Akelarre

On arriving in the coastal city of San Sebastian, which is hot and heaving with tourists, Mr Smith and I have two things on our mind. The first is a pintxo tour (pintxos is the term for the finger food served at bars throughout the Basque country). The second is to find somewhere calm to retreat to once we’ve eaten our fill. We gamely succeed on both fronts. After an afternoon of gobbling our way through the bustling old town and Gros, the city’s hipster neighbourhood, we drive three miles west of the centre and enter the secluded haven that is hotel Akelarre. 

Decades ago there was no hotel, only the Akelarre restaurant existed, but once the establishment secured an international reputation for traditional Basque cuisine and a whopping three Michelin stars, it acquired a hotel all of its own. And what a hotel! 

The guests are predominantly food pilgrims flocking to the gastronomic Mecca that is San Sebastian, but should they need a dramatic setting for the next James Bond movie, whoever is helming it could do worse than Akelarre. Set in a hillside perch on Monte Igueldo, the hotel overlooks the Bay of Biscay. It is an architect’s delight with its slick lines and smooth curves, wood panelling and hunks of rough grey stone, all of which combine to give the place an air of intrigue and otherworldliness. 

Once we’ve checked in, Mr Smith and I clamber down the impressive steel staircase that winds from the central lobby to the bar (a quick perusal of the drinks menu confirms that 007’s favourite tipple features) and step out onto a platform with six circular terraces set in stone pods. We pitch up at one and within minutes we are sipping chilled albarino and admiring the expansive sea view and the blue grey mountains.

Our deluxe room is located one further flight down. The floor-to-ceiling glass doors of the bar are replicated in our bedroom and lead out to a slate terrace, the perfect spot from which to catch a pink sunset. After unpacking our clothes into the swish walk-in-wardrobe and eyeing up the bath which looks out to sea, we set off in our dressing gowns. We slope past the gym and head on to the seriously sexy spa, which has moody lighting and is encircled in black stone. I splash about in the pool with hydromassage jets while Mr Smith reclines in the marble steam room. For dinner we opt for Oteiza, the more relaxed of the hotel’s two restaurants. The food – seafood snacks, roast shoulder of lamb and chicken casserole – is delicious (which is a relief as rain is falling and there are no other restaurants within striking distance). 

The following morning, after a deep sleep, there’s a knock on the door. We’ve ordered breakfast to our spacious room and a huge trolley is wheeled in, groaning with all manner of breads, pastries, juices, fruits, local meats and cheeses (and of course there’s the obligatory tortilla). It all amounts to a futile effort in self-restraint. 

As the sun reappears from behind some clouds, we make for the city – conveniently the hotel shuttle runs twice a day into the centre. Mr Smith, a third-wave coffee snob, is in need of a fix so we settle in for espressos in Sakona and I devise a plan. We will flop out on La Concha Beach, located in the shell shaped Concha Bay, and after a sea swim, we’ll sample some more Basque snacks. With sand speckled feet, we return to the pintxos trail and graze on everything from beef cheeks in red wine sauce and octopus skewers to succulent pork belly and spoonfuls of mushroom risotto. 

As the heat dissipates from the day, we slink back to Akelarre to lounge about on plush sofas in the library, and catch up on some reading. At bedtime we’re in for a treat. Some people question the need for the turn-down service but it must never be abandoned at the Akelarre because that would be to deny guests the most deliciously delicate almond tarts that form part of the ritual.

By day three Mr Smith and I feel the need for some post indulgence penance. We make like pilgrims of a different kind and join part of the famous Camino de Santiago route for a hike. We set off from the city’s Zurriola beach, and take the coastal route along the Ulia mountain to Pasajes de San Juan, a charming fishing village which is the perfect spot for a bit of exploration. 

After three hours of walking, our feet are aching and we’re craving the comfort of Akelarre. Once back at the hotel, we settle ourselves into one of the outdoor pods for the final Spanish sunset of our trip. The bar is filling up, the guests have all returned from their various afternoon adventures. There’s no sign of James Bond – yet.