Just Back From…Segovia

Because my parents-in-law live in Madrid, my visits there typically involve a lot of family time; I rarely do any sightseeing. As a result, I haven’t taken any of the usual side trips, such as visiting the World Heritage City of Segovia, a 30-minute train journey north of la capital. I knew about Segovia’s famous Roman aqueduct and its imposing Alcázar, but I didn’t realize the extent of the city’s charms until I interviewed the influential Spanish multihyphenate (photographer/art director/furniture designer) Inés Ybarra, who has a family home there and raved about its traditional restaurants and abundant nature trails. So after getting her recommendations, I asked one of my best friends in Madrid to join me on a 48-hour getaway.

Arriving at the Segovia train station on a cloudless June day, we couldn’t believe our surroundings: gentle rolling hills, a wide-open sky, straw-colored fields dotted with grazing cows. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought I’d been transported back home to the Canadian prairies. “A lot of madrileños have weekend homes here,” explained our cab driver as we drove through the pastoral landscape toward the old walled city, which is encircled by shallow ravines and the Eresma and Clamores rivers, contributing to its cool microclimate. “It can be up to five degrees Celsius cooler here than in Madrid,” he said proudly, listing the various nature trails around town. 

Pulling up to our hotel, the boxy, Brutalist-style Parador de Segovia, we checked in, dropped off our bags, and set off to explore the 113-room property, the first purpose-built parador in the state-owned hotel network. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The reception area sets the tone with folded concrete ceiling beams, inverted triangular skylights, and a sunken lobby decorated with tropical plants and wraparound seating. Like the 1970s-era abstract artworks that adorn the walls, the interiors are both strikingly modern and undeniably of another time in the best way possible. Apart from the eye-catching design, the parador is also notable for its outdoor pool, with sweeping views of Segovia’s ridge-top perch and medieval walls.

After a poolside siesta, we were ready to do some exploring. We took a car into town, a five-minute drive away, and strolled the streets just as the sky turned golden-pink and the shops reopened for the evening. We toured the city’s magnificent 16th-century cathedral, pausing to admire its Gothic cloisters and stained-glass windows. Later, we perused the goods at Tienda La Morena, a specialty food store selling regional products like chorizo, an aromatic liquor made from toasted pine nuts, and traditional sugar-dusted cookies. One of the area’s most emblematic products is the noble judion de la granja, a type of large, highly absorbent white bean that appears on virtually every menu and souvenir shop in town and plays a leading role in the region’s famous bean stew. “But not all judiones are created equal,” advised the shop’s owner, who drew our attention to the seal on the packets in her store, explaining that only the beans from La Granja—the former royal mountain retreat, located just 15 minutes from Segovia—earn the coveted designation.

All the talk about judiones had our stomachs rumbling, so around 8 p.m. we strolled over to Restaurante José María, one of Inés’s favorite spots in town, which immediately won us over with its rustic yet refined décor and lively front bar, where locals were crammed around the counter, slinging vermouth and inhaling tapas. Sadly, the main dining room didn’t have the same buzzy atmosphere: “The locals won’t arrive until 9:45,” explained our server as he poured a generous glass of the house red. We didn’t care; we were there to try the restaurant’s most famed dish, cochinillo asado (roast suckling baby pig), and it did not disappoint. The meat was crackling yet succulent and ridiculously flavorful despite its lack of seasoning (in a testament to its superlative product, the chefs only season with salt and pepper, never spices or herbs). 

The next day, we motored out to the nearby town of Collado Hermoso for a tour of Ábbatte, a small textile brand whose headquarters are set amid the ruins of a 13th-century Cistercian monastery. Founder Elena Goded Rambaud and her designer daughter Camila Lanzas led us around the property, which occupies a series of sleek, Scandinavian-style structures, and introduced us to their small team of local weavers and dyers, who use the finest raw materials and botanical dyes sourced from the on-site garden (planted with 70+ varieties of plants like indigo and bearberry!) to craft beautiful blankets and apparel. The brand has a store in the fashionable Madrid barrio of Salamanca, and is always striking up partnerships with Spanish makers, whether it’s of-the-moment fashion designer Carlota Barrera or the fabulous Abadía Retuerta LeDomaine hotel in Ribera del Duero. They also host regular textile and dyeing workshops open to the public, so it’s worth keeping an eye on their calendar of events.

For lunch, we drove farther north to Pedraza, one of the prettiest villages in the province of Segovia, where Casa Taberna occupies a 200-year-old tavern on the town’s main square. Here, chef Samantha Vallejo-Nágera of Spanish MasterChef fame serves soulful regional favorites with a French twist (there are even pastries from Lenôtre!). We ordered the artichoke heart with olive oil and sea salt, the poached egg with truffle, and the buttery grilled leeks topped with Roncal sheep’s milk cheese. It was all superb, and I’m dying to return and stay in one of the property’s guest rooms, which are kitted out with Louis XIII armchairs, clawfoot tubs, and grand fireplaces. 

Back in Segovia city, we followed Ines’s recommendation and had a sunset drink at Cafetería de la Química, a no-frills spot with a stunning outdoor terrace overlooking the Alcázar. Still full from lunch, we decided to skip dinner and opted for dessert at Mesón de Cándido, which sits directly next to the aqueduct and is arguably the most famous cochinillo restaurant in town. We settled in and ordered two glasses of Verdejo and one ponche segoviano, the region’s most emblematic pastry, filled with layers of egg yolk cream and blanketed with marzipan. It was a sweet end to a perfect day.

On our last morning, before heading back to the train station, we stopped for one final meal at Restaurante La Concepción, on Segovia’s Plaza Mayor. It’s an old-school spot with checkered floors, white tablecloths, and a forest-green bar. We filed into a red velvet booth next to a group of nuns and devoured a tortilla de patatas as locals dressed in their Sunday best passed by en route to the cathedral. 

“Come back in winter so you can try our famous consommé,” said the waiter as he dropped off the check. 

“I plan to,” I responded, then texted my husband: “I hope your parents won’t be offended, but we’re coming to Segovia next time we’re in town.”