Mikel Aranguren has worked the pintxos bars of San Sebastian's Parte Vieja since 2011. He started as a kitchen hand at a place on Calle Fermin Calbeton, worked his way up, and now manages a bar that he asked me not to name ("I don't want a queue like La Cuchara"). We talked over txakoli after the evening rush.
How has the pintxos scene changed?
Ten years ago, 80% of the people in Parte Vieja on a Thursday night were locals. Now it's maybe 50%. The famous bars — La Cuchara, Gandarias, Nestor — are 70% tourists. That's fine, they deserve the attention. But locals have moved to the bars one street back. The tourists walk down Calle 31 de Agosto and Fermin Calbeton. The Donostiarras eat on the parallel streets.
What do tourists get wrong?
Three things. First, they sit down. A pintxos bar is for standing, eating 1-2 things, and moving. If you sit at a table and order five courses, you're using it as a restaurant. That's not wrong, it's just not the experience.
Second, they only go to the famous bars. There are 50+ pintxos bars in Parte Vieja. The best tortilla isn't always at Nestor. The best anchovy isn't always at Txepetxa. Walk into bars with no queue and no English menu. Point at what looks good. You'll have better food and better stories.
Third, they come on Saturday. Saturday is the worst night. Every tourist comes Saturday. Come Tuesday or Wednesday — the food is the same, the bars are calmer, and the bartenders have time to talk to you.
What's the local order?
Txakoli to start — always. It's poured from height to make it fizzy. Then a glass of red (rioja or Basque txakolina tinto). Pintxos: whatever the bar does best. In my bar, that's the gilda (anchovy, olive, guindilla pepper on a skewer). It's the original pintxo. Invented here in San Sebastian in the 1940s.
Where do locals go that tourists don't?
The cider houses. Sidrerias in the hills outside the city — Petritegi, Zelaia — serve a fixed menu: cod omelette, fried cod, txuleta steak, cheese with quince, and all the cider you can catch from the barrel. EUR 35-40. You stand, you eat, you drink from the barrel. It's loud, social, and completely Basque. Tourists who discover it love it. But most don't discover it because it's outside the city.
Also, Gros neighbourhood. The area around Zurriola beach has better coffee, better brunch, and better casual dining than the old town. But tourists never cross the river.
What about the beaches?
La Concha is beautiful but crowded. Locals who actually want to swim go to Ondarreta, at the western end — same bay, half the people. Or the small beach below Monte Urgull, accessible only at low tide. That one almost nobody knows about.
For surfing, Zurriola is the main break. But the locals' surf spot is Mundaka, 90 minutes east — one of the best left-hand barrels in Europe.
Best time of year?
September. Summer tourists have gone, Film Festival brings interesting people, the weather is still warm, and the pintxos bars hit their stride. Also, Tamborrada on January 20 — the drum festival. The entire city stays up all night drumming through the streets. If you can handle cold and no sleep, it's the most Basque thing you'll ever experience.
Is the Michelin star scene accessible?
More than people think. Arzak, Akelarre, Berasategui — these are EUR 200+ dinners, yes. But Kokotxa has a lunch menu for EUR 80. Amelia has a tasting menu for EUR 90. And honestly, you can eat as well at the best pintxos bars for EUR 50 as you can at a one-star for three times that.
What's the most underrated Basque food?
Marmitako — tuna and potato stew. It's a fisherman's dish. Not glamorous, not photogenic, but deeply satisfying. Also, idiazabal cheese. Smoky, semi-hard sheep's cheese from the Basque mountains. Buy it at Mercado de la Bretxa and eat it with membrillo (quince paste). That's a perfect Basque afternoon.
Any parting advice for visitors?
Learn two words: "eskerrik asko" (thank you in Basque) and "kaixo" (hello). The Basque identity is strong here. We're not Spanish first — we're Basque. Using those two words tells people you respect that. They'll treat you differently.
And don't call it "San Seb." Call it Donostia. Or San Sebastian. But "San Seb" makes every local wince.
Combine San Sebastian with Bilbao for the Guggenheim and cross into Bordeaux for the French side of Basque country.
