plating the first three courses. 

A few years ago, Jenn and I were discussing if we would ever work in kitchens professionally. Jenn, yes. Jenn can do anything. But me? Jenn told me that I could never cook on the line. I needed to be my own boss. Brutal, Jenn, but true. After the dinner, I sent a voice memo to Jenn: I assembled 60 mini pork and fig jam brioche sliders and perhaps some 20 whipped feta and beet tostadas. I had thought the process of plating monotonous, but if not too complicated, plating the same dish can be meditative. With a certain quantity of ingredients, it becomes a measurable, achievable, and time-bound goal…and to complete the task with your hands feels even better.

el 2 de marzo
Bodegas El Mano (@bodegaselmano) and Cuadra (@cuadramadrid)

Amber and Lucia (@luciajuantey) took me out to lunch after helping them with their gig. The original plan was to walk-in to Casa Macareno—Amber’s favorite restaurant in the city. But apparently ever since Rosalia ate at Macareno…it has become increasingly difficult to secure a reservation, and the quality of the food has suffered as well. 

Amber and Lucia suggested Bodegas El Mano instead—only a few minutes walk away and run by the same owners as Casa Macareno. Bodegas El Mano serves a relatively similar menu of comida castizo, or traditional food. We ordered the ensaladilla rusa, croquettes, and fried anchovies and calamari. I wrote off ensaladilla rusa early when I tried it at Los Gatos—mayo-heavy potato salad with tuna? I will pass. But this ensaladilla rusa was mixed with a buttery tuna belly and topped with an airy honey mayo. I am still thinking about her.

Over lunch, I learned more about Amber and Lucia’s past lives. Lucia is originally from Galicia—the northern region of Spain, with weather akin to the U.S.’s Pacific Northwest. She told me that a typical (but often true) Galician stereotype is that Galicians will only eat seafood from Galicia. After leaving her job as a lawyer, Lucia attended pastry school and worked in various bakery in London and Madrid. 

Amber and Lucia were excited for their coming weeks, currently on the precipice of similar phases. They were both starting new, more stable gigs, allowing them to grow Guindas without financial pressure and with more creative freedom. You can read more about Amber and Lucia in this El Pais feature.

They suggested we go to Cuadra to extend our rainy Sunday out with dessert-after-lunch. As the girls do, we heavily strategized our order. At least two of us at all times guarded our highly sought after table while Amber and Lucia took separate trips to peruse the pastry case. Lucia was undyingly committed to the alfajor, and Amber—a Cuadra aficionado who has tried most of their selection already—raved about the palmerita. José Luis said palmerita, or also called palmarettos, are also his favorite pastry.

el 3 de marzo 
Alma Nomad Bakery (@almanomadbakery)

            I posted that I am sadly “just a filter girl, in a café con leche world,” and Bella (@bellasenno) recommended me several places for specialty coffee. She also sent me several bakery recommendations from her past few years in Madrid. Alma was at the top of her list. A few weeks later, we met up at Alma. When I told Amber and Lucia that I was going to Alma the day prior, they recommended Alma’s quiche, focaccia, and pain au chocolat. I treated myself to sweet and savory on my second-to-last day, ordering both the quiche and pistachio-chocolate croissant. 

            Bella was only first and only American-living-in-Madrid that I met all month. Bella calls Chicago home but for the past several years has lived in Spain. I was eager for her second opinion. I wanted to know if my American impressions had any truth. I told her that I was most surprised by how people are always out in the streets. Bella affirmed that a life spent outside of the house is normal. She added that abundance of third spaces makes time spent outside the house accessible across generations. Bella, who is working towards a Masters’ in Technology, teaches English at a high school in Madrid. When she asks her kids about what they did over their weekends, they respond, “What do you mean, Bella? I was in the streets.” 

After Alma, Bella came along with me to go gift shopping for friends and family in Chamberi. I did not find anything for friends and family but instead agonized over a bag for myself. I did not purchase it in the end. Bella’s patience as a teacher showed. 

el 4  de marzo
Acid (@acid.cafe) and the Thyssen (yes, again)

All month, I was unable to shop for gifts because I was haunted by the fear of something better. On my last day, I asked Adrianna if we could get coffee somewhere near a good gift shop. She chose Acid (the one in Chueca, not Letras). 

We sat aside the beautiful flower arrangement in the window display, and I recognized the arrangement as Liliya’s (@floresmercuriales). On my second day in Madrid, I met Liliya, another cool girl, at Hola Coffee (@holacoffee). She took my order (a cortado—im channeling you @baileyxgoldberg), and Liliya handed me my cup, asking me if I cook on Instagram. Both my English and Spanish tongues were tied: yessss-ssssí. . . I asked her for her Instagram, and she gave me her floral account. I scrolled down her page, and I saw that she also does flowers for Amber and Lucia. The cool girls all know each other too. 

Back to coffee. . .The first time we met, I learned Adrianna practices law full-time. This time, she shared with me two creative projects that she helps run in the city: Radio Relativa (@relativaradio, next show el 20 de marzo 15:00-16:00), an independent community radio, and Real No Real (@real.no.real), a collective that stages music events. Adrianna updated me on her interviews and the Galician bachelorette party she attended. I updated her the insanity of my past 48 hours, trying to find a place to live for the next two weeks in Spain. I was supposed to go work on a kiwi farm in Galicia, but my host fell sick and could no longer host me.

We walked to Real Fabrica—a specialty food store. Petite, specialty food store is right up my alley, but I surprisingly did not find anything. Adrianna and I then decided to go back to the Thyssen (where we first met). At the museum store with something for everyone, I ended up finding everything for everyone. I also bought myself a sardine shirt…not in the style of the Lisa Say Gah picnic btch, baby tee wave, which I think is quite cutre nowadays. . . but an oversized pajama tee with a cut-out print of Isabel Quintanilla’s “Pescado.” I am not going to pretend I knew who Isabel Quintanilla is. Adrianna told me that she is a realist painter who had a stunning monographic exhibition at the Thyssen at the end of last year. We parted with “ah’luegos” in the hopes of seeing each other when I am back in Madrid in two weeks for 24 hours before my flight back home. (I have learned to say ¡Ah’luego! instead of ¡hasta luego! because that is what it sounds like when you say it fast.)

¡Ah’luego!